#clash in cradle event

[amalythea]

「 hold my hand, please, one last time.」

⤷ info: kazuha, albedo, aether, xiao, wanderer x gn!reader || angst, this is based on the prompt “can i hold your hand?” (or “can you hold my hand?”) || wc: 3104

⤷ warnings: death, this is v v angsty

⤷ extra: i wrote this a while ago back on soleillunne and decided that it was too good to be gone forever lmao

kazuha.

The battlefield was strewn with chaos, and amidst the clash of swords and the cries of war, Kazuha fought with all his might, his heart burdened with the weight of the lives at stake. He had hoped that his skills with the blade and mastery of the Anemo vision would be enough to protect those he held dear, but fate had other plans.

As the battle raged on, he caught a glimpse of his lover, a skilled warrior whose presence had always brought him comfort and strength, you. Your eyes met for a fleeting moment, and in that exchange, you understood each other without uttering a word. It was a silent promise that you would find each other amidst the chaos.

But the tide turned against you, and the enemy’s forces seemed endless. Despite your best efforts, the defenders were overwhelmed, and Kazuha found himself standing back-to-back with you, defending against the onslaught.

In the midst of the chaos, an arrow found its mark. Time seemed to slow as the arrow pierced through your chest, and the world around you faded into the background. Kazuha’s heart clenched in horror as he caught you, your strength waning with each passing moment.

“Kazuha,” you gasped, blood staining your lips. “Can I hold your hand?”

Tears welled up in Kazuha’s eyes as he clutched your hand tightly, trying to offer some semblance of comfort amidst the pain. “Yes, of course,” he choked out, his voice trembling with grief.

Your hand trembled in his grasp, and Kazuha could feel your life slipping away like sand through his fingers. He could do nothing but watch helplessly as the light in your eyes began to fade. You smiled weakly at him, a bittersweet expression filled with love and regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sounds of battle. “I wish… we had more time.”

“Don’t speak like that,” Kazuha pleaded, his voice breaking. “We’ll get through this. I won’t let you go.”

But you knew better, and as your strength waned, you continued to smile at him, your touch growing weaker by the second.

“I love you,” you murmured, your breath becoming shallow. “Always…”

Tears streamed down Kazuha’s cheeks as he held you close, trying to shield you from the harsh reality of the world around you. He wished he could turn back time, rewrite the events that led to this tragic moment, but life was unforgiving in its cruelty.

Your hand in his grew colder, and your breathing ceased. Your life force, once vibrant and strong, slipped away, leaving behind only a lifeless body in Kazuha’s arms.

Kazuha held your hand tightly, unable to let go, as if keeping that connection alive could somehow bring you back. He cried out in anguish, the weight of grief crashing down upon him like an unforgiving storm.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Kazuha felt an emptiness he had never known before. He had lost not only a lover but a confidant, a soulmate with whom he had shared dreams, laughter, and countless cherished memories.

And as the battle raged on, Kazuha clung to your lifeless hand, lost in sorrow, with a heart that would forever bear the burden of their memory.

albedo.

Albedo’s heart pounded in his chest as he cradled his you in his arms. He was just about to descend from his lab on Dragonspine to meet up with you as he promised, only to see you laying on your own blood at the bottom of the mountain. He had seen you only hours prior, he’d laughed with you, but now, all that remained was a sea of sorrow, the bitter taste of loss overwhelming his senses.

He looked down at the face that he had cherished so dearly, now drained of all warmth and life. Your eyes, once filled with light and love, now stared back at him with a haunting emptiness. Albedo’s hands trembled, and tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

“Can you hold my hand?” a weak voice whispered, barely audible amidst the sounds of grief and despair that surrounded them. Albedo’s heart wrenched at the sound, and he quickly took your freezing hand into his own.

Tears streamed down Albedo’s cheeks as he clutched your hand tightly. “Yes, of course,” he choked out, his voice breaking with pain. “I’ll hold your hand for as long as you need, my love.”

He brought your intertwined hands to his lips and placed a tender kiss on the once-warm skin, now cold and lifeless. Memories of your time together flooded his mind – the laughter you shared, the dreams you nurtured, and the love you built with each passing day. Now, all that was left were shattered hopes and dreams.

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo whispered, his voice filled with regret and guilt. “I couldn’t protect you. I failed.”

You weakly shook your head, mustering a faint smile. “No, don’t blame yourself,” you managed to say. “You… you brought me so much happiness, Albedo. Please, don’t forget that.”

Albedo’s heart ached at the words, realizing that he had to find the strength to carry on without you. But it felt like an impossible task, as if the very essence of his being had been torn apart.

“I don’t know if I can,” he confessed, his voice trembling with sorrow. “You’re my everything.”

You fingers tightened around his hand as if trying to hold on just a little longer. “You’re strong, Albedo. Stronger than you know,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Promise me… you’ll keep going… for both of us.”

Albedo nodded, his tears falling freely now. “I promise,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll live for the both of us. But it won’t be the same without you.”

Your breaths became shallower, and Albedo knew that your life was slipping away. He leaned closer, trying to memorize every detail of your face, never wanting to forget.

“I love you,” you whispered, your words fading like a gentle breeze. “Always.”

“I love you too,” Albedo replied, his voice choked with emotion. “Always and forever.”

And with those final words, your grip on his hand slowly weakened until it was gone completely. Albedo held onto your hand a moment longer, pressing it against his heart as if trying to keep your love alive within him.

As grief consumed him, Albedo felt a mix of emotions. Sorrow, anger, and a deep longing to see his lover again, even if it were just for a moment. But he knew he had to continue, to honor your memory and the love you shared.

Albedo gently laid your body down, closing your eyes with tender care. He stood, feeling the weight of loss heavy on his shoulders, but also the weight of your love, and your belief in him, pushing him forward. Though his heart was shattered, he would carry your love with him, always.

And as he walked away from that place of sorrow, he knew that the pain would remain, but so would the memories of a love that would never truly fade away.

aether.

Aether’s heart pounded in his chest as he cradled his dying lover in his arms. The battlefield around them had turned into a chaotic canvas of destruction, but his attention was solely focused on the person he held dear. You were slipping away, and he could feel your life force fading like a waning star.

“Can you hold my hand?” you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the cacophony of war. Aether’s eyes filled with tears, and he gently clasped your frail hand in his own, interlocking your fingers. His touch was warm, providing a sense of comfort amidst the pain.

“I’m here,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I won’t let go.”

Your breathing was shallow, and your once-bright eyes were now dim, but you managed a faint smile. It was a bittersweet expression, as if you were trying to convey so much in that fleeting moment. Memories of you flooded Aether’s mind, from the first time you met under the starlit sky to the promises you made to each other.

“You have to promise me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “that you’ll keep going. That you’ll find happiness again.”

Aether couldn’t find the strength to respond, his throat constricted with grief. He knew that in a world without his lover, life would lose its luster, its purpose. But he understood that you were trying to ease his pain, even in your last breaths.

“No,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I can’t bear to live without you. Please don’t leave. Not you too.”

You smiled again, a mixture of sadness and love in your eyes. “You are strong, Aether, and you will find the strength to carry on. I will always be with you.”

Aether’s heartache intensified, and he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. He wished he could freeze time, to hold you forever, but he knew it was slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers.

“I love you,” you said, their voice fading into a whisper.

“And I love you,” Aether replied, his voice breaking.

Your grip on his hand loosened, and Aether felt the last pulse of life slip away from you. He held onto your hand a moment longer, not wanting to let go, but eventually, he lowered it gently to your chest.

In that moment, as the world around him continued to rage with chaos, Aether felt an overwhelming emptiness inside. His lover was gone, and the pain of your absence consumed him. But he knew he had to honor your last wish—to find a way to live without you, to keep your love alive in his heart.

With tears in his eyes, Aether kissed your forehead one last time before he stood, facing the uncertain future that lay ahead. Your love would forever be his guiding light, and he would cherish every memory, every moment you had shared.

And as the battles raged on and the world continued to turn, Aether vowed to carry your love with him, a beacon of hope in the darkest of times. Though your physical presence was gone, your love would endure, a reminder that even in the face of loss, the power of love could transcend beyond the boundaries of life and death.

heizou.

Heizou knelt on the cold, damp ground, cradling your cold body in his arms. He had just returned home from work, when the last thing he expected to see was see you laying on your own blood in your shared home. He held you closer, your blood staining his hands, mingling with his own tears. His heart felt as though it had been torn apart, and the pain was almost unbearable.

The world seemed to slow down as Heizou stared into the fading eyes of his beloved. Each second felt like an eternity, and yet, it was slipping away all too quickly. He could see the struggle in your gaze, the effort it took to speak those final words.

“Can I hold your hand?” you whispered, your voice getting lower with each word.

Tears streamed down Heizou’s face, and he gently clasped your trembling hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. He felt your warmth slowly waning, and he held on tighter, as if he could somehow will life back into you with the strength of his grip.

“You don’t have to ask,” Heizou choked out, his voice breaking with sorrow. “I’ll hold your hand forever.”

You managed a faint smile, your strength visibly waning. “I… I love you,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” Heizou replied, his voice trembling. “You’re my everything, my reason for living.”

As the commotion outside your shared home began to get louder, the people having noticed the blood stains, Heizou’s focus remained solely on you. The world outside ceased to exist for him, and he poured all his love and energy into holding you, trying to be your anchor in this storm of pain and suffering.

In your last moments, you clung to each other tightly, as if afraid to let go. Heizou’s heart ached as he felt your life slipping away from him, the person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. He wished he could have done something, anything, to save you.

But in the end, all he could do was be there, holding your hand, providing them with comfort in their final moments. Heizou would carry the weight of this loss forever, the memories of you etched into his soul.

Even as people left you two alone and the world moved on, Heizou remained on that cold, damp ground, cradling the body of the one he had loved and lost, his heart forever scarred by the pain of that fateful day.

xiao.

Xiao knelt on the damp ground, his heart pounding with anguish as he cradled your shaking form in his arms. The battlefield around you was silent, the chaos of the battle having retreated, leaving behind only the echoes of suffering and loss.

Your once bright eyes, now dulled by death, stared up at him, and Xiao couldn’t bear to look away. Your hands, once intertwined in a promise of eternity, now lay limp and still. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

“Can you hold my hand?” your voice was a faint whisper, barely audible amidst the devastation surrounding them.

Xiao’s heart shattered at those words, but he gently took your hand in his own, holding it with all the tenderness and love he had for you. “I will always hold your hand,” he choked out, his voice breaking with grief.

You managed a weak smile, the corners of your lips lifting slightly. “Even in death,” you murmured, your voice barely reaching Xiao’s ears.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, my love,” Xiao vowed, his fingers trembling as he clung tightly to the hand that was growing colder by the second. “Even to the ends of this cruel world.”

Your breathing grew fainter, and your grip on his hand loosened. Xiao felt his heartache intensify, knowing that he couldn’t change the cruel fate that had befallen you.

“Thank you… for loving me,” you whispered, your voice a mere thread of sound.

“Thank you for making my life meaningful,” Xiao replied, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m grateful for every moment we shared.”

Your eyes locked for a final time, and in that fleeting moment, a lifetime of love and memories passed between you. Xiao wished he could freeze time, to hold on to this moment forever, but life had other plans.

As the last breath left your lips, Xiao leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Rest now,” he whispered, his voice breaking with sorrow. “I’ll carry you in my heart. Until we meet again.”

He remained there, holding your lifeless hand, as tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the blood-stained soil beneath you. Xiao knew that a part of him had died that day with his beloved, but he also knew that your love would live on, eternal and undying, no matter the circumstances.

wanderer.

Wanderer knelt on the ground, his heart pounding in his chest as he cradled you in his arms. The world around you seemed to blur, the noise of battle fading into an eerie silence. The battle had been brutal, and he had fought with all his might to protect the one he loved, but fate had dealt them a cruel hand.

Your once vibrant eyes now glistened with pain, and a weak smile graced your lips. Blood stained your clothing, and Wanderer could feel your life slipping away.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t have much time, do I?”

Wanderer choked back a sob, clutching your body tightly. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get you help.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, but it quickly turned into a cough. “You can’t lie to me, my love.” you managed to say, your breath shallow.

Tears finally streamed down Wanderer’s face as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry if I didn’t say it often. I can’t bear to lose you.”

You trembled in his grasp, and gazed into his eyes with a mixture of love and sadness. “Can I hold your hand?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Wanderer nodded frantically, intertwining his fingers with yours. He held your hand close to his heart, hoping that somehow he could transfer strength to you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, tears pooling in your eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and full of affection, reserved only for you. “You won’t have to. Just hold on a little longer, and we’ll get you help. We’ll face this together.”

Your grip tightened weakly on his hand. “You’re my light, my love, my everything,” you murmured. “You always have been. Promise me you’ll keep shining, even when I’m gone.”

Wanderer could feel whatever was left of his heart shatter with your words. “I promise,” he choked out. “But you can’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.”

Your breathing grew shallower, and your voice became softer. “You’re strong, my love,” you said. “You’ll find a way. Remember me, but don’t let my memory hold you back. Live your life to the fullest. Find happiness again.”

“I can’t imagine life without you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “How am I supposed to go on?”

Your only response was a brief smile, and he squeezed your cold hand tightly. “I’ll never let go,” he vowed. “Not even when you’re gone.”

Your breathing slowed, and your eyes locked with his one last time. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice fading away.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his voice cracking.

And then, with your hand still clasped in his, you were gone.

Wanderer held your lifeless form closer, his tears falling like rain. He knew that life would never be the same again, that a piece of his heart had been taken with you. But he also knew that he had to keep the promise he made. With a heavy heart, he stood, carrying your memory with him as he faced the world without you, knowing that he would always carry your love and light with him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[xoluvx]

*not* casual; b.eilish

part one smut

Your bodies stumbled into your apartment, pushing her jacket off her body, never once breaking the kiss. It was a desperate kiss. A kissed fueled by frustration. Frustration that you wanted this girl so bad, but she always pushed you away. 

She bit your bottom lip and you groaned pulling away for a brief second. Your eyelids fluttered as she pulled your dress down. A trail of clothes laid on the floor leading to your bed.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered. Billie happily nodded. The course of events that had taken place at the restaurant clouded your brain. Not what had happened in the bathroom stall, but what had followed. They way she’d kissed the back of your hand. For fuck’s sake, she'd looked at you with a pair of eyes you’d never seen before. 

Cupping your face, she kissed you with a softness you were unfamiliar with. She held the back of your neck, cradling your head as she towered over you on the bed. Getting lost in the kiss you allowed her hand wander up your thigh and between your legs. Her thumb running between your folds, the kiss still so sweet and pure. It was messing with your head.

“Wait,” you stopped her abruptly pulling away.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, bewilderment plastered on her face. 

“What’s wrong?!” You asked. There was something about those words that made your blood boil. What’s wrong? What’s not wrong? The fact that she said it was casual, but you spent more time with her family than your own. The fact that she kissed you like you were the only person in this world, but to everyone else you were just some girl she fucked on her couch. 

Your chest was hurting. You felt like your blood was lacking oxygen and you needed air. You couldn’t breath.

You paced your room searching for something to throw on over your partially naked body. Hyperventilating, you stormed to the porch. The cool air felt fresh and relaxing on your clammy skin and you clung to the rails as you took deep breaths.

Billie stood behind you; pantless with her t-shirt on.

“What are we?” Your voice cracked not bothering to look at her. You weren’t going to be weak this time. You couldn’t. You knew that if you looked into those eyes you were just going to crawl right back in bed with her. 

“I-“ Billie started and stopped. She had no words. To be frank, she didn’t fucking know either.

“Why are you here?” You asked searching for a reaction, for anything. Something. There had to be something. There had to be a reason for her to be here. In your room. Half naked. 

“Cause I don’t think I can do this anymore, Billie.” You turned to look at her with sadness in your eyes. Tears trickling from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t just be some girl you keep around because you-“ you swallowed your sobs and Billie cut you off. Her hands moved behind your head rapidly and her lips caught yours in an unexpected kiss. 

You tried wiggling out of her grip, you wouldn’t fall for it again. But she held you in place. She kissed you roughly and you couldn’t not kiss her back now. You were drunk off her taste. Your fingers buried themselves in her hair as your tongues fought for dominance.

“I’m stupid,” she replied between kisses. “I’m an asshole,” she continued. Your noses clashed as the kiss continued.

“Is that what you want to hear?” her voice was rough and husky as she held you in place devouring your mouth. 

You pushed her away. The words she’d sputtered settling in. 

“That’s not what I want to hear,” you replied. Her hands were now holding your wrists, eyes wild.

“Fine. I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified,” her eyes bore holes into your soul. Your mouth hung open at her confession.

“You’re not just some girl,” she shook her head remembering all the times you'd cozied together and she'd scoot away trying to form space between you. Physical and metaphorical. 

"You're my girl," she whispered letting her forehead rest on yours. Her shoulders slumped and defeated (𝚊/𝚗: 𝚢𝚞𝚙, 𝚒 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚊'𝚕𝚕).

“I am stupid and selfish for hurting you. I-“ It was your turn to cut her off. She let go of your wrists and your hands found their way to your favorite place; tangled in her dark locks. Your lips molded together like the first time you kissed and your heart soared like the first time she held your hand.

“I want this to be real, not casual-“ she mumbled between kisses and you shut her up by wedging your leg between her thighs. She groaned holding your hips. 

“Not casual,” you agreed out of breath pulling away. With your fingers entwined you pulled her back towards your bed. You let her remove the little bit of clothes that still hung on your body and you removed her shirt. 

Climbing on top of her, Billie held your thighs. Your lips found each other again and you kissed gently as you moved your hips on hers. That sweet pure feeling returned as your bodies molded into one. Hips movings, moans growing louder, hands lingering on skin as your tongues touched and lips smooshed.

There familiar tight feeling was coiling in your belly sending shocks down to your toes as you held her shoulders securely. Her hands held your hips helping you move on top of her as your movements grew sloppy.

"I-" you swallowed gasping for air, lips parted. Eyes shut tight. Billie watched your face scrunch in pleasure as bucked her hips moving in sync hitting all your sensitive spots.

"I-I love you," you hummed blissfully furrowing your brows opening your eyes weakly. The feelings were spilling out of your heart, your mouth, your pussy, everything was overwhelming and glorious and-

"I love you too," she breathed holding your jaw, eyes focused on yours. Two pools of ocean blue that stretched for miles. You could get lost in them and not care.

She met your lips halfway. Kissing like it was the last time. Or rather the first time. The first time you were really indulging and sinking into this feeling. That feeling of falling in love and it was totally not casual.

[konigbabe]

PEACH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.7k Tags/warnings: no y/n; domestic Satoru Gojo; Gojo being a menace of a boyfriend in public; eventual smut (part V only) Summary: Gojo's an ass man. Part of my JJKS2 writing week; also written after being inspired by @greycaelum's ask.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

I.

It starts off innocently enough.

Even before you’ve got together, Satoru makes it a habit of his own to give your ass an amicable pat for "good luck" or "to bless him". Make it obvious that the young teacher’s rather fond of his fellow teacher’s backside, going as far as openly making up compliments. Spreading heat through your cheeks when his little game of teasing starts.

("Nice derriere, that skirt’s doin’ you wonders," he says, grinning from ear to ear while watching you walking down the hallway with Ijichi, discussing recent curse spirit’s activities.

Your companion’s breath hitches, a blush spreading over his cheeks when you turn around, "what does that mean?")

But you know Satoru too well, and his quirky sense of humor never fails to amuse you; even when you try to keep your face blank whenever he starts talking. Satoru's compliments are akin to a playful serenade. He isn’t holding back; not even in front of his own students.

("Y’know," forearm resting on your shoulder, he leans closer to you, "your tush deserves its own fan club and I'm officially the first member."

You don’t even look at him, rather starring blanky at the fighting students on the field, "Tush?")

II.

As your relationship with Satoru turns intimate and romantic, his playful teasing takes on a new dimension; it becomes a form of worship.

Lying sprawled on the couch, your head cradled by a pillow nestled beneath your chin, you watch the flickering TV screen with a mind adrift, sometimes diverting your gaze to scroll through your phone. Days off are a rarity amongst jujutsu sorcerers. The teachers especially. So you use the day to relax, unwind and let your body mend and rejuvenate after the latest mission.

The tranquil ambiance, however, is fleeting when Satoru returns. Discarding his shoes and jacket with a careless thud, he drops a small paper bag onto the nearest drawer before making a beeline for your relaxed form.

With a wordless playfulness, he plops the full weight of his body onto your back—or more accurately, the back of his head lands snugly on the supple, rounded globes of your butt.

"Satoru," you whine, neck straining as you try to turn around, "you’re way too heavy."

His arm restrains you, slithering around your lower abdomen like a sinuous serpent, fingers kneading the squeezable flesh of your hip. The other hand lands right at the apex of your back thigh, kneading the subtle build before moving upwards on the lower part of your butt.

"Mmh," he huffs, engrossed in massaging your body, too preoccupied to offer a proper response.

You can’t complain either; Satoru is skillful with his fingers, always knowing which spots to apply the right pressure and leaving you in a state of pure relaxation.

"You want me to stop," he asks after a second to which you promptly deny; letting out a contented sigh, prompting a small chuckle from Satoru. "Then I'm glad you're enjoyin’ it," he says, voice carrying a warm sincerity.

III.

The plates clash with each other, sound loud enough to make you think he broke it instead of washing it. A soft, gentle hum swirls around the air as Satoru moves the sponge in circles.

You watch from the arched doorway. Tall, lean frame covering your view of his task, yet the clanking confirms your initial suspicions. Satoru, focused on the chore, wears a well-worn apron over a simple, black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms that move with practiced precision.

Staying in place, you shamelessly marvel at the sight; watching him set another plate in the drying rack. Eyes gliding over the broadness of his shoulder to the contour of his waist, they land on their target.

Simple grey sweatpants, a black ribbon belt holding them in place, hide your target from your eyes. But you know where to aim when you start taking cautious, quiet steps toward Satoru.

The attack is quick. Calculated. The impact of your palm sends a loud slapping sound throughout the kitchen. A lively laugh escapes your lips at the same time Satoru’s head turns to the side, eyes locking yours in a frozen stance.

You take off.

He doesn’t rush. Calmly continuing to hum the song, he finishes the last dish and puts it on the rack. One hand turning the faucet off with a dangerous nonchalance, the other reaches for the washing cloth. Drying his hands and taking the apron off, he turns to where you ran off.

You make it to the stairs before you feel Satoru’s grip on your wrist, firm but playful. Tugs you backward; gentle force turning you around, bending you at the waist. Arm deftly sneaking around your shoulders, locking your arms by your sides as he stands tall by your side.

"You really thought you could get away with this, peach?"

His fingers, long and slender, dance over the small of your back. Barely grazing the surface of your skin over the material of your shirt; tracing a tantalizing path down your body.

As you squirm within his firm however gentle grasp, a soft and brief laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervousness and delight. "I didn't mean it," you admit jovially, the words imbued with a tinge of mischief, "I didn't know it would lend so perfectly."

"You didn’t know," Satoru chortles, leisurely placing his palm flat upon the rounded curve of your pants-covered butt, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, exerting a measured pressure as if savoring the feeling, "Think you can win this?"

With that, his hand leaves your body–

"Wait, Satoru," you try to swat him away but his hold over your upper body remains unyielding, steadfast, allowing him to orchestrate the next move, "Gojo!"

–and he delivers the first slap; earning a surprised yelp from you, body jolting forward. The sound of the impact reverberates throughout the open space, accompanied by Satoru’s contagious laughter as he lets you go. Hand supporting your weight, making sure you don’t fall flat on your face, you still end up on the ground.

The skin of your butt stings as you palm the flesh.

"You’re in for it now, Satoru Gojo," with a daring grin, you prepare yourself to retaliate. Not now. But the time will come.

The man in question throws his hands in the air, smiling brightly as he takes a step back, "Oh, I’m scared."

IV.

"We just need some edamame, more pickled ginger, and white miso," you list the items from your phone, taking the lead as you and Satoru both stroll through the aisles. He holds the basket, staying a good step behind you with his gaze focused on your back, a smile playing at the corner of his lips–eliciting a suspicious feeling out of you.

Even with the obsidian-tinted glasses covering his eyes, the glimmer of amusement in his gaze hasn't escaped your perceptive senses. A whisper of suspicion trails through your mind; you know he's scheming something.

As you approach the edamame section, you start searching for the perfect bag, seeking the one with the right plumpness and vibrancy.

But before you can grab one, Satoru unexpectedly announces “butt-five” before springing forward with playful exuberance, the resounding clap of his hand meeting your butt reverberating through the store like a percussion note, commanding the attention of nearby shoppers.

Involuntarily, you release a startled, high-pitched yelp—a symphony of surprise and embarrassment entwined. But before any further fallout can unfold, Satoru suppresses the escalating situation, covering your mouth with his warm, large hand, and steering you behind an aisle. Out of sight from curious onlookers.

Holding back his laughter, you feel his chest pressed tightly against your back, vibrating as he silently laughs, palm flat against the lower part of your face, muffling the remnants of your outburst.

"Sorry ‘bout that," he manages to stifle his laughter, an undercurrent of amusement still evident in his voice. "Couldn't resist, y’know?"

Through the slight crack between his fingers and your lips, you muster a muffled threat, "I’m gonna kill you.”

He releases his hand, feigning innocence, his eyes wide with mock surprise.

"What?" he questions you, knowing full well the extent of his antics.

"You’re a dead man walking, Satoru Gojo."

V.

Satoru has you in a vice grip; arms encircling the fat of your thighs with unrelenting strength, fingernails making deep crescent moons into your sensitive skin, setting your whole body aflame. Every inch of your being screams for more as you sink into the mattress, burying your face into the pillows to muffle all sounds of pleasure his mouth is drawing out of you.

He’s merciless. Relentless. Ruthless.

Tongue teasing your soaked slit, lapping hungrily at you like a man starved. The tip of his nose gleaming with your juices as he expertly fucks his tongue inside of you.

In and out. Going as deep as the position allows him.

Pulling your body more into him, burying his face into you; so close that it seems as if he wishes to be swallowed by your cunt whole.

You can barely concentrate before he pulls away; especially when another wave of pleasure washes over you. Wet lips worshipping your hungry bud, thin strands of wetness glistening around it, something he greedily laps up before moving upwards. His wet tongue leaves trails of fire along the fleshy swell of your ass, teeth soon following suit as they bite lightly into the plump globes.

Satoru nibbles at the flesh, one hand sneaking back between your legs to cup your sex, tease the entrance with his fingertip, collecting the wetness before pushing in two fingers. He fills you up, soon adds another finger as his mouth continues its sweet assault on your ass.

"Could eat this ass any day–"

He drives his fingers in and out of you. Fast and unrelenting; massaging your walls while making you gasp as he moves his mouth down, licking and biting at your back thighs before concentrating back on your asscheeks.

[anjelicawrites]

True love's kiss

Chapter I

Paring: Maleficent!Aemond Targaryen x woodland fairy!reader

Synopsis: during the christening of princess Aurora, Aemond curses her, in classical Sleeping Beauty fashion, unknowingly setting off a chain of events bound to change the course of his life, and yours.

Warnings: none.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used.

Minors DNI, thanks

Once upon a time, there was a happy kingdom, governed by a wise king and a gentle queen, who had a beautiful daughter, princess Aurora.

Our story begins on the day of her christening, when you meet, and clash, with Aemond Targaryen.

You have heard of him, up in the woodlands where your kind lives and, obviously, expected him to be at the christening of the princess, the king and the queen having invited all the magic folks, as the rules of hospitality bound them to.

They didn’t and you can feel the worry ripple through the assembly, shushed whispers throughout the ceremony, all your combined magics buzzing, the fear slowly decreasing, only to explode when he appears, in a whirlwind of sapphire blue wind, while you all are bestowing the child with their gifts.

You’ve only heard stories, which did him no justice: it isn’t the fairness of his face, enhanced by the scar partially hidden by the eyepatch, or his imposing figure clad in black leather that takes you breath away, it’s the sheer magic power he exudes.

He was supposed to be diminished, as was his dragon, when the sapphire storing part of his magic was lost during the family feud known as the Dance of the Dragons, yet his energy seems capable of filling the room to the brim, drowning the collective one of the supernatural creatures of the assembly. You feel like chocking on it and on the hate you can sense coming from him, his tall body almost absorbing the light from the stained glass windows adorning the Royal Chapel.

“What an awkward situation.” He says, voice deep and gentle. “It seems like everyone has been invited.”

His one eye stares at the assembly and stops on the cradle, the small she-dragon perched on his shoulder.

“I had to come, Your Grace.” He continues with mock in his voice. “To give your lovely daughter my gift.”

“You weren’t invited because you’re not welcome here!” Shouts the king, and you are surprised by his courage, the other humans are shaking in their boots.

“Oh dear.” Aemond says, fake sorrow tinging his words, one elegant hand going to the silver latchings of his long, black coat.

“Please,” the queen, in her terror and panic, raises her hands in prayer. “Don’t be offended.”

The smile on Aemond’s face turns your blood into ice, it’s so cold and cruel, calculating and devoid of any feelings. You know something terrible is about to happen and your mother grabs your wrist to stop you from entering the crossfire.

“But I am not, Your Grace. And to show it to you, I shall bestow my gift on your daughter, regardless.”

His boots thunder on the floor as he heads to the cradle, uselessly the king calls for his guards to protect the child, a burst of magic pushes them against the wall as Aemond’s hand gently moves the heavy brocade covering the crib.

“Indeed,” he says echoing the words of another wizard, “Will princess Aurora grow fair and beautiful, wise and magnanimous, loved and cherished by everyone she will meet. But, on her sixteenth birthday, she will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and she will die.”

The calm inevitability in his words clashes with the screams of anguish of the queen, who grabs the child in her arms, as if, in doing so, she’ll be able to protect her; the king stays rooted on the spot, like a statue, his face ashen.

“The curse has to be lifted.” You hear someone say. “There must be a way!”

“But there isn’t.” Aemond’s purple eye fixes on the magic folk. “No power on this earth will ever be able to counterfeit it.”

He is so calm, so collected, against the sea of desperation he must feel coming from you all, a smile on his graceful lips. He makes you mad, so mad that you evade the hold of your mother and, before anyone can stop you, you march towards him.

“I have yet to give the princess my gift.” You say, craning your neck to stare into his eye.

“And what that would be? You can’t be so mad to think your fairy magic can lift my curse.” He spats at you, Vhagar on his shoulder, blows small flames in your direction.

“I might be a small woodland fairy.” You walk until you are almost flush against him. “But I can still help.”

Without dropping your gaze from his, you lift your arm in the direction of the queen, who is still clutching the infant against her chest.

“I can’t lift your curse, but I can modify it.” You can feel his magic pocking at yours and elect to ignore it. “The princess will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, but she will not die. She will fall asleep, instead, and be awoken by her true love’s kiss.”

The joyless laugh that spills from Aemond’s mouth startles you, you were so focused on your own spell, to forget who you were facing.

“True love’s kiss! Then you truly want the child to sleep forever.” His voice is a deep rumble that you can feel in your chest.

“We shall see.” You retort, one hand lifted, ready to fight.

“We shall see indeed.” He says, grabbing it and kissing it, before disappearing again.

You are deaf to the voices around you, if it weren’t from your siblings shielding you, the crowd would have trampled over you in its desperate attempt to flee the Royal Chapel.

It’s much later, when the humans are all gone, but for the royal family, that you seem to be able to go back to yourself and realize the enormity of what you have just done and of what you are about to do.

“I want all the spinning wheels of the kingdom destroyed!” Thunders the king.

“And in the meantime? How will we protect Aurora, if he ever decides to come back?”

The fear in the queen’s voice breaks your heart, for all her gold and blue blood, she’s just a mother, who wants to keep her daughter safe.

“I can hide the princess until her sixteenth birthday.” You hear yourself say.

“What are you thinking?” The shriek from your mother makes you jump.

“Will you truly do that?”

There’s hope in the queen’s eyes that has you to focus on the situation at and, and on your own mother’s fear.

“I will, Your Grace.”

“No, you will not!” Your mother grabs your hand, but you force her to relinquish it.

“I already have a target on my back, as does the child, mother. I will find a place hidden enough to keep her safe, and myself. It is no use to bring his vendetta to our home.”

“But you’ll be all alone!”

The anguish in your mother’s voice! Your kind is known for living in huge families where no one is left the their own devices. You yourself are used to the flurry of voices and activities in the house, to not having a moment to yourself, always enjoying the company of a family member.

“I shall be fine mother.” You try to reassure her, and yourself. “I am fully capable of taking care of myself and of the princess. We will keep each other company and I will not be alone.”

Your mother knows you well, all your extended family does. They can see it in your eyes that you’re not going to back down.

“Let, at least, one of us stay with you.” Begs one of your brothers and you hug him tight.

“No. I can look after myself and, the less people we are, the less noticeable we’re going to be.”

Your family knows you are right, yet they still try to convince you to return home with them and forget about this awful problem. But you will not: you are not that kind of fairy and they know it.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess

[gardens-light]

Hiii so as i was scrolling i was your account and WOW you're really good at writing^^ and i was wondering if you could make an Bayverse drift x fem reader, where the reader sacrificed the world for drift while drift sacrificed her for the world? But if you can't do it or you're busy feel free to ignore this^^(new follower of you)^^

Hi! Thanks for checking out my fanfics and for the compliment, I really appreciate it. One of my fave songs inspired me to go more a slight angst, 'what if' approach, so apologies if it's not what you envisioned. But I hope you still enjoy it. :)

Touch the Fire

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you slowly sat up. Feeling the hot metal of the car roof become uncomfortable as you peeled yourself away. Casually draping your arms over your knees, while leaning forwards, gazing at the junkyard around you. The recent year or so haven't been forgiving for the Autobot's, neither for you or Cade. Between dealing with living as a fugitive and attempting to control dark thoughts swirling around your head, getting through day to day was becoming more of a struggle...

Content: Autobot Drift X Fem/Human Reader. Slight angst. Events takes place during 'Transformers- The Last Knight.' Reader insert. Course language.

Word Count: 1K

Inspired Song: Touch the Fire- Icehouse

"No fear. No hate. No anger."

A small smile tugged the corners of your lips, as you rested your chin upon your palm. Feeling the calmness and zen that radiated off Drift, admiration shined in your eyes, as the Autobot balanced himself on the tip of his sword. The display of his upper body strength sending your heart a flutter, and the butterflies in your stomach to entangle your nerves.

"No fear. No hate. No anger-"

"For fucks sake, Grimlock!" Cade's angered tone echoed throughout the junkyard.

His sudden tone snapping Drift out of his meditation, causing the Autobot to lose his balance. Slightly hiding your small smile behind your knees, as he tumbled to the ground. Sending violent vibrations through the pile of vehicles you sat upon.

"Got into some shit?"

Cade's narrowed glare briefly landed on you, storming past you and Drift. "Yeah! Neck deep!-"

"Cade, that's what you get for taking a yellow bugger." Crosshairs' sarcastic tone piped up. "You need a leader out there. Like me!-"

"-Shut up!-" Bee's radio buzzed. Squaring up to Crosshairs whom stood not too far away, "before- I do- some damage- that you- won't walk away- from!-"

"Bumblebee!"

Drift's soft expression gazed at you, as you rose onto your feet, struggling to balance upon the pile of vehicles beneath you. Pathetically attempting to bring yourself more to the yellow scout's height

"You'll never come close to Optimus!" Crosshairs' snarled.

"That's- it!"

"Come on guys!" the sound of their metal fists clashing drowned out your frustrated tone. "You're supposed to be legendary Autobots! Yet you're out here acting like a bunch of junkyard dogs!-"

A throaty groan rumbled within you, while rubbing your temples. Attempting to soothe the building headache, as Cade's voice shouted at Grimlock.

"A flower cannot bloom, if the environment isn't well nurtured."

You raised an eyebrow at Drift's calming tone, giving him a weak smile, "you try and contain this chaos." Gesturing towards Crosshairs and Bumblebee having a full on brawl, while Cade lectured Grimlock not too far away.

But the blue Autobot's soft expression remained on you, concern building up within his spark. As his green optics noticed the exhausted expression and tired lines upon your features, "are you... alright?"

A sigh finally escaped your lips, running a hand through your hair as you looked up at him. "I'm fine, just... got a lot on my mind."

Your heart fluttered slightly as he knelt before you, offering an opened servo. "Perhaps... we should go for a walk..."

Carefully making your way across his servo, settling onto his palm as Drift cradled your fragile form.

"Tell me what's on your mind."

"I..." a small hesitation took your voice for a moment, as you leaned against his index finger. Feeling Drift's each measured step, as he made his way through the junkyard. "I... don't wanna be a burden."

A small chuckle escaped his lips, "you could never be a burden." Giving his surroundings a brief scan, he lowered himself onto the ground. Bringing you towards his chest, encouraging you to lay close to his spark, as Drift laid on his back. Placing a servo behind his helm, his green optics softly gazing at you. Watching as you settled upon your stomach. "You should talk about it. Don't allow things to build up within you."

"H-Have you... ever met someone you cared about? I-I mean... really... cared about."

A mixture of surprise and concern flashed across his features, his thumb upon his free servo pausing from tracing delicate circles upon your back. "Y-Yes... Yes I have."

"W-Would you... sacrifice the world for them? Or... them... for the world?"

Drift choked on his own breath for a brief moment. Your unexpected question leaving him speechless, as his shocked expression studied your features while his processors contemplated upon his answer.

"I-I... would sacrifice them." His calm tone wavering, as concern slowly crawled into his words.

A small frown formed upon your lips, your unamused gaze flickering up at him. "Why? Would they mean that little to you?-"

"Of course not." Concern and worry rung within his tone, as Drift gently propped himself up upon his elbow. His optics giving your features a soft, questioning gaze. "But... if it came to choosing them or the world, it... it would be an incredibly hard decision. One of the hardest decisions I'd ever have to make-"

"Then... why not just sacrifice the world?"

Drift's optics widened, "I-I couldn't bring myself to do that! To leave hundreds- no thousands of others to die or suffer, just for the sake of one person?-"

"But... isn't that one person more important than anything in this shitty world?" his servo slipped from your back, as you sat up. Sitting upon your legs, while kneeling against his chest plate. "I mean... so many people have treated the Autobots so poorly, why not just... let everything burn for the one you love?"

The blue Autobot firmly shook his helm, noticing suttle flashes of concern and frustration across his features. Hearing the strain within his words, as Drift attempted to remain his calm tone, "despite how important they are to me. I-I... I couldn't trade the lives of an entire planet for them! No matter how much I loved and cared for them. I'd never forgive myself-"

"But what if they'd sacrificed the world for you?" Your words come out more defensive than intended. Your frown growing as your brows knitted together slightly, "that they'd happily ignite the fires and standby the ashes! Even if it meant just to be with you?!-"

"W-Why... are you asking all of this?" Drift's free servo gently pressed you closer against his chest, as the Autobot slowly sat up right. A mixture of worry and confusion shinned within his optics, as his soft gaze studied your features once again. "What's the matter?"

"N-Nothing..." frustration slowly melted away from your tone, as his aching spark pulsed beneath you. "No reason. Just... wondering..."

"There's a reason, isn't there?" Drift carefully placed the knuckle of his digit under your chin, gently tilting your head up more to meet his gaze. "You've... been acting off this entire time, my dove."

"Drift, I'm ok..." your words sounded a little too sweet to Drift's audio receptors. His scanners perfectly reading your fake smile, "I've just... had a lot of things on my mind that's all."

His digit carefully moved from your chin towards your cheek, "Something's wrong. I can tell when you're lying... you clearly need to talk to someone about whatever it is that's bothering you."

"I-I just... wanted to know... your thoughts-"

"Are you sure that's really it?" The thumb upon his free servo resumed to gently trace circles along your back. "You... were being weirdly specific with what you said."

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, as you ran your fingers through your hair. "Everything's... just been so fucked up, Drift. Some days... I-I can barely stand it! I mean... look at where we are!" you gestured at the junkyard surrounding you. "This isn't living, just existing! All this simply because Earth has turned it's back on us! W-With... all this shit happening, my mind just..."

"I get it... Trust me, I do." Drift's spark skipped a beat, as you gently leaned into his touch. His digit still gently cradling your face, "And... things have been hard, I cannot disagree with anything you're saying. You're not alone with how you're feeling."

"I guess, after a while..." your voice was low, untucking your legs from beneath you and pulling them towards your chest. Resting your chin upon your knees. His digit slipping from your cheek. "the idea of destroying all this bullshit in the name of love seemed better. More... tolerable."

"You'd... truly be ok with destroying thousands of lives... just to be with the one person you love?"

Your simple nod spoke volumes.

"How... How long have you been thinking about this...?" worry and concern strained his tone once again.

But you simply shrugged, "a while... probably a few months. Sometimes... I even wonder if the Decepticons had a point-"

"Y-You can't be serious?!"

"Why not?" Your innocent expression caused his spark to sink further into his chest. "You were a Decepticon once-"

Drift's servo quickly cupped your face, your fragile head barely fitting. "That's different! I wasn't a true Decepticon- I don't like the idea of their 'ends justify the means' way of thinking!-"

"But-"

"Enough is enough, my dove. Please... you need to get these thoughts out of your head, now. You... You shouldn't ever entertain those ideas for a second."

A weak smile tugged your lips, slight guilt building within your chest as you looked up at his worried gaze. "Sorry Drift... I didn't mean to upset you."

A heavy but relief sigh escaped the Autobot, as Drift carefully held you against his chest. You reached up for his neck, feeling the humming of his spark slowly return to it's regular pulsing beat against your chest. "I'm not upset with you... I'm just concerned. You can't let those thoughts win, it can be dangerous to have thoughts like those-"

"I know, really I do." You whispered into his audio receiver, burying your head into the crook of his neck. "It's just... with everything that been happening. Sometimes... I forget that we're all facing the same struggles."

"I understand, everything has been tough. And it's not getting any easier, but... we'll get through it. We always do." Drift ran his thumb down your back.

"That's what I love about you, Drift." A sweet smile came to your lips, planting a soft kiss upon the Autobot's cheek. "With you near me... this world feels a little less... fucked up."

[whencyclopedia]

The Iraq Museum & Three Wars: Three Steps from Hell

This article documents and elaborates on the many critical behind-the-scenes events, unknown to the public, before the history leaves us.

The author

The bulk of the “the land between the two rivers” lies in what we call today the Republic of Iraq. People have been living there, around and between the Euphrates-Tigris system for thousands of years. The earth of this land has been irrigated by these two rivers and throughout several millennia, a multitude of cultures, city-states, and empires flourished in Mesopotamia, resulting in a gradual development in each and every aspect of human life. However, the interaction between them was not always peaceful. Wars, military confrontations, and political coalitions, driven by the perspective of “the victors and the vanquished”, have made the land ever eager for blood instead of water. Throughout the history of the region, no one knows how many people have been killed in clashes between countless different rivals. The last actor in this continuous black comedy was the so-called Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant, which has been irrigating Mesopotamia with different types of blood, from all around the world.

Wars and blood, instead of peace, doves, and flowers, dominated and shaped Mesopotamian history. Iraq, the legitimate heir of this legacy (by the order of destiny), the core of the Cradle of Civilizations, still bleeds. The Iraq Museum in Baghdad was officially opened on June 14, 1926 CE. The current building in Al-Salihiyyah District was completed in 1963 CE. Located within the heart of the Republic of Iraq’s capital city, Baghdad, this great Museum of the human being and humanity’s history has sustained several “life-threatening and function-threatening” events. The Iraq Museum’s existence and persistence have been punctuated by three devastating wars within a relatively short period of time.

The Iraq-Iran War, 1980-1988 CE

A military conflict erupted in September 1980 CE between Iraq and its neighbor, Iran, resulting in the longest war in the 20th century. The war lasted for 8 years and ended on August 8, 1988 CE. These 8 years left their thumbprint on Mesopotamian history and resulted in a negative impact on the Iraq Museum. According to Iraqi laws, museums should close in wartime. At the beginning of the 1981 CE, the contents of the galleries of the Iraq Museum were packed and stored inside the museum itself. The large Assyrian stone slabs and several statues were left in situ, protected by foam and sandbags. This had rendered the museum virtually inactive; however, it was not closed officially. People simply ceased visiting the museum, as the galleries were somewhat empty. In 1983 CE, the construction of a new wing had increased the number of the museum’s halls and galleries from 13 to 23; the Babylonian-Chaldean, Hatra, Islamic, Manuscripts, and Coins halls received the bulk of this expansion. Some of the stored contents were re-displayed again and the new galleries were filled in with many artifacts. However, this short period was terminated rapidly with the escalation of the war. Once again, the relics were packed and stored and the museum’s halls were lifeless. Luckily, the Museum escaped damage incurred by the so-called “War of the Cities” between 1984-1988 CE (where both Iraq and Iran bombarded different cities haphazardly, resulting in the deaths of thousands of non-combat civilians and wide-spread civilian infrastructure attrition. When the war ended in August 1988, the museum’s day-to-day operations were mainly administrative; the public was not here.

Continue reading...

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

The Healer’s Vow: Master-Post 🧝🏾‍♀️

Welcome, fellow dark fantasy enthusiasts, to the master post for The Healer’s Vow which has been an exhilarating adventure to write, filled with intense emotional moments, rich and exhausting world-building, and deep character development. If you're drawn to the relentless pursuit of justice, the intricate web of political relationships, or the clash of light and dark magic, check it out for yourself!

Before we dive into the enthralling synopsis and detailed character profiles, it is important to acknowledge that "The Healer’s Vow" contains themes that may be triggering for some readers. The story includes scenes of SA, specifically an assault on Adisa, the MC which is central to her transformation into the Nightshade Sorceress. These scenes are handled with sensitivity, aiming to convey the profound impact of such events on the characters’ lives and their subsequent quests for vengeance and redemption. Reader discretion is advised.

Genres:

• Dark Fantasy

• Epic Revenge Tale

• Mythological Adventure

Synopsis (Prologue & Descriptions of Ch. 1 & 2):

In the medieval heart of Syrithya, the quaint-idyllic village of Zyx is unexpectedly shattered by a brutal attack from corrupt noblemen. Adisa, a dedicated healer among the villagers, is accused of witchcraft due to the central power of the nobility's ignorance. Adisa learned her healing spells, herbology, and archaic affinities from her mother before she passed. She raises her younger sister Victoria all on her own with the help of the village of course. They live somewhat peaceful lives with everyone. Yet, just about 20 miles north, the Nobility looms, in the armory room getting eager to plunder, pillage, murder, etc. all to maintain and enforce the Leader of the Noblemen's rule.

So they descended upon her village in the dead of night. Throwing everyone from their homes onto the surrounding dirt. Before gathering them all to falsely accuse Adisa of being a wielder of the dark arts... not yet anyway. Wink. But this is all an excuse for the nobles to indulge in their own sick perversions. So, before she is almost "executed," she is unable to protect her sister nor does know her whereabouts causing a rising feeling of anxiety and dread in the bellies of her stomach; the nobility snatches her up in a matter of seconds after seeing her use her spells and healing to help. Adisa is forced to endure a harrowing SA at the hands of the noblemen: Sir Gregory, Lord Eran Harkam, Baron Radomir Valtierra, and Sir Oryn Ghael. They left her to freeze to death since now her clothes lay torn around her. If that wasn't enough, they burned her entire village to the ground, pillaging to their heart's content.

The aftermath was nothing short of a horrific scene, the body of her 10-year-old sister Victoria is the catalyst for her sanity break. The profound shock, grief, and rage culminating in that desolate moment ignite a devious transformation, she lets out chillingly devastating blood-curdling screams that wail through the forest for miles to go, as she holds and cradles the light of her life as if she were willing her back to life.

"Wake up, Vic.. wake UP!" she pleaded through her tears.

"This isn't real, This can't be real!"

"It's just a nightmare, Addi. We will wake up soon.."

The surrounding forest, even the ground itself responds to her cries enveloping her in this dark cloud as she emerges as the Nightshade Sorceress, wielding dark powers she'd never imagined. Her journey from healer to sorceress is marked by the consuming darkness within her, a stark contrast to the life she once knew. The tranquility of her village was replaced by the haunting memories of violence and loss, pushing her towards a path of vengeance that she embraces with relentless determination. She tried to revive her sister after realizing she has some connection to the afterlife. It didn't... work. Forcing her into the Healer's Vow, her solitary promise herself until she has succeeded, 'all I need is vengeance,'

"This is my vow. To the villagers of Zyx, to Rick, to... Adisa." barely escaped her lips as a solitary tear fell from her cheek. I promise you all; that Sir Gregory, Lord Eran Harkam, Baron Radomir Valtierra, and Sir Oryn Ghael will fall. Each of them is responsible, each one of them, All I need is retribution; those bastards will pay for what they took from me...from us, V."

She held Victoria's favorite doll in her hand, the loss of pure innocence made her lose all of her own in a matter of seconds. She was all alone. This was her shedding Adisa and burying her in Zyx, with Victoria, fully embodying Kirjani, a name of great potential.

'I am, Kirjani the Nightshade Sorceress...'

Driven by a burning desire for vengeance, Adisa embarks on a quest to hunt down the men who destroyed her life. Along her path, she reunites with Rick, her first love and fellow survivor of the attack. They dated for a very short while when they were teenagers, but now their bond is one of deep friendship and mutual dependence, especially after the attack. At this point in the story, Rick is all Kirjani has left so, to establish Rick can never leave her side again, Adisa transforms him into an immortal Shadow Walker through a dark elixir. Rick's new abilities allow him to move unseen in the shadows, making him an invaluable ally. He becomes the Diablo to Kirjani's 'Maleficent' and their bond deepens as they navigate their complex feelings about the dark magic that binds them, and Rick’s sarcastic humor and resilience provide a counterbalance to the growing darkness within Kirjani.

Their journey through Syrithya was a tumultuous one, it took them about 4 months to even reach brings them to Raelin, a fierce warrior with her own vendetta. Raelin’s village was also destroyed by the same noblemen, and she seeks justice with the same fervor as Adisa. Her fiery spirit and strategic mind make her a formidable ally and a source of strength for Adisa. Raelin's presence challenges Adisa to find hope and love amidst their journey of darkness. The bond between these three warriors deepens, creating a formidable trio determined to bring justice to the corrupt nobility. Raelin's tactical brilliance and unwavering determination add a new dynamic to their quest, forcing Adisa to confront her own vulnerability and the possibility of redemption amidst the shadows of her past.

As the trio plots their revenge, each confrontation with the noblemen becomes a test of Adisa’s resolve and power. Rick, grappling with his feelings about the dark magic that saved him, finds himself torn between his loyalty to Adisa and his own moral compass. This tension peaks as Rick grows closer to Lena, a newcomer with her own shadowy abilities and a past marked by similar atrocities. Lena’s necromantic powers and her struggle to balance them with her healing nature reflect the ongoing theme of light versus dark. She is a resilient and introspective character, often caught between her desire for revenge and her innate compassion. Lena's presence in the group forces them all to confront their inner demons and the duality of their nature, as they navigate the complexities of their relationships and their shared mission of vengeance.

Meanwhile, Alaric, the ruler of Syrithya, grows increasingly paranoid as the threat of the Nightshade Sorceress looms larger... and closer. His desperation to maintain control leads him to implement brutal measures, further showcasing the corrupting influence of power. Alaric’s tall, imposing stature and sharp, calculating eyes reflect his authoritative and ruthless nature. Unbeknownst to him, his wife Harmony secretly plots her own rise to power. Harmony’s cunning and deceitful nature make her a formidable adversary. She is beautiful in a cold, calculated way, with flawless features and an air of superiority. Her manipulative schemes add layers of intrigue and betrayal to the story. The interplay of power and deception within Alaric's court highlights the fragile nature of his rule and sets the stage for the ultimate confrontation between the forces of darkness and light.

The climactic battle against Alaric’s forces culminates in a shocking betrayal within his ranks, setting the stage for an even greater conflict. As Adisa navigates the treacherous political landscape that follows, she must reconcile her dark powers with the compassion that once defined her, all while new threats loom on the horizon. The journey from vengeance to redemption is fraught with peril, as Adisa and her allies confront their deepest fears and the shadows of their past. The final confrontation not only tests their physical strength but also their moral fortitude, as they strive to overcome the darkness within and bring justice to the land of Syrithya.

Characters:

Adisa "Kirjani" Palmer

Adisa Palmer is the heart and soul of The Healer’s Vow. Once a gentle healer in the peaceful village of Zyx, her life is irrevocably changed by the brutal attack that kills her sister, resulting in her sexual assault at the hands of the realm's “protectors”; destroying not only her home but her sanity. Grief and rage transform her into Kirjani, the Nightshade Sorceress, a figure of dark power and fierce determination for retribution. A black woman with taupe/mocha skin, long, flowing coily blonde hair, and hazel eyes that have darkened with the intensity of her dark magic. Standing at an average 5’9 her presence enters the room before she does. Adisa vowed that night to enact her revenge on every single one of those men who took her sister from her Kirjani’s journey is one of vengeance and redemption, as she grapples with the duality of her nature—struggling to balance the healer she once was with the avenger she has become.

Garrick “Rick” Bramwell

In the aftermath of the Zyx attack, fueled by Adisa’s newfound fears, transformed her first love–turned best friend Garrick, or Rick as she annoyingly calls him, into an immortal Shadow Walker using a dark elixir she created. Although they dated from the ages of 16 to 19, they now consider each other to be very good friends. Rick's new abilities allow him to move unseen in the shadows, making him an invaluable ally. He possesses a blend of blind loyalty to Adisa, now Kirjani, resilience, and sarcastic humor, which often lightens the mood in their darkest moments. Rick is a rugged black man who's no stranger to physical labor, with an ironically handsome appearance with dark hair, styled in a bundle of nature-ridden dreadlocks, and now, piercing black eyes that seem to see through the veil of reality. His transformation not only mirrors Adisa's fear of abandonment but also reflects their shared struggle to navigate their new, shadowy existence.

Raelin "Rae" Vespera

Raelin is the warrior every epic tale needs. Fierce, strategic, and unyielding, she joins Adisa and Rick with a vendetta of her own. Her fiery spirit and tactical brilliance make her a formidable force in their quest for vengeance. Raelin’s presence challenges Adisa to find hope and love amidst their journey of darkness. She has striking features, with dark olive skin, fiery red hair, and a strong, athletic build that speaks to her prowess in battle. Raelin’s character embodies the potential for human connection and compassion, providing a beacon of light in their dark quest.

Lena Gildersyn

Lena, a newcomer to the trio, shares a past marked by atrocities similar to Adisa's. She possesses her own shadowy abilities, with a deep connection to necromantic powers. Lena struggles to balance her dark abilities with her inherent healing nature, reflecting the theme of light and dark within the story. She is a resilient and introspective character, often caught between her desire for revenge and her innate compassion. Physically, Lena has a fair complexion, with gentle features, dark wavy hair, and eyes that convey both her pain and her strength. Her developing bond with Rick adds another layer of complexity to the group dynamics.

Alaric Halloway

Alaric, the ruler of Syrithya, is a figure of power and paranoia. As the story progresses, his increasing fear of the Nightshade Sorceress drives him to implement tighter control and more brutal measures. Alaric is a complex antagonist, whose desperation makes him both dangerous and pitiable. He has a commanding presence, with a tall, imposing stature and sharp, calculating eyes. His character explores the corrupting influence of power and the lengths one will go to maintain it.

Harmony Halloway

Despite her cheery-sounding name; Harmony, Alaric’s wife, is insufferably manipulative and ambitious. She secretly plots against her husband, aiming to rise to power herself. Think quintessential daddy's girl and “pick me,” energy. Yeah, I know. Harmony’s cunning and deceitful nature make her a formidable adversary. She is beautiful in a cold, calculated way, with flawless features and an air of superiority. Her interactions with other characters reveal her true intentions, adding layers of intrigue and betrayal to the story. Harmony represents the dark side of ambition and the impact of treachery within the ranks of power. Her light and illusion magic contrast sharply with Kirjani's dark necromancy, setting the stage for dynamic and dramatic confrontations.

tag list - @drchenquill @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks @leahpardo-pa-potato @slenders1ckn3ss @somethingclevermahogony @inky-duchess @sassystyl @ceph-the-ghost-writer @paeliae-occasionally @davycoquette @unforgettable-sensations @hissorrow22 @scorpiothesaint @thewrathoffemalerage @rirori-jeorgiarn @spookyceph @enne-uni

if you're interested in joining the taglist, just drop an ask! same goes for if you'd like to be removed from said cans. 💀

let me know what you all think of the story so far! and the characters too! they're all a work in progress, i’ll be doing deep dives on each character.

[lirotation]

I Hail from Silverymoon: The Clash

Pov my little fanfiction: Astarion x Amaara (my wizard Tav). Angst I guess? This one is not a particular in-game scene, but the general feeling of Act II. The battles became hard, the atmosphere depressing, I was on edge the entire time while in the shadow cursed land. My Amaara was just a nudge away from flipping out. Also, while Dark Urge was like a person that the companions care about, Tav was more like a "Tool And Vessel". They'd dump their problems and requests on her without even asking, "Hey, how are you holding up?"

___________________________________

Amaara sat alone in her tent, absently cradling herself for comfort. She had skipped dinner, the day's events roiling in her mind. First Astarion had learned the sinister truth behind his scar, a revelation that shook them both. Then Arabella's parents were discovered murdered, despite Amaara's promises to save them. The girl's devastated screams and refusal of any consolation would haunt Amaara's dreams. She should have protected them. Should have been wiser, stronger, quicker. But she failed.

The impenetrable shadow curse loomed over the camp, an almost physical pressure exerted on Amaara. She can scarcely breathe. She sat, on the verge of tears, while everyone else tended to their own troubles. No one had even noticed her missing from the campfire tonight. Not that she blamed them; the quests pressed heavily on all. But a small voice inside still whimpered that she didn't matter.

With a shuddering sigh, Amaara pulled a blanket tight around herself. She wished it were Astarion's arms instead. This was one of those nights she would give anything just to lay her head on his shoulder and let him soothe her fears away.

But no, her thoughts drifted to him, remembering the first night they spent together. It was her very first time and he made it the single greatest experience in her life. She was completely lost in him and truly thought their souls bonded that night.

However, the second time was different. Her eagerness was clouded by doubts. She was also armed with new knowledge from Gale's books. She paid more attention to him that time, wishing to bring him pleasure, mend the bond they have. What she observed shattered all her hopes. His eyes were distant, withholding a hint of disgust and loathe. She didn't know what she did wrong, all she knew was the hurt in her heart and even more doubts in her mind. She didn't say or do anything though, still clung to him.

When they finally arrived at the shadow cursed land, there was no time to have a discussion because everything was thrown at her all at once. She could not seek comfort from him, for she didn't even know what his true intention was.

Suddenly Amaara heard soft footsteps outside her tent. Astarion popped his head in, giving his usual roguish smile. "Bad day?"

"The worst," she murmured. Carefully she allowed a tiny warmth kindled in her chest at the sight of him.

"I heard the girl yelling all the way across camp. This is what you get for helping every sob story that comes along."

Amaara sighed. "I had to try. I just wish I'd been quicker."

"Don't trouble yourself with every stranger's burden. You can't carry the world on your shoulders." Astarion's eyes glinted. "Although…we could have saved them if we had more power."

Amaara shook her head. "I did my best. Gave it my all."

"Did you?" Astarion pressed. "You refused to use the tadpole. But that was said and done. Now think - if I ascend in Cazador's place, we'll have might beyond imagining! You could help whoever you wished."

Amaara's eyes widened. Her heart turned to ice. He wasn't here to comfort her after all, "Don't." She snapped, then softened her tone, "please, not now, not today. We will discuss this some other time."

"Such innocence," he chuckled. "You know nothing of the choices survival forces upon us." His eyes flashed with cold ambition. "The power is there for the taking, if you'd help me grasp it. "

"There will always be a better way than violating our principles!" Amaara shot back, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.

Astarion stepped closer, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "YOUR principles. They make you weak when ruthlessness is required. You couldn't even help a simple peasant girl."

His words had weaponized her own guilt and doubts, leaving her consumed by grief. "How can you even consider the profane ascension, when you know what it entails? You said you just wanted to be rid of your old master, you didn't even want to be a true Vampire. what changed?" Anger started to set in, for his lack of consideration of her emotions. Harsh words lashed out, firm and curt, " NO, I won't allow it. "

"YOU WON’T ALLOW IT?" He bit down on every word as if to chew them into pieces. Rage erupted inside him and his vision went red, "When I was being flayed, you danced carefree. When I was seducing victims to their death against my will, you shared kisses with your bard boy on the Moonbridge. While I endured unimaginable torments, you spent your youth immersed in books and childish romance. you are nothing but a little mageling with no experience of the evil in the world, and your naïvety will be our undoing." Astarion's words were soaked in venom, "Powers that could help us lie within easy grasp, yet you cling to frail morality, chaining me with it too. "

He imitated Amaara's voice in a mocking way, "Astarion, don't bite thinking creatures. Astarion, don't kill the monster hunter. Astarion, don't use the tadpole's power, Astarion, don't ascend and be truly free." He sneered.

"Does restricting me give you purpose? Do you seek to become my new master? After all I endured…you presume to command me?" He spat, "Too bad, you do not dictate my fate. when the time comes, it is not your decision to make."

Astarion's cruel condemnation cut to Amaara's core. As fury boiled up inside her, the last thread of restraint snapped. "How dare you!" she shrieked, voice shaking with rage. "You know nothing of my life, yet boldly presume to judge me!"

"I may be young, but I've seen darkness across Faerûn that you in your cage could scarcely dream of." Amaara blazed, fury and pain etched on her face.

"You think I don't comprehend evil? I fought in wars, trudged through the wreckage left by those drunk on power. Held the hands of the dying and broken. Heard the screams of children orphaned, peasants crushed beneath the heels of tyrants! The Drows sought power, and drove the War of Silver Marches. The Ogres sought power, and led the siege on Silverymoon. My home in rubbles, my parents slaughtered before my eyes!"

She trembled with rage and grief. "And now mind flayers spread madness, and I'm cursed with their filth in my head! Every time someone grasps for might, I lose something precious!"

Amaara's shoulders slumped in defeat. "So do not lecture me about power's lure or necessity. I crave power too. If I were stronger, perhaps I could have saved my parents, kept my friends safe. I toil endlessly to hone my skills, master new spells, learn new recipes, anything to gain control." She lifted her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "But never at the cost of my soul."

"I offer you only compassion, yet you twist it into chains! Am I your enemy just for wishing you to retain your humanity?" Amaara wrapped her arms around herself, believing this is the source of their problem and the origin of his contempt. To her dismay, this is something unresolvable.

She felt utterly broken inside. "So choose your path, take your power, rule over ashes and bones. Lose yourself fully. It matters not, for I will have lost all I hold dear anyway. It would just be one more beloved thing sacrificed at ambition's altar. no big deal. I'm used to that by now."

Astarion stood there, his own anger overshadowed by the torrent of emotions that Amaara's words had stirred within him. Her confession had caught him off guard, and for a brief, bewildering moment, he felt a pulse of something he hadn't expected. But his well-practiced instincts to deflect kicked in, and he quickly composed himself.

"I do apologize, darling," he said, his voice carrying an unusual softness. "I didn't know. I suppose we're all products of our past, and you've certainly had your share of trials."

Astarion took a step closer, let out a small laugh "It was a bad choice of timing, I admit. In my eagerness after learning about the ritual, I got way ahead of myself. We don't even know if it can be done or not. We're practically bickering over theoretical situations. Silly of me, really."

His voice softened further, a familiar seductive tone seeping out. "Now, my little pet, would you like me to stay? I'll make it up to you, promise."

Amaara blinked, a mixture of anger and bewilderment stopping all her tears. The absurdity of his offer slammed into her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

"Get out," she finally said, her voice carrying the weight of her exasperation and disbelief.

"Sweet dreams." And with that, he turned and slipped away.

"It's over," she whispered, the bitter truth settling in. Perhaps there had never been anything real between them at all.

The weight of it all pressed down relentlessly until she buried her face in the bedroll, sobs wracking her body. Oblivion seemed the only appeal now, far removed from this anguish. I should have perished alongside my parents, she bitterly thought, sparing myself this grim future.

The group's fate beckoned in the darkest corners of her mind. What purpose did she have to go on? To keep fighting? When all the efforts were in vain and all that awaited was more pain at the hands of those she foolishly dared to trust.

That night, sleep evaded Amaara for hours. When it finally came, it brought troubling dreams. She found herself surrounded by a swarm of mind flayers, their tentacles grasping, a loud murmur of "Join us" seemed to come from all around her, then the ground collapsed under her feet.

Amaara fell screaming into darkness. She landed with a painful thud next to young Arabella. Tears streamed down her face. "You promised to save them! You promised!" she wailed, before blinking away. In her place, Halsin appeared out of thin air, who glared accusingly. "The curse remains. Are you even trying to aid me?"

Before she could respond, Halsin vanished. Wyll appeared next, panic in his eyes. "You must hurry! My father's life depends on it!" He too disappeared in a wisp.

After Wyll vanished, Amaara wandered alone through the shifting dark landscape, disoriented and afraid. Suddenly she spotted Karlach's broad form standing nearby, back turned.

Hope bloomed in Amaara's chest. "Karlach!" she called out, hurrying toward her friend, desperate for an anchor amidst the nightmare.

Slowly, Karlach turned to face her. But as she did, flames erupted across her body, consuming her. Amaara cried out in horror as Karlach melted away right before her eyes.

Reeling, Amaara staggered back, only to hear Gale's voice behind her, "goodbye, my friend." She whipped around.

Gale clutched his chest in agony. "This is my fate." He gave her a pained smile, with that Gale exploded in front of her with a force that sent her falling once more.

As Amaara plunged into darkness, she saw Shadowheart drifting alongside her, floating limply.

"Shadowheart!" Amaara cried out, grabbing for the cleric's hand.

But Shadowheart only gazed back blankly, no recognition in her eyes. Sinister shadowy hands materialized, seizing the helpless cleric and dragging her down into the abyss.

Amaara screamed and tried to hold on, but Shadowheart slipped away into the shadows' embrace. Amaara could only watch helplessly as her companion vanished, the void widening between them.

At last Amaara managed to land. As she struggled to get on her feet, a hand shoved her back to the ground. She tried to rise but froze at the sight of Astarion looming over her. He wore a sinister smile, "on your knees, darling," He commanded, fangs bared and eyes full of malevolent hunger. He descended upon her exposed neck as she screamed…

Amaara awoke, her throat raw from screaming Astarion's name, and her body drenched in a cold sweat. The remnants of her nightmare still held her in a tight grip, refusing to let go. As her ragged breaths echoed in the darkness, she felt Astarion rushing towards her, and she recoiled instinctively.

The companions had been roused by her cries, and they gathered around her tent, concern etched across their faces. Some of them reached out to offer comfort, but she flinched away from their touch, her eyes wild and desperate as they scanned the faces before her.

Amidst the chaos, Astarion's concerned voice cut through. "Amaara, what's wrong?" He moved toward her, only to be met with a forceful shove and a bolt of magic missile straight to the gut.

Staggering back, Astarion looked at her with bewilderment and alarm. He had never seen sweet, patient Amaara lash out so violently, especially toward him. Her usually calm demeanor was now overtaken by distress he didn't understand.

Before anyone could make sense of the situation, Amaara stumbled out of the tent, right into Lae'zel, clutching at the gith's tunic as if it were her lifeline. Lae'zel's eyes widened in surprise, yet she reacted with an unexpected gesture.

Slowly, deliberately, Lae'zel put one arm around the distressed wizard, while her other arm extended in a protective barrier, blocking Astarion's attempt to approach. Though her posture remained rigid and defensive, her singular embrace became a shield for Amaara.

Halsin's voice carried a sage wisdom as he addressed the group. "She had a nightmare, let's give her the space to collect herself."

Lae'zel met Astarion's incredulous stare with an unyielding glare. She then turned, guided the broken down wizard to her own tent, away from everyone else.

As the rest of the party scattered, Astarion stayed, completely dumbfounded. His determination to follow Amaara was halted by a firm grip on his elbow. His body tensed as he instinctively pulled away, his voice laced with an edge of desperation, "DON'T. TOUCH. ME." It was Gale who had caught him, trying to prevent his impulsive actions. Astarion struggled against Gale's grip, his frustration and anger evident in his eyes.

In the midst of their struggle, Gale cast a "Hold Person" spell on Astarion.

"Let go of me!" Astarion's voice seethed with impotent fury. Gale positioned himself in front of Astarion, blocking his line of sight to Amaara. "You need to collect yourself first," Gale stated firmly. "And I need to have a word with you."

Astarion's glare intensified, his lips curling in a snarl.

"Look at you - a feral animal. You'll only frighten Amaara more in this state," Gale admonished with a weary sigh.

Astarion glared venomously but slowly relaxed his aggressive posture under Gale's stern gaze.

"Congratulations, Astarion. You've accomplished the feat of enraging our gentle Amaara," Gale remarked, tone laced with sarcasm. "Keep it up, and one of us may gladly take your place."

Astarion let out a bitter laugh. "I'm sure you're all just waiting for that opportunity."

Gale's expression turned solemn. "I don't know what twisted game you're playing. But understand this - Amaara has options, far better ones than a deceitful leech like you."

Astarion's retorted defensively, "Hahaha, yes, a ticking time bomb, a murderous gith, and a druid who's more bear than man? Don't make me laugh. Amaara is mine."

Gale's gaze held steady, his words piercing through Astarion's façade, "Go on, Astarion. What is she to you?"

Caught off guard, Astarion faltered. "She's my…" He was at a loss for words, struggling to define the complex emotions that swirled within him.

"I thought so," Gale's voice softened. "For her sake, I hope you can find the answer to that question before it's too late." With a wave of hand, Gale lifted the spell before he turned and walked away.

Astarion stood there, his thoughts a tangled mess. Amaara's reaction had struck him to his core. She had never recoiled from his touch like that before, never met him with physical aggression. He replayed the events of the evening in his mind, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. What had his intention been when he sought her out earlier? He recalled that it had been a pretty good day for him - finally learning about the truth behind his scars and the battles had not taken too great a toll on him. He had been in a good mood since Amaara promised to help him against Cazador. He was hoping to have a deeper discussion about the new information with her, and maybe offer some comfort for the disheartened little heroine.

And then it all unraveled. But how? What had he said when his temper had gotten the best of him? He struggled to remember the exact words that had led to their heated argument. But that hardly matters now, right?

The notion of losing Amaara utterly terrified Astarion. He had believed her to be hopelessly enthralled - whatever he did or said to her would have no consequences, she would always come back to him like a kicked puppy. But now doubt plagued him. Was she truly so spellbound? Or had he pushed her too far this time?

In desperation he scrambled for ways to regain control, to mend the cracks in her devotion. But even that impulse gave him pause.

Because the more he pondered, the clearer a startling truth became - it was not merely her compliance and thrall he feared losing, but her. For so long he had seen her as merely someone to manipulate and seduce. Yet now, the threat of her absence stirred a different emotion entirely. Not just wounded pride at losing a plaything, but the ache of something far more profound slipping away.

The gentle soul had offered him everything - compassion, patience, love freely given. At first she was just an amusement to him, a powerful wizard reduced to a toy. But she had tried in her own way to connect to him as a person.

He remembered the sweet taste of her blood, a gift freely given, and accepted without judgment.

He remembered the way she had looked at him when she had shared the beauty of her own world with him - her room she had conjured, the view of the Moonbridge. He now realized it was a gesture meant to forge a connection, her way of opening up and letting him in.

He remembered her using a figment illusion to show him his reflection when he had been wallowing in self-pity; He thought back on her shy smile, the kiss she planted so delicately on his conjured image. He now realized it was her creative way to show affection because she had noticed his adversary to touch.

He remembered when she carefully traced his scars, Remembered her relentless determination as she had spent the entire night trying to piece together the infernal letters. The disappointment that had clouded her expression when her efforts had yielded no results.

He remembered her words, "Of course I am with you," when she aided him against the Orthon - she had given, and asked nothing in return.

He remembered her bright-eyed smile and adoring gaze. A gaze unlike those he encountered before. It had held no lust, no violation. It was filled with simple admiration and joy.

He felt seen, wanted… even loved.

Never in life or unlife had he been shown such empathy and care without ulterior motives. Never in life or unlife had he asked for help and met with help, asked for compassion and met with compassion, asked for indulgence and met with indulgence.

He didn't care

No.

He thought he didn't care.

NO.

He didn't know he cared.

He felt like an idiot now. How stupid had he been? He had messed it all up. He had pushed her away, misread her intentions, and allowed his insecurities to tarnish the connection she tried so hard to build.

Now, the very idea of her slipping away made his blood turn into ice. What they had shared had been real, and he finally realized how much light she had brought into his bleak existence. Light he would give anything to get back, if only he knew how.

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~Part 28 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly, physical abuse ( Not by Dean)

Word Count: 809

A/N: Please keep in mind events/ dialogue may not be accurate to the show. Stated as always this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

The room was bathed in a cold, sterile light as Dean stood across from Metatron. The once lowly scribe of God had ascended to a position of power that made Dean's blood boil. His smirk, his calm, collected posture, all screamed arrogance—an arrogance that had cost Dean and everyone he cared about dearly.

"This is all your fault," Dean growled, fists clenched tight, the Mark of Cain pulsing angrily beneath his skin. "Kevin, Cas, Sam...everything that's gone to hell in the last year. You did that. You started this."

Metatron's smile widened, an almost mocking pity in his gaze. "Oh, Dean. You've always been so linear, so black and white. You can't see the bigger picture, can you? I'm creating a new world, a world of order. But, alas, you keep trying to play the hero."

Dean stepped forward, raising the First Blade in his hand. The weight of it felt comforting, familiar. The Mark was hungry for blood, hungry for destruction, and Dean was ready to deliver.

"I'm going to end you," Dean said, his voice low and threatening. "For Kevin. For everyone."

"Please," Metatron scoffed. "You think you can kill me? I'm practically a god now."

Without warning, the room exploded into chaos. Dean lunged at Metatron, slashing with the First Blade, but Metatron dodged with a speed and agility Dean hadn't expected. Their fight was brutal, a flurry of fists and blades clashing in a blur of motion. Dean, fueled by the Mark, fought with everything he had, but Metatron was strong—too strong.

Dean could feel the cold concrete beneath him as he collapsed, battered and beaten, the weight of the First Blade heavy in his hand. Blood dripped from his mouth, his face swollen and bruised beyond recognition. Every breath had been agony, his ribs aching with every inhale.

Metatron managed to disarm Dean, kicking the First blade out of Dean's grasp. Metatron stood over him, gloating, his smug smile, "You thought you could stop me, Dean?" he'd sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing. You're just a man."

He then raised his angel blade for one final blow.

But Dean wasn't done. With a surge of power from the Mark, he used telekinesis to summon the First Blade back to his hand. Just as his fingers closed around it, ready to strike, Metatron moved faster.

In one swift motion, Metatron drove his angel blade deep into Dean's chest.

The world seemed to stop. Dean's eyes widened in shock, the First Blade slipping from his hand as he staggered back, his breath coming in short, pained gasps. He looked down at the blade buried in his chest, blood staining his shirt, and then back up at Metatron, who was grinning like the devil himself.

"Goodnight, Dean Winchester."

Sam's voice echoed in the distance. "No!"

Sam rushed forward, his face twisted in horror as he watched his brother fall to his knees. Julia, frozen for a moment, broke out of her paralysis and ran to Dean's side. She reached him just as he collapsed to the ground, cradling him in her arms.

"Dean!" Julia's voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears as she pressed her hands against the wound in his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. "No, no, no! You're not going anywhere, you hear me?"

Dean's breathing was ragged, each breath a struggle. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Julia's gaze, but there was something different in them now. A sadness, an acceptance.

"Sam!" Julia cried, desperate, her voice breaking as she held onto Dean. "Do something!"

Sam dropped to his knees beside them, his face pale and stricken with fear. "Dean, stay with us, okay? We'll get you help. Cas will heal you."

But Dean shook his head weakly. "No time...for that, Sammy."

Julia tightened her grip on him, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "You can't leave us. You can't leave me."

Dean reached up, his blood-stained hand cupping Julia's cheek. "I'm sorry..." he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head, her heart breaking into pieces. "Don't say that."

But it was too late. The light in Dean's eyes flickered, then faded entirely. His body went limp in Julia's arms, his breathing stopping as the room fell into an unbearable silence.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, his voice filled with anguish. He shook his brother, hoping, praying for some kind of response. But there was nothing.

Julia held Dean's lifeless body close, her tears soaking into his bloodied shirt. The weight of his death hit her like a sledgehammer, crushing her chest, her heart.

"Please, Dean," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "Please don't leave me..."

But he was gone.

The room was filled with an unbearable silence. Sam stared at his brother's body, his heart breaking all over again. He reached out and gently closed Dean's eyes, his own tears falling onto the floor.

Julia couldn't move, couldn't think. All she could do was hold Dean, the man who had slowly become everything to her, and cry.

Dean Winchester was dead.

And the world would never be the same.

[l-lend]

A/N: yeah so this was a fun one to tackle. Inspiration for this one involved Hunter mentioning Tech's "hobby". Another fic for @clonexreaderbingo <3

It was barely dawn when he returned. Another successful job for his squad, and a well needed break for repairs and rest. His lover was still curled up in her bed as he climbed in to join her. His armor left in the living room to be cleaned after rest. As soon as his back hit the mattress, she was there, coiling around his side. The scent of her shampoo began to coax his eyes to slipped closed. After a mental struggle, he surrendered to unconsciousness.

A soft noise slipped past her lips as she rolled over. Her hands met cooled sheets before she cracked open an eye. The comforting warmth that had joined her in the early hours was gone, but his location was given away as she registered that the shower was on. Her feet soon met the floor as she eased herself up. He was always a creature of habit when he was planet side: shower, tinker with a project, fix the ship, and maybe eat and sleep in between.

As she pondered what to badger him into eating this morning, a soft noise caught her attention.

“Tech, you need to get up.”

It took a few moments to focus on the noise when it sounded again.

“Tech, your caf's getting cold.”

Her brow furrowed as she scouted the room for the source. The culprit soon discovered on the opposite side of the bed. The noise sounded again from the datapad, and her heart sank. The voice was hers.

Snatching up the device, she stopped the sound with a few button presses. As she stared down at the screen, curiosity swirled behind her eyes. When did she record her voice for him? Her fingers began pressing buttons until she viewed his files. Another press shifted the files into the order of most recent. The worry planted in her chest sprouted to full bloom as her eyes skimmed over some files:

Sleeping_With_Cyare.mp4

Shower_Cyare.mp4

The datapad was still clenched in her hand as she barged into the refresher. The towel clad clone turned towards the opened door. His hair clinging to his scalp in damp tendrils. His goggles still rested on the counter.

“Everything alright?”

“Tech, h...have you been recording me?”

His lips formed a line.

“I record a wide variety of subjects.” He replied, matter-of-factly.

His fuzzy gaze failed to catch the subtle twitch of muscles that morphed from confusion to disgust. It was her scowl that greeted him as the world came into focus once more. Chances were favorable that a clash was imminent.

“Is there something wrong with my interests?”

“You interests? You sneaking recordings of me is an interest?!” She fumed. shoving his datapad against his bare chest.

His deft hands kept the device from tumbling to the ground. His gaze lifted as she began her escape. She laid her fingers on the handle when he spoke.

“Your voice is soothing.”

She froze before glancing over her shoulder, “What?”

He pressed a few buttons before turning the datapad to her. Portions of the screen were marked off with color coded bars. The date at the top correlated with him and his brothers being away. She glanced back up to him.

“This is...a morning routine?”

He tapped on one of the events with an alarm. Her voice poured through the datapad's speaker again. He played another from a different barred off section of his schedule.

“It's common for people to crave structure and routine.” He explained after his most recent selection called for him to take a break and stretch his legs.

His free hand cradled her chin tilting her to meet his spectacles.

“One such example of structure would be your voice as it has become a welcomed presence.”

She shook her head, “So it's not a kink but a comfort.”

“I thought it was obvious.”

She was silent for a few moments. Her shoulders silently shaking before laughter bubbled up from her throat.

“Alright, this way.”

She grabbed his free hand pulling him out of the refresher and to the bed.

“Lay back.” She offered gently before joining him.

She curled up against his side as he laid on his back. The smile she flashed him touched her eyes.

“Now,” She began, “how about you tell me what things you want me to say.”

@locitapurplepink @rain-on-kamino @writing-positivelyexisting @burningfieldof-clover @padawancat97 @ahsokastechie @techs-stitches

[carnivorousyandeere]

Erik’s Jealousy

(MDNI)

CW: smut, mentions of violence, extreme possessiveness and jealousy

More info: gender neutral reader, sub reader, bottom reader

Normally he’s a cool and composed dom, but sometimes outside circumstances force his hand….

1/2 request filled for @havenmoodz

Wrote two shorter blurbs with Dom!Erik rather than one longer piece, hope you enjoy~~

When Erik had invited you to a work party, you weren’t really expecting it to be so fancy. Or for the alcohol and drugs to flow so freely. Erik refrained from either, wanting to drive you home after the party. Some of his other colleagues were… definitely indulging.

One coworker of his in particular had made a few passes at you while Erik left to use the restroom. Erik had looked at you so softly, almost surprised, when he came back and you immediately nuzzled against his side. Until he realized what was going on.

Erik wraps his arm around your waist protectively, pulling you against him tighter. Their colleague, apparently too drunk to take even the most obvious of hints, moves closer and asks again if you’ll have a drink with them sometime.

Overwhelmed, you’re not sure what to say, especially when the colleague reaches out to you—

Erik grips their wrist tightly, piercing them with the coldest stare you’ve ever seen from him. “Keep your filthy hands away from them.”

The colleague’s mouth gapes open in indignation, but Erik tightens their grip, and all they can do is wince. They yank their hand away and cradle it to their chest.

Erik seems to realize that other people at the party are starting to look over, and calmly follows up with, “You should find somewhere to sober up.”

With that, it’s almost like nothing happened— the offending colleague walked away, and you and Erik spent the rest of the event talking calmly with his other coworkers.

This changed the minute you got in the car. Erik’s calm facade gave way to the impatient, angry energy you’d suspected was underneath. You couldn’t help but feel nervous and on edge yourself. The silence was palpable, every turn a little sharper than usual. His hands shook as he sorted their keys to gets into the apartment.

The minute you’re both inside he pins you against the door in the harshest kiss he’s ever given. It’s a clash of teeth and tongue, his hands running up and down your sides as if to remind themself that you’re real, that you’re really there with them.

He pulls away, gaze dark and restless and bumps his forehead against yours.

“…Sorry,” Erik says. “I should have done more back there. I should have smashed their skull in.”

A sharp, cold thrill runs through you but is lost in heat as Erik kisses you again, thigh forcing its way between yours. He pulls away and bites along your jawline and down to your neck. “They didn’t deserve to walk away like that. They don’t deserve to breath your air.”

You gasp and rut against his leg as they bite deeply into your shoulder. You stutter out his name, trying to reassure him and talk him. Your voice breaks on a surprised moan as he picks you up, hands gripping your ass. He walks you to the bedroom and sets you on the bed.

They strip their clothes, eyes still wild and agitated, mumbling about what happened earlier. Then Erik rips off your flimsy, fancy cocktail clothes and underwear. One hand gripping the back of your neck, and the other pushing into you one finger at a time, Erik kisses you deeply.

You barely have a chance to breathe between him opening you up and his harsh kisses. Erik waits until you’re twitching and dripping before he pulls away to put on their strap.

“Hands and knees.”

You flip yourself over shakily, shivering at the exposed feeling. Erik slides up behind you, lining their lubed strap with your hole. He slides in, gasping as if he could feel you fully when he bottoms out.

“Mine, only mine… so— so, ugh, precious…”

His thrusts are hard and fast, the kisses and bites he leaves sloppier than usual. You can’t help but to collapse face-first into the mattress, moaning and drooling pathetically. Erik just curves himself around you more, thrusts getting even harder.

You fall apart around their dick with a cry, and Erik comes with you, a mix of your name and “I love you,” falling from his lips over and over, continuing to drive his hips into you to the point of overstimulation.

[worlddominationofcourse]

Spider-Punk’s Canon Event

I have a theory regarding Hobie Brown having a close relationship with a police captain who dies during a fight with a supervillain.  I know most of the internet is laughing at this idea, because Spider-Punk hates cops, like all good punks.   He has the blue laces that means he killed a cop.  And that’s valid.  But take a walk with me.  

Hobie Brown is playing a show one night when he sees a cop in the back, at a table.  Hobie tenses, but the cop raises a beer and smiles at him.  Hobie, being a spider-man, has a solid sense of good and evil and goes over to see what he wants. 

The officer introduces himself as George Stacy and says he loves Hobie’s music and agrees that society is broken and that cops are corrupt and something needs to be done.  Society is corrupt from the top down and can only be fixed from the bottom up.  Hobie scoffs and calls him a poser and walks off. 

However, Captain Stacy keeps showing up at Hobie’s shows.  He always has a beer, he never makes trouble and when a fight breaks out at one of the shows, he lets Hobie break up the fight.  And Hobie keeps talking to him.  They have the same taste in music, they argue about what makes a good beer, Stacy tells him about his daughter, Gwen and how he wants a better world for her.  And much to his horror, Hobie Brown is becoming friends with a cop. 

He starts keeping an eye on Captain Stacy as Spider-Punk and the man seems to be as good as his word.  He’s by the book where every other pig cheats, lies and steals, he always seems to find something more important for the cops to do when they’re supposed to be enforcing eviction notices or destroying homeless camps, even when Mayor Osborn starts coming down hard on him about it.  And Hobie realizes he’s as good as his word, that Captain Stacy is actually a Good Cop, a thing he legitimately did not believe existed. 

He wonders how Stacy managed to get up to Captain while actually having morals and a spine, in a system that encourages sheer bastardry and evil.  He soon realizes that Captain Stacy is just that charismatic, that people just can’t help but to like him and follow along with him.

Things finally come undone when Mayor Osborne dons his power suit and comes out to deal with Spider-Punk and his anarchic ways once and for all.  The two clash, Osborne bringing cop back up, Spider-Punk bringing Captain Anarchy to help him even the odds against the tyrannical future president.  And Captain Stacy is there, trying to de-escalate the situation, trying to stop anyone from getting hurt.

And in the middle of the fighting, mere moments after Norman is sent staggering away by a solid hit from Hobie’s guitar, Hobie sees a cop take aim at Captain Stacy and, before he can do anything, the cop shoots his friend in the back.  Good cops always get that in the end.  It’s a miracle it never happened before that. 

Hobie cradled the dying Stacy in his arms, a moment of calm in the maelstrom of battle.  Stacy tells him he’s sorry, that he won’t be around to help him fix this shit-pile of a world, but never to give up and never to sell out to the establishment.  And then he dies.

And that’s when Hobie earns his blue laces.  Because Hobie has definitely thought about killing a cop before.  When he sees a cop dragging an old lady out because she can’t pay her rent.  When he sees a cop threatening a kid for shoplifting.  When he sees a cop beating up a homeless guy for the crime of existing.  But he always just hung them upside down or webbed them to the side of a building, because that’s what his gut tells him is right. 

Not this time.  This time he cracks that cop’s head open with his guitar and he vows that he won’t be fooled again.  Good cops do exist and then they get murdered because trying to fix the system from the inside is stupid.  He’s punk-rock and being punk rock means that you burn everything down from the outside and build things up from the ashes.

And that’s how I think Hobie had his police officer related canon event. 

[texas-writes]

Stay With Me

Three weeks. That’s how long you have been traveling with Joseph Joestar and his companions to save his only child. It felt like an eternity and a fleeting moment at the same time.

It all started when you walked out of the small cafe near your campus to see two men dueling in the street, except one of them appeared to be a flaming bird. You watched in awe as the beings clashed, the inferno incapacitating the knight and allowing a third, much larger figure to approach.

Joseph had recognized you as a stand user from that moment, though you had no idea of your stand's existence at the time. You had recklessly accepted when Joseph had offered you a place in his group. Looking for an excuse to get away from university for just a moment.

The quest you had joined in on seemed simple enough. If you were a fairy tale hero, that was. This old man had to be crazy, there was no way he was serious about his (im)mortal enemy being a fucking vampire. But alas, you still followed, because at least if you died it would be kinda hot. Hopefully this vampire fella looked like Tom Cruise. You laugh to yourself at the thought.

The first few stops on your journey, Joseph insisted that you have the room to yourself, save for the ugly ass dog he kept with him for some reason. You sit in your bed, flipping through a book of TIME’s most influential photos, pausing to ponder the events that led up to the one you were currently looking at.

As you think, a flash of purple catches your attention, drawing your eyes away before it disappears as quickly as it came. You shrug it off and go back to reading.

You saw purple again, fleeting, darting back and forth around the room before it stopped at the foot of your bed. You looked up and were met with the source of the movement that had been vexing you all day. It was the massive humanoid creature from before, it’s eyes meeting yours, despite the fact that it was crouching before you. It had long hair flowing all around it, a swirl of galaxies crowning its giant head. Almost like a halo.

“Who are you,” you whisper, cautiously crawling towards it. “Are you even real?”

It gives you a confused expression, letting out a soft “Ora?”

It was absolutely still aside from its flowing hair, but every aspect of the creature seemed relaxed. It wasn’t looking to harm you, or even approach you, so you approached it instead. You sit with your legs crossed on the edge of the bed and reach out towards it, trying to touch its face, but your hand just passes right through it.

You pull away even more confused than before. Were you dreaming? You could have sworn you were awake.

Then the creature reaches into you, and you feel it gripping something inside your chest. My god is it going to kill me? You think, fear taking over your body and you try to back away. The beast’s other hand reaches up and strokes your hair, very much there and very much real.

While you’re distracted by the foreign touch, it pulls its hand out of you, holding a black kitten by the scruff of its neck. It mewls and the creature pulls it towards it, cradling the cat in its arms. The cat starts to purr as the thing strokes it’s head and you feel it reverberating in your chest.

What the fuck was going on. Before you had time to think anymore, you laid down and forced yourself to go to sleep.

You were silent at breakfast the next morning, prompting Joseph to ask what happened to the talkative girl he had met the previous day.

You explained your strange dream to him and he nodded, before telling you the most absolute old man bullshit you had ever heard. There was no way that pathetic little cat was your fighting spirit.

You laughed and told him he was full of it. He countered by telling you to bring it out so they could all see it. You laughed again and said you couldn’t. He gave up almost too easily after that, muttering something about it’ll come out when it matters.

The second night you traveled with your new companions, once again staying with just the dog, the creature appeared to you again.

This time it’s not as friendly as it was before. Before you can even truly acknowledge it, you’re being attacked, it’s dragging you backwards from your chair, a large hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing. You feel like your eyes are going to pop out as you claw helplessly at your attacker, looking to Iggy to find him fast asleep.

A growl rips from the air beside you and the hand retreats almost as quickly as it appeared. You turn your chair to the large purple beast crouching down beside a panther, petting it’s head and making soft Oras in response to its purring. You feel the feedback of the pets in your hair and look to it for answers.

The being simply gives you an apologetic look, and reaches its free hand towards you. You cautiously take it. The creature brings the back of your hand to its lips, kissing it softly and giving you a small smile before returning its full attention to the panther.

A knock at the door draws you from your confusion and you answer it. It’s Jotaro. He pushes his way past you, kicking off his shoes and sitting on your bed, pulling a comic book from his coat and flipping to the dog eared page. “The old man told me to keep an eye on you,” he grumbles, flipping his hat and producing a cigarette, placing it between his lips and lights it.

“Well hello to you too. Do you have another one of those?”

“Smoking’s bad for you, you know,” Jotaro grumbles tossing his pack of smokes your way.

“Whatever.” You light one up and return once again to your book on the desk.

“Well, since you’re apparently a stand user, the worlds gonna be out to get you, and someone has to keep you alive, the old man will be upset if you die. Says he sees potential, and it looks like your stand’s not completely useless after all. It had no problem tearing at Star Platinum. Hurt like a bitch. Star seems to see it as a pet though, which is unfortunate. He’ll probably try to get a rise out of you more, now he knows it’ll make his friend appear.”

So that was Jotaro’s stand. Intretesting.

“I thought Joseph said that stand users had full control of their stands?”

“Star Platinum has a mind of his own. It’s probably why he’s been tormenting you for two days. He’s just curious. I can always pull him back if I want to, but as long as he’s not hurting anything, I don’t really care.”

“Maybe you should keep him from watching me sleep then. It’s kinda nerve wracking,” You chuckle.

Jotaro just grunts and gets up, moving to the other bed, picking Iggy up and tossing him on the floor. The dog grumbles in its sleep, but barely reacts more than that.

You sigh, stretching and getting up from your chair to flop down in the significantly more comfortable bed. “So, Jotaro, tell me about yourself,” you prompt, trying to get to know the reserved boy better.

“I’m Joseph’s grandson and my mom’s dying.”

“Surely there’s more.”

“Do you want to know my whole life story or something? Fuck.”

“Sorry, just trying to make conversation.”

Jotaro sighs and takes his cap off, running his fingers through his silky black hair. “Look, I’m not great with conversations, okay. I’m not trying to be a dick. You didn’t have to join us.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t trying to pry.”

He chuckles and looks towards you. “Actually I think you’re the first girl that’s made an effort to get to know me.”

Oh. Oh! How did a handsome guy like himself have- “no girlfriend?”

“Never.”

“Surprising.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re not unattractive.”

“I know.”

Ah. There it was.

“I see.”

“I know I sound shallow, but I’m not. I just know people find me attractive because they make it so clear. They just want my appearance, they don’t want me.”

“So you’re saying you’re into blind girls?”

Jotaro chuckles and leans back against the headboard, blowing out a stream of smoke. “You’re funny. I think we could be friends.”

“Yeah,” you say, turning the remaining lamp off and rolling over. “Me too.”

The next couple weeks are a constant frenzy of fighting for your life, bringing you closer to your new companions both out of necessity and dedication to each other. You now spent most of your time with Jotaro and Kakyoin, mostly because they were the closest to you in age. Kakyoin was a year younger and Jotaro was just five months your junior, he was still in high school only because his birthday fell at an odd time for the school calendar.

You had grown quite fond of each other during your time together, spending what little free time you had together, trying to get some enjoyment out of the trip, be it grabbing lunch or just doing different things in the same room.

When all was said and done, and the battle won you found yourself in a hotel room overlooking the Valley of Kings. There were just four of you left now, the Stardust Crusaders were nothing more than a quartet of broken people whose lives would never really be the same as they were before.

Joseph and Polnareff were just across the hall, and when you stepped out of your room to use the toilet you could hear shot glasses clinking together and slamming onto the table, but there were no celebratory words being exchanged, the men were drinking to get drunk. To forget.

When you returned to your room you found Jotaro on the balcony, leaning on the railing and smoking a cigarette. He had dropped his coat and hat in the corner chair when he had entered the room and while you were gone he had stripped off his blood soaked shirt, revealing all the wounds Dio had inflicted on him.

Without thinking you come up and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his back. He stiffens for a second and then relaxes into your touch, letting out a sigh.

“I’m glad you made it,” he states suddenly, his chest rumbling with his deep voice.

“Me too, I guess.”

Jotaro pulls himself out of your arms and turns to face you. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow night.”

He sighs and tosses his cigarette butt off the balcony. He blinks slowly and rolls his shoulders a few times. “I’m really glad you made it.”

You’re completely unable to read him, not that it was easy before, but now, you couldn’t even begin to place what was on his mind. So much had happened in the last twenty four hours. Your friends had died for God’s sake.

It confuses you even more when Jotaro reaches up and cups your face with his massive hand. Before you can think, he leans down and places a clumsy kiss against your lips before pulling away quickly.

“I shouldn’t have done that, should I?”

“Actually I think you should do it again.”

He leans down again and this time you meet him halfway, closing the gap between you. His lips fumble against yours as he struggles to figure out what you’re doing.

You pull away and look up at him. “Never kissed before?”

“Once, but I was like eleven.”

You giggle and pull him towards you again, this time taking the lead and guiding him through it. You’re laughing when you pull away and he looks genuinely disheartened.

“What? Am I bad?”

“No, I’m just glad you finally decided to make a move.”

He just stares at you like you have two heads.

“I’ve only been flirting with you for the whole trip.”

“I thought you were just being nice.”

You chuckle and pull him into another kiss. Leave it to Jotaro to be completely oblivious to something like that.

“I liked that,” he murmurs, reaching out to take your hand. “A lot.” He pauses and thinks for a moment. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot too. I’m sorry I have to leave.”

“I understand. You have a life to get back to, and we can’t linger here too long anyways.”

“I wish…”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You wish what?”

“I just wish things had come out better in the end.”

“Me too,” he sighs, and turns leaving you on the balcony to finish your cigarette.

When you do, you follow him inside, leaving the door open behind you.

“Jojo,” you call, reaching out towards him. He turns to face you and you take his hand, pulling him towards you and pushing your lips to his again.

He hums in surprise and melts into the kiss, leading you backwards further into the room. You fall back into the bed and pull him with you by his shoulders, keeping your lips against his the whole way down.

He moans and laces his fingers with yours, pinning your hand above your head, using his free hand to support himself.

This was the first time you had seen Jotaro shirtless the entire time you had traveled together, and even shared rooms and it was, comforting, to know that he now trusted you enough to show off a little. You let out a pleased giggle and spread your legs to allow Jojo to slot himself between them.

You roll your hips against his, earning a groan from him. He releases your hand and moves to run his fingers down your side, dipping under your shirt and trailing back up.

Your hands go to his waist, looping your fingers in his belt loops and guiding his hips against yours.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, bumping his forehead against yours.

You’re taken aback by his words, breathing his name and pushing him away from you.

Jotaro worries that he’s done something wrong before you get up and push him to sit on the other bed and kneel before him, running your hands up his thighs, letting them come to a rest on his hips.

“I love you too, Jojo,” you hum, resting your head on his massive thigh. He watches you, astounded as you reach up to unbutton his pants and push them down enough to free his cock. “Do you want this,” you ask looking up at him.

“Yeah. I do.”

You nod and lick his tip, making him shiver at the sensation. He brings his hands to rest in your hair, gently tugging as you work your mouth over him, taking him in bit by bit.

“God, fuck that feels good,” he whines, bringing a hand to cup your cheek “Please don’t stop.”

He bucks his hips, making you gag and you pull away. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, reaching to help you up.

“It’s alright, it happens,” you hum.

In an instant he’s scooped you up into his arms, tossing you back onto the other bed and climbing on top of you. He unbuttons your pants and slides his hand down the front of your panties, dipping a finger between your folds, making you shiver. You work to slip your pants off to make what he’s doing easier. “God, Jotaro, just come here already,” you whine, trying to push his pants down his hips. Jotaro pulls away, just long enough to kick his pants off, fully exposing himself to you. He returns to his position above you, this time joining you on the bed. You prop yourself up and remove your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your bra, but you’ll leave that for him to take off.

“I uh, I’ve never done this,” he tells you, tracing his finger up and down your torso.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

He nods in response and leans in to kiss you again, sighing as you reach between your bodies and guide him to your entrance. His hands linger on the band of your bra. “Can I take this off?”

You nod and arch your back to allow him to unclasp it and pull it off, tossing it haphazardly behind him. He pushes his hips forwards, finally sinking into you and you groan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down towards you and locking his lips in a kiss.

It’s slow and it’s sweet and when it’s all over Jotaro rolls off of you and pulls your back into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly, like he never wants to let go, pressing kisses to the back of your neck. “I love you,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair.

“I love you too,” you mumble, drifting off to sleep in your shared room, a cool breeze blowing in from the open balcony door.

When Jotaro awoke you were already gone, the sun warming his face, though the bed was cold. He rolls over, finding a note on your pillow. The four words pulled at his heartstrings. A simple ‘I’ll find you again’ was all it took to make him break down in silent tears.

“Honey? What’s wrong?”

Your mother’s voice draws you from your thoughts and back to the dinner table. You had returned to your hometown directly from Egypt, since it was already time for fall break.

“Yeah, I’m alright mom, I just had a long semester. Being away from home for so long was stressful.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re home.”

“Yeah…,” you hum, poking at your food, the ketchup seeping from your burger suddenly looks like blood, and you choke back a sob.

“Y/N, seriously, what’s wrong. You’re different.”

You sigh and lean back in your chair. “I just had a… fling, I guess, when I was in Hong Kong. It was hard to leave him.”

“Oh, that’s…understandable. Whirlwind love is hard to let go of. Maybe you’ll see him again one day.”

“Maybe.”

[the-kr8tor]

I don't wanna be exiled:( 🪦's scary Please I'm innocent I still gotta have that three way marriage with 🦊 and 🎸 Daily Hobie HC! The moment you ask Hobie to do your makeup, he's rushing through the canal boat, grabbing what he has that suits you. Despite loving to tease you, he's very gentle with your face, especially around your eyes. If he's applying eyeshadow, Hobie will instinctively use his pinkie finger, not wanting to hurt you on accident. With how soft he's being, he can tell you're practically drifting off to sleep, in which he has to flick you away with a tap to your cheek. If he's using anything else for your makeup, such as a brush, he'll tap the tips of the bristles against your closed eyelids with a chuckle, feigning innocence if you try to call him out on it. No doubt when he's done, you look absolutely stunning. Whether it's just free territory or if you wanted him to try something else, there's a guarantee that you'll always look jaw-dropping. I mean, how else do you think he looks so good? He loves being your personal styler when you need it, and vice versa. He remembers once when you had somehow managed to convince him to wear a chicken onesie to one of his concerts. For two weeks you were not allowed to suggest any of his outfits for any upcoming concerts upon seeing your wide smile. Admittedly, he'd do it all over again if it meant seeing you laugh and smile like that. Hobie takes very subtle notice of what your style normally is, usually trying to think of gifts he could steal that you would like, and that you could possibly wear. However, whether it clashes or not, you're always seen wearing at least one spiked jewelry from Hobie. If he's able to without getting caught, he loves to swipe any accessories he can get for you, such as earrings, bracelets, rings, or any suitable piercing jewelry. And in return, you shower him in love, always giving him a lopsided grin and lovestruck gaze. With his love language being practically everything, there's not a singular moment where you doubt that he loves you. He'll offer to do things for you or help you if you seem to be struggling, not letting you achieve what you need without him teasing you at least a little bit, a shit-eating grin always plastered on his face. Sometimes, you'll even find him in the kitchen cooking. Obviously, the thought is always endearing, but you force yourself to supervise him, even if Hobie tries to convince you to lay down and rest...but of course, you've learned from last time. And besides, why is he even cooking anyways? He should be the one resting. Hobie will always be grateful for you putting up with his nonsense. During his worst moments, the canon events, the blood and the horror, he'll forever be appreciative that you stayed by his side to comfort him. To hold him close when he didn't deserve one bit of love. For how you never question when he just needs to hold you close after experiencing a night terror, and how you just simply massage his scalp to soothe him if he wakes up shaken. No doubt he feels terribly guilty at times, yet your persistent love is something he's always grateful for, no matter how guilty he feels, knowing he doesn't deserve it. The many nights he's just collapsed in your arms, fatigue and pain practically numbing his body as you cradled him in your arms, keeping him awake and safe from harm, even if it's just for a while. He's surprised that you even stayed by his side then, as he's physically in shambles, blood caking his suit, and possibly your clothes on accident. Hobie is always appreciative of your support and love, never allowing himself to not show you that in any way possible. I have had to rewrite this three times..stupid electrical storm >:( -🐦‍⬛

You will not be exiled dw dw

Can I be a maid of honour?

DAILY HOBIE HC!!! 🎉

Oh I'd give away my kidney just to have him do my makeup for me 🥴

I hc that he's actually really good at makeup! Especially around the eyes, i bet he can do a banging smokey eye

Now I wanna see hobie in a chicken suit while rocking out on stage 🤣🤣🤣 It's unfair that he definitely looks really good in it too 😍

Screaming crying throwing up I love him sm 😍🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

[vaedar]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃

Friendly reminder that this headcanon specifically applies only to this RP blog and character, it's not meant to be used as a theory for the series as a whole.

It's widely known that only those with the 'blood of the dragon' are able of riding dragons, though the reason behind this is up for debate, but it hints to some kind of connection ( be it to the genetic level or through bloodmagic sorcery, which I expand on over here ) between Valyrians ( specifically, Dragonlords ) and dragons.

What is also known is that Dragonlords did use magical objects such as horns, to more effectively control their dragons. These were intelligent creatures with their own wills and whims, so they did disobey their riders often enough, especially if the bond was still weak. In time, as the bond is fortified, then these instances occurred less. Horns and spells were sung in an attempt to fortify that bond and prevent this 'disobedience' through magical control. However, it was not necessary, as Targaryens and their 'dragonseed' could bond with dragons without the use of them. 

A dragon bond is in itself a magical connection, which is why Valyrian Dragonlords practiced incest to preserve the magical quality of their blood as pure as possible, to maintain that ability to bond with and ride dragons ( aside from political reasons, of course ). The bond does not only involve the rider but the dragon, so this means that the dragon also must 'choose' the rider, and this depends on each of them individually. For the rider, the bond may begin first as an allure of sorts, an affinity to a certain dragon or even a developed interest, which can happen when they have been exposed to the frequent company of one. An example of this can be how Targaryens placed dragon eggs in the cradles and the dragons that hatched ( if they did ) were bonded to the babies. 

Aside from being able to ride dragons, the bond allowed for the pair to be connected on an emotional and subconscious level. Dragons learn commands initially through the emotional communication with their riders as they are being taught/trained, associating the words with what they can subconsciously perceive from the rider ( their 'will' pretty much ) when the word is spoken. Afterwards, as highly intelligent ( in ways people cannot understand ) creatures, this will enable them to better learn and understand the human language of their rider. They would also grow aware of where the other is and call for them ( though very large distances may hinder this to an extent ), if they are in danger or alarmed, as well as feel their pain as their own. This merger also seems to benefit the rider's health, perhaps triggering magical properties in their blood, which could render them resistant to diseases or illnesses. They can even feel as the other passes away, which would be an incredibly tormenting and traumatic event.

From this subconsciously emotional connection can also come new challenges for both of them. When the bond is being developed, there is a clash of 'wills' so to speak, in which one part may push against the subconscious of the other, influencing their actions or even moods. For example, while a dragon is in the middle of the hunt, its rider may feel hunger, a surge of adrenaline, more violent tendencies, or altogether be repulsed by certain foods due to what the dragon is eating. If the rider is upset, the dragon may become violent and prone to 'disobedience', as it may confuse the emotional turmoil and act on it or against it. As the bond develops and solidifies, a balance will eventually come in which both dragon and rider will be able to distinguish their individual 'wills' by consolidating them into the bond. It will form a more effective communication, to the point where those more deeply forged bonds will allow for the rider to fly upon the dragon without even needing to voice instructions or commands of where to go or what to do. 

Usually, the stronger bonds are formed when both rider and dragon have grown together, since they were an infant and a hatchling, respectively. But there have been instances where older riders have bonded to mature dragons, and developed a strong and deeper connection quickly. Since the bond tends to depend on each individual rider and dragon's character and circumstances, then it's near impossible to set a standard for its intricacies. But what is known is how a rider may not claim another dragon, even if their own has perished, although a dragon may accept another rider if their previous one died. This may be due to the differences in the lifespans of human and dragon, the former expected to not reach old age and the latter being able to live over two centuries ( likely longer still ). Or it could also have to do with how the rider's blood has already forged a connection with the one dragon, and is unable of doing so again with another. It's yet another of the mysteries surrounding this bond.

[queen-dahlia]

𝐈𝐤𝐞𝐑𝐞𝐯 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Since I am too lazy to repost the other events here, I'll just add the link from the other account

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁 | Smut 🔞 | Spicy🌶️

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗘𝗖𝗕 • Will You Be My Wife? = Ray • Will You Marry Me? = Ray • Crimson Kiss🌶️ = Ray • Will You Marry Me? = Sirius • Midnight Desire ECB🌶️ = Jonah • Perfect Proposal = Ray

Ray Blackwell

Crimson Kiss🔞🔞🔞

Crimson Kiss - His POV🔞🔞🔞

Kiss Under The Moonlight🔞

Christmas Wish🌶️

A Tipsy Countdown🌶️

Fairytale Fantasy 🌶️

Illuminating Love

Will You Marry Me?

Midnight Desire Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue🔞🔞🔞

Clash In Cradle: Ray vs. Lancelot

Perfect Proposal

My Secret Santa

Lancelot Kingsley

Bejeweled Beloved🔞

Will You Marry Me?🔞

Crimson Kiss🔞🔞

Kiss Under The Moonlight🌶️

My Secret Santa🌶️

A Tipsy Countdown🌶️

Fairytale Fantasy🌶️

Illuminating Love

Fairytale Fantasy

Clash In Cradle: Ray vs. Lancelot

Kiss The Bride🔞

Christmas Wish

A Tipsy Countdown🌶️

Sirius Oswald

Will You Marry Me?🔞

Christmas Wish🌶️

A Tipsy Countdown🌶️

Under Your Spell🔞🔞

Kiss The Bride🔞

Jonah Clemence

Crimson Kiss🌶️

Perfect Proposal🌶️

Moonlit Passion🔞🔞🔞

Will You Marry Me?

Luka Clemence

Will You Marry Me?🌶️

Crimson Kiss🌶️

A Tipsy Countdown🌶️

Kiss The Bride🔞

Edgar Bright

Love Is Like A Rose🔞

Will You Marry Me?🔞

Crimson Kiss🔞

Seth Hyde

Will You Marry Me?🌶️

Kyle Ash

Will You Marry Me?🌶️

Kiss The Bride🔞

Fenrir Godspeed

Perfect Proposal🌶️

Moonlit Passion🔞🔞

Will You Marry Me?

Zero

Will You Marry Me?🔞

Oliver Knight

Love Is Like A Rose🔞

Crimson Kiss🌶️

Kiss Under The Moonlight🌶️

Will You Marry Me?

Blanc Lapin

N/A

Harr Silver

Will You Marry Me?🔞

Kiss Under The Moonlight🔞

Eat Me xD

Loki Genetta

Will You Marry Me?🌶️