#he's just observant and quick on his feet. he is fully living in the moment. future? what future? the present is all that mattera

[happyk44]

Thinking about Shima who craves control over his own life so he slacks off whenever and however he can and lies through his teeth about everything and anything and studies people to find areas he can poke and prod to get what he wants and no one thinks anything of it because he's clueless and because he's lazy and because he's not mean.

He's nice and simple and no one notices what he gets away with, don't notice how little they know of him, how little he feels, how little he cares, always chasing the rush and weaving tales, unbothered by the ugliness of the final tapestry he leaves behind.

[darl-ingfics]

Our Chaos

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Everyone but the Maknae Line (flu)

Caregiver(s): Seungkwan, Vernon, Dino

Word Count: 1,633

It wasn’t often that all of Seventeen took sick at the same time. Despite living in such close quarters, being naturally cuddly people with little regard for personal space, and having to squeeze in pre-show spaces meant for significantly less people, the members were highly skilled at self-isolating and taking care of themselves as needed when they didn’t feel well, especially if they were in comeback or concert season. Things usually just… worked out. 

But ‘often’ and ‘usually’ were not a guarantee. 

“Woozi’s trying to escape again!” Chan called from the upstairs landing. Hansol turned around, quick as lightning, just in time to catch Jihoon groan in frustration right at the base of the stairs. Seungkwan also slid into the doorframe from the laundry room, pointing a finger at Jihoon to double down on Chan’s tattling. 

“Am not!” Jihoon’s croaky voice shot back. 

Hansol arched one eyebrow. “Then why do you have one shoe on, hm?”

Jihoon looked at his feet, seeing he did, in fact, only have one shoe on. “Well fuck me, then.” 

“See, that’s how I know you’re sick: my question, it made no sense, but you gave yourself up anyway.” 

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed. The effect was entirely ruined by his influenza-flushed face. “I hate you.” His gaze shifted between the pair. “Both of you.”

Seungkwan smirked. “You don’t.” He nodded towards the den. “Back to the couch.” Jihoon grumbled under his breath, likely things he’d be apologizing later despite neither Hansol nor Seungkwan not fully hearing him. Hansol sighed, shaking his head as he turned back to the pot on the stove, bubbling with homemade soup. 

They’d been home for an hour. One hour. And things had already been chaos.

The only members who had been seemingly spared from the flu from hell were the three maknaes. And management had insisted that the three of them come into the studio for part of the day, claiming that they could still make content, and, as one representative from each unit, help plan some of the group’s upcoming activities. Seungcheol had encouraged them to go, claiming that he, Jeonghan, and Joshua could collectively hold down the fort while they were gone, despite the fact that the three eldest had gotten sick most recently and were definitely feeling the more worse for wear at the moment.

Still, they couldn’t say no to Seungcheol. They’d gone to the studio. And come home to chaos. 

Seungkwan had opened the door on a scene straight out of a horror movie. The entire living room was a cacophony of yelling, with Seokmin in the center of the storm, perched on the coffee table with a cartoonish pout on his face, and blood leaking from a cut on his forehead. Mingyu and Minghao and Soonyoung were all pacing around the room, the main sources of the yelling, while Wonwoo observed and commented from the recliner. Seungkwan had immediately rushed in while Hansol had gone for the first aid kit. The cut had been the result of Seokmin standing up too fast, blacking out from a rush of vertigo, and hitting his head on the coffee table. 

It thankfully hadn’t taken more than a bandaid and a few hugs to get him to calm down. 

So now they’d divided tasks to conquer the most area: Hansol was making dinner, Seungkwan was attending to chores, and Chan was sent on reconnaissance to locate the rest of the members. 

The easiest to locate had been Junhei, who had been in the living room all along, fast asleep on the smaller couch, the back of which faced the door so his sleeping frame had been hidden from the maknaes upon entry. Minghao informed Chan that Jun hadn’t been able to keep his eyes open for longer than 15 minutes, drifting in and out of sleep faster than was legal (Minghao’s exact words.) Chan was just happy that at least one of his useless hyung’s was getting the rest he needed. 

Once upstairs, Chan started by knocking on the closed bathroom door, getting a response from Jihoon, who confirmed he was just getting out of the shower and not actively puking. Chan then checked Seungcheol’s room, where the 95 line usually congregated, but found it empty. Same with Jeonghan’s. Thoroughly baffled, Chan opened the door to Joshua’s room just enough to peek his head inside. All three members of the 95 line were snuggled together in Joshua’s bed, which was an uncharacteristic event. Usually, they could be found in Seungcheol’s room. Chan later learned, through a harrowing tale as narrated by a semi-delirious Soonyoung, that the trio had had to move to Joshua’s room after Jeonghan had thrown up in Seungcheol’s bed (and this after the same thing happening in his own bed). Soonyoung and Wonwoo had attempted laundry, but hadn’t been entirely successful (another fun adventure Seungkwan and Chan had dealt with upon arriving home, leaving the squeamish Vernon out of that picnic). 

So here the three eldest were in Joshua’s smaller bed, Jeonghan on the end, passed out on his left side, gripping a plastic bowl as if it were a stuffed animal. Seungcheol was sandwiched in the middle, his arms around Joshua’s waist while the latter’s arms were thrown around Seungcheol’s neck. And while they looked absolutely adorable, Chan couldn’t help the tug in his chest at just how exhausted and sick they all looked. The day had to have been hard on them, caring for the rest of the members while so ill themselves. Chan knew for a fact they’d had little help; Soonyoung and Wonwoo had likely done their best, but he knew that poor Junhei couldn’t stay awake long enough to be of any assistance, and Jihoon had certainly been too busy planning his escape. 

Regardless, Chan was glad they were asleep now. 

“Cheollie, Hannie, and Shua are asleep in Shua’s room,” Chan reported when he returned to the main level. 

“Hao’s on the couch. Gyu’s on the couch. Seokmin’s on the couch,” Seungkwan began reciting, peeking over at the den. “Wonwoo’s on the recliner. Hoshi’s on the other couch with Junnie.”

“And Jihoon’s trapped with him,” Hansol finished. 

“Fuck you,” the producer said back, raising his voice just enough to be heard and to make him cough roughly. 

“Love you too,” Hansol chirped back. “Also, dinner’s almost ready. I think?” He peered questioningly down at the pot in front of him. Seungkwan moved to the kitchen to check with him. 

“Want me to take a look?” Mingyu asked, moving to stand up. Just the motion of leaning forward had him blinking stars from his eyes, something that did not go unnoticed. 

“No, Gyu, we got it covered,” Seungkwan reassured him, holding up a hand. “It’s not like majority of you can taste it anyway…”

“But still…”

“Hey Mingyu, you’re gonna sit your ass right down cause we will not be scraping you up off the floor if you pass out,” Hansol replied, his tone carrying order. He snapped his fingers at Jun and Wonwoo, despite Jun being dead asleep and Wonwoo almost there. “That goes for you too, 1.82 meter crew.”

“That feels discriminatory…” Wonwoo muttered. 

“Be less tall, then,” Jihoon retorted. 

“Does that mean Jihoonie gets to pass out cause he’s short?” Mingyu asked, his voice so genuine that Hansol fought the urge to laugh at the question. 

“Sure.”

“Jihoonie, you need to take advantage of your privileges,” Minghao slurred, tapping Jihoon’s knee in earnest. 

“I like you better when you’re asleep.”

“Me too,” Minghao replied, flopping back against the couch. 

As their bickering continued, Chan’s eyes surveyed the room, landing on Soonyoung. The dancer leader had moved to sit with Junhei, propping the elder man’s head up in his lap and playing with his hair. Chan slipped towards them, sitting on the arm of the couch behind his unit leader. 

“Hey,” Chan whispered. 

Soonyoung tipped his head back and smiled. “Hey, bug. What’s up?”

“Just checking on you. You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

“Well my throat uncharacteristically hurts.” He sniffled once before pitching forward with a nearly stifled sneeze, careful not to jostle Jun too much.

“Bless you.” Chan’s fingers carded through his hair. 

“Thanks.” 

“Really, though, how are you?”

Soonyoung shrugged. “I feel like shit. My entire body aches, I can’t breathe right, and I haven’t been able to fall asleep all day. Normal flu stuff, you know?” He tipped his head back again to look at Chan, a crooked smile on his lips. Soonyoung’s joking grin quickly faded when he saw tears in his maknae’s eyes. “Channie, what’s wrong?” 

“There’s just…” A tear slipped from Chan’s eye, and he laughed incredulously, “nothing I can do for you.” He held up empty hands. 

“Baby…” Soonyoung held out his hand. Chan took it, another tear escaping as he felt Soonyoung squeeze hard. “You being here is enough. You, and Sollie, and Kwannie… you caring enough to be here means everything. You are doing everything you can for us, and we love you for it.” 

“He’s right, bug.” Chan’s eyes snapped up to meet Seokmin’s. Actually, everyone’s attention was on him now. “I know you’re probably super overwhelmed right now…”

“Kwannie, Sollie, you too,” Wonwoo added, looking over at the other two members who had most definitely tuned into the conversation. 

“But you’re doing great,” Seokmin finished, smiling, tired but bright. “We appreciate you three so much more than we could ever say.” “And we aren’t the easiest patients, that’s for sure,” Mingyu added. 

“Speak for yourself,” Jihoon muttered. 

“No, he speaks for YOURSELF,” Minghao replied, leaning against Jihoon’s shoulder, from which he was brusquely shoved off with all the strength the sickly produce could muster. Chan laughed, and Soonyoung squeezed his hand. Maybe things would turn out all right after all.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - DD - May 8th

That’s right, I’m deciding to give my thoughts a cheesy name because why not (also it’s late oops).

So this may be one of my favorite entires of the entire book. My first go-around it was for the mirror-yeet scene (because that’s iconic) and Dracula being The Housekeeper of all timeTM, but now it’s also one of my favorites because of how much we learn about Jonathan.

They say you learn the most about a person when they’re in crisis mode, and while I don’t always think that’s true, Stoker definitely wanted to let Jonathan’s personality shine through here.

From the first passage, he’s literally guessed that Dracula is undead. “I fear I am the only living soul here.” Sure, he might mean that he’s the only present soul, if Dracula’s left the building, but since he describes the mirror yeeting scene right after…idk, I’d like to think he knows way more than we ever gave him credit for. “Clueless Jonathan” who? Is the clueless in the room with us?

Also going back to the first sentence where he describes worrying he was getting too wordy, but now being glad he did…oof. I feel for him here. If my theory is correct that he was initially writing in a more detailed way for Mina so he could remember his travels for later…I’m sure it’s hitting him now that while it may be saving his life that he’s more detailed, it’s so twisted that something he did as a note of affection has soured. I wonder if he’s thinking about how he may never get out of this, or if that hasn’t fully hit him yet.

Moving on to everyone’s favorite mirror-yeet scene, think about how Jonathan reacts when he’s caught off guard by Dracula because he didn’t see his reflection. How would most protagonists react? Probably laugh nervously and brush it off. Attribute it to some mistake on his part, which is exactly what Jonathan does *at first*. But after, he looks at Dracula and then looks back at the mirror to confirm his suspicions are correct, which they are. It’s an interesting moment and not one I think we see often at the beginning of a horror story (I don’t consume much horror though, so correct me if I’m wrong!). Usually, a character won’t get to this level of observation until towards the middle/end, when more supernatural elements have occurred. Jonathan may have second guessed his instincts, but checking them again is what makes him more likely to survive Castle Dracula.

Plus, when Dracula makes a move to attack him, his first instinct is to dodge the attack, showing that he’s not just going to freeze up at the first sign of trouble (which I want to emphasize isn’t a problem normally, but he is dealing with a thousands-of-years-old vampire…so, he has to be quick on his feet to survive).

Afterwards, he says he is annoyed at losing his mirror rather than disturbed, but I saw another post saying he’s repressing his panic as annoying (I’ll link it if I find it again) and I definitely think that’s true!! I can totally see that as his coping mechanism. Plus, compared to the rest of what happens for him today, it really is more of an annoyance than anything else. Would you rather your host throw away your mirror or lock you in a castle?

So after that horrific scene of terror, Jonathan is proactive in searching the castle. After finding a beautiful — but slightly horrifying landscape (you know it’s bad when he doesn’t stop to describe the view) — he decides to explore further, which leads him to figure out almost every other door is locked, including the front one to find, yep you guessed it…he’s a prisoner in the castle.

As I imagine most people would, at first he reacts by frantically running around trying to open locked doors like “a rat does in a trap.” The fact that he admits this in his diary (and, by extension to Mina/us) is admirable because it already shows he’s not afraid to be open about his emotions, even if it makes him look weak (which — unfortunately, he would, considering the time period). Most heroes of this period were expected to accept their fates with stoic determination, but that’s not human and that’s not how Jonathan is, either. We’ve already seen that he’s more open-minded than most English men by accepting the crucifix even if he doesn’t understand it and of course the way he shows his love for Mina is atypical for Victorian men as well. Most men wouldn’t go to the trouble of writing down descriptive notes just to recount it for the benefit of his fiancée later. It’s sad, but true.

Once he’s able to regulate himself a bit, it’s time for thinking and strategy, determining that he needs all of his wits to get through this! Once he sees that the Count does the cooking AND the cleaning, though, is when my love for Jonathan reaches an all-time high. He comes to a series of conclusions most protagonists don’t figure out until the end of a novel after way more obvious clues have been laid out for him and it’s only his 3rd day of being in the castle!! They go as follows:

A) Dracula = servants

B) Dracula = driver

C) Dracula = control wolves

D) Villager’s concern/gifts = this is worse than I thought

E) Crucifix = actual help?

F) Get Dracula to talk about himself (not hard) = find more information, but not in an obvious way

I also love that he questions his own biases about the crucifix he was given!!!! When else do you see an Englishman do that in the 1890s of his own volition (aka without someone snarkily telling him to - see BBC’s Dracula if you want an example). I certainly haven’t!

He also noticed that Drac talked about his “ancestors” as if he had been present for their battles (hmm wonder why that is). Hasn’t quite figured it out yet, but there’s evidence that he doesn’t write something down as a fact until he knows it is a fact, so perhaps we’ll see him write more on this later.

Final thought - his reference to Arabian Nights and Hamlet is significant and tragic, but also relatable. I too like to relate my life to my favorite blorbos, Jonathan!

All in all, we learned that Jonathan is very good in a crisis. He’s not stoic like most protagonists of his time period, but he is instead strategic and observant, willing to play the part of oblivious to keep himself alive another day and keep Dracula’s trust. This is likely what’s keeping him alive right now, as an aggressive approach would get him killed. Dracula is all about playing with his prey and keeping the illusion of benevolent host and willing guest — it’s a game of control for him. Breaking this game would mean it’s no fun and no fun would mean Jonathan is no longer needed….

While I know how this story goes, I’m as excited as first time readers to see how Jonathan plays what is, essentially, 4D chess with Dracula!

[kaigarax]

Hopes and Dreams

Rorona Zoro x Reader

Quote: “Fall in love with someone that sweeps you up in waves.”

The First Shot.

‘SNAP!’

Zoro’s quick to jump to his feet at the sound of shutters going off. His blades have been pulled from their holsters and ready to attack any potential oncoming danger.

Of course, there is no incoming attack and no oncoming danger. Just a silly girl (you) and her camera. A camera which you almost drop as you try your best to recover from the startle Zoro had given you from his sudden movements.

You grin sheepishly as Zoro’s eyes meet with your own.

Looks like it's just another doofus.

The swordsmen isn’t all too familiar with you. Sure, you’ve befriended his hyperactive and jubilant captain but that certainly doesn't mean that you’ve earned his trust or friendship. Best to keep someone like you at arm's length; afterall, one can never know which direction danger will come from. Besides, a girl like you traveling all alone on an ocean filled with pirates is bound to have something up her sleeve.

Of course, from what Zoro has observed there really isn’t much harm that he can see you causing him. You’re clumsy and seem rather unfamiliar with weapons; plus you’re easily rendered useless when placed upon a moving vehicle.

But one can never fully let their guard down when the lives of others are at stake. Especially the lives of those he cares about. The lives of his precious crewmates and friends. So Zoro, expectedly, tries his best to keep a good distance away from you.

“What did you do?” Sighed Zoro as he put his blades back into their holsters..

“Sorry,” you flush, “I wanted to take a photo of you at that moment. I know I should have asked first but then your posing would have been awkward and unnatural. I did plan on asking you after I’d taken the photo but you jumped up and-”

Zoro took a step towards you, cutting you off promptly, “hand it over.”

You stare at the blank photo in your hand with guilt. At first he thinks that you won’t comply with his request and try to run off; it definitely wouldn’t be the first time someone had run away from him when being confronted. Then you look back up at him. And then back to the photo. Eventually, you reluctantly hand it over.

Zoro can see colour beginning to form in the little square of white you passed over to him. From the green in his hair to the white outline of his blades. It looks like you’d taken a photo of the side of his face in the midst of his nap.

He wonders if you’ve made a habit out of taking photos of people while distracted. He certainly thought so.

The somber expression on your face is almost sad enough to make Zoro feel bad as he stuffs it into his pocket.

Eventually, Zoro reluctantly turns to you, “what do you want the photo for anyways?”

You flash him a bright and beaming smile which sends Zoro’s heart into a flurry of flutters and strange pitter patters. His face is hot as he turns away.

If you notice you don’t say anything to mention it as you pull out a small book that looks as though it has too many pages for the spine to be able to function properly. Zoro also notes how there are sheets of paper sticking out on the sides and numerous amounts of bookmarks tucked between the different pages.

He briefly finds himself wondering if these bookmarks hold as much weight to them as the contents of the novel itself. He doesn't ponder long as you shove the book towards him.

Zoro’s first reaction to the book is a rather reluctant one. Is this really something he wants to get involved in? It’s not something that looks very life changing and he’s currently missing out on some great sleep hours. He’s very close to pushing the book away and closing his eyes when he finally looks at your face. It’s the excited look on your face that gets him to take the book from you and turn to the first page.

There’s a large picture of a young boy with ginger hair plastered in the centre of the first page. He seems rather embarrassed about something and Zoro briefly wonders if that had something to do with you. The edges of the photo are brown and slightly ripped. He also thinks that there might be water marks, though from rain or tears Zoro can’t tell.

“What is it?” Zoro asks.

“An album of photos I’ve taken.”

“And why exactly do you take photos?”

“So that I can remember people like you~”

You’re really such a doofus.

---

The Second Shot.

It’s the middle of the night when Zoro spots you. You’re sitting on the edge of the doc next to the Strawhats’ ship and fiddling with something in your hands as you dip your feet into the cool ocean water.

Should he go up to you and say something?

From here he can barely make out your features but you seem more solemn and sad than usual. It’s nothing that your body language seems to give away but rather something he instinctively knows. Zoro isn’t exactly sure how he knows but he does. Afterall, there are just some things in life that are indisputable facts to you despite not being able to prove them.

He should definitely go up to you and say something.

It’s getting late and one can never know when something bad might happen, especially at night. Of course, he isn’t really sure if he’s in the mood to talk to you (or anyone) in the first place. Sometimes, like right now, someone just wants to sit back with their own thoughts.

But your sadness seems to chip away at his cold exterior and is why he finds himself walking to the edge of the ship.

“What’s wrong?” Snaps Zoro, as though you’ve wronged him.

You sigh, in that dreamy way the Cook always gushes about, “the unfairness of life.”

It’s strange, Zoro thinks. You, surprisingly, don’t beat around the bush. It’s a rather refreshing and new experience to have with you.

Zoro chuckles, “and how has life wronged you?”

“Life hasn’t wronged me.”

He raises a brow in response.

“I was born into quite a fortunate position. With a caring family and brilliant future planned out for me. My mother, on the other hand, had been jaded by the world.” You stare up at the brilliant array of stars above the two of you, “I think at some point she might have loved me. At least I want to believe she did.”

Zoro feels the urge to jump over the gap between the two of you but stays rooted in place.

Everyone has (or knows someone with) a sad backstory.

“You know, I wish I had been born a man.”

Zoro has to resist the urge to let out a series of annoyed and confused incoherent sounds. What’s with women wanting to be men? No, what’s with him finding women that want to be men? Is there really such a difference between men and women that would cause three individuals in his life to loathe their birth? To want something so different from what they have already been given?

“You must think I’m stupid.”

Zoro tries his best not to react but a slight nod of agreement overtakes his self control. Sometimes it’s weird how you’re able to read him so well. To understand him more than he sometimes understands himself. It’s weird but in a pleasant way.

“Truthfully, I don’t think my life would have been that different if I had been born a man,” you chuckle, “though the life of my parents certainly would have changed.”

Finally, Zoro asks, “how so?”

“Because then they would have never left.”

And his heart aches for you.

Everyone has a sad backstory. A sad moment hidden within the past that is their life. Zoro knows that yet his heart throbs regardless. He wonders if you can see the reaction of it from the outside?

He jumps over from his side and takes a seat beside you.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

Zoro grumbles, “sleeping. If you plan on staying awake then I’m going to sleep and you can keep watch over the ship tonight.”

You visibly brighten, your practiced smile growing wider as you lean towards him.

Zoro feels his cheeks heat up which forces him to turn his head away from you. He closes his eyes in a huff.

‘SNAP!’

Zoro peaks an eye open, staring at you expectantly.

You pout as you hand the photo over to him.

---

The Third Shot.

“What do you think happens to us when we die?” you ask as you stare up at the sky above.

“What?” Zoro grunts, lifting a heavy weight over his head for the hundredth time, “why would you ask about something like that?”

“The day.” you answer.

Zoro feels rather disappointed in your answer though he knows better than to expect something more from you. You’ve never been the kind of person to just give. Zoro supposes that not many people really are though. But you are not many people.

Befiely, he finds himself wondering if there might be something special about today. You seem much more distracted than you usually are and you’re constantly making comments out of the blue about strange and morbid topics. Not that Zoro is a stranger to strange comments, it’s just rather strange coming from someone as chipper as you usually are.

“Do you want to do something today?” Zoro asks.

“Pardon?”

The swordsman rolls his eyes, a red flush taking over his face (that's definitely from working out), as he repeats his question.

He knows that you heard what he said and just want to hear him say it again.

Truthfully, Zoro isn’t too sure what brought such a feeling up in the first place. He’s always been one to board himself off from his other emotions and make the most rational decision. But such is the role one must take when they have a Captain as carefree and emotional as himself. But, seeing a smile on your face makes his stomach flutter and a smile appear on his own face. That’s just the kind of person you are. That’s just the kind of effect you happen to have on him.

And it’s not as though the world will end.

“So?” Zoro asks, “I was planning on heading into the town before we take off but I didn’t have any plans.”

You smile and he hopes you don’t see past his lie, “we should go visit the town’s children then.”

“The children?”

“Of course.”

Zoro groans, though to his credit he did try his best to stifle it. He had offered in the first place. Of course, that doesn't stop him from asking, “why the children?”

“Because I love the sparkle of adventure in their eyes.”

Is that why you like Strawhats? The Captain? Is that why you like him?

Dreams of grander and hopes of greatness are often looked down upon and seen as fantastical and improbable. Constantly, growing up, people often looked towards the young green haired swordsmen as nothing but a boy with a dream. A hope for something that only happens to one in every billion people here. Not just anyone can hope for something as crazy as him.

Everyone dreams as children.

They dream and hope for things that no one else has ever done. They look towards the impossible until others bring them back down to earth.

Did that happen to you?

Did you once have fantastical and improbable dreams?

‘SNAP’

Zoro’s gaze jolts up, a sharp look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” you apologize but the smile on your face says otherwise, “you just looked so deep in thought. I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite an expression from you before.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

You smile teasingly, “that you don’t think… deeply.”

Zoro feels a strange feeling bubble up in him at your playful smile. He smirks playfully and watches as your expression slowly changes from amused to worried. He leans over towards you before pinning you beneath the heavyweight he had been using.

“H-hey!” You exclaim, “Zoro! I thought we were going to go into town together?”

The green-haired swordsman only smirks in response.

---

The Fourth Shot.

“So, what do you think?” You ask, peeking over the top of the book.

Zoro shugs, “it’s alright, I guess. I just don’t really see what’s so special about all of these photos. I mean they’re nice.”

“Hm,” you nod, “anything else?”

Zoro feels as though there’s a specific answer that you’re looking for from him but for what he isn’t sure.

The people featured in the picture book don’t seem to have anything in common with one another. From the features and expressions of the individuals to the angles you’ve taken the photos from. Some are taken unknowingly while others are smiling while staring at the lens. There are some filled with laughter and others with pressed and upset expressions.

Zoro looks up from the book briefly to you.

Your eyes are brimming with anticipation.

Something invisible seems to tug at his chest.

“Who’s that?” Zoro asks, pointing to a blonde boy that he’s seen appear at least three times now. Usually it isn’t something he would notice or feel the need to point out. But up until this point there hasn’t been more than a single photo of a person. If you had taken the time to capture and care to keep at least three different photos of him then he must have meant something to you. But, from what Zoro can tell there isn’t anything too special about the blonde boy.

“Oh!” you smile, “do you know him?”

Zoro shakes his head, “why would I know him?”

“Because I met him in the East Blue. The two of you might have crossed paths at one point.”

Zoro thinks of something witty to say in response but bites his tongue before the words can be said. It’s obvious from the way you dodged the question that you don’t want to discuss it any further anyways.

Instead, Zoro smiles, “so, are you going to put the photo of me in here?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “how can I when you’ve taken all my photos of you?”

He feels a chuckle of amusement rise in his chest.

Fall in love with someone that sweeps you up in waves.

[minseologs]

what goes around pt.1

ft. Ryunosuke @/blindryu

“I have to pick up some souvenirs for him as well if anything, maybe you can pick up some items for your person as well.” Ryunosuke chuckles, humor extrudes sarcasm as they walk the grounds of her house in Hokkaido. It was private, yet held a feeling that was too recluse. “Damn— I’m hungry.”

“Yeah— well, it’s maybe if I actually see him this week...” She responds stiffly, though she found humor in her suffering too. “By the way, might fully buy another land property in Yokohama so we’re not so far up north— what do you th—“

“—Were you expecting visitors?”

His attentiveness earned a few seconds to jump away from bullets that suddenly ricochet near their feet, himself using his body and protect her to run them back inside the property. Multiple armed men tread across the garden to approach as it took her mere moments to return in a calmer state, immediately taking her phone out for help.

“It’s Minseo… ambush at the Hokkaido property, send back up.”

Rushing through the halls, Ryunosuke buys time by ensuring doors were closed despite the traditional home having frail architecture and provided obstacles for the men to slow down. There hasn’t been a word uttered since, but trusted Minseo knew what to do. He only follows suit when she makes a stop in the living room, gaze following her as she uses the heel of her shoe to destroy the tatami beneath their feet, and began digging the straw out to reveal an organized infantry. “Really—?? Now??”

“I mean— unless you want to die here, yes—now.“ She loads an automatic rifle and hands it over, himself aiming and ensuring that it was of standard. Minseo took a belt of throwing knives in her favor as they hear footsteps approach. “Stay alive for 20 minutes… they’ll meet us out back.” Her voice hushed along with her footsteps, she plans to attack at the opposing end.

Ryunosuke was no stranger in this world. Skillful on his own way, he aimed through the partition doors with an intent to protect themselves. One can assume his shadow is seen from the otherside before a rain of bullets pierce through the fusuma, followed by bodies attempting to hurt him. Knowing he’s her current responsibility, Minseo makes a run through a connecting hall, taking one man with immediate close combat. He aims towards Ryunosuke, but it swiftly raised upwards with her quick thinking— though not quick enough as she was slammed to the wall with a heavy kick. Her chest had gasped for air, but manages to throw a knife to his knees. The suffering was ended with one bullet from Ryunosuke’s. Stealing a firearm, she leads the way out to the garden, but is met with warning shots once again.

“There’s no way you don’t know these people…” his voice grunts, feeling his cheek scratched now that he’s calm. He notices Minseo hunched with a hand on her chest, panicking as he noticed blood dripping from her lips. “Come on— can you not get hurt for five fucking seconds?!”

“I’ve been a little rough since the accident but I’m managing.” It tasted like dirt and iron in her mouth that she needed to spit out every remnant of it. It was quite painful, but took note that if they gave up now, there will be death between them. Or both. “I don’t know, an angry mob? There’s always somebody want me dead. I’ll figure it out later. Just please— try not to find answers now—“

He wanted to fight it, really. Worrying about the state of her well-being since taking over her father’s businesses. Ryunosuke knew better, so he had always been the one to never question. Observing far but still cared. Very much. His thought breaks hearing steps of gravel outside.

“I counted three more so it shouldn’t be bad. There’s probably more in the car. We’re 10 minutes out. ” He checks the barrel quickly, herself mimicking the one she obtained from the enemy. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Minseo heads out first, Ryunosuke providing support from the behind as he skillfully shot every single one that came for them. She immediately uses the shrubberies of the garden for cover, unable to assist him at the moment to see where her command was. It didn’t look too good as the suspected armed troop left a vehicle. They were outnumbered by seven, and he was running out of options. It felt as if time wasn’t on their side. Went on and on until focus shifts on someone else.

“Minseo— we can’t stay here—!”

“I’m trying—! Just get out of the property— run for it!!“

On a brighter note, it didn’t appear neither of them had gotten close to being shot. Unable to help him at the moment, her plan was to steadily run to the gates in hopes that someone from her side was there for help. But bullets threatened her path, turning around to use the only gun she had for distraction. It had aimed for one enemy, but in the midst of chaos, Ryunosuke stands in the line of fire. A bullet hits the back of his shoulder and follows through the otherside. Suspended horror was on her face seeing him fall to the ground. An agonizing shriek of his name was heard before silence blankets them for what seemed like an eternity.

Something in her breaks again. As though it’s been waiting for a moment to snap. She feels hot with rage. Minseo suddenly can only see one track, and that was to do harm. It didn’t account the surroundings as she uses her body to block anything that may hinder Ryunosuke’s chances of survival. That is if he still had a pulse. She grabs the rifle from his hands and slaughtered anything that moved. The adrenaline of seeing bodies drop in a split moment almost costed her help, when her own team finally showed up to assist. The only thing to bring her back from her rampage was a soft call.

“Seo—“ scuffed hands grabs the back of her coat, and all she saw were his hands tinted heavily with rogue blood. “Minseo—“

The first thing that came to mind was her son. The feeling was all too familiar. The place. The time. The situation. Jinwoo, it’s okay… Minseo grips his hand, trying to help with anything she could as they were being transported to safety. You’ll be okay, Jinwoo. It was fortunate it was his right shoulder. He would’ve met instant death if the bullet entered the left and followed through his chest.

“Why … are you looking … at me like that…?” Ryunosuke asks, his eyes fall heavy. He weakly squeezes her hand. “We’re fi…ne …”

For some reason she couldn’t make out his face: her body felt numb as ringing in her ears were muffled with commands. She could feel someone dragging her but held on tight and refused to be separated from him. It felt reminiscent of something that had happened before, and her heart beat couldn’t catch with breathing fast enough. Her head felt light and she couldn’t stop looking at the bullet wound.

Right… it’s gonna be okay.

[dearestones]

Twisted Wonderland Matchup: Rook Hunt

@fourtyfourcatss Request: hi hi! may i have a romantic twst matchup?

interests/hobbies/talents: i like to read and write and listen to music and taking walks. i'm really good at explaining things in a very cohesive manner. my logic is really good, so my persuasion is extremely good too. im very efficient and creative, which i apply to many things in real life.

5 good traits:

passionate (not overbearingly), levelheaded, reflective, honest, realistic (but optimistically)

4 bad traits:

im a bit envious, somewhat greedy, running my mouth (either too opinionated or no opinion at all), too loud.

appearance: black hair, shoulder length, curtain bangs, slightly wavy. id say i look more cute than beautiful or alluring. i have some really sparkly and nice eyes though

thank you! take all the time you need!

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After going through the description provided, I believe that you best pair well with Rook Hunt!

First of all, Rook is taken aback by your beauty! My, you remind him of the Fairest Queen's step-daughter! What a coincidence! He absolutely adores your black hair (as dark and as beautiful as the night) and appreciates that it's so wavy! Perchance, will you allow him the highest of honors to comb through your hair? Or maybe even style it? (Despite his own haircut, he'll assure you that he's deft with his fingers and quick study. He can braid your hair or style it to your precise and specific demands).

Cute is such a lovely term for you, but have you considered that he thinks you're beautiful and alluring? Do not be ashamed of your appearance! Rook will always have eyes on you and his prettiest purple prose at the ready for your ears! You're as bright and as ethereal as the stars in the sky, as deep and mysterious as the depths of the ocean, and as fragrant and graceful as the loveliest and hardiest of flowers.

And your eyes? Such a lovely sight to see whenever he meets you time and time again. They say that eyes are windows to the soul and your soul... Not even the Dark Mirror can fully appreciate or quantify just how gorgeous and enticing yours are! What is even more attractive than your eyes is the fact that you embrace and acknowledge that as one of your best features! Truly, such confidence has Rook swooning when he learns of that fact!

Efficient and creative? You are definitely a candidate for Rook’s heart! While he may enact some convoluted plans and may be ostentatious in his execution, he cannot deny that there is also a great appeal to being logical. When he sees you utilize such skills in everyday life, he implores you to teach him your ways, it’s a boon even when hunting unsuspecting prey!

What wonderful hobbies that you have! As a chaser of all things beautiful, he automatically respects you for reading, writing, and listening to music. What books have you read? What are your favorite things to read? You're a writer? Could you perhaps proofread some of his poetry? Would you like to exchange works so that you can read each other's honest thoughts? And music! What have you graced your ears with? Honestly, if you recommend things to him, he'll definitely do so with gusto and give you his honest opinions on them! Furthermore, he'll personally curate some of his favorite things that he knows will tantalize you as well.

Taking walks with you will immediately become one of his favorite things to do with you! To walk around in nature, in school, or around town, he will treasure those moments with you. It doesn't matter if you choose to fill the air with conversation or to simply live in the moment hand in hand with silence; Rook cherishes it all. (A little warning, however, Rook will definitely stalk you from afar sometimes just to observe your beauty. Eventually, he'll make himself known, but don't be too surprised if you hear a camera shutter or the sound of footsteps from a few feet away).

Your passion! If there's one thing that Rook thinks should be universally loved, it is a person's passion brought to the forefront. If you're passionate about your interests, please regale him tales of your recent exploits! If you find yourself interested in a new hobby, invite him along so that he can enjoy it with you! If you're angry or irritated about a matter you're truly passionate about, feel free to vent to him. Rook will listen with no judgment, empathize when needed, and offer solutions or simply be a comforting presence on what you need most at that moment.

Such a lovely personality that you have! Reflection alongside honesty are wonderful to see in partners. It makes Rook happy to note that you are levelheaded and willing to listen to reason. There are few things he can't find beauty in, but he would much prefer people who would rather see reality and still move forward in their lives rather than blind themselves to their own willful delusions. (He must commend you as well on your perspective on life. Realism can be dreaded, yes, but to still carry optimism is a practice that more people should enact! It astounds him and makes him wish that he can emulate you as well!)

Everyone has their bad traits, but that does not mean that they are exempt from the beauty he finds in his day to day life. So what if you’re envious and a little bit greedy? Everyone else has their own flaws and no one can say that they aren’t those things at least at one point in their lives. The trick is to acknowledge those faults (as you have done here) and discipline yourself to become a better version of yourself. Like the Fairest Queen, you must work hard to surpass your old self! If you need help, Rook will be there to guide you and witness your transformation—like a caterpillar steadily emerging from its cocoon. 

In addition, being too opinionated and loud? How nonsensical! He likes listening to you rant about your opinions and the louder you are, the more people will be aware of how siren-like your voice is! What really matters is moderation. So long as you respect others opinions and you are not being rude, then he won’t stop you. In fact, he might encourage these traits of yours because even positive traits may go sour and even the most negative of traits can be utilized in a positive manner. It’s all about intent and the resulting consequence. 

Overall, Rook appreciates you for who you are now and who you will become in the future. Like a flower starting to bud, he will see you bloom and wilt again and again, always finding beauty in both your highest and lowest points of your life. 

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If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

[viitlumi]

The silence between them stretched for a considerable time, but it seemed not to trouble either of them — least of all Hilda, whose clear blue eyes remained on the tall figure of the younger man beside her. Only the salty sea breeze swirled around them, whistling softly through the air, as if it were personally encouraging Hilda herself to pick up the conversation once more. That she should dare herself to try.

In the three years since the war had ended, much had transpired — many fates had been forged and shaped by those consequences, which they had not only endured but, in time, embraced and learned to live with. Even if it took longer than they'd expected, they had come to terms with it. They, too, had borne losses; their land had not been spared the unforgiving tide of death and devastation. Vito had felt it most keenly, and for Hilda, it was the first time she had ever seen her proud, strong-willed, and often haughty brother at the very depths of his despair.

She couldn’t quite pinpoint why she was embracing this change, why she now found herself willing to entertain the nuances of conversation, despite having managed perfectly well without it before. Cultivating social connections had never been her strong suit—not from fear or cowardice, but simply because she had always chosen solitude. She had never known anyone the way she knew her siblings, never shared that same profound bond with others.

Perhaps it was this very distance that shaped her unvarnished directness, which bore no trace of arrogance, even if it could be easily mistaken for that. Yet now, she was making an effort—for Vito. The huntress truly endeavored to step out of her cocoon, to relinquish the mantle of both words and actions when her brother lacked the strength to carry them himself, together with Solveig. This transformation was born from Vito’s struggles, and though he had gradually regained himself from the depths of his feeling of futility and grief, she had vowed to continue nurturing this new facet of her being.

Hilda's gaze lingered on the offered cigarette for a moment, simpering just a tad about the mention of hearing more words that came from her, as Jean’s light-hearted evasion had not gone unnoticed, but Hilda wasn’t the type to push where there was resistance. She understood silence, how it could be both a refuge and a wall. Her hand, wrapped in the rough calluses of a life and war lived outdoors, gently lifted in a small gesture, declining the cigarette.

“No,” she said quietly, her voice barely louder than the sea breeze. “Never picked it up.”

She looked back out at the water, her sharp blue eyes reflecting the silver-gray of the waves, but they weren’t distant. She had fought beside Jean and his companions for years, knew him in the way soldiers knew each other. He was a capable soldier, quick on his feet, and sharp with his words. Hilda respected that. But they were different, she realized. The Northerner had always walked at the edges of the group, observing more than she spoke, acting when it mattered. When Hilda spoke again, it was with the same quiet sincerity, but this time there was something softer, something more personal, even vulnerable, behind her words. “It … wasn’t meant to pry,” the female added, her eyes still fixed on the horizon, though her voice was less cold now, more thoughtful. “Just thought… maybe you’d want to talk about it.”

Her fingers brushed the fabric of her gown, a small fidget she barely noticed herself, a sign of her discomfort in these kinds of conversations. But she was trying. "It’s what people do, right?" There was the faintest hint of something like a smile at the edge of her lips, though it never fully formed. "Talk about things. After everything that’s happened."

There was no pressure in her tone, no demand for Jean to share more than he wanted. Hilda had no interest in forcing connections—they either happened or they didn’t. But this was her attempt to bridge that gap, to engage with the world beyond her siblings, beyond the fight for survival that had defined her life for so long. And if Jean didn’t take her up on it, well, that was fine too. She understood the weight of things left unsaid better than most.

Perhaps the issue was that it was to be assumed that Hilda was generally the reclusive kind, that it was to be expected that she would remain in the sidelines, implicit, disengaged. It might have been an attributable factor in her unpopularity, although she was aware that the term seemed out of place. She was conscious that no one harbored negative sentiments towards her - but she yearned for companionship, she always had.

But her continual, passive nature, the way she stood silent and nary a crease of expression marked her ashen face, no. That was not a quality on which a friendship could find its footing.

The spirits of everyone on that ship shifted after the war, not just their spirits, their dispositions, the mirth nipped in the bud. Even hers.

Sharp blue eyes locked onto the shallow ripples of the water, an occasional gust of wind would stir up the scent of the salt, which rose to Hilda's nostrils and eyes, imparting an unobtrusive shallow burn. The odor of salt and seaweed - a strangely nostalgic odor. The breeze coaxed her fair blonde strands into a graceful dance, as they swirled in the wind like seaweed drifting beneath the ocean’s sapphire waves.

To her astonishment, she felt his presence beside her, unexpected yet comforting, as she had anticipated him to continue wandering the ship with his companions. But Jean, drawn by the same allure, remained by her side to share the scenery in front of them.

Hilda’s shoulders nestled into her light blue gown, seeking warmth against the subtle chill, as she quietly listened to Jean’s words.

"Well..." The voice of the young woman quiet as the wind whispering through the trees, carried a question with it - a question that was as direct as her nature.

The huntresses gaze wandered imperceptibly to the man next to her, her stoic expression giving nothing away. "Are you feeling miserable?", she inquired, her words piercing the stillness with an honesty that allowed no evasiveness. Hilda, who was never bothered by pleasantries, spoke with an authenticity that left no room for pretense, no room for sugarcoating.

If she had anything to say... It was practical, straightforward, though paved with good intentions.

[airbendertendou]

 to be alone ♥︎ connor ; dbh

another autistic!reader and connor thing ♥︎ synopsis : reader needs a minute to calm down ; connor knows exactly how to ground you and bring you back.

song inspo ; to be alone by hozier

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♥︎——

Connor is reading over a file with Hank when a knock on the door sounds. It’s a particular pattern — a specific tap taptaptap tap taptaptap that Connor knows belongs to you. As Hank opens the door, the android’s smile falls as he watches you scurry past them both. Your head is down as you shuffle quickly into the living room where Sumo is laying.

Hank lets out an indignant noise, eyes wide as he follows your figure. Connor smiles — it feels tenser and more awkward than usual — and holds up his pointer finger. “One moment, please. I’ll be right back, Lieutenant.” 

You’re crouched down, knees to your chest as your feet stay flat on the ground. Sumo is laying on his right side, his tummy facing you as you methodically rub his fur. Connor observes you silently as you pet the dog, your eyes wide and unblinking as you watch your hand.

Unknowingly, your feet start to tingle. You’re so caught up in your ministrations that you don’t notice — but Connor does. His knee hits your back softly as he stands behind you. “Careful, honey. Need to move.”

You obey silently, plopping down fully into your butt. Your legs relax from their stiffened position, falling into a criss-cross position as the rest of your body follows. He notices you’re less tense now ; more open and fluid than you were seconds ago.

Slowly, the android goes around to the front of you and to the windows. He unravels the blinds, pulling the curtains open further as the sun begins to set. You move your gaze from Sumo and to the window, watching as the room glows orange. You bask in the sunset, memorizing all of the colors you can see as you continue to pet the dog.

Connor waches you fondly, sliding the curtains and blinds shut as the orange glow recedes and the sky turns darker. Your gaze drifts to the wall to your left, staying there as Connor moves to sit across from you. He pets Sumo’s back as he analyzes you quietly. You glance his way before looking back to the wall.

The android lets out a small smile, tilting his head to the right. “Hey, sweetheart. Welcome back.”

The side of your mouth tilts up as you continue to stare to the left. “That’s a new name.”

“It is. Is that alright?” Connor asks, just to make sure. You nod, small smile growing into a little grin. Connor’s own lips lift in return — the soap operas and cheesy movies Hank had a habit of watching had finally come in handy. “Do you like it or would you prefer a different name?”

“Like everything you call me.” Your speech is still a little off as you get comfortable in your skin again, stuttered and broken in places. You glance at Connor again, eyes dashing back to the wall just as quick. ”S’always nice.”

“You deserve to be called nice names,” he responds immediately. Connor’s fingers brush against yours as they still pet Sumo. Your mouth twitches again and you turn to fully face him now. Connor’s thumb brushes against your knuckles, “you deserve all of the nice things.”

You make the move to lace your fingers with his, using your left hand to twirl Sumo’s fur around your fingers. Connor brings your right hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before lowering them back to Sumo. Your voice is soft when you speak, “you deserve them, too. Nice things.”

Connor grins, lowering his head bashfully. He squeezes the fingers of th hand he’s holding gently, attracting your eyes there for a moment before you’re looking back at Sumo. “You’re too kind, sweetheart.”

A loud scoff interrupts the calm stillness of the room as Hank makes his presence known. He’s leaning against the doorway of the living room, his upper lip curled up in disgust. “You lovebirds make me sick.”

“Nice to see you, too, Hank,” you reply, smiling his way. Connor squeezes your fingers once more before he detatches them, standing to re-join Hank in the kitchen. Stooping to press a kiss against your temple, Connor calls out gently before he leaves you to your own devices.

“You know where I am if you need me.” 

——♥︎—— have so many ideas w him i can’t help but keep writing hhhh you can send in detroit become human requests if youd like!! ill try to get them done for @guav​ ♥︎ bc your tags on my last dbh thing were so sweet n i think abt them daily ): & @straysugzhpe​ for always being my personal cheerleader ♥︎

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[youareunbearable]

I might not do anything with this BUT I've been thinking about the Shadow of Mordor games again and how FUN would it be if Sauron did that but instead of bringing back Celebrimbor he uses his necromancy magic to bring back Maedhros

An imposingly tall figure, all done up in Sauron's spikey black armor, instead of his mace there is a wicked black blade where a right hand should be. He roams at the front of the Nazgul, blade at the ready as the other holds the reigns to a monstrous horse

People are terrified, thinking that Sauron himself is roaming the wilds, he stalks the Fellowship, nothing seems to stop him only delay him. Gandalf isn't sure its Sauron himself, but something about him under all that twisted and dark and evil song sings pure, like a dull flicker of white flame, like a weak candle.

When Boromir dies, that figure is with the orcs, it isnt the one to slay Boromir, but turns away and it seems to know where the ring is. The orcs are too focused on Merry and Pipin to follow the Figure, but he walks off. He stands on the shores as Frodo and Sam shiver in the Swan boat, but it does nothing but watch them as they sail off. It makes no motion to follow them or attack their small boat, just watch transfixed. Sam makes a comment that it looks like the Figure's armor makes it almost like it has a metal collar around its neck and cuffs on its wrists

During the battle of Helm's Deep, that Figure is back again, silently leading the siege. At one point, an Elven arrow hits the Figure's helm, knocking it a little loose and from under the helm tumbles a single red lock of hair. Its so red that almost looks like a smoldering flame. Haldir, who lives with the survivors of Doriath, sees that red hair, that tall stature, the handless right wrist and pales. While he wasn't there to witness the destruction of Doriath, he has heard the tales, he knows about the red haired monster that haunts the memories of the Sindar, and he knows what that Figure is capable of. Luckily, that Figure manages to catch a glimpse of Aragorn, and Freezes once again, a single stone that cuts through the rushing current of orcs all around him. Haldir doesn't see it again, but then again, Haldir doesn't see much of anything again.

(The Figure sees Gandalf on the hill, arriving with the dawn and reinforcments and it grieves, something in it breaks all over again but the magic puppeting its moves doesn't allow it to dwell. The helm is readjusted and the hair is tucked away and the Figure turns and leaves the battlefield. Its being summonded somewhere else.)

The war rages on, the Witch King is dead, but so is King Theoden. The Figure is trapped, the right wrist is pinned under the corpse of an oliphant and Elrond's sons watch as the Figure struggles before lying still. It's clearly not dead, but realizing it's trapped.

Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli join the twins. Gimli offers to thrust his axe in its chest, Legolas insists that he can shoot through its eye from a safer distance. Aragorn, who heard Haldir's frantic pleas during his final moments, just observes the Figure.

He notices the strange collar, how it clearly has cuffs on its wrist and feet, like it used to be shackled and chained.

"Can you speak?" He asks it.

The Figure does nothing but turn its helm towards Aragorn. They stare at each other for a few tense moments.

One of the twins, Aragorn still isn't fully sure which one, approches the Figure slowly. The Figure's helm is still directed at Aragorn.

"It feels familiar." The one twin whispers, voice raw from exertion. "It has a fea, it feels warm."

"Like uncle Erestor. Or Lindir." The other twin agrees.

The Figure turns its helm towards the twins at the mention of Erestor. The twin closest to the Figure, quick as an adder, jabs a polearm at the Figure's helm.

It snaps back, the helm tumbling off the Figure's head and those smoldering red locks fan out around the head, obscuring the face from view.

Even without seeing the face it's clearly an Elf. An abused one at that if one just looks at the notches missing from it's pointed ears. The polearm is back, nudging under where a chin should be to lift the face.

First, all that is seen is scars. So many that pull the once handsome face, for even under all its marring one can tell from the bone structure that this was a face that could launch a thousand ships, into a grotesque manner. But it is the eyes, the eyes that makes everyone suck in a breath.

These eyes glow, they glow with power, with light never been seen before, or well, haven't been seen in Ages. These grey eyes glow with the reflected light of the Two Trees, long since felled.

"Oh, Maitimo," Gandalf, who had wandered up the the group, sighed with tremendous sorrow. "What has become of you?"

Maitimo, or Maedhros as those in the Third Age know him as, tries to speak. His lips move, which brings attention to the fact that they are loosely sewn together with a black cord that seems to pull and ooze blood, never letting the wounds heal. His voice croaks, dry with misuse, but he manages a sound, a breath, perphaps even a word. Each syllable like a dying wheeze. He repeats the sound, again and again, almost becoming frantic with his wheezing chants, blood spilling down his chin from the threads, until it's understandable.

"Necromancer."

[forever-rogue]

hi! if you’re accepting requests from prompt list #2, does angst to fluff count lol. 5 from angst, 49 from fluff lists! with reader thinking din loves someone else 🥺 i like mando x omera but.. reader who perhaps doesnt have the skills omera has and sees how din looks at her… THE ANGST 😌🤌

AN | Me, writing some Din? It’s been a hot minute, but here we are. I miss him 🥺

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A small sigh, a wistful little thing, escaped your lips as you studied the gently lapping water of the lake. It was calm here, a peaceful, tranquil place that served as a welcome refuge after all that you'd been through in the last few years. Sometimes it seemed almost too good to be true. The distant sounds of laughter met your ears as children ran around and played, carefree as could be. Sometimes you wished you were that young again; innocent to life’s darker sides. Unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility, but for now you’d take the peace and stillness you could get.

Pulling off your boots and socks, you quickly tossed them to the side. The water was warm as you relaxed and leaned back, closing your eyes and soaking up the warmth of the summer sun. It wasn’t until you heard the familiar voice that your eyes slowly snapped back opened. Your heart constricted slightly as you spotted Din nearby speaking to Omera. He seemed so happy, in a much better mood than you’d seen in a long time. It was all her, and you remained invisible. Which, when it came to most things wasn’t too bad, but sometimes you wished he would see you.

“Is somebody jealous?” you hadn’t even heard the bounty hunter walk over; you supposed that’s one of the many reasons he was the best in the galaxy. Boba offered a small grimace before sitting down next to you. You shrugged him off staring back into the water. You were not about to get into anything with Boba; that man was insufferable and usually right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you brushed him off, trying desperately not to look back at Din. Instead, you focused on the water and watched the tiny fish whiz through the water; a few of them brushed by your feet, sending a ticklish shiver up your spine, “I’m just...enjoying the calm afternoon sun and soaking up as much peace before we inevitably leave again.”

“That’s how this all works,” Boba sighed as you nodded in agreement, “you knew that from the day you became my apprentice.”

“I know,” you whispered, “but I hoped at one point I could...walk away and have a normal life. Like this.”

“Normal is all relative,” he had a point as you huffed lightly and stood up, brushing off your pants and reaching for your boots, “but if this is what you want, what you truly want, you know you’re welcome to leave whenever. I would not hold you back from the life you wanted.”

“I know, Boba,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, “the problem is that I don’t really know what I want...I think I know but...it’s more than that.”

“Of course,” he agreed, casting a quick glance at the object of your affections before turning back to you, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Either way, it will work out, just as it always does,” you swallowed the lump that had welled up in your throat, “Boba, why are you doing this?”

“I just want to make sure you’re happy - that you know that you have choices in what you’re doing,” he said like it was no big deal, but to you it meant so much. This hardened, sometimes gruff man really did have a heart of gold underneath it all, “should you want to part ways, I would understand. Should you want to stay, I’d be more than happy to have you with me. I don’t know what the future holds for myself, Fennec, or Djarin, but you know it will not always be easy. But sometimes you have to decide what’s most important.”

“Yes,” you answered softly, “thank you, Boba.”

He remained silent as you laced up your boots before padding away, back towards the village. You knew you had a lot to think about and if you wanted things to change at all, you’d have to figure out something. You cast a glance over your shoulder and you were almost positive that you’d spotted Din looking in your direction. But it was all a trick of the mind; it had to be. Why would he spare you more than a passing thought anyways?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late by the time he found you; much later than any reasonable person should have been outside, but you couldn’t sleep. There was too much on your mind to silence, and if you managed to, it was short-lived and another thought came to replace the previous one. Eventually you’d given up and wandered out of the small hut home that had been acting as your own home for the last couple of months. You knew the area was safe and wanted to enjoy the temperate night air before it turned to a crisp fall breeze, or worse - you’d be gone.

Small bugs chirped happily along with the soft songs of nightbirds as you walked around the sleeping village; you weren’t scared here, you felt safe and at home. But as you rounded a corner, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. A small yelp of surprise left your lips as you pulled into a wall of cool metal - beskar.

“Shhh,” Din placed a finger to his lips as you relaxed when you realized it was him, “you’ll wake everyone up. It’s just me.”

“Dank Farrik!” you hissed at him, “how was I supposed to know that? You could have been a murderer!”

“Well….you should be in bed sleeping.”

“So should you!” your arms crossed over your chest as you stared him down, and eventually he huffed in defeat, realizing you were right. He couldn’t sleep either, plagued by the choices he knew that he had to make sooner rather than later. He hadn’t expected you to be out as well, “what are you doing anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously, a flash of...something in his dark eyes, “I thought that some fresh air would clear my head.”

“Same here,” you admitted reluctantly, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. You wished you had enough bravery (or perhaps even stupidity) in your body to just say something to him then and there. At least it would be out of the way; but you weren’t feeling anything but nervous butterflies fluttering in your tummy, “I...umm...I guess I’ll get back. Try and sleep.”

“Hey-” he reached for your arm gently before you could get too far away. You turned around and raised an eyebrow as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “d-did I do something wrong?”

“What? What are you talking about?” the question caught you off guard, but judging by the look on his face, you could sense that this was something he had been thinking for some time.

“You’ve been different lately...it almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh DIn, you’re being ridiculous,” and yet the accusation was very true.

“You’re fine around Boba, Fennec...everyone else. But every time I’m around it feels like you can’t wait to get away,” you should have known that he would have noticed sooner or later. The man was more observant than you’d cared to admit, “if I did something, please tell me.”

“You can’t be serious, Djarin. There’s nothing wrong…”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been doing anything. You’ve got too much free time and your mind is running wild.”

“Tell me it’s not true then.”

“Din-”

“Tell me.”

“The problem is that you’re in love with someone else,” the words were out of your mouth before you even contemplated them. You were mortified and in some ways you were relieved. At least it was all out in the open now and you were able to let the chips land where they may.

“Oh,” was his only response as his head tilted to the side and he looked at you in confusion, “what?”

“I...kriff,” you sighed, “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry - forget I said anything.”

“Who am I in love with?”

“What do you mean?” tears welled up in your eyes at his response; almost like a cruel joke, “you know, everyone knows! Omera; and why wouldn’t you be? She’s wonderful - kind, smart, beautiful … everything. Part of me wants to dislike her, but I can’t because she’s such a good person but it kills me a little bit to know that you love her and you’ll never even think twice about me. I know that’s super selfish but it’s the way I feel; and judging from how this is going I think I’m making the right decision by leaving. By myself.”

Din said nothing as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You laughed bitterly at yourself before realizing that this might have been the best decision after all. You couldn’t stay after this.

It wasn’t long before Din came to his senses and ran after you, calling your name and catching up with a few easy strides. You came to a reluctant stop as you sniffled and waited for him to say something, despite the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to hear whatever he had to say.

“I-I-I’m not in love with Omera,” he insisted as it became your turn to look at him in bewilderment, “I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to her about you,” he confessed, “about how to do...this sort of thing. But then you started avoiding me and I wondered if maybe I’d read the signs wrong and you didn’t like me at all. At least not in that way.”

“I don’t….what?” you heard his words but weren’t able to fully comprehend them. This had to be some sort of weird fever dream. Din sighed - his trademark sigh - before ripping off his gloves and gently putting his hands on the sides of your face. He was hesitant at first, to see if you would stop him. But you didn’t...instead you relished in his touch, the feel of his bare skin on yours sending electric shivers throughout your whole body.

After a few moments of quietly studying your features, he leaned in and slowly pressed his lips against yours. It wasn’t a proper kiss by any means, hardly more than a ghost of one, but it felt...strangely wonderful. You looked at him in disbelief as he pulled back; was this really the same man that you’d met all that time ago that wouldn’t even tell anyone his name or let them see his face?

“Oh.”

“Can we go inside?” he whispered softly, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” you agreed gently. He reached for your hand but before he could take it in his, you stopped him and pressed another sweet, barely there kiss to his lips. A tinge of pink colored his cheeks as you beamed at him, “now we can go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[foli-vora]

lost without you

A/N: Had something like this in my docs, played Spotify’s heartbreak hits playlist, cried in my car… here we are lmao. This song just hits me in all the right painful places hahah. p.s this gif is killing me.

Summary: He had been your right person, it had just been the wrong time.

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: past relationship, angsty feels

---

You knew those eyes the second they met yours. Dark and magnetic, the same soul consuming molten orbs that had been burned into your mind from a lifetime ago, stirring the dormant shadow of memories stored tightly away in your heart. It’s almost vicious, how aggressively fast you’re suddenly flooded with past touches, your skin prickling from the ghost of soft lips.

Even through the throngs of people moving around, despite the distance separating you, you see how they widen in surprise, much like your own. Your steps falter on the pavement, heeled feet suddenly glued to the concrete in your shock.

It’s automatic to move when he does, each of you seemingly unable to resist the lure of the other as you step around strangers, closing the distance until you’re both within arms length.

“Dave?” You break the silence first, lips unable to resist curling up at the edges at the familiar vision of him, eyes drawn to each feature and noting any differences from the last time you had seen him. So long ago.

He physically responds to your quiet murmur, eyes brightening while a grin starts to stretch his lips. He blinks away any lingering surprise at bumping into you on a random street in Brussels, chuckling softly under his breath as he steps that little bit closer, arms strong and welcoming as they wind around your frame.

The few shopping bags in your hands rustle as you return his embrace, light waves of his cologne melting into your nostrils as he presses against you. Zesty and fresh, and much different to the deeper, heavier colognes he used to use, but no less pleasant.

“What are you—”

“Here on business.” He replies before you even finish, arms tightening for a quick second before you’re released and he’s stepping back. His cheeks crease with his smile, head tilting almost curiously as he appraises you. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here. I moved over a couple of years ago… spur of the moment kind of thing.” You chuckle quietly, eyes falling to the floor in a brief wave of embarrassment before you gaze up at him through your lashes, shoulders lifting with a small shrug. “Adventure and all that.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Though you stayed completely oblivious, he had kept brief tabs over the years, not from ill intentions or obsession, merely just a small touch of harmless curiosity to ensure that you were alive and safe, wherever you found yourself in the world. He never looked deeper than that.

Dave chuckles again, nodding in understanding.

“Always craving an adventure.” He notes fondly, expression open and warm. “God, it’s been…”

Years. Over a decade. A long damn time.

“You look…”

He can’t find the appropriate word. ‘Good’ just wouldn’t cut it. You look… free. Radiant. It shines from your pores, from right within the very depths of you. All this adventure and travelling and the things you used to merely dream of - it suits you. All of it. It takes the edge off of any lingering heartache he had stubbornly shoved to the back of his mind; it soothes the long-lasting sting from your split.

A twinge of shyness melts into your smile. “You too, Dave.”

His posture seems to soften, a slither of tension leaving his shoulders as he exhales quietly, unable to fully tear his gaze away from you and picking up all of the subtle and noticeable changes that had occurred over the years.

“It’s really good to see you.”

You swallow at his words, your wide smile softening into something more gentle, tender. “Yeah, it really is.”

It’s in your silent observation of him that it suddenly makes itself known, momentarily flashing from a brief ray of sunlight. A ring.

“You’re married?”

His eyes fall to his hand, fingers running along the gold band as his lips tug at the corner. “Yeah… Carol. Her name‘s Carol. She’s… she’s really great. You’d like her.”

It stings.

It stings and you don’t understand why. It’d been years since you’d seen him, touched him, held him… your parting had been mutual, amicable - there was no reason why it should still sting. No reason at all. 

You smile around the sudden bitter taste in your mouth, wondering if he had caught the slight difficulty your cheeks had in pulling your lips up. “I’m sure I would. God, if she’s able to put up with you, she must be incredible!”

He chuckles at your gentle prod, chest warm from the old familiarity of your teasing. 

“Any kids?”

“Two girls. Molly and Alice.”

“You always did want girls.” You recall with the lingering echo of a younger Dave ringing through your ears. “I bet they’ve got you wrapped around their little fingers.”

He snorts in amusement, “Yeah, and they know it.”

“Do you have a picture?”

The question bubbles from your lips before you can really think it through. You almost regret it. It’s only because Dave moves so eagerly for his phone that you don’t let that feeling fully take hold. It almost feels like a punishment looking at their faces. Dave shone through their features, mixed with some other traits they obviously inherited from their mother. They were beautiful, and you could only imagine what his wife looked like.

Marriage and kids - it was everything he had talked about, all those years ago.

Marriage and kids - it was everything you hadn’t been ready for, all those years ago.

“Look at you,” you murmur warmly, despite the way your throat suddenly feels uncomfortable. “You’ve got it all.”

His eyes remain on the screen of his phone for a long second, his thumb swiping softly over the faces of his girls before he clears his throat quietly, quick to flash a smile as the screen blackens before he slides the device back into the pocket of his overcoat.

“Yeah, I do.” He agrees quietly, ignoring the sudden twinge he feels in his chest. He did have it all. There had been a time where he thought he would’ve had it all with you. He knows that little sting won’t ever quite ebb. He almost doesn’t want to know, but he finds himself asking anyway. “What about you?”

“Nothing yet,” you answer, shrugging lightly.

His head dips, expression kind, understanding. You weren’t quite finished satisfying your adventurous side yet. You wanted the world and all of its opportunities before settling down - something he could never quite truly resent you for. You deserved the world, and who was he to keep you from it back then?

“One day?”

You smile at his words, nodding.

“One day.” You echo softly.

One day, but it wouldn’t be him, like you had thought for so long, and maybe that’s where the sting originated from. Somewhere deep inside you, maybe you had always banked on finding him again - once you were done with travelling and experiencing everything you had dreamt about, maybe you thought you both would fall back together. It was a silly hope, a silly expectation, born solely, selfishly, from love and pain.

He had found his ‘one day’, and you couldn’t find it within you to hold any resentment. Why would you? There was nothing to feel angry over, maybe perhaps a slight twinge of jealousy, but nothing hostile. He had been clear with the path he wanted to take all those years ago. It wasn’t his fault your path didn’t fall beside his. It wasn’t your fault, either. It was just what it was.

You were pleased for him - you truly were, it was just that something wasn’t sitting right…

Grief.

That’s what you felt. You could feel it now, a part of you mourning what was, what could have been. You’re surprised by how hard it seems to hit. Years of suppressed heartache that you had refused to let yourself feel during your travels and experiences. 

A sharp notification alert cuts through the quiet, tearing your gazes apart, and you blink away the threat of tears. When did they even build? He moves swiftly, checking whatever had appeared on his screen before sighing, shoulders heaving slightly from the force of his exhale.

“Duty calls?” You ask gently, eyes following his hand as it returns his phone to his pocket before moving back to meet his.

His lips press together before he nods, “I have somewhere to be.”

Urgently too, but he lingers, taking one final moment to study your face, just like he had done back then. Maybe this was his opportunity at closure, a time to well and truly finish that chapter of his life and all the pain that came with it, before returning home to Carol and the girls.

“It was nice seeing you, Dave.” You say, not a trace of a lie to be found in your words, and you almost think you can see your own sorrow reflected in his gaze. 

He swallows, stepping forward to embrace you one more time. You still used the same perfume. “Take care of yourself.”

You smile, feeling the finality in his words and committing the feel of his arms to memory before the moment inevitably came to an end. “You too.”

He turns away then, and a breeze sweeps across your face, chilling the single tear that falls from your eyes.

It was now your turn to stand and watch him walk away, a part of your heart crumbling in your chest. Is this what he had felt when you had turned and walked away from him?

His frame disappears into the light crowds, and even then you struggle to continue on with your journey home without a hazy blur of tears overcoming your vision.

You can’t help but notice the poetic similarity in your parting - he didn’t turn to look back at you once, just like you didn’t turn back to him all those years ago. 

You said “I wanna see the world.” And I said, “Go.”

-

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[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || PROUD

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, swearing and mentions of injuries, blood and death.

| form : imagine

| word count : 1574

| published : 18 november

| request : Aaaa,, I really love your Sukuna imagines! Can I request an Imagine where it’s related to ‘kind hearted’, the reader gets hurt and sukuna gets upset? Thank you so much! Keep up with the great work!! 💞🦦

| barista’s notes : let me admit this, i’m not confident with this imagine ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ i tried changing it a few times but i was really doubting myself every time and this was the result of it, so i’m so sorry if you don’t like it ʕ； •`ᴥ•´ʔ also i’m not really good with fight scenes so if there are any advices that can be given to me, thank you so much ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ i hope you love your classic cup of black coffee and come again soon!

To say that you were screwed was more than an understatement. 

Right now wasn’t the ideal situation to be in for any jujutsu sorcerer that wasn’t Gojo’s level.

At this moment and time, standing in front of you was a special grade curse.

What made the situation worse was that Kugisaki was separated from the whole group making the mission more complicated than it needed to be.

“Itadori! Fushiguro! Go find Kugisaki and find the exit to the building, I’ll keep the curse in place!” you demanded, as you knew you didn’t have much time to explain the risky plan you came up with.

“Are you crazy? It’s a special grade there is no way you could defeat it right now!” Fushiguro shouted, trying to know what was going on in your head, thinking that you were utterly crazy for what you just stated to him and his classmate.

“I don’t care! Look, it’s having fun and underestimating us meaning it will use weaker attacks on me, buying time shouldn’t be too hard, just give me a signal when you and Itadori are safe, okay?”

Looking at you with widen eyes, Fushiguro continued to look at you like you had gone completely insane before closing them to clear his mind. What you were saying had much sense in it. Compared to the remaining people in the room, you were the one that had the most potential to defeat the special grade curse if you could, even when you and him were both grade two sorcerers. 

“Okay,” Fushiguro muttered quietly - still reluctant to leave you - before turning around and grabbing Itadori to go along with your plan, leaving you completely alone to defend yourself.

Turning back around to look at your opponent, you reached to the side of your hip to grip on the halt of your katana before slowly pulling the sword out from its sheath. From what you could observe, this special grade wasn’t a normal special grade, there was no way it could be deemed one yet it was. From what was going on around you, the curse hadn’t been able to construct a complete Domain Expansion, more of an Innate Domain at best making you come to the conclusion that it must have eaten a cursed object at best to become as powerful as it is - most likely Sukuna’s finger for one example.

Lifting your sword in front of you, you aimed the pointed tip at your opponent before tilting your head to the side to see what else you could observe from your distance.

“Would cutting your head off look best or would cutting both of your arms first be more sufficient?”

Of course, the curse couldn’t reply to you leaving it to only physically answered you with an immense amount of curse energy forming within the palm of its hand, ready to throw it at you.

“Looks like your arms are the first thing I gotta get rid of,” you answered yourself, as you quickly dodging the attack, only to suddenly appear in front of your opponent, leaving yourself enough space to swing your sword down to fully slash its left arm off as you then went ahead and spun behind its body to slice off the other off before pulling yourself back to gain some distance away from the curse.

However, what you had completely forgotten was that special grade curses were able their curse energy to heal themselves, as the curse’s arms suddenly regenerated as if you didn’t cut them off seconds before.

“Damn, I should have gotten your head first ha?” you rhetorically questioned, before using your free hand to pull a long black chain out of your pocket and attaching one end to the hilt of your katana. “Let’s see how fast you can catch,” you commented, as you then threw your katana while aiming for it’s head, using your curse energy to increase the speed it was going at. However, much to your dismay the curse unexpectantly grabbed onto the metal blade, leaving you no choice but to let your curse energy slowly flow through the chain all the way up to the blade causing a large red orb form at the end, quickly exploding before the curse could even react to stop it.

Swiftly, you pulled the chain back so you could retrieve your sword only to then suddenly see the smoke clearing and a large wave of curse energy coming towards your direction.

“Shit!”

In sheer panic, you use your feet to push yourself to the right to move away from the blast before your whole vision was concealed by the rubble and dust. 

Pain. That was all you felt. Pure pain. 

Were you going to die? Wasn’t you expecting that once you told both your classmates to find Kugisaki and run? You couldn’t lie to yourself, it was too painful to think about death right now. You couldn’t think straight at all.

Once the smoked cleared, all that the special curse could see was your standing figure panting heavily with your left sleeve completely gone due to the blast as blood gushed down your left arm. You had barely managed to get yourself out of the hands of instant death and luckily nothing of your body was disintegrated, just some burns and cuts here and there - to say it was surprising to see you standing was an understatement.

“From our battle so far, you lack the form of curse technique, but you still can pack a punch, ah it hurts,”

The blood loss was getting to you. Yes, having no limbs was not the better option but you could still live with that. What humans couldn’t do was stay alive with no blood and here you were quickly losing your live source the flowed in your body. You couldn’t even cover the wound as there was nothing you could cover it with and even if you did, the wound was too large to be covered. 

You were losing the strength to stand.

You were losing your balance.

You were losing consciousness.

Suddenly, you heard a loud sound of a howl from a distance. Instantly, you knew that Fushiguro and Itadori were able to find Kugisaki and get out. It was his signal. 

However, you weren’t so lucky in that factor, from the state that you were in, there was no way in hell you were able to escape now - but you were okay with that. If the other’s were safe, that was better than not knowing if they made it out alive. Slowly, you were starting to lose the feeling in your legs, causing you to completely losing your balance.

‘Damn,’ you thought, as you felt your whole body suddenly dropping leaving you no strength left to even brace for the impact, leaving you to close your eyes and admitting defeat.

However, just as you were able to fall to the ground, you suddenly felt a pair of arms catching you before you were quickly lifted up bridal style and pulled into a warm embrace surprising you completely from the sudden comfort of what you thought was your lonely end. Who was still in the building? You thought everyone got out, so who was carrying you right now?

From your limited sight, you could slowly make out someone in a dark uniform similar to the colour you wore, meaning it had to be someone from the team. However, the extreme pressure of curse energy that was somewhat suffocating you determined otherwise - no one within the area right now had this much power, no one at all. Unless…..

“Were you the one that caused this?”

Sukuna…

All you could hear right now a shaking tone as well as the couple droplets of water that was within the Innate Domain that surrounded you.

“For a grade two sorcerer, she really blew half of your body up with that little curse technique she used on you, I’m quite proud of my little one,” Sukuna uncharacteristically complimented you, as he gently pressed a little kiss on top of your head before gently smiling at you - knowing you won’t be able to see this rare expression on his face.

“You see, I’ve grown fond of this little human in my arms right now, and for you to do this much damage to her body, really weirdly angers me,” Sukuna stated before he turned around and began to walk away. “Wait there for a quick second would you? I need to take care of this one right now,” Sukuna commented, before gently placing you down at a safe spot to which he then started to use his curse energy to quickly heal your wound once he sat you up straight. 

Brushing away some of the hairs that were in your face, Sukuna placed one last light lingering kiss on your forehead before saying, “I’m proud of you, just wait a little longer, I’ll be back,”.

What was going on?

This had to be a hallucination. There was no question about that. There was no way Sukuna could have saved you let alone kissed you in any way. This was all a hallucination. Wasn’t it?

However, you didn’t have the power to stay awake any longer, resulting you to surrender to the tiredness that was taking over you, letting the darkness invade your whole surroundings, but not before letting out a little mutter under your breath.

‘Proud ha?’

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Knight in Shining Red Armor | Dante + Child!Reader (DMC 4)

A/N: Hey so this is a rewrite of one of my first (and only) DMC fic from like...2016. This takes place post-DMC 4

You can read the og one on my DeviantArt! But if you're here for the new one then I hope ya'll enjoy!

Summary: Child!Reader was taken under Dante's wing after being saved from a demon invasion, but even years later he hesitates to tell them what he truly is, fearing they'll resent him for his demonic heritage.

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

"Hey, um..Dante?"

"What's up, kiddo?" The red-clad devil hunter asked, though he wasn't completely paying attention to you. Rather he was sitting at his desk, feet kicked up as he was flipping through a magazine.

Meanwhile you were roaming around the shop, stopping only to gaze at the massive curved sword with glowing gems hanging on the wall behind him. He mentioned claiming many weapons--"Devil Arms" as they were called--from defeated demons, but you were curious about their names.

"Just wondering..what's that sword behind you called?"

"The Sparda. It sealed the barrier between the Underworld and human world. Nero went through hell and back, quite literally, to return it to me, so don't even think about touching......it?"

Dante put the magazine down as he turned to see you holding the Sparda in your small hands. You smiled triumphantly, but stumbled a bit before the blade accidentally slammed into the wooden floor, making you wince.

"Oops."

Yet your little act amused him, as he chuckled and shook his head. "You're a little too young to go devil-hunting, I'm afraid. But maybe one day you will."

"And maybe you can help pay off Dante's debt, too." Trish lightly joked as she entered the room, taking the giant sword from you and putting it back on the wall.

Her words were responded by a groan from the male, who went back to reading.

"Whatcha reading?"

Dante slowly lowered the magazine to see you sitting on his desk, but he just snapped it shut and tossed it into the trash, out of your line of sight. "Nothing that eyes like yours gotta see."

"Okay....ooooooh, what's this briefcase?" Hopping off the desk, you ran over to Pandora and crouched down to poke the skull emblem.

"Pandora. That baby can turn into six hundred and sixty six different weapons, but...right now we only have access to seven." Now he was feeling like an exhausted teacher on a museum trip, trying to explain each exhibit to his hyper first graders--the exhibits being his Devil Arms.

Yet as you ran around asking him about more of them, he couldn't help but see his childhood-self reflected in you. Just full of energy and never-ending curiosity and optimism.

Yeah..he definitely saw the resemblance.

Eventually you decided to leave him be and dash off to your room.

And only then did Dante drop his smile, sighing as he put both feet back on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair before dragging it down the side of his face tiredly.

"You know..you'll have to tell them eventually." Trish reminded.

"How, though? That kid's afraid of all demons..hybrids or not. I'm pretty sure saying "oh by the way the guy who rescued you is actually half-demon" is gonna send 'em running, and...I can't risk that." He shook his head, gazing at the jukebox in the corner.

"But I think [y/n]'s old enough to comprehend the concept of not all demons being evil," Lady chimed in after overhearing the conversation. "Just give it to them straight and I'm sure they'll understand."

As much as Dante wanted to argue, he saw that she had a valid point. But he still worried...

How would you react?

It's been a few years since he saved you from a Mega Scarecrow, though it turned out that more demons invaded your neighborhood, slaughtering everyone you knew and loved. And as he took you back to the shop to patch you up, he could see the terror in your eyes, any traces of innocence long gone.

No child should have gone through such a tragedy.

A tragedy that he was all-too familiar with.

After the defeat of the Savior, things have been looking up. You've regained your happiness as you lived in Devil May Cry and learned of Dante's tales of devil hunting, though the memories of that horrible night never truly left you alone.

Along with that, just seeing a demon is enough to make you run and hide, and you were terrified when you first met Nero and saw his demonic arm.

From that incident alone, Dante became extremely reluctant to tell you of his own demonic heritage.

He just didn't know if he's only hurting you more by keeping it hidden..

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

Later that night, you were plagued by yet another nightmare. Different demons, same neighborhood...same deaths of your loved ones.

But in this one Dante got hurt, too. And you tried so hard to be brave for him, even shouting in the demon's face...but in the end you failed as it snatched you away, dragging you into the darkness of the Underworld before he could reach you.

Although you calmed down since awakening, you wanted to be sure he was alright.

So with what little moonlight shone in the shop's darkness, you located the worn sofa where Dante laid. He was engrossed in some TV program, though after sensing your presence his eyes flickered to you.

No words had to be exchanged in order for him to see what was wrong, as he sat up and patted the spot beside him. You smiled in relief and climbed onto the sofa, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you. "Th-Thanks, Dante."

"No prob. So uh..another nightmare, I guess?"

"Yeah, but..they hurt you, too and...I-I tried staying brave. I shouted at them to leave you alone and..they didn't listen. But...I think one of them looked scared of me."

"Wow." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Gotta say I'm impressed."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Y'know demons are used to seeing kids scream and cry, not take a stand against them. Plus that's pretty epic of you to defend me, so thanks." With a smile, he ruffled your hair.

"You're welcome," you giggled a bit. "But..I really just wanna be as brave as you. I mean...Nero says you laugh at giant demons and tease them all the time. How do you do that without being scared?"

"Well..it comes with the business. Getting them riled up just makes the fight more fun. At least for me. You might think I'm crazy but if ya decide to hunt demons one day...you'll see what I mean."

"But until then, could I watch you fight one? Like a big bad one?"

"......."

"Dante?"

"..kid, there's a reason I never took you on any missions." Dante sighed, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat as he carefully planned his next words. "And how I always...bounce back from getting smacked by a demon tail. No human would be able to withstand that without some broken bones."

"Oh?" You tilted your head. "Then..how can you if you're human?"

"....because I'm not fully human."

As much as he wanted to shut up, he decided to tell you the truth once and for all, not sugarcoating anything:

He explained how his parents were a demon and human--a forbidden romance which resulted in himself and Virgil being born. His bloodline allowed them to blend in with humans, exercise their demonic abilities in battle, and even tap into their true demon forms.

All the while you listened silently, with not much emotion on your face. So it was hard for him to tell what you were probably thinking in this moment.

It scared him.

"...and that's it." He sighed, closing his eyes and looking away from you. "So go ahead and hate me if you want. I won't blame you for-"

"Can you show me?"

Dante blinked stupidly as he swung his head back towards you, wondering if he heard you right.

"I...wish you told me before, but I don't wanna be scared of demons anymore." You smiled a tiny bit as you elaborated. "Especially not one who helped me. So...can I see your other form?"

"...a-alright. Just...if you get scared I can turn back instantly, so don't freak."

"I won't."

He had doubts you'll keep your word, but he got up and activated his Devil Trigger form. As he opened his eyes, you gasped upon seeing how much they were glowing--being orange rather than blue. Red electric sparks danced around his metallic body as he observed you close, anticipating your reaction. He expected you to scream or cry.

Yet..there was only curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

"Scared yet?" He asked in his distorted voice, crouching down in front of you.

Not even the way he spoke startled you, as you just shook your head. "I was wrong all along..not all demons are bad."

"Not even this one?"

"Nope. You look awesome..like a knight in shiny red armor."

"...wow..I um...." For once, the talkative devil hunter was at loss for words. But when you learned forward to hug him around the neck, he was completely shocked.

Earlier in the day he thought of countless worse-case scenarios, and yet...the best-case was happening right now.

You were accepting him, hugging him even.

He couldn't believe it.

Dante smiled as he wrapped his arms around you, making sure his armor spikes didn't hurt you. "Thanks, kid. It really means a lot that you're not terrified anymore........[y/n]?" He was concerned about your lack of response, before realizing you were dozing off.

'Damn..I might make a pretty good dad, after all..' He mused, standing up and making the trek back to your bedroom. Then he set you down and tucked you in, relief and warmth in his heart.

He had a feeling that your nightmares won't be so bad anymore. Now he felt like he could truly protect you.

Why?

Because he was gonna be your knight in shining red armor.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Jeez, man. Quit clanking around shit and---AH!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

"Shhhh! Chill out, Nero. You'll wake 'em." Dante was quick to shift back to his human form once he was outside your room, glaring at his nephew. "Why are you so freaked out? This ain't the first time you've seen my devil form."

"But still..why in the middle of the night?! Thought we had company."

"...just go back to bed, kid."

"Don't call me kid!"

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[danddymaro]

Replay | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

A/N: Please, this is NSFW if you don’t like it, don't read it.

Thoughts are in italics and quotations // ‘ Example,’

Flashback are all in just Italics // Example

- I hope it’s understandable. It drifts from present time to the past event and goes back and forth for a moment.

Abbacchio using his stand for, Well, dirty purposes. So, he might be a little perverse here // sorry

word count: 1474

Replay

His lustrous, golden eyes were fixed on the sight of the (h/c) haired young woman, entranced by the manner her fingers desperately rubbed over the sweet, little spot that was certain to set her off.  

"A...ah…" she tried to speak, instead, drifting off into a sultry moan as her other fingers slid down to her needy hole, giving it the attention it'd yearned for before then.

“ Filthy..." he breathed, " You filthy whore… '' he said in a deep, low rumble, his eyes almost unblinking as he continued to take in the sight of the woman as she lay in display.

Far, deep within the recesses of his mind, he wondered who was more depraved out of the two.

Was it the desperate, perverse fool whose cock twitched and throbbed at the sight of a mere replay, becoming only relieved when fisted by a hand that was covered by a used pair of panties.

Or, was it the yearning whore squirming above the bedsheets, unable to keep still and so drunk in pleasure that she could barely speak.

" Who are you thinking of?" Leone half-whispered, asking her, yet receiving no response but yet another moan, this time hushed and so powerful, her voice failed her.

A small, fragile squeak was the only thing that could escape the back of her throat and it let him know how high she'd gone as a result of the self-indulging performance.

"You're having the time of your life, " he said with the same husky tone, watching as (f/n) did not spare a movement, everything she did serving for her own carnal pleasure.

"- You're loving it," he breathed, and it was then that her pace quickened, her hips rising up with desperation to meet imaginary thrusts that he knew she tried to vividly imagine simply by the way her (e/c) colored eyes hid behind tightly shut lids.

And, again, he wondered just who she thought about, the huffing man wanting to know just who brought her to that peak.

" Fuck me," she muttered softly, quivering as literal tears welled up in her (e/c) colored eyes as she murmured the words, wishing that she could somehow breathe the fantasy out into real life with each hot huff she mustered.

" Please...please…" she begged, breathlessly speaking, repeating the words over and over, sounding almost as repetitive as a scratched disk as she tried to envision just how he’d take her. Desperately, she tried to imagine his touch, attempting to fall into the fantasy of her desires so well that she could forget everything else in the world.

- Slowly, his entire body as it rocked to hers, every thrust slow and dragged, yet deep, and filled with the purpose of reaching the tender spots her fingers couldn't dive into.

"I want… please…"  she dumbly rambled, a thick shine glossing her bottom lip as her tongue slid over the shaking plumpness.

" Leone…" (f/n) added sweetly, the two fingers that were tasked with making quick dives into her wetness, stopping as they were about to come out, instead, parting, stretching her little hole right before his intently trained, golden gems.

"Shit," he grunted, " Shit, " he repeated again before swallowing down hard.

The sudden bit of surprise he felt was then washed away by the heavy title wave of pleasure that drowned him, leaving him teetering on the edge of release.

With a strong thrust upwards, she threw her head back onto the pillow, turning her head to take a  bite out of the fluffy cushioning in order to muffle a particularly desperate cry onto it, all while Leone hissed, almost unable to live through the sight without becoming fully undone.

It was then that his ears picked up on a distant knock, as well as a voice he knew was his own,

"(F/n) ?"Abbacchio asked her, speaking from the other side of the closed door as he waited just outside her room.

As he kept his eyes on the replay, Leone could see the recollection that soon set on her face as she heard him speak,

" L-l-leone?" She asked shyly,  her breathy, little murmur barely sounding as she struggled to even say his name, and as he watched her, he felt a small twitch to his heart.

' … how can you look so sweet right now?' He wondered, his eyes watching her flustered face before it went back down to her glistening folds. ‘How can you look so  damn cute when your making such a mess?’ he silently teased.

Momentarily, her fingers' movements became lax and ghosting, and her face became pensive. She seemed to be struck by the same pleasure, yet contemplative of her next move, clearly having a battle of morals.

' What's taking you so long?' he asked her, the man outside the door sounding annoyed but not enough to press on more. 

Because, sometimes, he was too lenient on her, letting her get away with so much more than anyone else could. And  he wished he could be just a bit more assertive with her.

But, he was terribly softhearted when it came to the pretty, little woman.

He found it difficult to lift his voice at her and at times, he couldn't even look at her directly without melting and becoming an easy sucker, willed and bent in whichever way she wanted.

 "Eh…I...Um…Ah!" Her free hand flew to clamp over her mouth to muffle the last bit of her moan while the other moved faster, leaving her right at the peak. Relentless, her body drove her to push further, to finally give it it’s awaited release.

The very hand then dragged down, joining the other while it repeatedly dove into her wetness.

With the same enthusiasm, her fingers rubbed her little clit, almost reaching her high.

"J..Just hearing him…" she murmured. "He...He's right there," She added brokenly, lazily skimming her eyes over to the door, where outside, the long haired man waited for her.

"Hmm? You alright in there?" He then asked her, growing concerned over the muffled response.

"Yes! " she answered back in a quick panic, her voice high pitched and wavering even as she tried to keep her preoccupation a secret.

'I have to stop…' (f/n) thought with a small shred of shame that creped up on her. 'But....' She then added quickly, 'But, Leone… Leone this is too much!' She went on, having made him the subject of many fantasies before, but never feeling as fulfilled by a fantasy than at that moment.

" I can finish, " she murmured selfish determination. "I ...I can..." she continued with the same greedy excitement.

Panting, she then rolled over, her ass high in the air as she continued to please herself, a little, excited wiggle to her hips that swayed her exposed ass to the observing man.

“Yes...Yes...Yes...” she repeatedly chanted into the cushioning bellow.

 “Fuck!” She cursed while her mouth pressed over the pillow, soon releasing a loud cry that was subdued by the support as her body raked by a powerful surge of electricity that visually shook her.

He cursed lowlily, unable to take more before he jerked his hips towards his jerking hand. It wasn’t long before the sweet remaining musk of her essence was masked by his thick spurts.

"I'm sorry Leone…" (f/n) said softly, " I just couldn’t help myself," She admitted, while slowly, her lower body slowly melted onto the mattress. " -And you'd just kill me if you knew," she giggled, the kittenish, little deviousness that shown during then making him smirk.

"...Or maybe fuck me into the mattress," She added while she stretched and mewled, and by then she  pressed her thighs together tightly.

‘Oh?’ he mused.

"Ah, I wouldn't mind," she murmured, " I wouldn't mind if you did," she admitted while, slowly, her actions caught up to her, and it was then that the full weight of her shame finally struck her.

" Come on (f/n)! Hurry up we don't have all day!" Another younger, much livelier voice interrupted.

Narancia huffed, "Fugo's been waiting in the car for a few minutes already and he's starting to get snappy, so quit jerking it and get your ass out there now!" He demanded, causing (f/n) to grow learned before she truly snapped into reality.

"SHUT UP!"  She screeched, immediately jumping up on her feet. 

She then scrambled off of the bed, quickly reaching for her clothes before frantically putting them back on.

" Don't say that!" She added with dismay, ready to jolt out of the door when Abbacchio stopped his replay.

The shallow breaths he took morphed into airy chuckles, as he took a seat on the mattress, his back soon falling onto the sweet-scented covers that retained the woman's signature aroma just after his stand disappeared.

[ayamturd]

If you're still doing color requests, I'd love to see your take with Techno and #005370! Even if you don't, I hope you're doing well :)

prussian storm│technoblade

warnings: self doubt, hurt/comfort, fluff (unedited)

pairing: in-game romantic!techno

a/n: so sorry this has taken so long to get out, i loved the color concept but just didn't have the time to execute it fully

ty for being so kind, i hope you enjoy <3

‘colors’ m.list

“Cold?”

Without turning to face him, you watched as the condensed breath escaped you, the heat leaving your lips vulnerable in the burning cold.

“Of course not.”

The day, bright by the reflected sun cast in the blinding snow, greeted you in an icy chill. No words could express the environment you lived in besides cold, the constant chill an adjustment you have yet to normalize towards.

Though you tried to play off your severe vulnerability to the dangerous temperatures of the Artic, it was difficult to complain regardless considering Technoblade’s effortless acclimation; his biology and hybrid genealogy played greatly into his comfort in his isolated home, something you envied and simultaneously enjoyed.

While you would never experience the same level of mobility or solace, it only added more to how much you relied on your nightly cuddles. By the gods and their mercy, there were moments in your continuous torture where you were granted such luxury in easement, and they were always in given affections by your lover.

Technoblade, both warm from the heat of the Nether and large in promised security, was your saving grace beyond declaration. It was near ironic how you viewed him as the eye within the hurricane when he faired reason to why you entered the storm in the first place.

“Are you sure? You’re shiverin’.”

Pride was a deadly sin, one frowned upon yet easily enticing to give in towards, especially when the price of dignity held reason. You could say yes, accept your weakened state, and be happily received in warmth and care; yet there was something so damning about admitting defeat to mother nature in her cruel weather.

There was the fear that in admitting defeat, you were acknowledging the case that you couldn’t remain strong in the presence of your lover. A warrior who faced no obstacles in daily excursions.

A fighter who shouldn’t stop to fret over the cold.

“I’m fine,” you scowled, voice tight in irritation. Whether that be by his probing or the freezing temperatures remained lost to you. Technoblade raised his hands up in surrender to appease as you continued. “How far are we from the shore anyway?”

With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he watched the horizon from where the sun slowly rose. Eyes narrowed with wisps of hair to boarder, he was radiant in his moment of concentration. Small murmurs could be heard as he calculated your path by the sky, the trade winds and sun’s position aiding the quick journey’s timetable and where the destination laid at hand.

He was in his element, and looked heavenly as the winter wind brushed his features softly.

“Not far,” he concluded. “Just over this last mound should do it.”

Nodding, you moved wordlessly ahead of him, anxious to meet him there.

The previous day, in the late evening over a pleasant stew for dinner, Technoblade had suggested taking you on a short walk in the morning, something to do with winter soon breaking into spring. Had you known in future times and looked beyond your devotion for him, you would have said no because this now was nothing resembling short.

You were miserable as you hiked in the thick snow, fingers numb under the gloves that engulfed your hands and boots stiff from the ache that weighed your feet down.

More often than not, you chose to reside in your shared cabin home, biding minuscule tasks or assisting Phil in his projects. Even then, if you were to leave the house, you were always accompanied by Carl or your own horse.

It was to your surprise when you approached the makeshift stable morning of that you wouldn’t be taking either horses, the destination’s ground too uneven for the strong steeds.

That should have been your first warning.

The walk was treacherous, and although Technoblade was nothing short of considerate throughout the ways of the journey, your patience was as thin as the recent snow fall’s gathering.

With a large huff, you centered your balance in the final push up the stiff hill. The harsh inhale of cool air scorched your lungs, and as you eventually gathered your breath, you only looked up to be speechless once more.

You had seen the ocean before, having crossed the precarious trip originally to live by Technoblade’s side, yet it was something so different now compared to past view.

The waves, large in each fold and height, were dangerously alluring in all beauty and sight. It was, truly, magnificent by each and every curvature that crashed and melded into a newfound wave against the frozen landscape.

Color shifted in hue to the dull water's break, the deep blue endless at far as you could see beyond the horizon. Though the swell fell into a foamed white, the contrast was so striking to observe and added more to the depths of the sea.

Enamored, you failed to notice Technoblade arrive shortly behind you until a sudden weight enveloped your form.

You glanced up to meet his adored gaze, eyes soft as he regarded you currently wrapped in his own winter coat, now dressed on your shoulders.

A hand came to cup your face gently, and you instinctively lead in towards the warmth.

“Lie if you must, but I know you better than you care to admit.”

His voice was light, as if anything louder than the tides before you would threaten the moment his love forged.

Collapsing under his careful stare, you buried yourself into his arms, allowing the heat of his heart melt the frosted chill you subjected yourself to. He took you in immediately, a hand to hold your head against him as he rested his cheek to your crown

“Shut up,” you mumbled, bite nonexistent and quiet within the fabric of his shirt. His laugh resonated in your ear as you laid, and you refused to show the smile which grew from his pure delight.

“Of course, darlin’. Whatever you what.”