#certainly the option i’d prefer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ki-yomii · 8 months ago

Text

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

🖤 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🖤

cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh - scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath.

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just - I - I don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fic #bts jungkook

2K notes · View notes

arc-misadventures · 6 months ago

Note

Jaune is asked FMK on his all female teammates, but instead it’s his mom asking BMI.

Body mass index? No, Breed, Mate, or Impregnate.

BMI: Jaune

Juniper: Oh, Jaune~?

Jaune: Oh great… hell is here…

Pyrrha: What are you talking about, it’s just your mom?

Nora: Hi, Mom!

Rin: Hello, Mrs. Arc.

Juniper: Hello girls!

Jaune: What do you want mom?

Juniper: Can you answer something for me~?

Jaune: No.

Juniper: What? But, I haven’t even asked you anything.

Jaune: Aye, but it’s you, so what ever it is, is something I don’t want to answer!

Juniper: Please~!

Jaune: …

Jaune: Haa… fine ask your question… But, it better nit be MFK, or so help me!

Pyrrha: You relented pretty fast.

Jaune: She’ll keep bothering me until I finally say yes, so I might as well as get this over, and done with.

Rin: Wise choice.

Juniper: Okay, Jaune… BMI…

Jaune: BMI; the hell is that?

Juniper: Breed, Mate, and Impregnate~!

Jaune: WHAT?! What the hell is that?

Juniper: It’s things you do when you have se…?!

Jaune: I know what it is! It’s just, why are you asking me this?

Juniper: I thought you were tired of doing, MFK, so I decided go spice things up.

Jaune: Ironically I would have preferred that… Haa… okay… who are the poor victims you have chosen this time?

Juniper: I want you to BMI: Pyrrha, Rin, and Nora~!

Jaune: WHAT?!

NPR: 😳😳😳

Juniper: What? I’m simply curious what you would do with your friends if given the opportunity to, BMI.

Jaune: But, Mom, you’re asking me to do this to my…

Pyrrha: Jaune, answer the question.

Jaune: What?! Pyrrha, you can’t be…

Nora: Answer the question, Jaune.

Jaune: But, she asking me to…

Rin: Answer the question.

Jaune: But…?!

NPR: ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Jaune: Okay! Okay! Okay!

Jaune: Haa…

Jaune: I would, Mate with, Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: Why?

Jaune: Do you really want to know why?

Pyrrha: Yes!

Jaune: Okay?! Because I believe you are not ready for the other two options because you’re focusing on your career.

Pyrrha: A fair assessment.

Jaune: I’d breed, Nora…

Nora: Why?! Tell me?! What position would you take me in?! How long would you do me?! How many loads would you dump in me?!

Juniper: Oh my~!

Jaune: …?!

Jaune: I s-said, Nora because I thought she would be into it. I didn’t think she’d be that into it!

Nora: I’m totally into being breed like a brood mare by you, Jaune~!

Jaune: Uhhhhhhhhh?!?!

Pyrrha: So that’s what, Nora’s moaning in the middle of the night were about.

Ren: Like yours are any better.

Pyrrha: Y-You know?!

Jaune: And, lastly I would… I would impregnate, Rin…

Rin: Wonderful~! When shall we start!

Jaune: B-Beg pardon…?

Rin: You said you would impregnate me. Shall we get started now, or what?

Jaune: You want me to do that now?!

Rin: Yes.

Jaune: B-But, what about your career of becoming a huntress?

Rin: I much rather have a career as a housewife for our children than be a huntress.

Jaune: But, we’re still in school!

Ren: And?

Jaune: Ah?!

Jaune: Guys help me out here.

Pyrrha: Help you impregnate, Rin? Of course I’ll help~!

Jaune: Help?!

Nora: Would you be upset if you knocked me up while you impregnate, Rin?

Jaune: WAIT, WHAT?!

Rin: Come on, Jaune; let’s go start our happy family~!

Jaune: Ahh, no wait! Mom! Save me!

Juniper: Make sure to drink lots of water dear~!

Jaune: You traitor!

~~~

Glynda: Mr. Arc…

Jaune: Yes, Professor Goodwitch…?

Glynda: You impregnated… your entire team…

Jaune: Yeah… Mom, put ideas in their heads, and well… that happened.

Glynda: I see… Juniper getting involved would certainly answer things… But, let me ask you something.

Jaune: Yes, Professor?

Glynda: Why wasn’t I involved in this game of BMI?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Eh…?

317 notes · View notes

writeonwhiskey · 6 months ago

Text

the skz house: ch 17

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. check out her writing if you haven't already! she's amazing.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Lee Know was right—your least favorite string of words in the English language. Hyunjin will be going to Korea for winter break and now your only option is to see what Chan has planned. You knock on the door to his room before entering. He’s sitting at his desk, laptop in front of him. He turns to face you as you enter. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips when he sees you and you immediately feel your face flush.

“Hey,” you say meekly.

Lately with just one look from him you’re overcome with flashbacks of being handcuffed to his bed. And he knows it. It hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable in the days that followed, but he certainly was finding a lot of joy in catching your eye from across the room and winking or smirking. He always got a kick out of your reaction.

“Hey,” he replies smoothly.

You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, facing him.

“I wanted to ask about your plan for winter break,” you cut straight to the chase. “Are you going to visit your family?”

“Maybe. Why?” he asks, crossing his hands in front of his chest as he leans back in the chair. “Got a more tempting suggestion?”

Of course, he must already have some idea why you’re here. Lee Know or Hyunjin could have mentioned it. But he wants to hear you ask anyways.

“I want to use the trip I won around that time and Hyunjin is going home, so…”

“So…I’m your backup?”

“N-No,” you stutter. Though you can’t deny how it must come off from his point of view.

“Hmmm,” he hums, not taking his eyes off you. “Where you planning to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere warm, like Miami. I’ve never been.”

“And you actually want me to go with you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “You could take one of the other members.”

Is he suggesting that you should choose someone else? That he doesn’t want to go with you? He does so damn well at playing serious when he’s messing with you, you can never tell.

“I’d prefer to spend it with you…”

“Since Hyunjin isn’t available?”

“Chan.” you sigh.

He chuckles at your exasperation and gives up.

“I’ll go.”

You wish you had something nearby on the bed to hit him with. Internally you’re jumping for joy.

The next day, you’re in the kitchen with plastic gloves on your hands. Hyunjin’s long body is laying on the marble countertop, feet hanging off the edge, head over the sink with a folded towel under his neck for support. He has hands clasped in the center of his chest. A bottle of black hair dye sits next to the faucet as you work your fingers through his newly darkened locs to rinse it out.

You keep turning your head to the side as you work, trying to fully picture him with dark hair as you’ve only ever seen him as a bleached blonde. The darker strands definitely look more natural on him and enhance his features.

It’s finals week and you’ve decided to take a break from reading to help Hyunjin out. The house has been relatively calm lately as everyone cracks down on studying. Some go at it alone, others pair up to quiz each other.

“Would your parents really lose their shit if you came home with blonde hair?” you ask, turning the water off when the black dye has finally stopped dripping.

“Yeah ,” he replies. “And that’s an understatement. My dad would behead me, then drag my headless body around before letting me show up at company events like that. It’s ‘unprofessional’,” he says, using air quotes.

He jokes about it so casually, but it makes you wonder what their parents are like. It’s so different to the supportive upbringing you had. Well, it is supportive in a way—their parents are doing what they believe is best for their child’s future. It just seems like it doesn’t leave room for them to be themselves once they return home.

You know, from talking to Han, the general idea of what’s expected of them after graduation. You previously assumed, though, that just meant a continued sexual relationship was off the table. After what Lee Know said, you now understand that you are forbidden to have contact with them at all.

As you’ve grown more curious about it, Hyunjin has been rather receptive of your prying questions. When you asked why he was so open, he mentioned the NDA in that cursed contract you skim read through in desperation all those weeks ago.

“So do you immediately start working after you graduate?” you ask, taking off the plastic gloves and setting them aside.

“Not straight away. There will be a few months spent doing whatever I want…traveling, probably. Then I’ll work directly under my father. Essentially until he’s ready to retire or trusts that I won’t fuck up the family business.”

This feels like such a heavy topic, but Hyunjin grazes over it with ease. Like it’s not a big deal. From his perspective, maybe it isn’t. He’s known the path his life would take since he was very young. They all do. There isn’t much to guess or worry about like most of us. Hell, it doesn’t seem like they get to choose much of anything for themselves. Your thoughts drift to Chan for a second as you wring the water out from Hyunjin’s hair.

You take the towel from under his head and guide him to sit up so you can dry it.

“And when it comes to love and marriage and children and all that…what sort of freedom do you have?”

Hyunjin makes a face like he’s going to throw up at your words. You roll your eyes and throw one end of the towel at him, so it covers his dramatic face.

“Come upstairs,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen.

When you’re both back in his room, after he stopped to grab his blow dryer, you have him sit in his desk chair. You stand behind him, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So…marriage, love? What’s that look like for you guys?” you ask again.

“At some point I’ll be encouraged to date, then marry. Exclusively from a list of women vetted by my parents,” he tells you.

You chew on your bottom lip; thankful he’s not looking directly at you. From your perspective, it all sounds concerning the more you learn, but you know it’s not your place to speak on it. What is there for you to even say? They’ve probably all already come to terms with it. Would your opinion even matter? In the grand scheme of things, you living with them this year is just a blip on their radar.

“Like an arranged marriage?”

“Kinda,” he says nonchalantly. “I will have some say in it, though.”

You turn on the blow dryer, using it as a distraction to sort through the thoughts arising from the information he provided.

Hyunjin previously mentioned the main function of the SKZ house was to provide them the ability to focus on their studies without allowing love and romance to distract them. Having a dedicated girl each year to meet their needs…to take care of them in more ways than one. It’s almost like this is a trial run for their futures. Though, from the sounds of it, the women vetted by their parents will probably also come from wealthy families and possess the feminine qualities they desire in a daughter-in-law. Certainly no one like you.

You grew up fairly well–your mom and dad played active roles in your upbringing. They were able to dote on you as an only child and you don’t recall ever wanting for much. You weren’t poor, but nowhere near the level of wealth their families have amassed. They supported you with all they had and there was never much fuss or drama. You’ve always been a good kid with your head on straight–focused on your own dreams and goals.

Having gotten to know Hyunjin the past couple of months, you know one day he will make an amazing husband. He’s gentle when needed, thoughtful, caring and extremely empathetic, while still maintaining his masculinity. Which makes him even more attractive. Chan, on the other hand…

You feel a sharp pain in your chest–maybe Chan is holding back with you because he’s saving himself or really only willing to open up to his future wife. That hurts to think about.

You turn the blow dryer off and sit it on the desk. Hyunjin reaches out for your hand and pulls you around the front of the chair. You sit on his lap, straddling him and cupping his face with your hands.

You take in his new appearance. His blow-dried hair looks full and fluffy, and it’s grown a lot in length, reaching beneath his collar bones. The dark hair looks good on him—it gives meaning to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ trope.

“What happens if you don’t like anyone on the list?”

“They’ll compile another one,” he shrugs.

“That seems unfair,” you reply. “What if you meet someone organically and fall in love?”

“I could date them,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. “But nothing would come of it.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

He considers the question for a beat.

“Not in the way you might think,” he replies.

“Well, I think anyone would be right to be bothered at having so little say in the outcome of their life…”

“I don’t mind that aspect of it. Being on this path ensures I will live a good life,” he says matter-of-factly.

“What’s your take on it, then?” you ask, making note that he said good life and not happy.

“I’ve never been fond of the ‘forever partner’ idea.”

You lean back a little, sliding your hands down to his shoulders. You’re a little surprised at his words. The kind, caring and doting Hyunjin? Does not believe in soulmates?

“I have no problem being committed and dedicated to one woman at a time, but…forever?” he asks rhetorically. “I think we’re meant to connect on a deep level with a lot of people at different times in our lives. Do you know how many people there are on this planet? And I’m supposed to find a lifelong match from a list? To meet all my needs, even as they change over time?”

You can completely understand, and have experienced, his commitment and loyalty in the way he immediately opened up to you and was there for you. But maybe this experience has made him grow accustomed to having a new woman in his life every year.

“New people make things exciting and fresh,” he continues as he slips his thumbs beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles against your skin, “…how you meet, learning about them, being intimate with them.”

You had never taken him for the playboy type. Though the way he’s explaining it doesn’t sound like he will be running around trying to fuck anything that walks. Just that he’d prefer to entertain the idea of a woman without any real commitment for certain stretches of time, for the rest of his life.

“So you worry you’ll become bored?” you ask.

“Maybe,” he answers honestly, as always. “I don’t doubt my ability to remain faithful—to be a good dad and husband when the time comes. But I do want to take my time getting there. I’m in no rush. Maybe in 30 years or so.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“I cannot with you,” you say, reaching your hands up to run them through his newly darkened locs. You tug on the strands, and he tilts his head back, shutting his eyes.

His hands fall from your hips to cup your ass. In one swift move he stands, holding you to him as he walks towards the bed. You rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle his nose.

“Well. I certainly can with you.” He gives your lips a peck with his before tossing you onto the bed.

You squeal as you land, then start moving backwards on the bed. You can’t help but smile and giggle as he crawls towards you. His dark, fluffy hair falls in front of his eyes and he looks so fucking sexy as he looks down at you.

“Where you going, jagiya?” He asks, straightening his back but still on his knees. He reaches for your leg. “Two weeks without you? We have to make up for the time we’re losing.”

You let out another squeal as he grabs your leg and pulls you towards him. He places his arms on either side of you, caging you in, in the best way possible. You hook your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you.

After finals are done, it feels like there’s less tension in the house. Everyone’s interacting again versus being huddled up in a corner studying. The house steadily becomes empty as those who are going away for break take their leave. You drop Hyunjin at the airport and try not to think of what it will be like when you have to say goodbye to him for good.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to get dropped off at the airport. Jeongin and Charlotte wave goodbye to you and Chan. They’ll both have the house alone until Jeongin leaves for Korea and you can only imagine what they’ll get up to. You make a mental note to sanitize every communal surface when you get back.

In the airport, you and Chan barely speak. He has his headphones on and keeps a blank expression plastered to his face. The last couple days his mood seemed to turn sour, and you have no idea what caused it. You have an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach–this is exactly how you did not want to spend the trip.

You busy yourself with checking the destination on your ticket multiple times. With Lee Know in charge of organizing this trip, you couldn’t be sure enough that he hadn’t booked you a flight to Miami, Oklahoma instead of Miami, Florida.

A few hours later, you and Chan are settled into your business class seats. A few minutes after takeoff, you finally release his hand you’d been clutching for dear life.

“Sorry,” you apologize, watching him stretch his fingers out.

He reclines his seat a bit and shifts around to get comfortable. He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes. You lift the window shade and look out at the clouds as you fly through them, trying your best to tame your annoyance.

You don’t know how long passes, but being an overthinker you’ve gone through several scenarios and outcomes about how this trip could crash and burn if you don’t say something now. You can’t just let his silence go unchecked. You refuse to spend your vacation, that he agreed to come on, this way. You reach over to move his headphones from his right ear.

“Chan,” you begin, “I haven’t had a real vacation, alone and not with my parents, in almost two years so I’m really looking forward to this, but…”

He’s absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he listens.

“You’ve been in a shitty mood the last couple days. I want this to be a good trip, I want us to have fun…if you were planning to be miserable, you really didn’t have to come.”

“Planning to be miserable?” He repeats.

“Your sudden change in attitude?” You shrug. “I would have rather rescheduled the trip, if you were going to be like this. And don’t say like what—you know how you’re treating me.”

He becomes quiet at your words. You feel proud of yourself for getting them out. There’s no way he doesn’t realize when he’s shutting you out. You look away from him, seeing the stewardess start coming down the aisle with her cart.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I wanna take this trip with you, y/n, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You always say that,” you shake your head.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he replies.

You let out a soft sigh.

“Well, isn’t that what vacations are for?” you ask. “You can travel somewhere far away and leave all the bullshit behind. Forget about school…the future,” you look away from him at that, “you can be someone entirely different when you get to your destination. For a little while, anyway.”

He mulls your words over.

“Is that what we’re doing?” He pulls his headphones down, so they hang around his neck.

It certainly hadn’t been your intention, but you spot the sudden playful glint in his eyes and nod your head. You want to smack him. Or yourself. You cannot figure out if it’s him and his bad mood that causes the tension, or you allowing him to sulk in it instead of confronting him about it.

“And who are we pretending to be?”

You shrug, “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The stewardess stops next to him with her cart, smiling as she opens the cabinet and produces two champagne flutes. She then fills them up with wine. She hasn’t even asked your drink choice, so you assume she’s preparing it for the pair across the aisle. When she politely reaches over Chan to pull out your tray and sits the drink down, you throw a confused look at him.

Maybe it’s complimentary…but still, wouldn’t she ask if you wanted it?

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “We didn’t ordered this…could I just get a Sprite?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she says, but still proceeds to pull out Chan’s tray and sits a drink in front of him too. “These drinks are free to you, on behalf of the flight crew. Congratulations on your engagement–future Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

You stare and blink, dumbfounded.

Chan clicks his tongue and mutters something in Korean under his breath.

“Thank you,” he says with a tight-lipped smile.

“My pleasure,” she replies. “What else can I get you, sir?”

“Water, please,” he tells her.

She provides you both a cup filled with ice, and your requested Sprite and water before turning to assist the pair on the other side of the aisle.

“I’m gonna fucking strangle Lee Know,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Oh, he’s the first call I’m making when we land,” he concurs.

The man can’t even be trusted to book flight tickets without some kind of shenanigans attached to it.

Chan picks up his wine glass and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

“I guess we have our roles,” he says, tilting the rim of his glass towards you.

You grab your own, but don’t cheers his yet.

“I don’t know…I was thinking more along the lines of coworkers on a business trip or annoying vloggers or something like that,” you tell him.

“So you wanna call off the engagement already?” He asks, feigning a hurt look.

It never ceases to baffle you–how quickly he can go from cold and distant to warm and teasing you. And vice versa.

“You’re okay with pretending to be my fiancé?”

He shrugs, “It could be fun. It’ll help take my mind off some things.”

“Really?”

“I’m a committed actor. Very convincing…don’t you remember?”

Of course you remember his stint as Professor Bang. You wouldn’t mind taking a class with him again. But this? Chan pretending to be your fiancé? After your talk with Hyunjin, you know you won’t ever know what it’s like to actually even date him. Let alone fathom marrying him.

“Okay,” you reply, choosing to indulge. You tap your glass against his before taking a drink.

You’re so happy that the dark cloud looming over him seems to have dissipated, that it doesn’t even cross your mind how much you might regret this later. Having a sample of this version of Chan? It’s like you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. But you’ll keep telling yourself you’re strong enough to remember it’s not real. That when the time comes to say goodbye to this man, you won’t think about these moments and what could have been. You’ll keep lying to yourself this entire trip.

[ read chapter 18 here ]

a/n: the chan we've been dying to experience is almost here. thank you all so much for your continued support. your feedback, comments, asks, reblogs, etc., ALL your interactions fill my heart with happiness. it encourages me to write more because i don't want to leave you all hanging for too long lol but seriously, tysm!

taglist: i have no idea why it's not letting me tag everyone. i know there's a limit of tags per post but even if i type less than the limit, it's not working :( tagging on hiatus til I can figure it out, i'm sorry.

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #bang chan #the skz house #bang chan imagines #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #bang chan fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #skz smut

362 notes · View notes

hopepetal · 1 year ago

Text

Hi! It's been a while, hasn't it?

@applestruda, @periwinklemoonlight, and I have been working on arc three of the boatem knights au for quite a while now. We hope you enjoy it :)

At the moment, the second chapter is not ready for posting, so it won't be out for a while.

Boatem Knights AU fic masterlist

Read on AO3!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated :)

His nightmares hadn’t gone away.

Feathers rustling in the wind, Grian gazed up toward the night sky. Sighing heavily, he glanced back toward Pearl’s tent. She had offered for him to join her many times– avians were highly sociable after all, and often slept in the same nest– but he’d refused. He wouldn’t want to wake her up as well.

It didn’t make sense.

Dreams of a desert, of cold silver skin, of red eyes and names and flowers and blood. And every day they’d gotten worse. More vivid.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t something Grian had the energy to figure out right now. He needed sleep.

He stood up and walked back to his own tent, and settled down for what would be another restless night.

And he hadn’t woken up the next day.

Or the day after that.

The first day Grian slept through, Pearl hadn’t been too worried. With how bad her brother’s insomnia could get, it wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to not get enough sleep during the night and then make up for it during the day. She’d checked in on him, of course, and smiled softly at the sight of him curled up in his blankets, wings resting on either side of him as he smushed his face into the pillow.

“He probably just had a rough night,” she mentioned to the others during lunch, “I wouldn’t bother him.”

Mumbo looked up, frowning slightly. “Hasn’t he mentioned having nightmares for a while now? Maybe that’s what’s been keeping him up.”

Pearl nodded, wings fluttering anxiously behind her. “Yeah. The last few months have been rough on him.”

“I think it’s from all the building we have to do,” Scar piped up. “Trying to finish the lodge has been a nightmare.”

“We’re almost done!” Pearl argued, optimistic as ever. “Just a little more, then we’re all set!”

Mumbo slumped back in his seat, letting out a soft huff. “Can’t we just leave it as is? I think it’s perfectly well done.”

Scar raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “I think you just don’t like building, mister.”

Mumbo rolled his eyes, though he was unable to hold back a grin. “Well, it’s certainly not my favorite activity. I’d much rather be–”

“–working on your redstone, we know.” Impulse chuckled, shaking his head. “Unless you want to be buried in snow by the time winter comes around, we probably shouldn’t be calling the lodge ‘perfectly well done’.”

Mumbo grumbled a little at that, much to the amusement of the others. “Look, I’ll do my tasks and everything, but I’m not happy about it!”

Pearl laughed, leaning against the table. “You gotta weigh your options, mate. Either build the lodge now, or be wet and freezing during the winter. Which one would you prefer?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

The knights quickly finished lunch after that, making small talk as they cleaned and put away the dishes. The leftovers from lunch were stored away for later, placed in the shed they had built a while back so that the wild animals wouldn’t be able to get into their food.

“Same duties as earlier?” Impulse asked Pearl as they all made their way to the half-finished lodge.

Pearl nodded, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “I don’t see why we would change them. I’ll take on Grian’s duties on top of mine, though I can’t promise I’ll be as fast.”

“Good thing we’re so ahead of schedule, then!” Scar piped up. “It’s a lot easier to focus on one thing instead of a whole bunch of tiny tasks.”

Pearl laughed, her wings fluttering in amusement. “That, and we’re all insanely fast builders. Who would’ve thought?”

Impulse grinned. “Well, I’m just naturally good at everything I do, so I’m not surprised.”

Laughing and joking, the four went about completing their tasks. The sounds of construction filled the air, conversation occasionally popping up alongside it. As the day progressed, it began to get hotter and hotter, construction slowing down as it did so.

Finally, the sun began to set, and their long day of work was called to an end by Mumbo. It was just routine at this point– the knights would work until the sun began to set and then they’d all gather at the west end of camp to watch the sun go down. Mumbo was always the quickest to put away his tools, and today was no different. Impulse and Scar went to join him, while Pearl slipped off to go check on her brother. Just as she had expected, he had barely moved from his sleeping position, only shifted slightly in a likely effort to get more comfortable. She pulled up one of the ottomans, settling down next to his bed.

Reaching out, Pearl gently brushed some hair out of her brother's warm face, smiling slightly. “Heyyy, Griba,” she murmured, softly so that she wouldn't startle him if he wasn't fully asleep, “you doing alright, mate? You've been asleep all day.” No response. He must've been really out of it. “Well, I brought some food and fresh water. It’ll be on the side table for when you wake up– you must be pretty hungry.” She sighed softly, leaning back. “Well, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, Griba. I love you.”

Standing, Pearl quietly left the tent and joined the other knights to watch the sun finish setting. She settled down next to Scar, leaning against him with a sigh. The grass was soft against her skin as she sat and tried to relax, breathing in the fresh air and exhaling the anxiety that was building in her chest. Her whole body ached from the exertion of a day spent building, and the cool night air that brushed against her skin and wove through her hair was a welcome relief from the end of summer heat.

Scar glanced over at Pearl, giving her his signature crooked smile. “How’s our sleeping friend holding up?” he asked.

Pearl sighed softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Still sleepin’ the day away,” she answered. “I dropped off some food and water in case he wakes up and needs something. I'm glad he’s getting rest, though. I think I’m gonna keep him from helping us work on the lodge for a bit, though. It can’t be good for him to be exhausted and pushing himself like that.”

“Agreed.” Impulse stretched before running a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding his horns. “It’s hard work we’re doing here, man. Kinda wish Skizz could’ve stayed a little longer to help out, but I guess a man’s gotta do his job.”

“And Tango’s been busy,” Scar added, “apparently he's workin’ on a super secret fly-ification project, whatever that means.”

“Sounds terrifying,” Pearl laughed, Impulse nodding along in agreement. Mumbo’s attention seemed to have been caught by that, and he perked up.

“A project? Do you think he’d let me take a look? I know he had mentioned a few things about combining redstone and engineering and really, it was quite fascinating and we had a truly intriguing discussion on…” Mumbo trailed off, noticing how Pearl and Scar were just staring at him. “...well, Impulse gets me!” he flusteredly got out, and the others began to laugh.

Impulse smiled, chuckling. The light from the setting sun reflected off his piercings, causing them to shine when they caught the light. “That I do, buddy. That I do.”

Mumbo blinked. “Well. Alright, then.”

Pearl stood as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, stretching her wings as the shadows began to grow over the land. “I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely exhausted. I’m heading off to bed. Good night!” She spread her wings and took off, flying low over the ground until she reached her tent. She landed softly, ducking into her tent and changing into her night clothes– soft blue pajamas with stars and little crescent moons.

Sleep called her name, and Pearl felt the weight of exhaustion pulling her down. She climbed into bed, settling on her stomach and wrapping her arms around the soft pillow. She’d just barely closed her eyes before sleep descended like a soft blanket, and she drifted into unconsciousness.

Grian didn’t wake up the next day.

When Pearl woke, her limbs still somewhat sore from the day before, she went to check in on Grian before she started her morning chores. He wasn’t up, which meant he hadn’t woken up during the night and stayed up until dawn (again). Pearl was still a little concerned nonetheless, and rushed through her morning chores so that she could go check on Grian.

When she peeked into his tent, her worry increased at the fact that he hadn’t touched his food or water, and had barely moved from the sleeping position she’d last seen him in. “Griba?” she called softly, “Griba, hey. Are you up?” Upon receiving no answer, she carefully crept forward and placed a gentle hand against his head.

Oh, no.

Grian had a fever.

“Griba.” She gently shook him. “Griba. Grian. Grian. Wake up.” Her voice became more frantic as her brother continued to be unresponsive, anxiety spiking in her chest as she tried to wake him. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t do this, Grian. Please.”

Still, nothing.

Pearl’s gaze went to the side table, and she stumbled over, grabbing the pen and some blank paper that had been sitting there. Quickly, she wrote down a message to Cub, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she did so.

Cub,

I’ve been sending quite a few letters lately and I hate to bother you once more, but Grian is sick. He isn’t waking up, and he slept all through yesterday as well. When I checked on him this morning, he was burning up. I’ve tried waking him up, but he hasn’t even responded.

Please come as soon as you can.

Pearl

She began folding the paper as she ducked out Grian’s tent, almost running into Scar as she did so. “Ah! Oh, mate, careful!”

Scar laughed softly, pressing his hands to his chest. “You scared me, Pearl!” he retorted, taking a moment to calm himself down. He caught sight of the paper in Pearl's hands. “Sending another letter, are we?” he asked. “More moth mail?”

Pearl, despite the anxiety she was currently feeling, had to smile. Rolling her eyes, she responded, “We’re not calling it moth mail, Scar.” She closed her eyes and breathed out, pushing her magic into the paper. It took the form of a moth, glowing with enchantments, and flew off. She was quiet for a moment with Scar as they watched it fly off, before sighing. “Grian’s sick,” she told him, “and he’s not waking up. I was just sending a letter to Cub to ask him to come up and check on him.”

Scar frowned, humming thoughtfully. “And this isn’t just Grian being Grian?” he asked, but Pearl shook her head.

“He’s not waking up, and he’s running a fever. Which, if he was even responding a tiny bit, would be fine, but he’s not even– it’s like he can’t hear me at all. Normally he’d at least have woken up a little and smacked me away or something, but…” Pearl shook her head. “Nothing. He was just… sleeping.”

“Should we let the other two know?” Scar asked, gesturing with his head over to where Impulse and Mumbo were. They were working on the lodge once more– Mumbo, struggling to walk with the heavy materials and Impulse, carrying as much as he could and encouraging Mumbo on with a smile and kind words.

Pearl nodded, already starting to walk toward them. “Absolutely. C’mon, mate!”

Scar jogged over until he was walking by Pearl's side. “Hey! Mister Mumbo Jumbo! Impulse! Hey!” he shouted, waving his arms over his head. “Over here!”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head slightly. “Scar, no need to shout. They’re right there.” Her wings fluttered anxiously behind her as they approached Mumbo and Impulse. “Hey, you two.”

Impulse set down the logs he had been carrying, and Mumbo did the same before collapsing into the grass. “Heya Pearl,” Impulse greeted, “what’s up?”

“Not good news, unfortunately.” The mood sombered up as soon as those words left Pearl's mouth. “Grian’s sick, and he’s not waking up. I sent a message to Cub, but I’m gonna run to the village real quick to grab some general medicine and such. I meant to get some on the next trip, but…” She trailed off. “Clearly, we need them now.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Impulse offered, to which Pearl shook her head.

“I’ll be flying. It’s faster that way.” Pearl glanced over at Scar, who had joined Mumbo in the grass. “Can you three keep watch over Griba and the camp while I’m gone? Oh, and keep an eye out for a response to the letter I sent to Cub– it’ll be coming back as an enchanted moth, you know what they look like. I don’t think he’ll be sending you a response this quick, but better alert than caught sleeping.” She coughed slightly. “Uh. Excuse the irony of that wording. It’s just a phrase.”

Impulse nodded. “Don’t worry about a thing, Pearl. We’ve got things handled here. Go and get the medicine.”

Scar stood, helping Mumbo up as well. “Yeah! We’ll stop working on the lodge for a bit while this whole thing is goin’ on. Grian’s more important than a building, anyway.”

Pearl heaved a sigh of relief, smiling softly. “Oh, thank you all. This means a lot.” She stretched, spreading her wings and fluttering them slightly before relaxing. “Right. I’ll be off then. Stay out of trouble, ya hear?”

Scar saluted. “Aye aye!”

With that, Pearl took off, flying over the camp and toward the village. Worry settled uneasily in her stomach, squeezing her chest as she tried to not spiral into an anxiety attack. It would not be good to do that while flying, she figured.

Grian would be fine. Grian would be– he was fine, he was just sick and once he got rest everything would go back to normal. They’d continue building the lodge and get it done before winter and then they’d move on to their next adventure.

Yeah.

Everything was going to be fine.

In a house surrounded by much more greenery than the canyon that it sat in, Cub was working on a very dangerous project.

Well, it wasn’t dangerous– as long as he took proper care when he was around it and made sure to wear protective gear, of course. A mask fit snugly over his mouth and nose, and he wore elbow long gloves with his lab coat sleeves tucked into them to make sure there was zero possibility of the subject of his experiment touching his skin.

Holding up the blue-green mold (sculk, the book had called it) up to the light with a pair of tweezers, Cub squinted. It appeared to almost have a sort of heartbeat, he noticed, as it pulsed rhythmically. It might’ve grossed some out, but it made Cub grin. This was so exciting. He had only heard of sculk before, from ancient books and harrowed miners who had narrowly escaped death. To be able to study it like this, up close… it was a dream come true.

Cub jotted down some more notes with one hand, holding up the sculk with his other hand. His attention divided, focus solely locked in on the things he was writing, it was no wonder he got startled by the enchanted paper moth that landed on his desk. He dropped the tweezers with a loud swear, the sculk landing in his lap. No matter– he simply picked it back up with his gloved hands and put it back into its container, sealing it away. He then carefully unfolded the moth, recognizing instantly Pearl's handwriting.

He frowned as he read the letter, before sighing heavily. “I really can’t leave them alone for five minutes, can I?” Glancing back down at his desk, Cub bit his lip, weighing his options in his head. He really had to finish this current experiment in a certain time frame, and Grian was a healthy man (and a Watcher, besides!). He’d be fine if he had to wait for a little while longer.

He went and wrote a response on the back of the letter Pearl had sent, chuckling slightly at how his handwriting compared to Pearl’s.

Pearl,

I’ll be there as soon as I finish up what I was doing. I assume it’ll take me quite some time, so I’ll head out early tomorrow morning. Keep an eye on Grian, give him some medicine and try to get some fluids into him.

Don’t panic. Remember what I’ve been telling you in our letters– take a deep breath, calm yourself, and try not to let your thoughts spiral. You’re doing a great job.

Cub

He carefully folded the paper back up, watching as the magic Pearl imbued into it activated, and the moth sprang to life before fluttering off in the direction it came from. Cub’s sharp eyesight caught the moment it burst into purple sparks of magic and sped off into the distance– “moth mail” always fascinated him. It was clearly a concept Pearl had either made up or been taught, and he’d have to ask her some more questions about it later.

But for now, the sculk called his name.

It took a little longer than expected to finish up the experiment, but Cub always stayed true to his word. The next day, he woke up with the gray light of dawn and gathered his things, taking care to lock his door before leaving.

The sun began to rise as Cub started down the familiar path to the camp.

You know how this story goes, by now.

Grian didn’t wake up the next day.

Pearl did her best to follow the advice in Cub’s letter– give Grian fluids, take deep breaths, try not to spiral, try not to spiral, try not to–

She was fine. She was fine.

…which was why she ended up breaking down into tears when Scar asked her how she was feeling, and felt his arms wrap around her and pull her close. “I’m– I’m sorry, I just–” She gasped for air, squeezing her eyes shut tight as hot tears cooled on her skin. Her hands were trembling as she wrung them together, trying to lean into Scar’s calming presence.

Scar gently shushed her, carefully patting her back between her wings as he tried to soothe her. “It’s a stressful situation, Pearl,” he murmured, his voice quiet and comforting. “It’s okay to be scared. Did you wanna send a letter to Jimmy or something? I’m sure he would be more than willing to come on up for a little bit to help out.” As he spoke, he pulled away from the hug and summoned Jellie, setting the furry blue familiar on Pearl’s lap. “Pet the Jellie. You’ll feel better.”

Pearl smiled weakly through her tears, beginning to gently stroke Jellie’s fur. She felt the tension begin to leave her body as Jellie started purring, her breathing evening out as the cat curled up on her lap. “No… no, Jimmy worries more than I do, I don’t think it would be good to stress him out over this… because it’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine.”

Scar nodded. “Right you are, Pearl. It’s gonna be just fine. G’s just taking a big ol’ nap right now, sleepin’ off that nasty fever of his. Give him a little longer and he’ll be just like new. Cub will help him out and then he’ll get rid of that darn sickness in no time!”

Mumbo, who was sitting nearby, leaned forward. “Scar is right, you know. This isn’t the first time one of us has come down with a nasty illness of some sort. Grian just needs a little care and rest, I’m sure!”

Pearl nodded, taking in deep breaths as she continued to idly pet Jellie, wiping stray tears from her face. “Thanks, Scar. Mumbo. I needed that.”

Scar smiled reassuringly, giving her a thumbs up. “No problem, Pearl.”

Mumbo simply nodded, smiling. “Of course, mate.”

It wasn’t long after that Cub finally walked out of Grian’s tent, his expression kept carefully neutral. “Hey, you three. Pearl, could I speak with you?”

Pearl nodded, anxiety spiking once more as she prepared herself for whatever Cub was about to tell her. “Yeah. Of course. Scar, do you mind…?” She gestured toward Grian’s tent with a slight nod, standing up from where she had been sitting next to Scar in the grass and handing him Jellie.

Scar jumped up as well, brushing off his pants before taking Jellie and quietly dismissing his familiar. “Of course, my dear Pearl! I’ll keep a close eye on G.” Scar ducked into Grian's tent, going to take a seat on the ottoman that had remained pulled up next to Grian’s bed. He settled himself down, letting out a soft sigh and leaning forward.

There was a moment of silence.

“Y’know, G, this isn’t funny anymore.” Scar swallowed dryly, licking his cracked lips. “I’m all for pranks and stuff, but this is going too far. Pearl’s upset, Mumbo is worried, Impulse is trying to keep the other two calm, and I’m…” He shook his head. “C’mon, G. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Please.”

No response. Of course. Grian was asleep, why would he respond?

“I mean, really. It's like you’ve been cursed or something,” he weakly joked, before the thought really hit him. Could Grian have been…?

Scar closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shifted into his vex form.

The smell of magic, powerful and wrong, was so strong Scar nearly gagged. He stumbled back, eyes widening as he realized that the magic was coming from Grian, wrapping around his body and curling around his throat.

Slowly, hesitantly, Scar approached Grian and knelt by the bed. Reaching out, he carefully opened one of Grian’s eyes with his hand.

Purple.

Grian’s eyes were glowing purple.

Scar felt the magic suddenly recede, drawing into Grian like the water being pulled back into the sea. With a sharp inhale, he stumbled back, shifting out of his vex form as he burst out from the tent. “Guys!” he yelled, “guys, something's wrong with–!”

Grian’s magic exploded outwards.

Pearl screamed, lunging forward as she shifted into her Watcher form, wrapping her arms around the only person close enough for her to protect– Mumbo. The two fell to the ground, surrounded by a translucent magic shield that glowed in blue and silver hues. All around them, purple magic swirled and raged like a storm, and all they were able to do was watch as Impulse and Scar collapsed.

Cub was pushed to his knees, vex form flickering as his own shield began to crack around him. The magic howled in a screeching voice, swirling around Cub’s shield in an attempt to break through and take him as well.

“Pearl–!” Mumbo cried out, clinging to her tightly. He was pressed against the ground and could hardly see past Pearl, but what he could see terrified him. Pearl’s shield was beginning to give under the incessant pushing of Grian’s out of control magic, and there was nothing he could do but watch.

Pearl bit out a sob, holding Mumbo close. The strain of fighting against her brother’s magic had her gasping, grabbing for any and all energy she had to pour into the shield around her and Mumbo. Raising her head, guilt and fear filled her chest as she caught sight of Impulse and Scar, limp on the ground. She could only pray that they were okay. That they were alive.

The magic like raging wind reached a peak, screaming so loud Pearl’s sensitive ears ached. And just like that, it was over.

Pearl, Cub, and Mumbo were the only ones awake when their shields came down.

All across the realm, Grian’s magic reached out and pulled others into a deep sleep. A king and his hand, alongside his best soldier. A huntsman. A time wizard, armorer, and a friend of the nearby innkeep. A man who guided others through the mountains. An avian, netherborn, and a man who sold flowers.

One by one, they were surrounded by purple magic, angry and screaming and wanting. And one by one, they all fell asleep.

Grian woke up to impossibly familiar faces and one objective: survive.

He pushed himself up from the ground, shaking his head slightly to clear the fuzz as he looked around at the gathered group. “Welcome to Third Life,” he greeted in a voice that wasn’t quite his own, with words he wasn’t sure how he knew. “You all have three lives. Once you lose your last life, you are out.”

Confusion and concern echoed from those around him, and Grian raised his voice. “When you are on your last life– your red life– you will become hostile. All previous alliances will be broken.”

A deep breath.

“Good luck.”

#my writing #boatem knights au #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #cubfan135 #jellie the cat #hermitcraft fanfic #third life fanfic #third life #hermitfic #trafficfic

463 notes · View notes

stoneagedevil · 4 months ago

Text

Reunion (I’m Not in Love Pt. 2) | Alastor x f!Reader

CW/TW: suicide, gore, death, murder, predatory behavior, blood, initial unrequited feelings, insecurities involving looks.

-♥️-

It is only when you lose everything, that you have the power to do anything. After all, what are the consequences?

There is nothing left.

There is only you. Head throbbing after a bullet went through it and a subsequent smack to…pavement?

There is only you filled with grief from an unrequited love you’d sunk over half of your lifespan into and a world you can’t quite understand.

There is only…

You.

Until you heard the screams. Cautiously peeking around the corner of the alleyway you landed in, you witnessed the abhorrent atrocities committed by beings you couldn’t quite comprehend. They were inhuman and inhumane.

You were inhuman and inhumane, taking notice finally of just how sensitive and high up your ears suddenly were. Perhaps your face was thoroughly scrambled by the bullet and you didn’t die? Impossible. But it would just be your luck wouldn’t it? Surviving a point blank shot to the face with a large caliber. You reached your hands- claws- claws?!

Sidetracked, your eyes gaped at the change in your hands. They were pitch black, fading into your skin tone that had lost its vibrancy the farther you trailed up your arms. Surely it was a malfunction or flaw within the rifle that caused an abundance of gun powder to color your limbs black? But…that didn’t explain the claws in place of your dull fingernails. You continued to reach towards the top of your head, startled by your new fuzzy appendages.

They were your ears.

Quickly darting out of the alleyway, you faced yourself in the reflection of a nearby storefront window. Only, this wasn’t the Y/N you talked to before ending your life.

This was…this was something entirely different. Someone entirely different.

But sure as the days are long, it was you. Your ears reminiscent of a deer, and twisting your spine and neck to look behind you, you were adorned with the tail of one too.

“What on Earth-“ You cut yourself off. Earth? No. This couldn’t be. You most certainly died. And if you were dead, and yet alive, that had to mean one thing.

You were in the beginning stages of your afterlife, which in turn meant one thing or another: you were either in Heaven or Hell. Taking into account the potential love rivals you murdered and your demonic appearance, you could only assume the latter option were true.

Hell. You were in Hell.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out all by yourself? It’s a dangerous world out here, little girl.” A gravelly voice brought you out of your daze. You whipped your head around to face the source of the slimy words. It was another demon, wolf-like in appearance with a smile that looked as if he would eat a grandmother.

“I would stay away.” Is all you said. Truly, you were a deer in the headlights. What did he mean by turf war? And how were you going to prevent yourself from becoming Little Red?

“And if I don’t stay away?” He challenged, slimy tongue running over rows of sharp teeth, inching closer as if to tease you. As if he preferred to play with his food.

“Then I’ll have no choice but to kill you. I’d rather not, if I can help it.” You replied. Maybe you could trick him into thinking you were dangerous, but given your new form, you doubted it. A prey animal. How unfortunate when your newest enemy was a wolf.

He barked out a hearty laugh, thoroughly amused by your polite warning, but continued to close in on you.

You felt something underneath the surface of your soft flesh. A mix of anger, of the warmth of a light, of the cold of a shadow, of the bubbling of champagne, all fueled by the sheer audacity of a man who couldn’t let you get your bearings in such a strange place. Couldn’t you ever get a fucking break?!

It happened suddenly, the cracking of pavement sounding beneath your hooves, vines dressed in thorns sharper than knives rose up from the crevices, almost shielding you from the perpetrator. Following suit, poison ivy twisted around, blocking any means of escape for the offending wolf demon. Your lack of fear and something else you couldn’t place told you these earthly vines of torture were yours.

You looked back up at the mangy mutt, a soft but dangerous smile stretching across you face, “Congratulations, my friend. You’ll be the first of many.” You flicked your pointer finger at him, and the vines shot out, tightening around his torso like snakes to mice. He yelped and whined, fighting against them. You were annoyed by the sounds he made, another set of vines wrapping around his unfortunate looking face, clamping down on his long snout like a muzzle.

“Good dogs are quiet.” You said.

It was like life on the surface. Smothering and strangling the life out of the women who had romantic intentions for Alastor. Women who told you that you’d never be right for him. That no one could ever love someone so poor as you. Your heart swelled at the thought of him. He would be so disappointed in you, surely.

But…

He’s not here.

There is only you.

The mutt of a man’s struggling subsided, his body falling limp from the hold of your vines and landing with an audible thud to the ground.

You were a firm believer that life was what you made it. You couldn’t make your life better, especially without your Alastor, so you ended it. But now, maybe the afterlife could be what you made it. He wasn’t here, you both separated by different plains of existence, and surely when he died, he’d go to Heaven.

Far, far away from you where he belonged. Where he surely wanted to be.

You’d been too pliant for too long. Holding in an anger that felt released ever so slightly when you killed so freely. Here in Hell, you didn’t have to hide your victims, and in their second deaths, they could be used as tools to earn respect around here.

Perhaps it was far better to be feared than loved.

Yes. The afterlife could be what you make it too. And you were going to make your afterlife everyone else’s problem.

——

You were deemed “Smother Nature.” One of the only clever names given to an Overlord in Hell. You strangled, smothered, and swindled your way to the top, becoming a feared but not unfair Overlord in just a few short years.

Within that span of time, you became more accustomed to your new body and its capabilities.

You were a deer demon, specifically a doe when in your regular form, but when in your more powerful demonic form, your skull would sprout wide black antlers with vines snaking around each one like a crown of thorns. From the tearing of skin atop your head at the site where these new extensions of you sprouted, blood would trickle down your face. Initially it was painful, but now? It only added to how absolutely terrifying you could be. Here, fear meant power, and you basked in it.

This was the only time you loved yourself. You were someone to answer to. Someone powerful and dangerous, who didn’t take anything laying down. You’d killed several Overlords in order to gain this title, and you were proud of it.

Every death at your hands or vines was a surge of adrenaline coursing throughout your body, and you couldn’t have been more thrilled with your decision in looking down the barrel of that rifle.

However, someone else had felt entirely different about their demise at first.

——

Distraught was an understatement. How was he supposed to visit you and his mother? Who else would get you your favorite flowers? Not just any random bouquet, but one composed of your most favorites?

How would he ever see you again?

Seeing as he was in Hell, that confirmed the existence of a Heaven, and surely you’d be up there.

He let out a growl of frustration, a long arm striking the side of a building, a spiderweb of cracks forming from the force. What a surprise, Alastor had committed atrocities during life so selfishly, and now they’d barred him from seeing you ever again.

He should’ve been more careful when burying that man in the swamp. He knew it was hunting season, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Even if it wasn’t, the police that were initially closing in on that woman-strangler shifted their focus onto him since the other killer’s disappearance. He always warned you about walking home alone at night because of that strangler. You’d always brush it off.

A snap from a twig and his head snapped towards the sound, and that blasted hunter shot well before he could ever think about what he was shooting at.

The shot connected at Alastor’s forehead, perfectly centered between his eyes. One of the best shots he’d seen since he took you on hunting excursions when you both were alive.

His heart tightened at the thought of you. You were all he ever seemed to think about.

He hated himself. He hated this body. A prey animal. A buck. Pathetic little antlers akin to toothpicks until he was in his more powerful form.

Nothing down here mattered. If you weren’t here, then nothing mattered. Down here, it was survival of the fittest, and it seemed he needed to make more of a statement in order to curb any ideas that he was weak, and considering his affinity for all things radio-related, he had just the idea to make it a reality.

It didn’t take him long at all to unlock his full demonic potential, hijacking the sound waves and crackling onto every radio in Hell, he made his debut appearance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I interrupt this regularly scheduled programming to bring you the worst thing to ever happen to you sorry sinners since the day of your demise!” Screams of terror and agony rang out from all devices in Hell, reflecting the sheer agony he’s felt ever since he lost you. How therapeutic it was to inflict pain on others, and yet how simultaneously unsatisfying that they’d never feel a fraction of the pain he felt.

If only he knew that your little doe ears flicked to your radio in pure shock.

——

It had to be him. No one else sounded like that. Talked like that. Made your heart race like that.

Ever since being here, the only thing that terrified you was that initial run-in with that wolfish sorry excuse of a man, but now that was topped by the sound of Alastor’s voice filtering through your radio, accompanied by the screams of his victims.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of Alastor, just of facing the unrequited feelings you initially shot yourself to get away from.

Why was he here? He was such a gentleman in his life on the surface, how could it be that he’s here? More screams cut your thoughts short.

He’s so…used to this. So used to torture that he welcomes it with open arms.

He…he had to be like you, no? Living a double life, teetering on the edges of a socially acceptable, functioning member of society, and a cold-blooded killer?

A part of you salivated at the thought that maybe he killed for you at least once, like you’d done for him so many times.

No. No he wouldn’t do that for you.

Your tail wagged and your legs craved to bolt out towards wherever Alastor was. But who knew if he even wanted to see you again? You looked into the mirror of your vanity where the radio rested.

Were you ugly? Would he find this form hideous?

Your fist collided with the mirror, shattering into hundreds of tiny images of you.

You rested your face in your palms, a took a deep breath.

…what did he look like?

The temptation to see him was so strong, it was as if you were caught in a trance that forced you out of your luxurious penthouse, a testament to the many lives you ended and souls you puppeteer. The over abundance of hope held in your body leaked out in the form of green grass and clover that sprouted from each footstep you took.

“Please let it be him.” You whispered to no one in particular. “Please let it be him.”

——

It felt like no amount of bloodshed was enough. He wanted others to feel the hurt he felt internally, and yet, despite the fact that the streets were painted with the lives of the sinners caught in his clutches, it simply wasn’t enough.

The void in his heart and soul was gaping, and he attempted to fill it with the viscera and gore of those he slaughtered, the taste of bitterness and iron filling his maw.

“Y/N if you’re looking down on me, look away.” He whispered to himself, hoping you’d hear his plea and turn away from the carnage he created in your name.

“Alastor?”

This truly was Hell. He was hearing your angelic voice calling his name.

“Alastor?!”

What hurt most was that every part of this eternal punishment was deserved, he just didn’t know if he could accept it.

“Alastor!”

No. He couldn’t accept this infernal reality. If he had to hear your voice but never see you again, he was sure he wouldn’t make it in this afterlife.

His train of thought was cut clean off by a harsh yanking around his throat that sent him flying backwards into the ground.

In shock, he bolted upright, fingers moving towards his throat to cup it gently, as if to assess the damage. Instead of being met with the warmth of his demonic flesh, his fingertips met something cold, and metal-like.

There were no words for how you felt about this situation. How did you…how…?

How did you have a chain around his soul if you never initiated a deal with him? This was unheard of. Absolutely unorthodox.

While you were staring in shock at the glimmering white chain that you held in your hand, his red eyes drifted from the chain up towards the culprit who yanked it, forcing him to the ground.

His eyes widened when he saw who was at the other end of it. He lost his breath for the third time that day.

The first being the impact of his fall.

The second being the chain pulling on his neck.

The third being the vision of you, which could absolutely not be real.

“Y/N?” He whispered, wishing he could take it back. He hadn’t said your name in so long, it was like a button that made his tear ducts malfunction. His vision was blurry, his breathing shaky.

“I-“ you opened your mouth then immediately closed it. It truly was him. He looked different, hair longer, skin grey, teeth sharp. And he was red. So, so red. But it was him.

Your Alastor.

He slowly got up from the ground, feeling as though if he moved too quickly, you’d dissipate like a mist. He couldn’t handle that.

The chain you held in your claws slacked because of his inching towards you. You debated backing away, but his eyes, despite being the color of blood, of warnings, of danger, you were sure they’d never looked to soft.

And they were looking right at you.

You. The object of all of his wants, desires, and affections. Too stupid to realize it in your lifetime, yet brought together by the very thing that made him realize the depth of his love for you; death.

You weren’t sure when, but you started to cry.

His heart felt so heavy. Heavy with love, with grief, with a hatred for the way he made you cry.

His claws reached out, cradling your wet face, the most gentle action he performed with them that day.

Your body betrayed your mind, your head leaning into the warmth of his large hands. You thought he certainly wouldn’t want you to, but your heart couldn’t help it.

His thumbs carefully wiped away the tears on your cheeks, being mindful of the sharpness of his claws. “Is it really you?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked as though you were in pain. Your ears drooped. This isn’t the way you wanted him to see you. You looked-

“You’re as stunning as the day I lost you.”

You sucked your lips in, trying to hold in the sob that was fighting its way out of your body, and you closed the distance between the two of you in the tightest embrace you could possibly muster, buried your face in the lapels of his overcoat.

He held onto you like you’d disappear for a second time, finger carding through your hair, nose intaking your scent. You smelled just like you did on Earth, only, with more floral notes.

For the first time since you got to Hell, you sobbed. “I’m so sorry Alastor.” You wailed.

He was sure you could both hear his heart audibly crack, “You’ve nothing to be sorry about, my darling.” He tightened his hold onto you. He was terrified he’d say something wrong, to have you take your life a second time in order to run away from him. “I’m the one who will forever be sorry. I-I was such a fool.”

You looked up at him, and shook your head. “I- I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me again.” You admitted.

“Darling, every waking moment of my life after you’d gone was spent wishing you were by my side once again. What I did to deserve my wish coming true, I’ll never know, but I’d do it over again if it meant I could have you.” Your foreheads pressed together, entry wounds kissing. “Y/N, no words could ever convey how sorry I am for treating you the way I did. I was so blinded by my own ignorance and arrogance that I couldn’t see just how madly, deeply, and quickly I’d fallen in love with you.”

You searched his eyes for a hint of an untruth, but found none. You laughed wetly, sniffling. “I love you too. More than anything. To live without you wasn’t an option, Alastor.”

His smile tightened at your last sentence. “I feel the very same way.”

You were counting in your head when to act on your emotions, trying to build up the courage.

One.

Two.

You never got to three. You didn’t like landing on three because that’s when everyone expected something to happen, and you just couldn’t wait any longer.

You took Alastor’s face in your hands, leaning into him while bringing him closer with your arms. Your kiss wasn’t how you always dreamed it to be, and yet, it was somehow better. It tasted of bitterness, of sweetness, of blood and death, and of life. He smelled of iron, of rot, of cinnamon and a fireplace.

And then it overwhelmingly smelt of roses.

You parted, both looking around in shock at the garden of rose bushes your powers created. You were initially bashful, but Alastor’s smile never looked brighter, laughing as he took your face in his hands and kissed you again, looking around as the rose bushes grew even larger.

“It seems the best way to get you flowers is to kiss you, hmm?” He teased. “We’ll have our very own Garden of Eden by the end of the day.” He teased softly.

“Not before you tell me why you’re down here.” You lightly scolded him, no real anger of malice behind the question.

He froze for a second, wondering if he’d scare you away if you knew what he’d done. “My dear, I-“ you placed a finger over his lips.

“Alastor, nothing you could say would ever make me stop loving you.” You removed your finger from his face and gesturing for him to keep going.

“I murdered many men who preyed on women…” he admitted, looking off to the side.

“You’re leaving something out.” Your neck craning to follow his line of sight.

“I also murdered men who meant to court you…” his claws reached up behind his neck to scratch at it, but he was reminded of the chain around his throat.

“You killed for me?” You said, astonished. Alastor mistook it for silent horror, until he saw clover sprouting out from around your hooves. He looked into your eyes, and saw nothing but an unbridled passion for him and his actions, leading to his cheeks to burn red as the rest of him. “I have something to confess myself.” You said at this revelation. “I strangled multiple women because they sought your heart. I couldn’t allow any competition whatsoever.” You played with your fingers nervously, afraid of what his reaction would be.

He was sure that you were made for him, and he for you. No other woman could compare to the lovely creature that was you; homicidal tendencies and all. He kissed you again, having to put this surge of love somewhere.

You looked at his throat then, at the glowing white collar around it. He shivered when your hands traced the metal, the very hands that had wrapped around so many necks before. The softest and most delicate hands he’d ever known that had snuffed out so many lives in the name of your love for him.

“I don’t understand how this happened, Alastor. We never made a deal. I shouldn’t own your soul.”

He thought back to a human version of himself, a broken man who pledged his afterlife to you. A decision he wouldn’t ever regret.

He took your hands in his larger ones. “Darling, you have all of me, heart and soul. I know you’ll take wonderful care of it.” He kissed the inside of one of your palms. “However, if you are going to pull on the leash so harshly, next time I’d prefer a warning.”

-♥️-

I would say I apologize for the wait, but patience is a virtue! I hope you all enjoyed this part 2, and I appreciate the support my last fic got. Please know I appreciated all comments, reblogs, and hearts you all so generously gave. ♥️

TAGLIST: @diffidentphantom @xalygatorx @whitewolfsoldat @littledolly2345 @purple-umbrella-girl @milkissesx @cinnamon-galaxies @michi-keinz

And apologies to @psychoaxo and @ari42 I wasn’t able to tag you for some reason.

#x reader #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin x you #alastor x you #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel

77 notes · View notes

felassan · 3 months ago

Text

Snippets. 🐺💜

Corinne: "PC has been a priority for us! It’s heartening to see so many PC champions on the team working hard to make this a great experience" [source]

Corinne: "Enjoy shield-bashing and drop-kicking hurlocks off the ramparts! Don’t forget to toss that shield around too" [source]

User: "I love that they chose a no mage party to showcase. 😂 The two companions thing had me a little worried that I’d have to take a warrior and a mage into battle with my Rook rogue all the time." / Corinne: "We know players get attached to certain characters, so while there are benefits to having one of each class, it’s completely viable and intended that you can find synergies with a variety of party comps" [source]

Each Background has a specific last name, very much inspired by the approach in Origins [source]

Corinne: "We’ve put a lot of effort into ensuring our gameplay and customized difficulty options allow players to find something comfortable and engaging for themselves. I’m sure you’ll do great! It was one of the biggest challenges in designing the combat system, as we know the Dragon Age player-base has a wide range of motivations and expectations." [source]

Corinne mentioned to a user who said that they prefer a warrior/mage experience but without all the slash and spin of rogue attacks that they might enjoy the Warrior Reaper spec [source]

Hrungr noticed that it looks like you can hide your armor as well as your helmet [source]

Mary: "True fact: For the longest time, in the DA writers' pit, we had "It has been __ (usually 0) days since someone mentioned cannibalism" on the whiteboard." [source]

Gabe, posting the release date reveal trailer: "My friends, I have made an effort to avoid shilling too much here so that when I do, it'll be worth it. I love this game and the team that brought it to life so much." [source]

Bryce: "if I may workpost for a sec, I'm forever grateful for days like today when I get to gush about dragon age with the fans this community is so welcoming and my heart is so full today 💜" [source]

The ray-tracing NVIDIA video from earlier this week that showed mage combat was showing early-on mage combat [source]

Blair: "the achievement names include some personal career highlights for me." [source]

Trick on the podcast: "The [DA:TV game] writers were pretty tapped with other stuff at the time, sadly, but I think it came together great." [source]

Though neither option is wrong or evil, making Cole more human in DA:I leaves him sadder [source]

John: "honestly it’s a very strange feeling to go from a half decade of ‘dragon age? maaaaybe we’re making a new one? tee hee’ to actually being able to talk about it" [source]

John: "been busy all day so I just got to read some of the reactions to the DATV combat showcase. I am incredibly proud of this team and I’m thrilled to see people excited about it. even after spending every day with it for the last 5 years I still love playing it." [source]

John: "being creative director means i work with pretty much every single department and team on the project. everyone brings creativity and innovation to their roles and the project would be nothing without them (and it)" [source]

John: "am I playing our game for fun on a Friday night, I certainly am. romancing my own companion to do one last check to make sure all the conditionals work. folks it is a very strange thing" [source, two]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #longpost #long post #dragon age: vows & vengeance #cole #spirit boy

116 notes · View notes

fairy-writes · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! Me again, your friendly neighborhood Sean Renard lover! I was wondering if whenever you feel like writing if you would consider writing Sean being very protective over the reader and everyone is saying to him that he’s so in lover with them and he’s like “no I’m not” and then he’s like realizing that’s he’s like in love with the reader damn near devoted. Or whatever you’d like to write. I’d honestly be happy with anything you put out. But take your time, no rush needed. Just whenever you feel like it. Thank you so much!!!! Have an awesome day!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

LITTLE BIRD

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): NBC Grimm

Pairing(s): Sean Renard x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Wesen!Reader, Use of nicknames (little bird), Reader is implied to have longer hair, but it’s not explicitly stated

Notes: I hope you enjoy!

TW for violence in the latter half of the oneshot (I’ll add an extra trigger warning when that starts)

__________________________________________________________________________

“Lieutenant Renard?” Sean looks up from his desk to see Cadet Drew Wu fidgeting with his button-down cuffs. He was nineteen and green in the gills, still exploring his options as a police cadet. But even though he hadn’t fully committed to the police academy yet, he was a hard worker.

He’d make a good police officer.

Sean sets down his pen and clears his throat.

“What’s the matter, Wu?” The police cadet stepped aside, and Sean’s jaw almost dropped at the sight of you. It was as if you had come straight from a painting. It seemed you hadn’t changed at all. Well… not exactly. You had aged, being a handful of years younger than him.

But you were still as beautiful as the day he lost you.

After all, the last time he had seen you was when his mother took him, and they fled from the Royal family out for his blood. You were but a fledgling that hadn’t yet sprouted in your full glory.

You both stare at each other before Wu swallows awkwardly and takes his leave. Then, you take a seat at his desk and smile,

“It’s certainly been a while, Sean.” You say quietly, and he feels his heart stutter at your warm words.

It had been years since anyone other than his mother was so full of kindness for him.

He sets down his pen and leans his forearms on the desk.

“How did you find me?” He asks seriously, and you shrug

“I have my ways. You should know this by now.” You tease, and your eyes flash a deep glowing blue for just a second. So quick, in fact, that he almost missed it. Feathers as black as pitch shuddered down your hairline before disappearing into your tresses.

Sometimes he forgot you were wesen. A Raub-Kondor, to be exact. And a brilliant one at that. You were often employed, even at a young age, by the Royal Families to track down and “take care of” certain traitors or deserters. It was how he met you in the first place. The thought of your job made him shudder,

“Are you here to get rid of me?” At this, you looked downright offended, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open ever so slightly.

“Of course not!” You hiss, and he feels his shoulders relax. He wasn’t in danger after all. You notice his palpable relief and smile that smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

The two of you part ways with the promise of meeting up for coffee. Your number is stored safely in Sean’s phone, and you even send him a text saying, “It’s me :)” and he can’t help but smile at the little emoji. You were always lighthearted despite all the blood on your hands.

You shift in place, eyes scanning every face in the small coffee shop as you wait for Sean to arrive. You check your phone and scroll through the brief messages you had shared with your childhood friend. He wasn’t the best conversationalist via texting. He typically preferred a call over texts.

“Have you been waiting long?” Comes his voice, and you jump, knee jerking up and hitting the underside of the table. Your eyes meet his, and he offers a half smile, clearly amused by your reaction.

“Not at all. I just got here a few minutes ago. I took the liberty of ordering you a coffee, black with one sugar, if I remember right?” You say, ears burning at your surprise at his arrival. He sheds his long overcoat, drapes it over the chair across from the booth you were in, and takes a seat.

“You remember correctly. I’m surprised you remember after all this time.”

At that, you duck your head, ears burning even more in embarrassment.

“I try to remember everything about you.” You say quietly, so quietly that he can barely hear it. But obviously, he does because his face splits into a warm grin.

He looks so handsome when he smiles.

The waitress brings over your drinks and a slice of chocolate cake that you ordered. You visibly brighten at the sight of the sweet treat and nearly dig in when you remember your manners.

“Would you like some?” You offer, noting the waitress had gone through the trouble to give you an extra fork for the occasion. Sean, sipping his coffee, shakes his head.

“Thank you, but I’ll pass for now. I know how much you adore your sweets.” He teases and you roll your eyes, secretly happy that you get the chocolate dessert all to yourself.

The cake is absolutely demolished in a few minutes flat, though you were careful not to get any crumbs on your clothes. Then, you start on your coffee.

“I see you still are a sugar addict,” Sean says as you add sugar to your bitter drink. You huff but stir and take a sip of the sweetened beverage. Perfect.

“I prefer the term sugar motivated.” You say, and he chuckles, making your breath catch, but you hide it quickly by taking another sip.

You thought your crush on the bastard prince had died over the years.

Clearly not.

“So…” You start, and he looks up from his coffee, eyebrow raised. “How’s life here in Portland?” He hums, glancing around the coffee shop before answering.

“It’s certainly different than Vienna. But enough about me… Why are you here?” He asks, suddenly serious, and you have to fight the urge to sit up straight.

You should’ve guessed he would ask something like this. It had taken you years to track him down to the Portland area. And for what? But you knew better than to lie.

So…

You didn’t.

“I missed you. As stupid as it sounds, I missed having someone to talk to. Well… that and your mother is concerned about you joining the police department. She’s worried it’ll put a target on your back.” You say, and Sean sits back in his chair, stirring his coffee absentmindedly as he mulls over your words.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine. I’m surrounded by good people.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow skeptically. Thankfully, Sean takes your concern seriously. He always has.

“But what if things go wrong?” You ask, and he shrugs a shoulder.

“If it makes you feel any better, you are more than welcome to stay here in Portland to keep an eye on me.” You smile at his words,

“I’d like that.”

Despite your promises to keep out of the way, you quickly become absorbed into his little work family. As the years go on and the precinct grows, you are always a constant at his side. You attend his promotion ceremony from his previous ranks to precinct captain, and he holds your gaze the entire time as he gives his speech.

Even as people come up and congratulate him, he finds himself only wanting your attention. He couldn’t care less about everyone else.

He feels a smaller hand slip into his, and he looks to find you smiling up at him. He sets down his glass of champagne, still mildly embarrassed that the precinct threw this shindig for him.

“Congratulations, Sean.” You whisper, and he hides a smile, but you still catch the twitch of his lips, and your smile widens.

He’s about to say something, but you are both interrupted.

“Is this your spouse?” Hank Griffin, homicide detective, and one of the most senior staff at the department. He’s followed by the newer homicide detective and his new work partner, Nick Burkhardt. Sean huffs out a dry laugh and shakes his head,

“Nothing like that. They’re a childhood friend, that’s all.” He says, and Hank nods, not entirely convinced.

Why was everyone doing that when he introduced you? Hell, even Wu didn’t seem to believe him.

Later, Sean spies you chatting with Nick as you raid the dessert table. You’re polite, and he feels his heart clench as Nick says something to make you laugh. Feathers shift down your hairline like they did whenever you half-woged, and he sees Nick’s face drop, but he hides the expression by the time you look up from your sweets. And that makes the clenched feeling in Sean’s heart twist more.

Was he a Grimm?

He’d have to look into this more.

Sean, ever the gentleman, walks you to your car after the celebration of his promotion. You, feeling adventurous, slip your hand into his and swing them back and forth ever so slightly.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain. He even squeezes your hand.

“I just wanted to say congratulations again.” You say as he opens your car door. You squeeze his hand once more, and he offers a quick quirk of his lips that you almost miss.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, little bird.” He says and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. You feel your cheeks heat up and hide an embarrassed smile.

He always was the cheeky one.

Feeling a bit bold, you lean out our car window just as he leans down to presumably tell you goodbye and kiss his cheek. He freezes, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock, but he doesn’t say anything.

He remains like that as you drive away, brushing his cheek with his fingers.

You chew on your lip as you watch him disappear in your rearview mirror.

Hopefully, you didn’t mess things up by doing that.

You don’t hear from Sean for several days. And it’s making you nervous. Had you overstepped your boundaries? Had you misread the signs from all your little coffee outings?

The book in front of you failed to hold your attention as you glanced from the words on the page to the cellular device next to you. After another thirty minutes, just when you were about to give up on reading, your phone buzzed.

Buzz… buzz buzz… buzz buzz…

The book was hastily bookmarked, and you scooped up the phone and swiped right to answer the call.

“Hello?” You said, trying to seem… well… not breathless or like you were anticipating the call.

“Are you busy?” Sean asks, sounding ragged as if he had been working for three days straight.

His new promotion must be wearing him down.

“I was just reading. Is everything okay?” You ask and hear a quiet hum on the other end.

“Might I invite you to dinner tonight?” Your heart skips a beat.

Dinner… that was a step up from coffee dates.

A big step up.

You make a noise to let him know you hadn’t died at the suggestion (though you certainly felt like you were about to pass out).

“I suppose I might be free tonight. Let's say we eat at seven o’clock?” You tease him gently and hear him write something down.

“I’ll pick you up.” He says, and you can’t help but smile.

“That sounds lovely.”

VIOLENCE STARTS HERE

Dinner doesn’t go as planned.

Sean’s car rumbles as he waits for you to come out of your hotel room. He had offered to let you stay with him at his new house; he had a spare bedroom after all, but you had declined. Instead, you had told him you were a big kid and could take care of yourself.

A shadow moved inside your hotel room on the second floor, and he looked up, a frown pulling his lips down. What was taking you so long? You hadn’t even responded to his text saying he had arrived. Should he call you?

He pulls up your contact and is about to press the call button when you come exploding through the window in a rain of glass and chaos.

Coincidentally, you land on the hood of his car, and his airbags deploy as you cave in the metal.

There’s someone on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck and squeezing like your life depended on it. He can see your hands going limp, and he darts from his car and draws his gun that he keeps with him at all times.

“PORTLAND PD! DON’T MOVE!” He bellows, and the person jerks their head up to look at him, eyes wild and glowing yellow.

A Mauvais Dentes.

The sabertoothed wesen leaped at him as he felt his face change in his woge.

He fired.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The man fell, his woge rippling across his skin and retracting the fangs and fur into his body until he looked like a regular man again.

Sean ran to your side, where you lay gasping on top of his car, pulling out his phone and dialing 911 as he went.

“911, what’s the location of your emergency?”

“This is Captain Sean Renard of the Portland Police Department. There’s a man who’s been killed and someone else who is gravely injured.” He started and rattled off your address, begging first responders to hurry because you looked terrible.

You had been in the middle of getting ready—a blouse stained in blood and shredded to bits, trousers, and you weren’t wearing shoes. Your throat isn’t much better. Sean can see where the Mauvais Denetes had punctured your skin, and its oozing blood at a sluggish pace. Your woge ripples under your skin and the tar-black feathers retract into your face. Your beak disappears, and when you open your eyes, they’re glassy.

“Stay with me, little bird, stay with me.” He says as he sheds his suit coat and tears it into strips to tie around your wound to hopefully staunch the bleeding.

“Sean?” You gurgle, and he hushes you,

“Don’t speak. An ambulance is on the way.” He says, and you nod once, closing your eyes again, and he listens to your breathing.

It doesn’t sound good.

He only hopes that you make it to the hospital.

Time slows. The ambulance and police arrive after what feels like hours. Blood has stained Sean’s trousers, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is you.

The first responders load you carefully into the ambulance and stop Sean before he can get in with you.

“I’m riding with them.” He snarled, and the two workers looked at each other before one stepped aside and allowed him to sit beside you. He holds your hand until they hook you up to get your vitals. You open your eyes again and wheeze,

“Sean?” You gasp, and he holds your grasping fingers.

“I’m here, little bird.” He whispers, and his heart is broken as he hears you whimper.

“Don’t leave me.” You whimper, and he stands as the ambulance rumbles into motion and presses a kiss to your forehead,

“Never.” He says and knows deep in his soul that he means it.

Because he loves you too much to let you go.

#sean renard x reader #renard x reader #grimm x reader #nbc grimm #sean renard #sean renard grimm #grimm sean renard #grimm #fairy writes

108 notes · View notes

would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 5 months ago

Note

Not sure if you've done it before because blog searches just don't work but how would umbreon work as a pet?

[You may have seen it already, but I’ll take any chance I can to link to the post containing my index doc, which works much better than blog searches here! I’ll put it at the bottom of this post.]

An umbreon might make a good pet for some owners, but they are definitely one of the weaker options when it comes to eevee evolutions. It really depends on the owner and what they can reasonably handle.

To begin with, however, like most pokémon of the aforementioned category, umbreons are a decent size to be a house pet. At three feet tall they’re certainly on the bigger size when compared to many real-world dogs and cats, but that’s pretty reasonable when compared to a lot of the pokémon we cover here on the blog. Now, when taking into account the pokédex data on this species, it’s difficult to tell if they tend to be friendly. There’s no mention of them living with humans or other umbreons, and by all means they seem to be stealthy, solitary predators who prefer to hide and use ambush tactics when hunting prey in the dead of night (Ruby/Sapphire, Emerald). It’s said that when these pokémon move around in the dark, the curious yellow rings on their fur glow, “striking fear into the hearts of anyone nearby” (Silver). This could be an involuntary response on the observers part, in which case an umbreon would make a terrible pet, but I’d be willing to wager that this glow is not intended as sort sort of psychological attack since it also occurs when they are simply excited (Crystal).

Umbreon care seems like it would be fairly straightforward… so long as they are in a good mood. Umbreons, like other species in the eevee evolution line, are natural predators. This could make them pretty dangerous, given their size, so I would suggest an abundance of caution and a keen awareness of their body language and mood at all times. Given their highly active lifestyle in the wild, umbreons need a lot of play time and enrichment: a sedentary pet they are not. Be prepared to offer them lots of opportunities to get their wiggles out! Keep in mind that this species is nocturnal (Ruby/Sapphire, Emerald, Diamond/Pearl), and will thus need the most attention at night; they’d be best fit for a night owl’s household.

There’s one strange quirk about umbreon biology that really hurts their pet ranking score, and it’s not something that can be easily gleamed just by looking at them. When agitated or angered, umbreons can actually spray poisonous sweat from their pores (Gold). This is, obviously, a huge problem. Not even the best pet owner can keep their pet from *ever* getting agitated, especially during stressful events like visits to the vet. This could pose a huge problem, though we don’t know exactly the potency of this poison. While an umbreon may be able to control the spraying of their sweat, it doesn’t seem like they can control the sweating itself, which could leave furniture, pet carriers, etc. covered with poisonous material. This is a factor that would make this pokémon an ill-fit for many owners.

Umbreons are, like I said earlier, pretty dangerous even without this sweat. These are large, agile hunters, who can use physical moves like Bite and Assurance to take down prey as easily as they can use special moves like Dark Pulse.

Overall, while an umbreon could make a pretty good pet for some owners, they are generally-speaking not a great choice, especially when other options, like an eevee, are available in most regions. I’d suggest potential umbreon adopters consider the risks before jumping into an adoption.

The Index:

#pokémon #pokemon #umbreon #pkmn irl #pr-b

55 notes · View notes

animasola86 · 1 year ago

Text

Sebastian Sallow Headcanons (revisited)

I made a similar post a while back, but I think it's time to revisit it.

Sebastian Sallow is a Scorpio (born between Oct 23 and Nov 22).

Typical Scorpio traits include being resourceful, ambitious, brave, (com)passionate, possessive, jealous, loyal, supportive, emotional, intense. I’d say he is all that. Also fits the Slytherin characteristics.

I don't have a particular date in mind for him anymore, but I'd say around Halloween or after would suit him and Anne. (I haven't looked at the actual Astrology aspect of it, leaving that to the experts here!)

He is a nerd and an athlete.

He is the kind of nerd who will hit you with knowledge when you least expect it and never as the know-it-all type, but rather the let-me-share-my-knowledge type. I'm sure he'll be actually fun at parties.

And I see no problem in him being hunched over books for hours on end and being physically fit at the same time. (Yes, he seemed a little unfit at the start of fifth year, being all breathless on the way to Hogsmeade and during a mission up some stairs, but I'll ignore that. He'll grow into it.)

So he's not only fit enough to brave all those stairs in Hogwarts, I also see him on the Quidditch team. I initially had him as a Beater in my head, and I still stand by it, but I do see him as a Seeker as well now, just because how he can show off by catching the Snitch.

(I don't see him as a Chaser, too average a position for him imo, or a Keeper, I think he'd be too hyper to stay in one place all the time, even though his protective trait might play into it, but he can focus on that more when he hits some Bludgers around.)

He is tall.

I also HC that Ominis is taller, but Sebastian is still tall. I put him at 1.80m/180cm (5′11″) initially, but I might even put him taller now. He'll definitely have another growth spurt during his last years at Hogwarts and grow into an even taller adult, so for now, let's settle on him being 1.85m/185cm/6'1" at the end of the game. (Angst can make you grow, yes.)

(And I need him to be tall because my MCs usually are quite short and I just love that size difference dynamic so much!)

He is an extrovert.

He might have his baggage to carry during his fifth year (and beyond), but he still has many extrovert tendencies, especially needing people around to recharge - even if it's just one person (our MC preferably). He is a twin, so being alone was never really an option before Anne got sick.

That's why he hates being alone, he'll certainly have his mind flooded with doubts and dark thoughts if he happens to be alone. That might make him clingy and/or overprotective towards his significant other/friends, but if it helps him sleep at night, he won't hesitate to hog those special people to his advantage.

He is a light sleeper.

And probably has nightmares more than your average boy considering all the stress he puts himself under, with his worries for Anne and the constant abuse from Solomon and his general past (loss of his parents, etc.).

Yet even though he might have trouble falling asleep and sleeping in general, I do think he can sleep anywhere, thinking about the shed in Feldcroft that the fandom considers to be his place to stay when he visits his sister. Also as a twin he was probably used to sharing small spaces and finding sleep wherever he can.

He can't sit still for long.

Call it ADHD, restless legs syndrome or general nerves, he probably can't sit still and has to fidget a lot as well. Might conflict with his ability to absorb himself in books for hours on end, but even when reading, I'd imagine him moving a lot (think back to him pacing in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, or his constant walking cycle through the DADA tower, etc.).

His favorite color is green.

Obvious choice, I just needed something to end this with. So here we go. Green for Slytherin, for nature, and maybe, probably hope? Who knows.

[ 🔞 NSFW Sebastian Sallow Headcanons ]

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow headcanons

162 notes · View notes

uglypastels · 1 year ago

Text

Not Wholly Evil |VI| pirate!Eddie au

Happy Fourth of July/(whatever day of the week it is) (depending on what you celebrate).

Series Masterlist

word count: 6.1k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 6: Shiver Me, Timbers

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Then I’d be alone, too."

― Leigh Bardugo, Siege and Storm

Despite the fact you had your new room waiting for you upstairs, once Munson left you, all you could force yourself to do was lie down. With deep breaths, you steadied your heartbeat and let a soft slumber fall over you. Just enough to regain some energy and hopefully for the pain to pass.

You fell into a dreamless slumber, simply hovering in an abyss between worlds. It was plain and peaceful. Beautiful, to say the least. Away from all the nuisance and filth that was actually around you. None of the noise.

Just a voice.

It called to you, and your name sounded so lovely coming from his lips. So lovely, in fact, that you awoke with the ghost of a smile still haunting your lips. You wiped it off together with the sleep from your eyes.

The sun still shined, but less brightly so. The shadows grew longer around you as evening came near. As you tried to move, you groaned out, everything feeling stiff and tortured, your side pinching where the skin was trying to heal slowly. The floor was certainly not the place to do so, but fortunately, you would only have to stay there a little longer. Slowly, not wanting to make any erratic moves, you made your way up again. But before you got too far up the steps, already knowing you were not planning on ever returning down there, you grabbed the long sheath of fabric you had used for curtains around your cell.

The difference between the deck from before you had left it was like day and night. No longer was the crew huddled around in groups and yelling and cheering. Playtime was over. Now, all the deck crew were busy cleaning the floors pulling ropes or… well, you were not entirely sure what needed to be done, but they were doing it, and it seemed to be working smoothly. Certainly, they had enough on their plates to be bothered by you walking by… at least, too busy to stop and stare. You still caught a few pained glances. You weren’t sure if you preferred their pity over their anger, thirst or intimidation. It fell somewhere in between, presumably.

On your way up to the quarter deck, you caught sight of Harrington, who was busy pulling at one of the larger ropes at the ship. His shirt sleeves were pulled up, so you could see the strain he put on his arms with each move. His veins were mixed with various scars. Everyone around the ship seemed to have them. Pain was not an option on the Hellfire. It was the price.

Without having a moment to criticise your actions, you called out to him. As he looked up, shocked or somewhat confused, there was a second in which he lost control of the rope. It slipped past his hands and started to unravel. You were ready to run up and help somehow, but he managed to pull it back. The response from the men around him was nothing but unimpressed grunts.

‘I am so sorry,’ you said as you walked up, bunching up the fabric in your arms as pieces fell to the ground. There was more you wanted to say, but you kept it to yourself.

Harrington huffed out. He pulled more of the rope, letting it circle around his shoulder. He was not looking at you as he asked: ‘Are you okay?’

‘I think so.’ You looked down. Now shredded to pieces, the bottom of your shirt had soaked up most of the blood, and the red stain shone like a bright fire against the pale white.

‘Good.’ He nodded once and did not say another thing. ‘I should get back—’ he nodded toward whatever he was trying to pull with the rope, despite never having stopped or looked away.

‘Ah, of course, you stumbled, taking steps back. The message was clear. Why in the world had you approached him? Or tried to glance at him as you walked away? The sheets kept falling out of your arms, and it was a hassle to keep it all together.

‘Do you—’ someone asked, but you quickly shut them up with a decline of whatever offer they were making.

‘No, thank you!’ there was an attempt at civility.

There was no fear this time as you walked up the stairs leading to the captain’s—nay, your—quarters. In fact, you were filled with confidence that you had not felt in a long time. One that even a stab, or a cut, in the ribs, could not break apart. With your hands full, you kicked the door open, perhaps a bit harder than anticipated. Across the room, a pair of eyes shot up to look at the commotion, but they disappeared just as quickly under the curtain of dark bangs.

‘In case you forgot,’ you said, head held high, scrunching the sheet tighter, ‘this is my room now.’

‘The bed is all yours, princess.’ Munson refrained from looking up at you again, instead holding a sensible interest in the papers in his hand. But then he glanced up briefly. ‘Planning on redecorating already?’ He got back to his business.

‘Thought I might need it as another cover, in case the night got cold. Or a pillow.’ You moved towards the bed, still unmade from that morning when you left it. Your dress still hung at the bedpost. The captain nodded at your answer but did not resume the conversation any further.

You had not contemplated this and had very little ability to affect it. You might have won the bed chambers, but the captain’s office still needed use… and considering these were in the same space…

Now, you had dared a lot in your time aboard this ship, including duelling the captain, but seeing how that had turned out, you were not willing to risk such games anymore. And so, you did not try to fight it but instead sat on the bed and stared ahead at the map that hung across from you. The only sound in the cabin was the quill scratching of the captain as he made notes over all his other notes on the topic of more notes.

You did your best to make yourself comfortable on the bed, moving around, shifting your weight from side to side, and pushing the covers and pillows up to give you more support. It was quite noisy, but it had not been done intentionally. Despite what your amusement might have come from the agitated looks of the captain could say on the matter.

‘Is this what you’re planning on doing with your day?’ He mumbled, still not looking at you. It was as if he didn’t dare catch your eye any longer, but that did not stop him from talking to you like before.

‘I am simply trying to make myself comfortable,’ you said, fluffing a pillow, slapping it as hard as possible. Some of the feathers flew out with it.

‘And must you do that while I am working?’ He put down some of the papers in frustration.

‘Remind me,’ you leaned back, the fluffed pillow doing very little in favour of your back, ‘what is it exactly that a sea urchin like you does?’

The captain sighed and leaned back on his throne. It seemed smaller than the first time you saw it. Less… menacing. ‘Well, making sure that things are run tight on the ship so we don’t die at sea in a crash of fire and timber, for a start. Then, just on the side, I am trying to find the fastest route to bring the princess home. Sound like a good day’s job?’ He spat your nickname out, and hearing that anger made you feel sicker than ever you had heard it before. So, you didn’t reply to him but turned your head the other way, facing the disorganised shelves of books. With one astronomy volume missing, the rest still looked on the brink of falling apart. It was stomach-churning to look at, and the next two minutes you spent in silence were enough to make your mind up.

You got up on your feet too fast, sending a rush of pain into your ribs and a dizzying sensation into your brain, but once that faded, you made your way over to the books and started picking them out, one by one. Each fell loudly on the ground. It took four of these deafening drops for Munson to get up and shout: ‘What are you doing?’

‘Redecorating,’ you made a quarter of a turn and looked as naively at him as possible.

‘And you think the books will look better on the ground?’ He was already stepping away from his seat, half behind his desk and ready to leap to the books.

‘No, but I do think they would look better organised.’ You pulled out a few more books, each falling on top of the previous.

‘They—’ Munson stormed over to you, mumbling in curses about God and whatnot. ‘They are organised.’ He pulled the book you had just picked up out of your hand. Suddenly, there wasn’t an entire room between you, but only a few inches, and it all became a bit too real as his presence was always so quick to tower over you. ‘Meticulously so, may I add.’ He put the book back where it belonged. You took another look at the books, apprehensive of the statement.

‘Then, please, enlighten me on this system.’ From what you had observed, none of it made sense. Munson contemplated beginning what you could only assume was an excruciatingly long and painstakingly precise explanation of this system but stopped himself mid-first syllable: ‘I do not have time to entertain you. Stay away.’ He backed away. ‘And put those back as you found them...Please.’ It was a miracle he had learned that word.

‘Fine,’ you spat out, only to then ask much more calmly, ‘can I at least read them?’ You doubted these books had fulfilled any of their purposes in a long time. Munson may indulge in the accessorisation of his bookshelf, but he did not seem to be much of a reader since there was nothing else to do on this blood-boiling ship…

‘Yes, alright, if it keeps you quiet.’ He waved you away dismissively as he got back to the desk. You watched how he moved, hand rubbing over his jaw as he scratched at the stubble that was apparently becoming a common characteristic of his now. That was combined with the blood red of his knuckles as if he had hit something hard. You wondered where the damage was—clearly not in this room, as you could not see any broken furniture, walls, or shards of anything.

It hurt to bend over, so you manoeuvred to sit down and slowly put the books back in their designated spot. All you could do to ignore the lingering stare you were given from Munson was to try and organise the books in your head. Epic poetry could go on the top shelf, followed by the sciences. Map journals would go below that, and then… then the diary logs. Were those his? Highly unlikely he would leave his own writings out in the open like this and then let you read them. You picked one out at random.

It was bound in black leather, nothing written on it, but inside, the pages were clearly used and covered in ink, ready to fall out as you opened it. You glanced at the first page. The scribbling was barely unintelligible. For one, the handwriting the original scrivener had put down was tiny and messy, but also because any other free space on the page was used with notes in a different hand. The annotations were made in different ink, though both were black naturally and the letters a bit more manageable. They mainly consisted of deciphering the words that had originally been written, and soon you were to find out that the handwriting was one of many obstacles in understanding the text.

It was a code.

All of it, and someone had taken a painstaking amount of time to decode all the cryptic messages left.

‘Who is this Captain James?’ You asked as you walked to the chair before the desk since the bed only felt okay for lying in. Munson did not look up as you made yourself comfortable before him.

‘Old Man Jim, captain of the Gold Tiger,‘ he sighed, only briefly glancing up to catch any sign of recognition on your face, which was lacking, and so he continued. ‘I’m surprised your father had not told you anything about him; he was quite renowned for his… expeditions. Stole from any family he came to contact with, then buried all his treasures somewhere before disappearing—not before writing it all down in here, however.’

‘He wrote down how to find the treasure?’ You raised a brow.

‘Among other things.’

‘Why let me read it then? What if I figure this out?’

‘Two simple reasons, princess,’ he put his quill down and, crossing his arms, looked directly at you. ‘Whoever had decoded his messages in the first place was probably even cleverer than Jim, so it’s all just more riddles for you to figure out and second… it’s been decades since he wrote that journal. The treasure is long gone.’

‘What do you mean it’s gone?’

‘As in, taken. No longer there.’ He blinked. ‘Now, if you will excuse me.’ He reached for the apple that stood on top of a pile of parchments, but you were quicker. Munson stared blankly at you as you leaned back in your chair and bit it into it proudly.

‘Did you, by any chance, hit your head during our match?’ He watched you flip more of the pages in the journal. The notes were, indeed, all written in another code. He briefly explained his question: ‘You seem… different.’

‘No, I suppose you simply rubbed off on me.’ Like a disease. You smiled.

‘Well, then, I’m glad my company has favoured you in some way.’ He wrote something down with his quill as you glared at him and snapped the momentary silence with a bite of the apple. Then, he got up and pushed his throne back, scraping the wood horribly. ‘I’m sad to admit I can’t spend more time enduring your questions, but I’m required somewhere else.’

‘Coincidentally, I’ve been waiting for you to say that since I walked in.’

‘I’m very happy to see you still have your sense of humour.’ He got up. ‘But will you be keeping the shirt?’

‘I don’t have anything else to wear,’ you weren’t planning on putting the dress back on. After spending half a day in these trousers and shirt, you realised the torture of all the other layers. The weight of it all alone.

‘Hadn’t stopped you before.’ Munson nodded over to the wardrobe.

‘You want me to take your clothes?’ You ate some more of the apple.

‘I’m sure it’s more preferable than being covered in blood.’

‘It is not us troublesome as you’d imagine, actually,’ then you looked up at him again with realisation, ‘unless… are you bothered by it, captain?’

‘I’m alright.’

‘Great. Then that is settled.’ You leaned back in the chair and took another bite of the fruit. The sweetness of it was like a reward for everything you had to put up with. Munson clenched his jaw, but there was little else he could do, so he walked away just as he had announced. You ignored his walk towards the door and only moved once you heard the familiar door closing behind him. Not wanting to waste a moment, you got up, ignoring that stitch in your side again, and moved across the desk. It had been naive to think that when you looked down, you would find the drawer still open, but as luck would have it, it actually was.

However, not all the luck was on your side because when you pulled the drawer open, you only saw the bottles inside—now counting one less than in the morning, but only bottles nonetheless. The piece of the letter was gone. You searched underneath the glass to ensure, even under the desk and its surroundings.

Glancing up at the door every few moments and listening to what was happening outside, you carefully poked around at the things on the bureau. No, it was definitely gone.

Munson must have moved it. You cursed at yourself. Then, did he also know you had seen it? You knew it was wrong to go through his belongings, but you did not feel any guilt. That had left you when you were thrown in that cell all those days ago.

And so, you kept looking, cursing him after going through every book on the shelf and not finding it, then through the nooks of the wardrobe as you picked out a new shirt to wear, throwing the old one on top of the captain’s throne. It was somewhat of a sensitive operation, this search. You tried to be inconspicuous about it and let it spread over the next few days, making sure you did not make too much of a mess as you went through the drawers and items lying around to not cause any suspicion. Most of the days, looking went by in the exact same way.

You did not know if the captain went in on your deal and slept in the cell or elsewhere. It did not really matter, either, since all that was important was that you got to sleep in a bed. He could sleep with the sharks for all you cared. Either way, he seemed well-rested. When you would awake each morning, the captain was usually already at his desk, your breakfast at the table, and you would eat it as he worked. Trying not to take up too much of the other’s space, only interrupting it with minor remarks here and there that would make you simultaneously laugh and grind your teeth with annoyance. Sometimes, other crewmen would walk in to discuss various matters, ignoring you for the most part. You listened but barely weight in on the conversation, more so out of a lack of interest than anything.

The contributors in these meetings would vary, depending on the issues to be discussed, but Harrington and Robin would frequently be a part of them, clearly having a larger role in the crew than you had anticipated. Robin would sometimes ask your opinion, much to the shock of the others and yourself.

You looked up from your book, wide-eyed and taken aback, pretending to not know what they were speaking of, as if you had not been listening intently to every word.

‘I would say, go West.’ Mostly you would agree with Robin's suggestion, just to see Munson scowl, think it through once more, and eventually settle on the same answer himself.

Harrington would not even look your way. You had noticed him going out of his way to stand with his back towards you, eyes always on the captain. You could not even understand why it bothered you so much, seeing you had only spoken once before all this; you felt a gnawing feeling in your gut… or maybe it was only the wound at your ribs.

In the ongoing days, you checked how it was healing, and it seemed fine. Magically, there was no infection, maybe thanks to the alcohol you had poured over it. Finally, it was barely visible beside a paling bruise around it and the scar— large but still thinner than the ones you saw carried around by others on board. Maybe one day you would even forget it was ever there.

In the hours when it was just you and him, it was mostly quiet. You’d both read, only a desk between you, barely paying attention to the other until one would leave the room. Usually, he would do so first, and you’d take the opportunity to search for that cursed letter.

Other times, you’d grow tired, or your legs would become stiff, and you’d go out onto the deck first, leaving the captain to work on his own. Then afterwards, you’d return to the cabin, and your dinner meal would be waiting for you on the desk, and you’d read until sleep took over. You’d wake up the following day, and everything would start over.

When you were outside, you would mostly keep to yourself, knowing that the last thing the crew would want to deal with is to talk to you, and in your case, you had very little to say to them. Really, the only person you spoke to was Buck—or Robin, as she also went by, you had noticed—whenever she was not in her nest. You’d find a little less crowded spot on the ship and talk about whatever came to mind, or at least that is what you wanted it to sound like, while you tried to find out more about her, the rest of the ship and the captain.

‘So, how long have you been apart of this crew?’ It was a warm afternoon, a typical summer’s day, but the clouds had been appearing more and more recently and had now taken centre stage in the sky. The wind picked up, too, as you sat down with Robin. You wanted your questions to sound off the cuff and not as if you had been noting them down in your mind at night. Unfortunately, Robin was not the easiest to get information out of… well, depending on what kind of information you sought since she tended to talk a lot but not say much with her words.

‘I honestly don’t remember when it was; it must have been years, time moves weirdly when you’re out on the sea, but I was dragged into it when bloody King Steve—’

‘King Steve?’ you asked, not recognising the name. Over the few days, she had been mentioning most of the crew, and you had tried to learn them, but this was a new one.

‘Oh, Harrington— we call him that because, uhm he was a royal guard.’

This piece of information shook you. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, met the king and all that— don’t know which king that was, but apparently, he doesn’t like toasted bread, the king, if you’d believe that. I mean, who does not like toasted bread? That feels like a bigger crime than whatever we have ever done—’

‘What have you done?’ You had quickly realised it was easier to try and keep up with what Robin had to say than revert her back to previous topics, and so, despite your longing for more information about Harrington’s life before Hellfire, you asked about the issue at hand.

‘What haven’t we done,’ she chuckled nervously, ‘but I probably shouldn’t be telling you about that. Don’t think cap would like you knowing.’

‘I am not bothered by what the captain likes or does not like.’

‘Yes, but…’ she struggled to find her words. ‘I mean, he told us—’ Robin faded out, her shoulders stiffened as a harsher wind blew. ‘Did that feel normal to you?’

‘I think so. But he told you what?’ You knew Munson ran a tight ship, but you had not thought he would ban his crew from talking to you about things. Did he have such significant secrets to go so far?

‘Nothing. I didn’t say anything—did I say anything? You should probably ask— no, don’t ask Steve—I mean…’ Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she looked up, but you kept your eyes on her, unphased.

‘I’ll go ask Harrington, then.’ You said, exasperated, as Robin stared out above you without the intention of coming back down.

‘No, don’t! It will only–’ she got up after you, already reaching for your arm, but more thunder echoed with menace like a cannon. She looked around frantically, cursing, then turned back to you. ‘Is the captain upstairs?’

‘I—I think so.’ You couldn’t possibly know except that he had been there when you left, and you had not seen him around the deck since, either. Robin tightened her grip on your arm lightly, subconsciously, before letting go and running off, but not before saying:

‘Just stay here, okay?’ without giving you any moment to respond. It had all happened so quickly that you stayed put for the sake of your own brain trying to catch up on what had happened. Everything that Robin had said, or rather had not said. More clouds appeared, darker than their usual counterparts that had followed your journey. The wind picked up as well.

‘What happened to Buck?’ A not-so-familiar-anymore voice asked behind you. You turned to see Harrington, Steve, whatever his name was. His shoulder was already almost against yours. How you had not even heard him walk so closely up to you was a wonder. But since he was here already… Robin had told you to not move, so you remained where she left you.

‘She— I’m not sure; she heard thunder and ran off to speak to the captain.’ Exactly then, as if you had cued it, a lighting strike appeared, slashing through the sky like a knife. The thunder followed behind at its own pace.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Harrington comforted, ‘she’s probably notifying him of the weather.’

‘Well, I doubt he missed that,’ you said, breathing in slowly, washing off the skip in your heart that came with the lightning.

‘Not an enjoyed of storms?’ Harrington observed.

‘More when I am not about to sail right into it.’ You had heard too many stories of ships going missing in waves, being washed away by the rain, or burned by the fire that came with lightning. It did not feel inviting.

‘We’re not,’ Steve reassured you, ‘we will probably turn around, find somewhere to wait it out.’ And you would have believed him, certainly appreciated his efforts in comforting you, except you knew that Hellfire was nowhere near any safe piece of land or calm water. Not to mention, the wind was blowing you in the direction of those lightning strikes. Where else were you to go? But when the thunder boomed over you, it still felt reasonably far away. There was time, so you focused on issues much closer to you. Specifically, shoulder-to-shoulder.

‘She told me something quite interesting, you know.’ You said, looking out ahead at where the clouds were the darkest. Yes, that must be miles away.

‘Robin says a lot of interesting things.’ He had already distanced himself by several inches.

‘Well, it was more what she had not said, or rather, could not say, that was so interesting.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’ Steve said, clearly nervous. That was visible enough by the way how he started to look around.

‘I got this feeling that there were, or rather, there are, things people are keeping from me, on behalf of the captain.’

‘We’re all simply following orders.’ Harrington sighed.

‘So what are you orders then?’ You looked him directly in the eyes. His were brown too, much like the captains, and yet entirely different. Colder, darker, and yet as inviting.

‘I can’t—’ He took another step back, looking up at the quarter-deck as if he had been caught red-handed stealing. But there was no one there or paying attention to the two of you. Not when the clouds grew larger and darker and the air felt denser. That density only came with rain. ‘Look, he means the best for you.’

‘We both know that is a lie. He doesn’t care about me.’

‘He might not be able to show it—’ More lightning came over you. The thunder followed in mere seconds. It was getting closer and much faster than you had anticipated. Steve looked around at his fellow crew members, who all had the same panic-stricken lines on their faces, and suddenly everything around began to move much faster. ‘Go inside and… and stop whatever you’re doing. Before you get us all into trouble.’ His words didn’t fall heavy onto you. It wasn’t a threat. Because whatever the consequences would be, whatever Munson had promised for going against his orders, was not detrimental. He was not someone that was feared by his people. That much you knew.

Harrington grabbed your shoulder and pushed you towards the stairs of the quarter deck, but you resisted, demanding answers.

‘How do I get us in trouble, what am I doing–’

‘Stop talking, please.’ He was ready to pick you up to get you out of the open air. The first droplets began to fall on your face. They were cool to the touch, a surprisingly nice change from the hot and salty air that came with every day. As the rain fell, you stared deeply into his eyes, hoping it would break a wall in him, but it cracked something in you instead.

‘Did he tell you not to speak to me.’

Harrington said nothing, and in many ways, that was worth more than a million words. And while before he tried to get you upstairs, he now reached for you as you ran up to the cabin, but you were already gone. The rain grew harsher; you walked into the room, door slamming up against the wall, with your hair already glued to your face, which was heating up with anger.

Munson and Robin looked up at you, frazzled.

‘You,’ you raged, ‘had no rights to do that.’ More thunder clapped. The wind rushed by you through the open door. Robin walked up to the window to see the waves crashing against the back of the ship and the rain that poured down into it like a curtain of steel bullets.

‘Buck, go check on the rest; tell them our plan.’ Munson said, composed, ‘and close the door.’ The wind was picking up at all the loose pieces of paper around him. Robin nodded and swiftly made her way out of the room. For the first time, she said nothing to you as she passed, closing the door. Immediately, with the wind now blocked by the walls, it was painfully quiet.

‘There is a lot I do not understand about you, much I do not need to understand, nor want to, but I demand you to explain why you banned your crew from speaking to me.’ Your face was damp from the rain, so who could tell if tears had become mixed between them.

‘I did no such thing,’ he grabbed the loose pieces of paper that had flown away with the wind. He was moving in a rush.

‘We both know that is not true.’ You both walked, meeting in the middle, nearly chest to chest.

‘I do not have time for this, princess.’

‘Well, make time then.’ You could not let this be over. You wanted answers.

‘Do you not see what is happening out there,’ with the last ounce of humour left in him, he pointed at the window, though through the heavy rainfall, barely anything was visible.

Munson walked by your side, and when you went to follow him, not wanting to give up so soon, he turned around, his nose almost smashing into yours. ‘Stay here.’ He growled.

‘No.’ You said back.

‘Stay, or I swear, to all things sacred and not, I will chain you to that bed.’ Between his words, he had found a grip on your wrist, and it tightened with each syllable. You blinked away the flinch of pain, and something about that made him back out. ‘Stay.’ His last word before leaving you was a whisper. It echoed in your mind.

And so, you stayed, kicking at the door with a scream of frustration. Just when you thought that things weren’t as bad when you thought you had found a place for yourself around, a stone was turned, and the truth was revealed, and how much longer could you keep doing this?

Tired and not wanting to fall to the ground, you sat on the bed. A thought occurred to you that you could go around and just destroy everything in your sight. Let the storm take the blame for the mess you would cause, whether it eventually would reach this room or not. You wanted to throw all those books off their shelves, tear his clothing to pieces, burn all those papers on his desk and rip everything off the walls— the maps, the tapestry, the notes—

How long had that been there?

You must have stared at that wall for hours in the past weeks, so why had you not noticed the dagger in the corner of the wall. It was struck deep into the wall, holding up several layers of paper, but the one most recently added, right on top of the pile… you recognised the scorch marks.

Why did this letter stay on your mind for so long? Why did it make you search every inch of this room? You couldn’t quite explain it besides maybe seeing it as a kind of purpose. You had given yourself a goal to find it, and now, as you walked closer, you may have done it.

It had been turned backwards, now only showing an old piece of paper, only adorned by water damage and blackened edges. The knife had been pushed deep into the wood behind it, and you had to pull it a few times before getting it out. Immediately, a stack of paper fell to the ground. You picked them up and put them on the desk but took one back to the bed. There, you searched through the sheet you had taken from the below deck, where you had, hopefully, kept the other note. The one you had found in one of the chests. The one that had kept you sane, giving you a spark of hope for humanity as it reminded you that somewhere in the world, love still existed.

Both papers were damaged, so the fit was imperfect, but the sentences aligned perfectly.

My dearest,

The nights have been cruel, but I spend them thinking of you, and suddenly, the dark sky does not feel so heartless anymore.

I think of your eyes. The sea reminds me of them— it is a calming sight each morning, and I imagine you looking out of your window at the shore, and perhaps we look up at the same clouds, and it is like you are right by my side and the wind feels not as harsh suddenly. More like a kiss straight from your lips.

Some days I hum the words of that song you sang to me. I know what you have said about my voice, and the kind words still warm my heart, but they will never compare to yours. I will never do the melody justice. Only you behold such talents.

To be able to hold you once again, to hear your voice, is the only thing that keeps me strong. I count down the days until I can tell you all these things while you lay in my arms, and I can feel your heartbeat against my palms. But for now, this must make due, sweetest, and I can only hope that when I close my eyes, I will envision you.

The last thing I will say to you is that I still have that dream some nights, the one we spoke of before I left. That we sail away from everything and create our own piece of paradise.

I hope you do too.

Forever yours,

—

The letter's ending had been burned off, concealing its signature, but you did not need to read it. You knew precisely what had once stood there, and upon your realisation, you could not believe that it had taken you this long to see what was right in front of you all along. After all, you had stared at the same handwriting for days in this room. On the notes scribbled in a rush, the margins and annotations of the books, but most importantly, the map you fell asleep staring at, the large cross over your home. It was all one hand.

In shock, you reread the letter, trying to understand what was written there. As you did so, somewhere aboard, fearful yells erupted as the waves grew higher and the wind became angrier, and the rain more painful. Everything felt askew as the ship lost its balance on the water.

Chapter 7

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging. I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the Eddie Munson taglist. right here.

taglist (part 1)

@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @strangerfreak @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @vintagehellfire @raven-rust @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @imjusteddietrashatthispoint @lunar-corgimon

@dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreader @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @wroteclassicaly @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #pirate!au #pirate!eddie #pirates #enemies to lovers #slow burn #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine

300 notes · View notes

leaderpinhead · 9 months ago

Text

Leona - Checkmate

Prompt: Only One Bed

“I know we just had to prove ourselves worthy to grace you with our gross herbivore presence, but now we have another issue.”

Leona snorted but otherwise pretended not to hear her. He used the excuse of being in the bathroom. Just like his sister-in-law, Yuu had no issues with continuing to nag him. “Do you think ignoring me will make the problem go away? I have enough experience to tell you life doesn’t work that way.”

Leona clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. When they drifted back down to the mirror, he caught the reflection of the prefect and her pet in the bedroom behind him. Grim circled in and out of the room from the balcony like he couldn’t get over the view of the dorm. The prefect stood at the foot of the bed with her hands propped on her hips and her gaze steadfastly fixed in the direction of the bathroom. Her brown eyes met his in the mirror without hesitation.

Leona quickly glanced away. Not because he was intimidated, but because he had inadvertently dropped the brush he held. Yes, that was his excuse.

“You’re the one who insisted on staying here,” Leona snapped. He tossed the brush onto the counter and prowled around the large bathroom. He moved out of the view of the mirror and tossed a towel onto the floor just because he felt like it.

“Now I see why your room is such a mess. I almost feel sorry for Ruggie having to clean up after you, but then I remember he benefits from it just as much as you do.”

Nagging—why were all women of every species such experienced naggers? “If you have a problem, why don’t you go room with the puppy?”

“I’d prefer Jack, but you know why that isn’t possible.”

Leona huffed, but he didn’t argue on the point. He did understand why. He might have made her fight to earn the right to room with him while Azul manipulated his contracts, but he had known letting her room anywhere else in the dorm wasn’t an option. He’d heard the whispers circulating the dorm as more and more students realized the prefect was a girl in disguise.

He was quick to put those other boys in their places, especially when the whispers made even his stomach churn.

Ruggie’s snickers reminded Leona of the hyena’s presence outside the bathroom. “You three have fun figuring that all out. I’ll be back to see who still alive in the morning. Shyeheehee.”

Leona’s ears flicked when Jack mumbled a farewell too. He heard the obvious click of the bedroom door. Soft shuffling signaled the prefect and Grim moving around his room. Leona fiddled with the tubes and containers he found on the sink counter. His nose wrinkled when he picked up one container. Why the hell had Ruggie bought him a warthog scented candle?

“If you’re planning on spending the night in your bathtub, then I guess our problem isn’t as big as I thought it was.”

Leona grumbled and tossed the offensive smelling candle into the wastebasket. He sighed when he caught the prefect still glowering at him in the mirror. Clicking his tongue again, Leona ambled out of the bathroom. He tipped his chin back and scowled down at the prefect. “You should learn to show some gratitude. I could’ve sent you straight back to your dorm to deal with Azul’s lackeys.”

Yuu’s chin tipped back to meet his gaze. His eyes narrowed. Did she think she could intimidate him? He might—on occasion—bow to his sister-in-law's nagging just to get her off his back, but he certainly wasn’t about to do the same for a little herbivore.

The prefect tipped her head without breaking his gaze. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have thanked you. Your benevolence is second only to Azul’s. After all, had you not given me—a magicless little girl with only her monster companion—the opportunity to fight a group of thugs who used magic more than their fists, I would not only be sleeping in front of the statues on Main Street tonight.” Yuu paused to show him the bandage wrapped around her elbow. “I would also have never earned this new battle scar.”

Leona rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Battle scar? It was barely a scrape. You wouldn’t even have that bandage if Howl hadn’t been so dramatic about an infection.”

What he didn’t say was that he was actually impressed by their victory. Yuu had an almost uncanny instinct when it came to dodging magical attacks, not to mention the dexterity to perform the dodges. Grim’s offense was grudgingly impressive too, but his lack of focus would be his downfall. If Yuu hadn’t snapped at him to focus on one boy before moving to the next, they wouldn’t have won the duel. Leona hadn’t given them any handicaps either. Two of the boys were sophomores and the other a junior, meaning they had more experience than the average freshman when it came to a magical duel.

None of which he was about to admit to her.

“The point is that my scar has made me an official badass.” Yuu pointed at the bedding Jack had thrown down in the corner of the room. “As a badass, I refuse to sleep on the floor.”

Leona pointed at the couch sitting in front of the balcony. “Then take the sofa.”

“That sofa is barely long enough to fit Grim. Do you want me to suffer a hunchback?”

“It would add to your badass image.”

“It would also hinder me as I run around campus cleaning up all of your messes.”

Leona snorted. He ambled across the room to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Yuu. He relaxed his posture, and while he didn’t exactly match hers—hands on her hips and chin held high—he made it clear he wasn’t backing down. “My messes? Last I checked, you’re in this situation because your own little friends made a mess, and then you decided to throw yourself into the fire.”

“And as punishment, I frequently remind my friends of their bad decisions. Grim?” Grim made a noise from the balcony. “The sea anemone on your head makes you look dumb. Like a midget unicorn but without the badass part.”

Leona bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking at Grim’s howling displeasure. He took the prefect’s distraction as an opportunity to flop down into the center of his bed. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “Your problems aren’t mine. Just be grateful I’ve given you a place to stay.”

He was on the very edge of sleep when Yuu chimed, “You know, Cheka wouldn’t be very happy to hear his uncle made his fiancé sleep on the floor.”

Leona cracked open one eye. The prefect still hovered next to the bed, her eyes now wide to mimic some type of innocence. His tail agitatedly flicked to the side. “Seriously? You’re trying to play that card again? The brat has no idea about what he writes in his letters. I doubt he even knows what the word fiancé means.”

“Sade says she’s very excited to one day welcome me into your family.”

Leona’s tail flicked harder. Of course, his sister-in-law was communicating with the prefect too. Sade had probably adopted the girl already. She probably told the prefect to make his school life even more inconvenient too.

“I wonder what she would say about you making me sleep on the floor now,” Yuu continued. She did a little spin and took one step in the direction of the bedding on the floor. “How very uncouth for the son of a king. Making a poor little girl sleep on the hard floor while he sprawls across a bed that could easily fit three people his size. And her son is being so heavily influenced by such a role model? I’m sure she’ll be absolutely thankful when I tell her—.”

With a tiny growl, Leona rolled over to lay on the edge of the bed. He took one of his pillows and plopped it down in the middle of the bed. He turned his back to her and glared out at the balcony. “Stay on your side of the bed.”

Yuu hummed with satisfaction. Leona’s ears flicked as he listened to her drag the blankets and pillows over to the bed. His tail twitched when the mattress jostled to accommodate the new weight beside him. After the prefect called for Grim to join her, Leona made a point of reaching for the light switch on the wall next to his bed. His two temporary roommates continued to wiggle and mutter in the dark. He didn’t close his eyes until the wiggling and mumbling stopped and Grim’s snores started.

“Leona?” Leona emitted a tiny growl. He was starting to question ever entertaining Jack on the prefect’s current living conditions. “Thanks. For real this time. You’re not that bad when you’re not throwing a temper tantrum.”

Leona grabbed one of the pillows beneath his head and whipped it behind him. Yuu yipped when the pillow connected. Leona tucked the pillow back into place and ignored Grim’s yowls about being caught up in “their feud.” “Shut up already and let me sleep.”

Yuu couldn’t stand him having the last word, so she threw one of her pillows at him. More wiggling ensued, and Grim mumbled his complaints before his snores started again. Leona closed his eyes, but for once, sleep didn’t immediately come to him. His ears flicked in the prefect’s direction.

With a quiet huff, he carefully shifted onto his back. With the help of the soft moonlight drifting in through the open windows, Leona could easily see Yuu quietly staring up at the ceiling. Grim slept curled up on her chest, and her breathing had slowed to match the monster’s, though it still wasn’t enough to simulate a natural sleep.

Leona dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers encountering a flicking ear. “If you weren’t planning on sleeping, then what was the point of fighting over the bed?”

“I just wanted to see if Sade was right,” Yuu answered without hesitation. She kept her voice barely above a whisper. “Apparently, you’ve never told her no.”

“Because if I ever did, she wouldn’t stop nagging me.”

“I think deep down, you’re just a big cuddly kitten.”

Leona clicked his tongue. His tail flicked across the pillow barrier between them. “A big cuddly kitten? You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?”

“Well, I could’ve attempted stabbing Floyd in the eye with a pencil and kicking Jade in the shin, but a tiny voice in the back of my head reminded me I didn’t necessarily want to leave the campus the same way I arrived.”

Leona snorted to cover an aborted chuckle. He obnoxiously yawned. His tail flicked back and forth from his side to hers. “How do you expect me to get a decent night’s sleep while sleeping next to a mouth breather?”

“Sorry, but I’m still mastering the art of breathing through my ears.”

Leona flicked his tail hard enough to brush against her arm. “Smartass.”

“Better than being a dumbass, but mediocre compared to badass.” She fell silent, but her shuffling made Leona’s ears flick. Her quiet sigh was inevitable. “Sorry. Aside from the change in scenery, I tend to have a hard time falling asleep most nights. I don’t actually mind sleeping on the ground if it’s too disruptive for you.”

The desire to snap at her to do just that died on his tongue the moment he imagined the disappointed glare from his sister-in-law. With a loud sigh, Leona rolled off the edge of the bed. He clicked on the small lamp on his desk. He glowered down at the bed. Yuu squinted back at him, Grim now tucked up against her hip. Leona made a show of kicking out the chair beneath his desk and flopped into it. The prefect leaned up just enough to keep squinting at him from above the pillows.

He shoved the chessboard on his desk towards the corner closest to the bed. He arranged the black and white chess pieces on their respective sides. “You prefer white or black?”

Yuu didn’t miss a beat when she climbed over the pillow barrier to sit on the edge of the bed. She twirled the board around, so the black pieces were on her side. “Do you normally give people the option?”

“It’s a courtesy,” Leona drawled. He slouched into his chair and balanced his elbow on the desk to give his cheek a resting place on his knuckles. “A show of good sportsmanship.”

Yuu snorted. She twirled the board again to regain possession of the white pieces. “Because you're so good at showing sportsmanship-like behavior.”

“I’m not above kicking you out of the bed if you annoy me too much.”

Yuu hummed. She spun the board a few times before letting it rest at an angle where both sides were somehow equally stuck between them. Her head slightly tilted. “I don’t know how to play chess.”

Leona released a loud sigh. He pushed the corner of the board until he gained possession of the white pieces. His ears flicked when he picked up the faint noise of the rowdier students trickling in from the dorms below. “Watch closely then because I’m not about to have a three-hour tutor session with you.”

They were on their fourth game when Yuu began picking up how each piece moved, which wasn’t too bad since each game only took Leona four moves to win. He still beat her with the same four moves for the next three games, but her frustration over him casually checkmating her king made her a quick learner. The next time they reset the board, she moved her knight to intersect his opening pawn. He still won, but she at least lasted three more moves.

By the time Yuu began to yawn in earnest, Leona was begrudgingly enjoying himself. She had become braver with her queen and had attempted several times to use it like some martyr-like sacrifice to somehow checkmate his king. Her strategies were laughable as a beginner, but they were just odd enough to make her less predictable than a veteran. She’d come close to checkmating him once but hadn’t even realized it. He wasn’t about to casually offer her the information either.

On her next turn, she stared at the board long enough with drooping eyelids that Leona couldn’t help saying, “Just give me your king, so we can go to sleep.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. The soft light of the lamp made the golden freckles hidden in her brown irises flicker. “Never.”

Leona firmly checkmated her in the next two moves. She squinted down at the board while he fluidly stood. He reached above his head in a long stretch. “You’re done. Now get on your side so I can finally sleep.”

Yuu huffed, but she complied with his demand with minimum fuss. Leona watched her stretch out on her side of the pillow barrier without bothering Grim, who had somehow wiggled his way down to the foot of the bed. She snuggled up under the extra blanket until only her nose was visible. Her posture, even hidden under the blanket, was much more relaxed than it had been earlier, and her annoying mouth breathing didn’t sound as obnoxious.

Leona quickly flopped onto the bed when he realized he had been staring too long.

“Good night,” Yuu yawned. Her voice was muffled because of the blanket, but he easily detected the slurred cadence of her words like she was already on the verge of sleep. “Chess’s s’more tiring than walking ‘round the campus. You’ll have to play me again. ‘Cause I’m gonna get good ‘nough to beat you.”

Leona snorted and clicked off the lamp. A comfortably dry breeze from the window loosened the suddenly stifling air in the room. “We’ll see about that.”

“Gonna take your queen.”

“It’s the king you have to checkmate.” Leona waited for her snarky comment. He peeked over the pillow when none came. Yuu slept curled on her side facing him. Her mouth was parted, and a gentle snore escaped with each breath she took. Leona huffed and dropped his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes. “Annoying little mouth breather.”

He wouldn’t admit to waking up once in the middle of the night when he couldn’t detect her snoring. He huffed in mild amusement when he found she had somehow flipped herself around and had her face buried in Grim’s belly. He flopped back onto his pillow and didn’t wake up again he until heard Ruggie whining about morning practice.

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #twst yuu #february ficlet challenge

97 notes · View notes

deadgirldreaming · 6 months ago

Text

This impressively in character letter from Alastor to Vox just after they fell out but before Alastor left to grab a carton of milk for 7 years was written by @official-alastor.

Well worth the money!

🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️

My dear Vox,

Forgive me for resorting to a more “dated” means of communication as you put it, but I’d prefer to say this from a distance. Why, you ask? Well, the truth of the matter is that I simply cannot stand your presence any longer. Your voice is grating, and I wanted to get this done as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could without having to resort to your obnoxiousness in person.

You may have guessed from my introductory paragraph what the contents of this letter will be, but let me spell it out for you. You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me. And, quite frankly, my patience with you has reached its limit. I’m done, Vox. I can’t take it anymore. Just like you can’t take no for an answer.

Your incessant pestering and clinginess has made it impossible for me to be around you. Constantly pushing your affections on me and attempting to pressure me into returning them is tactless and disrespectful. I am many things and a gentleman is certainly one of them. The same, however, cannot be said for you. As the youth of today are so fond of saying, no means no, Vox.

I do not want you. I have never wanted you. I will never want you. And you have only yourself to blame for what’s happening now. I have told you time and time again that I am completely uninterested in romance along with the more physical aspects of it. On enough occasions that even Valentino remembers and understands. Valentino! But not you. No, Vox, not you at all.

You asked me if I wanted to join you. Clearly, my answer is no. The sad part is that at one point, I would have said yes, Vox. But years of your grating behavior and unwanted advances have successfully managed to change my mind. You just don’t know how to handle rejection, and it’s one of your biggest flaws (of which you have many). I wish I could say that I’m sorry for this, but I’d be lying if I did.

In the end, Vox, I’m not sorry at all. I’m relieved. Relieved that I’ll finally be free of you. Thrilled that I’m finally putting you in your place. I waited far too long to do this. It’s certainly well overdue. It feels wonderful to finally do what I’ve wanted to do for ages now. Does it hurt your feelings? Does it break your heart? Good. Suffer. As I have had to suffer enduring your presence in my afterlife for the last several decades.

Harsh, you say? That would be the point. I can think of no other way to make certain that you fully grasp what it is that I’m trying to convey here. You went too far with me, Vox. And now you reap the rewards of your efforts. Losing me entirely. The fault lies solely with yourself, as I stated before. Read that sentence again and remember it well. You alone have driven me to this. You alone have pushed and pushed until you pushed me too far. Now I’m done, and you’re going to have to learn how to live without me if you even can.

The final straw was our fight. You know the one to which I refer. I almost beat you. Almost had you right where I wanted you. You may have gotten the upper hand in that encounter, but as they say, you won the battle but have lost the war. Your biggest mistake was thinking that you could ever own me. I’ve never been yours to possess and never will be. Ever. In the end, I win, Vox. It’s as simple as that. Failure and defeat have never been an option for me as you well know. Though I know you’re quite familiar with both as you should be.

I’ll finish this with one last statement that I hope you’ll remember along with the other contents of this letter: thank you for wasting my time. Let’s never do it again.

Alastor

🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️

Did you enjoy reading this letter from Alastor to Vox? You can get your own letter from Alastor too!

@official-alastor is currently providing a service where you can buy letters or messages from Alastor to you or any character in the Hellverse.

I personally am considering buying one for either Lucifer or Adam next. Maybe a letter to Sir Pentious, it could be quite funny!

🌟 Here are the prices and payment details! 🌟

🔷️ One character letter up to 500 words - $5

🔷️ One character letter up to 1000 words - $10

🔹️ Letters emailed directly to the buyer once complete.

🔹️ Cash App or PayPal accepted.

Any questions just ask @official-alastor !

#alastor altruist #aroace #hazbin hotel #hellverse #fan writing #character letters #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #one sided radiostatic #vox the tv demon

42 notes · View notes

olivialau · 4 months ago

Text

Shadow's Embrace Ch.16

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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

CHAPTER 16 - Feeding the Beast

With a resigned sigh, you stepped through the door. The sparsely decorated apartment looked just as uninspiring as the day before. This was certainly no welcoming abode, but rather a bare and impersonal space that felt more like a temporary shelter than a home.

Though you had to admit, it was better than that stuffy concrete basement; at least this place had normal windows.

The layout was simple—a couch, a small coffee table, and a modest kitchenette tucked to the side, all of which gave the impression of being rarely, if ever, used.

Your eyes narrowed as you counted the doors, noting that aside from the one leading to the basement, there were only two others—a bathroom, and what you could only assume was a single bedroom.

Doing the math in your head, it became clear that you would have no private space of your own. You doubted the King of Curses would be generous enough to give you the luxury of having the only bedroom.

Sukuna seemingly observed your silent assessment, and wasted no time in asserting his dominance over the space.

"That's mine," he declared with a pointed look toward one of the doors.

"Where am I supposed to sleep then?" you asked, as you fought to maintain a semblance of calm despite the mounting frustration.

Sukuna's lips curled into a taunting smirk as he replied, "The couch." He paused, savoring the discomfort that must have been evident on your face. "Unless you'd prefer the floor at my feet."

Oh, how you wished you could wipe that smug smile from his face.

And things got even worse, as Sukuna leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, and added, "Or perhaps you'd rather lay beside me. Though, I won't be responsible for what happens in that case. I despise suppressing my urges."

"I’d rather sleep outside in the rain than sleep beside you," you shot back, glaring at him with clear disgust. But after considering your options, you reluctantly added, "Fine, I’ll take the couch."

Despite a hint of annoyance, he dismissed you with a wave of his hand, his attention already wandering elsewhere, "I don't care, as long as you stay out of my way."

You turned away from him and set your backpack down on the couch. It contained your belongings—a pitifully small amount, but all the essentials nonetheless.

As you moved to open the zipper, Sukuna suddenly tossed a key in your direction. You caught it reflexively, the cold metal hitting your palm.

“Here’s a key,” Sukuna said, as he gripped the handle to his room. “You’ll leave only when I permit it. I’ll decide when the training happens, and don’t bother complaining. Consider it a privilege that a mere human like you is allowed to be near me.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned and disappeared into the room, leaving you alone in the living space. His absence was a relief, allowing you a moment to breathe and gather your thoughts.

You gazed at the key in your hands.

It was clear that Sukuna's control was absolute, yet the key represented a small measure of autonomy, that made you just a little bit more relaxed, under the circumstances.

With a heavy sigh, you sank onto the couch, feeling the surprisingly soft cushions envelop you. Despite the comfort, the couch was too short to stretch out fully, leaving you curled up uncomfortably. It would just have to do for now.

Closing your eyes, you tried to let your mind drift, basking in the relative quiet. Though the faint hum of Sukuna's cursed energy was ever-present as it seeped through the cracks of his door, keeping your senses on high alert.

An hour, perhaps two, passed in this uneasy calm, your vigilance unwavering as your body sought some measure of rest—until the silence was shattered by the sudden rumbling of your stomach.

So caught up in everything that was going on, you had neglected to eat for hours.

Glancing around the sparsely furnished apartment, your eyes landed on the small kitchenette area, where you noticed a mini-fridge in the corner.

Cautiously, you rose from the couch, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid drawing Sukuna's attention from behind his closed door.

As you opened the fridge, the faint light revealed a small selection: it was nearly empty, with only a few frozen slabs of what looked like meat in the freezer compartment.

Disappointed, you shut the door, choosing not to dwell on the questionable origins of the meat.

Sukuna's earlier taunts about your need for sustenance echoed in your mind, making you wonder if he ever ate at all, even just for pleasure.

Resigned, you made your way back to the couch. The meager contents of the fridge had done little to ease your growing hunger, and Sukuna’s rule forbidding you from leaving without his permission left you with few options.

You considered knocking on his door but you knew Sukuna would not take kindly to being disturbed. Instead, you decided to wait, hoping he might come out on his own.

As the hours dragged on, the thought of enduring the night hungry became increasingly unbearable.

So finally, you steeled your nerves and approached the door, your hand hovering hesitantly before you finally mustered the courage to knock.

The silence that followed was suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity.

Just as regret began to creep in, the door swung open, revealing Sukuna.

"What do you want, brat?" he snapped, his voice a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine.

Summoning your courage, you stammered, "I... I haven't had anything to eat in hours. I was wondering if I could..." Your voice trailed off, and you hated the way it wavered with uncertainty.

Sukuna's expression shifted, a mixture of disbelief and unbridled annoyance as he stared you down. Then, he let out a cold, cruel laugh that reverberated through the empty apartment.

"You interrupted me because you're hungry?" he mocked, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Pathetic."

Your cheeks burned red in humiliation, but you refused to back down, meeting his gaze. "I need to eat," you insisted.

Sukuna's laughter subsided, and his features hardened again. "Fine," he spat, "but only on the condition that you cook me a meal as well. Consider it payment for your pitiful needs."

The absurdity of Sukuna's unexpected demand left you stunned. Cook for the King of Curses? This wasn't part of the plan.

Moreover, the apartment was devoid of anything remotely edible, unless you counted the dubious slabs of meat that you had no intention of touching.

Sukuna's gaze bore into you, his impatience growing with each passing second of your stunned silence. "What are you gawking at, brat?" he snarled.

His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned back against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. "Back in the Heian era, my servant used to prepare meals for me without question," he said, his voice taking on a wistful tone as he reminisced about his past.

"But I suppose I can't expect the same level of competence from you," he continued, his gaze raking over you with a look of blatant disregard. "Regardless, you're the closest thing I have to a servant right now. So get to work."

"Oh, fantastic," you remarked with a hint of sarcasm, unable to fully mask your frustration. "I've been downgraded to a servant."

You fixed Sukuna with a defiant glare. "But even a servant can't cook without ingredients, and the fridge is empty," You taunted.

Sukuna's brows tightened at your slightly too nonchalant demeanor.

“There’s a market down the street. You have half an hour to get there, buy what you need, and return. If you’re not back by then,” he threatened, though a hint of playfulness lingered beneath his harsh tone,

“I’ll drag you back by the scruff of your neck and show you what real hunger feels like.”

You opened your mouth to argue, intending to remind him of his own restrictions.

“But you said—”

“I said you need my permission to go out,” Sukuna interrupted, his tone icy. “I’m giving it to you now. Half an hour. Starting now.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and retreated back into his room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

The finality of Sukuna's words left little room for argument, and you had to acknowledge that at least this meant you'd get to eat tonight. With a sigh, you retrieved the key from your pocket and headed out into the cool night air.

As you walked, your thoughts drifted, briefly considering what culinary preferences the King of Curses might have. But you quickly shook off the ridiculous notion, resolving to keep it simple. He would eat what you made, and that was that. You had no desire to cater to his wishes.

Arriving at the market, you hurried through the aisles, grabbing the essentials: rice, vegetables, meat, and some spices. All the while, you kept checking your phone, the minutes ticking away faster than you'd like. You quickly paid for the items and raced back to the apartment, making it back with just minutes to spare.

As you fumbled with the key, the door opened, and Sukuna stood there, his expression unreadable. He stepped aside to let you in, watching you closely as you strode over to the kitchenette and placed the bag of groceries on the counter.

His eyes tracked your every move as you began to prepare the meal. You worked quickly. The absence of your busy parents during your younger years, had resulted in you becoming quite skilled at preparing your own meals. Each ingredient was handled with a practiced ease.

Despite the pressure of Sukuna's unrelenting gaze, or perhaps because of it, the meal came together swiftly.

With no proper dining area to be found, you settled on the small coffee table in front of the couch as the only suitable surface, carefully placing the steaming bowls down upon it.

Sukuna followed your movements, his eyes never leaving you as he lowered himself onto the couch. You awkwardly sat down at the opposite end, maintaining as much distance as the limited space would allow.

Sukuna then grabbed the bowl and inspected it with a critical eye, as he lifted the spoon and took a deliberate bite. After a long, agonizing moment, he finally looked up, his expression blank.

"Not bad," he conceded, a grudging acknowledgment that somehow made you feel a twinge of pride, coming from him.

But, as you should have expected, Sukuna's acknowledgments never came without a sting. "Maybe you should have become a cook instead of a sorcerer," he mused, a sly grin spreading across his features. "It seems you lack the talent for the latter."

You glared at him, and without another word, you grabbed your own bowl and began to eat, the hunger that had been gnawing at you finally being sated.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, the air thick with an awkward tension. Sukuna, to your surprise, seemed to genuinely enjoy the food, finishing his portion quickly.

He then rose from the couch, carrying his empty bowl to the kitchen counter.

"Wash this for me, will you?" he commanded, with an air of entitlement that grated on your nerves. It made you scream inwardly for what felt like the hundredth time today.

Sukuna then strode back to his room, slamming the door behind him with a forceful bang.

As you finished up your own food, you set about washing the bowls, telling yourself that you were doing it for your own comfort, to rid the apartment of the lingering scent of food.

It had nothing to do with Sukuna's demands, you insisted, to regain a sense of control.

Once the dishes were clean and put away, you plopped down on the couch, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily upon you. You had planned to rest for a little while before taking a much-needed shower, but to your surprise, you unexpectedly slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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

Thanks for reading! I appreciate the support, and I love reading the comments🙏❤️

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

#ryomen sukuna #ryomen x reader #sukuna fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk men x reader #jjk men x you #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x oc #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna x y/n #sukuna art #sukuna fanart #ryomen sukuna fanart #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk men x y/n #jjk men

31 notes · View notes