#i just cannot get the feeling of being replaceable or unwanted out of my head.

[spidrboots]

xxx.

[tubbypeddle]

hii, I'd like a matchup for percy jackson and one piece please! (I'm using the previous person's request as a template sorry)

I’m a 5’9 girl, have brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly/coily, brown hair. I have an athletic/rectangle-type body. I usually wear jorts/cargos and graphic tees when I feel masc. I love to wear crop tops and shorts when I feel more feminine.

im bisexual with a preference for men

im usually an extrovert on most days, especially with people I know, but sometimes I'm more introverted. i like to push myself to be a better version of me. i love adventuring, but I also enjoy relaxing a lot. i have a creative and active mind and I talk a lot. i love listening and debating on topics I enjoy.

i dislike people who are rude just to be rude/rude because they think its cool. people who give backhanded comments or gossip. i hate feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated, or just feeling tired in general.

irrational fear of heights lol. but really, im scared of not having a good future, and everything going wrong after college.

my hobbies are, reading, traveling, sports, writing, games, and baking

i love hugs and quality time with people I love, whether that be going out or just chilling at home.

what i prefer in a partner is someone who will be there for me when I struggle and feel overwhelmed. someone willing to be there for comfort, but also someone who isn't afraid of communicating their own feelings.

i think that's it, thank you!

okay so. ignore that this took even longer than it normally would.

because.

if you mention it, I might genuinely crash out

anyway.

(author's note: credits to gif owners, I do not own them. again, I literally cannot apologize enough, I am so sorry these are taking so long.)

It's shocking news. To hear that you're a demigod. The child, of a Greek myth.

Yeah right.

But, you suppose it would explain all the strange things that happened to you in your childhood. Apparently all of those myths that Mr. Brunner told you in school were real.

Because your best friend has goat hooves for feet???

He takes you to Camp Half-Blood, which your (apparently) satyr friend says is the only place safe for demigods like you. Almost everyone is shocked to meet you, especially because you're much older

He takes you to the Hermes cabin, where you'll stay until your Godly parent claims you.

And there, you meet

Travis Stoll

Now it may not be obvious at first, but let me explain.

He's one of the two head counselors for the cabin. Him and his brother personally get you situated into Camp life.

Connor finds you fun and polite enough, but it's Travis who has a crush on you.

It's like at first sight with you.

Connor and Travis have rather different types in women they like, which is why I personally see you with Travis more than Connor.

Connor likes girls who are softer. Maybe a little more "delicate". Girls who giggle at his every joke.

Travis likes his girls a little more athletic, of which there is no shortage of in Camp Half-Blood. He likes girls who are strong. Girl where he doesn't have to worry about them being hurt when he isn't around.

At first though, he doesn't even think his crush will go anywhere. He just likes to admire you from afar.

He's much too busy as a year-round Head counselor. Let alone, the replacement head counselor of a camper gone rogue.

The day his crush on you goes somewhere is when he finds you breaking down in a corner of the Hermes cabin. Your godly parent is just taking forever to claim you. You feel unwanted. Abandoned. Alone.

Now, this is nothing new to Travis. It's like a demigod's rite of passage into Camp Half-Blood.

Doesn't make it any easier to see someone else feeling the same way he did once upon a time.

He comforts you as best he can. He lets you scream and cry, or he lets you throw things around, if that's how you handle things.

And when you're done with your crying, he offers ways to get your mind off of it. Sparring, or drawing with you. Reading whatever textbooks the Big House has.

He even tells you about his own experiences with the gods. His own quests he's been on, big or small. He tells you about how his father claimed him. He isn't afraid of being vulnerable with you, even though all of his instincts are yelling at him to be paranoid.

From there, your friendship becomes something more. You find yourself looking for him whenever either of you have free time.

Since you enjoy active activities just as much as quieter ones, it's rather lucky Travis is the one who likes you. He's the same way.

He doesn't read as much, because even though all the books in Camp Half-Blood are written in Greek, he just doesn't like reading. But he'll listen to you read. He likes listening to you read aloud. Or even if you don't want to do that, he'll probably whittle away at a piece of wood while you draw.

His main love languages are quality time and acts of service after all. This is how he shows you he likes you.

It's very lucky that neither of you enjoy gossip. Travis hates rumors and all that what have you. It's a big reason why he doesn't get along with a lot of the Aphrodite kids.

His favorite dates with you are when you two go out and do something active. Preferably when you two can leave the camp. Not far, probably not even out of Manhattan.

He just wants to take you out to do something fun, that will leave memories that the two of you can cherish for a lifetime.

Honorable mentions!

Frank Zhang

You're actually pretty close to his canon romantic interest type. At least, what I'm imagining, based on your description. He also likes quieter activities, while still enjoying more physical things, too. You two would spend a lot of your time together since you enjoy many similar things. I just felt he'd be too obvious of a choice. (and also, he's from Heroes of Olympus, technically, and I didn't know if that's what you were also looking for.)

What a lovely dive into the world of Percy Jackson!

Now, it's time to move on from the world of gods and demigods, and into the world of pirates and giants.

You're sailing the Big Blue. Whether as a pirate or military, doesn't matter.

Either way, it's

Koby

He meets you by chance. Most likely while he's infiltrating a pirate's ship.

He finds you, probably being held hostage. And he rescues you.

He's enamored by you when you two first meet. He finds himself wanting to keep in touch with you after he's rescued you from the pirates, whether or not you are a pirate yourself.

He's proved before that he doesn't care about where you stand on that front. He just wants to hold your hand.

At first, he tries to get your attention by leaving you gifts. Anonymously, of course.

Training under Garp may have given him confidence in himself, but not confidence in his courting skills.

He leaves you little things like seashells he found along the beaches he came across that reminded him of you. Little flowers he came across while patrolling a town. Chocolates, if you're into those.

(He's getting all of his ideas from romance novels)

It takes him a long time to muster the courage to tell you who's leaving you those gifts.

Should you decide to accept him, I promise you that he's a great boyfriend.

He's attentive, and kind, and gives you everything that you want whenever he's able to. (His love languages are gift giving and quality time)

He makes time in his schedule for you. All of his vacation days are used up just for your dates.

He also enjoys just listening to you talk. He enjoys debating with you, just because he likes hearing your opinions and thoughts, even if sometimes he doesn't agree.

Also, he adores your style. Honestly, what someone wears isn't the first thing that catches his attention about people he's attracted to. It's their determination and their willpower that draws him in.

But he thinks you look cute in everything you choose to wear. Whether it be your crop tops and shorts, or your tanks and cargo jeans.

Really, he's just completely enamored by you.

Out of everyone, Koby is probably the most emotionally competent. At least, in the navy, he is. It's not often that you two have arguments. You understand that he does his best to make time for you, and he's very amenable to understanding you and how you work.

So when you two do get into arguments, Koby makes it a point to never raise his voice, no matter how frustrated he gets. He listens to what you have to say and is careful to change his behavior should he find you correct in what you're saying.

Relationships are a lot of work, but it's nothing he's not willing to do.

Honorable mentions!

Luffy

It's not that I thought he was obvious, although it was an obvious choice to me. It's that I think he might not be able to sit down for too long to have those long kinds of conversations that you seem to love. He's too hyper, he has to be doing something always. (and also he'd eat all your food)

I hope you enjoyed it 🥺

[punmonster]

Absolutely cannot wait until the day we see even a teeny tiny lil bit if Dante's backstory. Given how there are multiple factions with magic-adjacent tatoos, I wonder if Dante has anything similar, where even a peek of their skin would be enough to know entirely too much about them - like their former identity. Or perhaps it is there to further some part of Dante's development, good or bad. Or simply just make them seem more androgynous as well making it hard to tell their age, both things would help for hiding an identity for an extended period of time.

Additionally, when they first wake up in the forest [I think it was in D corp? Something about the trailer] and as their name on the UI still says 'Me', the place in which the word 'Manager' would soon be instead had three squares, the same ones used to censor anything else they say that we shall not yet know of - like how the word 'Aspect' seems to be replaced by six squares in their first line. This then leads me to two conclusions.

1] The organisation of which they first belonged is either a three letter word or a three letter acronym in a place of high authority, as where one would assume the word 'aspect' to be in the text keeps the same number of boxes as there are letters within the word. As of such, these should be noted if any creep up in any upcoming intervallos or cantos - especially any regarding the Head - but to make a guess, if the theory of them being part of the Head holds true, perhaps they held the role of 'Eye' or similar. The three squares are also later used in the context of a location, so perhaps they worked in a certain sect or office.

Plus there's the line from Lion regarding how what their master has planned technically isn't breaking any taboos of the City - this may then relate to how Dante turning back the clock is technically not breaking the Head's rules on reviving people, namely that it's very illegal. But does this then imply that their master has some affiliation with Limbus company? The three beasts [as I've taken to calling them] make no reaction at the sight of the sinners, so presumably not any of them, and they wear clothes with Iori's theming as well as being told by Vergie to report back to the serpent, which is more evidence in favour of Iori being part of LCs inner workings. Though this does present the question of her hypothetical endgame,but that can wait til another time.

2] I believe Dante's head has a self-censor in some of their thoughts, or at least has some effect on what exactly they think. The info about three and six-squares obviously is important, and presumably why exactly Dante had to get memory-wiped, but as they talk about it before their name reads 'Dante' I do worry about if they even remember it. Will we have any more moments of Dante's nametag going back to 'Me' where they're just an asshat for a bit then remember none of it? Their ability to only talk with the sinners may have also been planned with this in mind, to limit their options of conversational partners to only those they can't ask unwanted questions around, and to at least delay them getting back that information for an unknown purpose.

Those are then again my Dante Rambles and I am feeling a tad sleepy, so I shall be resting for the night. Good day!

-[⏰]

perhaps they even hath a birthmark in the shape of a spade on their hip

dantes censoring can also be seen in the observation logs (mostly those written by heathecliff). dante has also started being a bit sneaky and hiding information about how their memory retention works and what lies beyond the mirror doors. personally, i think the censoring is an engrained habit and that if shits bad enough theyll break out of it. from how im interpreting it... maybe its not that they need to actually censor those words. maybe its more show that concealment is a large part of their character.

god so much happened at the start that i don't remember. i was absorbing a lot at the time. yeah it looks like it was D corp, not A corp :p (though they are next to eachother i think)

[ch3irv3]

(joker voice) how do you feel about … chiscara, batman?

I thought I had already responded to this, but I just typed it out and forgot to post it??? I’m sorry for the super late response, omg.

You poor soul, you don't even realize what you've asked.

-> These are just my head canons so this may be very ooc. I'm sorry if that bothers you.

They’re 100% angst, no happy ending (I'm so sorry, joker </3).

The way Childe forgets about him in game is actually really funny. Imagine being so deeply in love with someone and then suddenly forgetting their existence entirely. My condolences chiscara fans.

We need to open up a case study on their relationship, I think.

They’d be so unhealthy for each other(least during pre-scara redemption arc, not sure about post, but we’ll see once they meet again). Scara seems like the type to bottle up his emotions and blow up when they get to be too much. Childe would probably push his boundaries, unknowingly. A tiresome on and off, but I wouldn’t necessarily say couple. They seem like they would be unlabeled (they are only together when scaramouche feels like it, with no regard to Childe’s feelings).

Doomed lovers.

Cringe analysis and HC warning !!

They’re perfect opposites of each other, but not in a "haha, opposites attract" kinda way; more like in a “I genuinely cannot fathom a way either of you two would get along or even see eye to eye.” They’re on both opposing sides of a spectrum.

Family isn’t a concept Scaramouche is all that familiar with, he’s been wandering around with all this resentment and anger towards Ei in his heart. The earliest and closest thing he’s ever had to family or at least what a mother is (he's had others, like kazuha's grandpa, but this experience with Ei was the catalyst for it all), or at least the concept of it, was probably what ever small time he spent with Ei in trying to become the stand in for the electro archon.

-> I’m delusional (and also a firm believer in trans Scara 🙏 so this would all be pre-transition), so walk with me for a second. I fully believe EI created Scara with the similar traits to Makoto (whether it be intentionally or unintentionally) because she could not come to terms with her sister’s passing, in futile attempt to lessen her grieving, she made him. But instead of bringing her closure, of which she desperately needed, he ended up becoming an ever present reminder of Makoto's death. Naturally, It eats away at her. He's so gentle, so human (as human as a puppet can be ig)... just like her (I wouldn't be surprised if he shares similar ideals to Makoto during this point). She doesn't dispose of him, like Yae suggested (and was more than willing to go through with, if given the chance) not only because she loved him, but because in doing so it would feel like loosing her again. She instead drifts him off into a peaceful slumber (but not without tears nor heartbreak).

Which is in stark contrast to Ajax. Now, that's not to say Childe's childhood or family (him and his father are definitely not on the best terms) was any better, but he is indeed a family man. He would have most likely gone even more insane after his time in the abyss if it weren’t for them. So a lot of what he does is for their sake (even if his father may not agree). He’s only ever thinking about them. He is devoted to two things, the tsaritsa (silly God-fearing man, lmao. tbh, he's got that catholic guilt look to him) and his family.

I feel like scara resents him the moment they meet. Ajax’s really ran away from home because things back home were getting boring. Scara would kill to be in his position honestly; a warm home and the loving embrace of a mother. Scara constantly battles with the feeling of being unwanted or replaceable (oh he needs so much therapy). Which is why he is constantly pushing others away, better to be by yourself than open yourself up to the possibility of getting abandon again and again.

[phoomwhoosh]

#Let Me Get That For You

Your latest chapter… My gosh I love that Mr. Miyagi is stepping in and much quicker this time…. Smart move on Terry’s part to have him escorted out because

1. Ha Ha! He’s afraid of the Keebler Elf!… and he should be.

2. This has all the feels of a Father confronting the unwanted suitor and he absolutely cannot handle Mr. Miyagi in Father mode.

Kick his ass again Mr. Miyagi!!!

And I love that romantic shit goes right over Daniel’s head.

The one thing I’ve always wanted to see in your fics is Terry’s POV. What is going on inside this madman’s head that he thinks Daniel would be so willing to forgive him and give a relationship a try?

I think Terry wants him willing, but knows he’ll never have that (yet at the same time is unable to face that), so he settles for Daniel’s fear. As much as he gets off on hurting him, he ultimately wants him willing.

Somewhere in all this he blames Daniel for his feelings and wants to punish him for it. Which is why ends up hurting him.

One stalker in a movie told his victim “if you won’t love me, then you’ll fear me.”

I feel like that’s Terry’s mentality in most of your fics.

Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic so much! I'm putting my responses under a cut for length:

Mr. Miyagi doesn't want Daniel to have to deal with Terry's antics anymore. He really is going into Father Mode and it kills him that he can't legally do anything yet. (I don't think Miyagi's willing to do prison time......yet. XD)

Daniel being oblivious to anyone's feelings is honestly fun and a little sad to write. Like, he can love with all of his heart but does not often expect that from others.

Writing Terry's POV is something that I've been tempted to do in the past.....maybe one day hehehe

But you definitely hit the nail on the head with this Terry! He really does want Daniel to be willing but, since he isn't, he starts going for the fear factor. After all, Danny boy does look so pretty when he's frightened. But then he sees that somebody else has hurt Daniel and the urge to see him afraid is replaced by anger that he's been hurt by another person.

I've always believed that a part of Terry really liked Daniel (romantically or platonically, whichever is your flavor) but his loyalty to Kreese was unshakable so he stuck with the plan to betray Daniel. However, once that loyalty is shaken...

Also, apologies for taking so long to answer this one. I've had it in my drafts and just haven't had time to respond properly until now.

[shadendesire]

I hate this. I hate having broken down. And still feel like I am crumbling. Everything else seems so much more important and all the little things blow up to massive problems. I have zero energy, & cannot tell what is my physical problems (which I have to keep track of if I am going to monitor my disease without regular doctors appointments) & what is in my head or entirely made up. I slept for 13 hours yesterday (nearly it Saturday). I barely managed not to sleep for much more. If I had not had the game I would have. And that caused me to feel like I was an absolutely shit player.

I puked my guts out right in front of everyone in the house Saturday. It wasn’t quiet or discrete like I try to keep them when others are present. It was a hacking, coughing fit, that I am still experiencing coughs from. The fact that there were at least 6 people in the house moving things around, packing up, disassembling everything did not help in the slightest (especially as that much dust can totally screw with me). The fact that the juice I had gotten when walking home Friday went quicker than expected did not help (and I hate my brain for thinking if I drank it all or if it just did not get replaced). Which spirals me to the worry over my funds being dry for the next month or more because of shitty doctor, managing the one trip I can allow myself this year, repay the debt I owe both friends & bill companies/apartments, both counting pills and trying to stretch to cover for insurance to kick in, and being a burden/worthless/unwanted. And I know all of this is blown far too much out of proportion, not to mention ridiculous. But I still cannot stop it. Just like I cannot stop the thoughts of me feeling pushed into the room or out of the apartment while it all went on, & unable to have spoons to try and be sociable or help even if I did not feel that way.

And then when I did manage to wake for a little after the sleep I fell into fitfully after the game I could not find my mouse, come to to find the apartment deserted and bare (reminding me too much of the past few years selling off everything I own or having to discard it), and going to put my stuff up and finding my chess set had been damaged when things were being moved around. Yes I have it delicately fixed, but with it now like this I am scared to even consider using it anymore. It’s older than me by many years or decades, and even considering the thought of putting it away seems ridiculous. I know it’s nothing special, and even where I got it is tied with shitty memories, but it is one of the few things I always adored. Even if I no longer have the mind for it.

But with today I worry if I have even a body much longer. I still just want to sleep, I have not eaten much or kept it down since I broke last week. I am altering wildly between too hot and cold. Running a slight fever & the thought of drinking tap water nearly turns my stomach. Which itself is volatile in general & made worse by whatever smell is emanating from the fridge & broken freezer. Which in all the chaos of packing is apparently being overlooked of needing to clean out. And is the one thing I know I cannot manage to do myself (why I always kept mine so low stocked since everything began).

I know I should go to the doctor of one kind or another, before my body sends me to the emergency room. Or at least tell someone. (Especially since it took an effort to even bring myself to be on social networks, and likely am signing back off after this. They don’t provide any relief in a state like this and even make things worse. And I am just so tired already) But goddess knows what already all of that tells me back to everything here.

[seaside-apothecary]

Cleansing basics for beginner witches, practitioners, and spiritual people.

One of the most important things to learn when beginning witchcraft is something beginner witches are told all the time. And that is protection is the most important skill a witch could have. But, one thing I noticed when beginning is that finding information about practitioner’s basic practices is hard, even when they do want to share it. I will go over the four important steps of protection in my practice and how I do them. Those steps are cleansing, banishing, warding/shielding, and protection. And all of these are beginner friendly and beginner safe. This post will cover what cleansing is, what cleansing is not, ways to cleanse, why you should cleanse, and when you should cleanse.

Banishing post

Warding & shielding post

Protection post

What is cleansing? What is cleansing not?

Cleansing, to put simply is to use some form of purification to release not beneficial or stagnant energy. Then, to bring in either a complete neutral field to start from ground up, or to replace with beneficial energy. Cleansing is not banishing or protection. Cleansing in my practice will not banish unwanted spirits or not welcomed guests, it will also not protect you from said spirits or guests. It will simply help with clearing your area of energy, energetic debris, and our sacred spaces. 

Why should I cleanse? When should I cleanse?

I found in my practice it is a good idea to cleanse because it helps to clear my mind and emotions. When I have not cleansed for a while my head feels heavy, foggy, and hurts I also get irritable. I think it is a good idea to cleanse before any of the other steps to truly be able to sit down with yourself and think about what you should do for the next couple of steps of the protection process. As for when, I cannot answer that for you. That is the beauty of witchcraft, you get to decide when you do your craft and how much time and energy into it. I personally try to aim for twice a week, once at the beginning and once at the end of the week. Even if it is just a few claps and squirts with my cleansing water. But, sometimes that is not realistic and I only cleanse myself and my space once a month. I like to cleanse before doing my spell work so it is just the energy I invite in for that spell at that moment. But, it is entirely up to you. If you can and want to cleanse every day, good for you. If you can only cleanse once every few months, that is fine too. Do what makes you comfortable. 

How to cleanse:

Now to the fun part. How to cleanse. There are many ways to cleanse, and picking out a way that works best for you is trial and error. Cleansing can be done by:

🌱 Smoke cleansing (not smudging or sainting, both are closed practices and not the same as smoke cleansing)

🌱 Sound cleansing

🌱 Element cleansing

🌱 Meditation

🌱 Visualization

🌱 Sweeping or movement m

🌱 Salt

🌱 Fire

🌱 Praying

🌱 Cleaning 

The list is endless, these are a few basics and a few are umbrella ways of cleansing. Cleansing is something so personal and it can be changed to fit what you do. A basic and safest way of cleansing for beginners is sound. There is no fire involved so not danger of your house burning down or you getting burnt. But, sound cleansing can be as simple as a song being played that makes you feel light and air like, or clapping a couple times with intent, or singing, or banging some books together. Very cheap and basic and no danger of damage to yourself or your property. 

Another way to find out what cleansing method might work for you is based on astrology. I am a Libra sun, with a Gemini moon and my leading planet of my chart is Saturn. All are air elements, so I find smoke cleansing and sound cleansing to be very beneficial for me. If you are an earth sign salt and meditation might work better for you, fire sign fire and chanting, water signs water and visualization. Just test out new ways to cleanse and document how each method did or did not help. And, it is okay if it does not work or help. That does not make you a fake or bad witch. It makes you a learning and improving witch, the best kind. Blessed be 🌒🌕🌘

Sources

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Evermore

Simon Basset x Reader

Words: 2319

Summary: While residing in the same house, Simon and his wife could not be further apart. His resistance to love may cost him the only thing he holds dear while he can merely stand and watch it fade. 

Notes: I love Simon waaaaaaay too much. I have been dying to write for him, so please please let me know what you think! 

More period dramas: HERE

-

I never needed anybody in my life

I learned the truth too late

From this spot, he had a view of the entire garden. He watched as you strolled between the flowers, pausing occasionally to smell a particular bloom. You used to walk together, but now, he could hardly bear to even look at the gardens. Seeing you there sent a feeling through his heart that he could not rid himself of. It was better this way. The happiness that you had felt in your first few months of marriage was an illusion. Simon knew that he could never truly make you happy, no matter how badly he wanted to. Still, these days of silence ate at his soul. 

You felt his gaze upon you before you spotted him in a second-story window. Looking up from the rose in your hand, you held his stare with your own, as if daring him to come out from behind his closed doors. This was the first time you’d seen your husband in two days and even when you had seen each other, it was in passing, shrouded in bitter quiet. 

You looked away first, dropping your flower and storming back into the house with renewed frustration. From the corner of your eye, you could see him vanish from the window, probably to disappear into his office for yet another day of avoidance. Through your anger, your heart ached. He never explained his sudden hatred towards you. One night, he simply stopped speaking to you. When you confronted him, he’d shouted and shut himself away in his room. No word between you had been uttered since. 

To fill your lonely hours, you walked the length of the house. Clyvedon was a beautiful estate and offered at least some distraction from your empty heart. This time, however, your usual path was interrupted. 

“Your grace,” You greeted coolly. It was odd to see him in this part of the house, so far away from his usual fortress. He rarely left his office anymore. “I must say, I am surprised to see you away from your desk. You have been married to your work recently.” You put as much venom into your words as you could muster. For a moment, you thought you saw him flinch. 

“Y/N, I understand you are uncomfortable with our current situation-”

“Uncomfortable?” You exclaimed furiously. “You think that I am uncomfortable? This is not an ill fitting dress or-or a pebble in my shoe. I saw you in that window and I couldn’t breathe. Even now, it feels like my heart is trying to leap out of my chest and give itself to you, for maybe that will finally be enough for you.” His eyes shifted to the window, desperately trying to escape your hateful stare. 

“You are more than enough for me-”

“Then tell me, your Grace,” You spat, “why you can’t even bring yourself to look at me!” You had raised your voice beyond what was proper, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to see the anguish that this forced solitude was bringing you. “Explain to me how we can be making love one morning and by that afternoon, you can hardly utter a word to me. Look at me, Simon! For God’s sake just look at me.” 

Whatever his reasoning for coming to you was lost to him now. He could only hear the anger and frustration in your voice. The hatred you must hold for him. While his eyes finally found yours, it felt as though he was looking past you. 

“I presume you will be eating in your quarters again.” Was all he said. The return of his indifference was the final straw for you. Having had enough, you charged off to find the furthest place in the house away from him. Simon watched you go in quiet agony, cursing himself for being unable to shut out his affection for you. He told himself again that this was how it must be. If only that was enough. 

-

Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

He wasn’t sure how late it was, but his eyes were starting to burn from staring at documents all night. He could hardly keep them open. Setting his work aside, he ran a hand down his face, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes, and slowly dimmed his lamp until the light was gone. When he looked up, he found you standing in the doorway, shrouded in shadow. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you looked like a spirit in your white nightgown and tear stained face. 

“Why are you not in bed?” He questioned, only half awake himself. 

“I came to…” The words caught in your throat, making them sound garbled and broken. You stepped into the moonlight and composed yourself. “I came to say goodbye.” Simon froze. 

“What?”

“I have arranged for a carriage to take me back to London at dawn.” You stared blankly at him, your face sunken and despaired. He hadn’t realized the depths of the misery he had caused you until now. “My presence is clearly unwanted and I feel that we may live our lives more peacefully apart.” 

“I see you’ve already made up your mind on the matter.” Simon scoffed, the pain your words inflicted fueling anger. You didn’t reply. Instead, you turned and started back down the dark hallway to your quarters. He caught your arm before you got too far. “You cannot just leave.” 

“I see no reason to stay, your grace.” 

“You are my wife.” He growled. Finally, your sullen exterior broke away to reveal the anger burning inside of your chest, threatening to swallow you. 

“Am I?” You jerked your arm away, stumbling backwards in the dark. “Because these past few days I’ve felt like a stranger, wandering these beautiful halls, looking for something in them to keep me here. There is nothing but emptiness and grief and pain and I cannot-” 

He placed a hand on your cheek, your words halting on your tongue. You stepped closer into his touch, a touch that you had been aching to feel for days. Simon dipped his head down, bringing your lips slowly to his own. 

His movements were fast and urgent, his lips moving against yours like he depended on you for breath. You felt the familiar feeling rush over you. It was the intense feeling you’d felt so many times at the beginning of your marriage, one you had feared you’d never feel again. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Simon, wait.” You pushed back, trying to find anything in his eyes that could explain to you why he’d been acting so distant. “Talk to me, my love.” 

He tried. He wanted so desperately to be able to share with you his fears, but every time he opened his mouth he felt like that stuttering little boy again. Your gaze pleaded with him. 

“Please, say something.” Still no response. You pulled out of his grasp forcefully, that feeling fleeing just as quickly as it had come. “Tomorrow, I am leaving for London. At least there I will not be reminded how little I must mean to you.” 

You gave him no chance to reply, vanishing into the dark night while he furiously went back into his office, knocking almost every paper off his desk. Simon craved to follow you back to your quarters and show you what you really meant to him, but his feelings didn’t matter. You were miserable and it was his doing. 

Still, the idea of being away from you, the feeling of abandonment sunk into him like sharp claws. It was dark and grim and kept him awake, pacing back and forth in the confines of his office. That night, he did not get a moment’s rest. 

-

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

Days passed, each one quieter and darker than the last. You were gone. He had watched your carriage leave from his window, solemn and alone. Each day he waited. He waited to hear the rattling of the carriage, the pounding of the horse’s hooves. He left the door to his office open as if he expected you to walk in like nothing had happened. In fact, he hardly left his office at all in hopes that his waiting would conjure you somehow. 

It was the fifth day of your absences when he received the letter. Lady Danbury started by inquiring as to why his wife was in London unaccompanied, but it was the end of the letter that sent an icy fear through his blood. You had fallen ill and had doctors in and out of the house for the last two days. While she did not know the severity of your illness she had heard that you had been bed ridden and unable to take any visitors. She feared the worst. 

Simon didn’t waste a second readying his horse and taking off towards the city. It didn’t matter how many hours the ride took, he went on without stopping. His horse sped through the city, having little care for the foot traffic around him. Hastings house stretched ominously over him, adding to the dread filling his chest. He didn’t wait for a servant to open the door, he didn’t wait to be shown to your room. He ran through the halls like a mad man only to find your quarters empty. 

“Your Grace?” Your lady's maid gasped, nearly dropping the bundle of fabrics she was carrying. “I-I thought you were staying in-”

“Where is she?” He barked, making her jump. He didn’t mean to frighten the poor girl, but he did not have the patients for explanation. 

“S-she’s having tea with Lady Danbury in the drawing room.” The girl squeaked. His confusion was quickly replaced by rage and he stormed into the drawing room, Lady’s Danbury’s letter crumpled in his fist. Your eyes widened at the sight of your husband, sweating and disheveled. 

“Simon, what are you-”

“Your Grace, how wonderful for you to join us.” Lady Danbury smiled triumphantly. 

“Is this meant to be some kind of cruel joke to you?” He snapped viciously. You’d never seen him this way before and, frankly, it frightened you. Lady Danbury didn’t seem phased. “My life is not a game for you to meddle in!” 

“Someone had to show you how much you stand to lose, your Grace.” She said, keeping incredibly calm under the circumstances. 

“How dare you.” Simon was seething. “You wretched woman-”

“Simon!” You exclaimed, jumping up from your seat. “A word, your Grace.” You opened the door to the garden and waited outside for him to join you. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Simon glared. Lady Danbury stood and walked past him with enviable elegance. 

“Don’t lose her, your Grace. Not when she’s finally made you believe in love.” She left without further comment. 

Simon finally walked out and you resisted the urge to slap him. Your fists were balled at your sides and you were walking furiously back and forth on the path. 

“How dare you come here and speak to my guest in such a manner.” You wanted to scream and cry and kiss him all at once. “What on earth are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Lady Danbury sent me a lie in order to get me to come here.” He finally let the exhaustion of his ride rush over him and he leaned against the wall. 

“And what lie could have been so great to get you to leave your office?” You scoffed. Simon’s face softened. 

“She said that you were ill.” He said quietly, his voice betraying the truth. For those few hours before he arrived were the most terrifying he’d ever experienced. “I thought that… I was afraid I would lose you.” 

“You haven’t seemed that concerned these past weeks.” You muttered in irritation. Simon’s face fell. 

“Do you really believe that?” He asked with such pain in his voice it nearly broke your heart. “That I am not concerned for your well being? That I do not care if you are hurt or-or sick?” 

“What else am I to believe, Simon?” You said, exasperated and exhausted with his constantly shifting moods towards you. “You avoid me at all costs when I am with you, you have suspended any affection towards me, and now you tell me that you came all this way because you thought I was ill? I don’t understand you, your grace, I truly don’t.” 

“Everything I have done has been for your benefit.” He stepped towards you. “My affection towards you runs deeper than I could possibly explain and that is why I cannot condemn you to a life cast into my darkness.” His eyes did not look through you now. Rather, they pierced down to your very soul. You stood in shock, trying to find the right words to convey your true feelings. 

“Simon…” You gasped, laying a hand on his chest to feel his racing heartbeat. “You are not a shadow. You are the moon. Yes, you have darkness. Yes there are parts of you that I do not yet understand, but that does not mean I do not wish to know you. You are the guiding light in my darkest nights. You are my husband and I love you.” 

You wrapped your arms around him and brought his lips to yours. It was like your first kiss, hesitant at first, but soon evolved with passion and need. Simon cupped your face in his hands and vowed. 

“I will not hide my love from you again. I will cherish you the way you are meant to be. And I will remind you how dear you are to me every moment I can.” He brushed a joyous tear from your cheek. “For evermore.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 4

Chapter 3

Warning: mention of torture? Light victim blaming, Lucifer, Satan, and Beel commit murder.

“I see,” Diavolo had a contemplative look on his face. The demon lord, often seen with a jovial, bright smile plastered upon his face, now had replaced it with a more serious look as Lucifer explained just what had happened to his brother. “And you’re positive this is what happened to Mammon?”

“Asmo is certain enough that he would stake his title as Avatar of Lust on it.” Satan spoke up.

“I see, if that’s the case then I will permit you up to the human world to pay these women a visit. Make sure they suffer, all three of you.” The warmth in his voice, his eyes, now replaced with a cold tone and a wrathful look, absolutely enraged that a demon not just under his rule, but in his cabinet no less had been assaulted in this manner. He may have failed in protecting the Avatar of Greed from this but he would see to it that a crime this grave never happened again to one of his subjects. “I’d would go in your stead to deal with them myself, but I will stay behind and work to pass legislation to ban the making of pacts freely. This will not happen again; I swear it on my life and my throne.”

And with Diavolo’s permission the three Avatars were off, out for blood for the travesty that befell their brother. Once they were gone, Diavolo turned to his butler.

“Barbatos, did you foresee this at all? Was there not anything we could have done differently to prevent this?” For as angry as he is, the demon lord feels a certain sense of guilt for what happened to the white-haired demon. What kind of ruler cannot protect one of his subjects from something so heinous?

“In another reality, yes.” He nodded, “But never in this one specifically, my Lord.”

“What happens next?”

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The three Avatars stand outside the residence of the witches. Lucifer is the first to step forward, demon form manifesting from the wrath coursing through his being. The aura he emits is suffocating to all around him. A knock on the door is all the courtesy he plans to give them tonight.

When the door opens, there is a collective gasp.

“L-Lord Lucifer,” One of the sisters steps back as the three demons barge their way inside the building. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit from not only you, but your younger brothers as well?”

“Do not. DO NOT ACT AS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO OUR BROTHER!” Satan roars, his demon for making its appearance. He’s ready to go on the attack however it’s Lucifer that stops him with a simple wave of the hand.

“We know everything you’ve done.” The eldest’s voice is cold, gaze calculated. “You’ve not only laid a hand on one of my brothers, but my favorite one at that. That in and of itself is enough to warrant your deaths, but to cause him such suffering will ensure they are not quick.

With another wave of his hand, the Avatar of Pride bound the three women before letting his brothers have a go at the other two. The eldest was his.

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Asmo took a step into his brother’s room and was devastated to see the look on his brother’s face. He looked so broken; his cheeks soaked with tears as Asmo heard Arella speaking.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re not strong enough for it. I’m sure there are alternatives we could find if you can’t. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all will help you if you decide to go through with this.”

The demon’s curiosity was piqued. Just what we’re they talking about?

“’Rella, I can’t ask that of any of you. This is my punishment for bein’ so powerless.”

Asmodeus cleared his throat to gain her their attention.

“What are you two talking about? Did something else happen?”

Arella only picked up the phone and handed it to him. What he saw was enough to pull a gasp from the demon. It made him sick.

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As soon as it had begun, the torture was over. None of the three brothers had even broken a sweat at this point. The witches hadn’t even lasted that long. Blood and viscera coat the floor, bones stick out from odd places, one has pieces missing from her body here and there- bite marks and missing flesh, even a missing arm- all courtesy of the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Beel, are you hungry or has anger tided your hunger?”

“I'm famished,” The Avatar of Gluttony confirmed.

“Go ahead and dispose of their bodies then. Make sure no trace of them remains.” The Avatar of Pride nods to his younger brother.

It was then that they heard it- the screaming cry of a frightened baby. The sound was easy to miss over the shrieking and wailing- the pleas for mercy that would never come. One by one, their heads turned to the sound just upstairs as they all came to terms with the fact that a child had been born from this travesty.

Satan was the first to move as he climbed the stairs. Just off to the right was a tiny nursery and lying in the crib, he found the child. All of his instincts were screaming at him to do away with the infant. He almost did had it not been for Lucifer’s hand placed on his shoulder. They were soon joined by Beel as all three of them peered down at the tiny child below them.

“What do we do?” Beel asked.

“Do we take them with us? Or do we leave them to the proverbial wolves?”

Both brothers looked to the eldest, demanding an answer. For the first time, the Avatar of Pride doesn’t have the answer. Does he take the life of an innocent child or does he subject his brother to a lifetime of suffering? It's an impossible decision to make where either party ultimately loses in the end.

Lucifer reaches down and takes the infant into his arms, a pained look on his face as he scrutinizes the infant’s appearance. Suddenly, he’s flashing back to his time as an angel, back to the first time he ever held Mammon in his arms. The child is an exact carbon copy of their father, no apparent features from his mother or her sisters, this was the best case scenario, but the little one looks sickly- likely due to the lack of demonic influence that would have been received from their father had he been present during the pregnancy.

Finally, after remaining silent for what felt like eternity Lucifer spoke up. “The child doesn’t look long from this world. We’ll wait for morning. If they survive the night, we’ll take them with us- let Mammon decide what to do with them.”

The other two nodded as Beel went back downstairs to finish the meal he had started.

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

“You don’t have to take him, Mammon.” Asmo kept staring at the photo on his brother’s D.D.D. as he spoke.

“He has no one else, Asmo,” The white-haired demon frowns. “I can’t just leave him to die and it’s not like I can just give ‘im away either. As much as I hate it, he’s the heir to everything I am- the next Avatar of Greed, the next ruler of the fourth layer. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll force myself to look past what happened to me. This isn’t his fault, so why punish him for the crimes of his mother and her sisters? He’s innocent in all this.”

“Even now,” the Avatar of Lust chuckled sadly, “after all these years, you still have the heart of an angel, don’t you? You aren’t thinking about what this will do to you, are you? He’ll be a constant reminder of your trauma. Is that really fair to you?”

“It isn't, but when has life ever been fair? If life was fair, we wouldn’t ’ve lost Lilith- wouldn't ‘ve fallen from the Celestial Realm.” He wiped at his eyes.

“No. It’s not, but I still think this is a bad idea for you. None of us will stop you if this is what you want to do but you shouldn’t do it just out a sense of obligation.” Asmo placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You should only keep him if you want to.”

At the look of resignation on Mammon’s face, Arella placed a hand on his back. “We’re here if you need us. If it gets to be too much, I can help care for him, okay?” She echoes the words she had said previously.

“Babe, you don’t-”

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” She smiled softly. “We’re in this together. All of us.” She looked to the strawberry blonde demon as he nodded in agreement.

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Satan sat in the rocking chair next to the crib while Lucifer was on the phone notifying Diavolo of the situation as well as speaking to Arella in regards to the baby. He studied his nephew, wondering just what might happen to the little boy. Over the hours since finding him here, the tiny half-demon seemed to be getting stronger- likely from just being in the presence of his brothers and him. It was apparent that the child would be coming with them. He wondered what his brother’s reaction would be to the infant. Demons were known to kill unwanted offspring out of panic.

It was the circle of life, the blonde supposed. Not what the child deserved, but if it led to that, there was really nothing anyone could do. He was drawn from his thoughts as quiet chirps sounded from the boy. He watched as the infant brought his little hand to his mouth and he started squirming in the mass of blankets he was swaddled in.

The Avatar of Wrath looked around for a bottle or really anything that could be a source of nourishment. Of course, the newborn would get hungry eventually- that's essentially all babies at this age, eat and sleep. The demon finally finds a mini fridge on the wall opposite the crib, right next to the changing table. He had never fed a baby before but he would be willing to try as long as it kept the boy satisfied and kept him from crying. A trial by fire as they say.

Rocking the infant carefully, he slowly got up and retrieved a bottle from the fridge. It was a lot smaller than he thought an infant should take but it was good enough for the time being. Thankfully there was a bottle warmer placed on a nightstand near the crib. He placed it inside, setting the temperature at that of a human’s normal body temperature. When the milk was sufficiently heated, he gave it to the child who then suckled it down rather quickly,

“Hey now, there’s no need to suck it down so fast. You'll choke if you’re not careful.”

Lucifer had rejoined at him at this point. The scene of his brother trying so hard to feed the baby almost made him chuckle. “I can take him, if you’d like, Satan.”

“Please, I really don’t know how to do this.” He pulled the bottle away so he could transfer the child to his older brother.

“It won’t be long until the dawn. Gather up some of his things as we’ll be taking him with us. I just got off the phone with Arella. She told me Mammon plans on keeping the him.” Lucifer only sighed, wondering if the Avatar of Greed was only doing this out of a sense of obligation and responsibility.

Green to yellow gradient eyes widen in surprise at the statement. “He’s planning on keeping him? I figured he wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

“As did I but, for all of our brother’s flaws, he’s still genuinely a good person. I don’t think he can really leave behind someone who needs him- especially an innocent child.” Lucifer looks down at the child who has now finished the bottle. “Hand me a rag.”

“Why?”

“Well, I would prefer not to be spat up on and now that he’s finished eating, he needs to be burped.” The eldest moved the infant to rest against his shoulder as Satan handed him the nearest rag he could find. “Babies aren’t capable of burping on their own. Now, go gather his things. I’ll tend to him for the time being."

Next

Masterlist 2

[shoutogepi]

Red Roses

Kirishima Eijirou

word count : 7.5k

[ ✘ (nsfw!), flowershop!au ]  

themes : haaaa where to begin… almost dubcon?? (BEWARE!), dom!kiri, size kink!kiri, light spanking, tinyyy bit of ass play, little use of “Sir”

bio : Kirishima decides to educate you on the alternative meaning behind a red rose.

author’s note : this fic was meant to be for the @bnhabookclub​ provisional licensing exam event using their flowershop!au, but alas... i am a lazy procrastinator. anyway you should check them out!! i’ve absolutely loved being a part of something so great. also thanks to all who helped me with this fic <3 buuut special thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​​ for beta reading <3

tagging: @queensynderella @marilla-eldriana @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @hisoknen 

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he bell tinkles overhead as you step into the quaint store, palm clammy against the metal doorknob and chest tight with apprehension.

“Y/N! Thank god for you,” your friend exclaims from behind the register, sliding over the counter with ease. She shoves the apron she’s holding into your hands before attempting to throw her hair into a messy bun. “I cannot believe my sitter cancelled on me this last minute— my husband has to be out of the house in ten minutes!”

You smile at her gratefulness, but your eyes are not on her. The curtains on the back room part and out steps the store owner, red eyes landing on you. “Y/N,” he greets you, the timbre of his voice low and cool. You nod and smile hesitantly toward him, shifting your attention back to your friend even though you can feel his gaze raking over your body.

Yuki wags a disapproving finger toward the man behind the counter, “Kiri, you better take good care of her!” She commands with a playful yet firm tone, body already halfway through the door you’d just come in through.

Your entire being screams out for you to beg her to stay, but you hold your tongue as you recall it was you who said you’d cover her shift. She already seems to have had the stress lifted from her shoulders at your arrival, and you can’t bear to back out after coming all the way here.

Looking back toward the source of your stress, you can’t help but admire him. Scarlet locks hang down around his face, majority pulled back into a sleek, short ponytail to give you a better view of his handsome face— jawline sharp as his teeth and the scar on his forehead slicing through his brow. He’s tall; well over six foot with rippling muscles adorning his long, tan arms. He’s wearing a crisp, white button down rolled up to the elbows, black and red ink poking out of the hem and trailing down his forearms. The store’s pine green apron is pulled snug around his figure, accentuating his broad chest and narrow hips. You already know his ass looks incredible, even though it’s hidden by the plastic countertop. He’s a five course meal on legs, for Christ’s sake, but you know better than to get ideas— he’s a player.

“Of course,” Kirishima replies across the store after her retreating form. His eyes drift over to you, catching your stare. “I’ll take great care of her.”

The door closes, sealing you to your fate with the red beast of a man. For a moment you just stand there, frozen as your mind runs through a thousand thoughts. Before he can comment about your blatant staring, you rip your eyes away from his, throwing the neck of the apron above your head. Tugging the tie around the back of your waist, your fingers fumble with the thick material as you turn to face him again. “So what should I work on?”

He seems amused at your question, even though it’s extremely valid. Not even bothering to hide the generous once-over he gives you when you've finally tightened the bow behind your back, he takes his time to answer you. “Yuki usually does the ordering for next week’s shipments tonight, but I’ll do that. You can put together some bouquets— I’ll give you one to follow off of.”

You’re honestly surprised that he’s giving you real work to do, but then again, you are covering a shift after all. Kirishima shows you the corner behind the counter designated for bouquet assembly, and he helps you make the first bouquet before he slips away behind the curtains of the back room once again, leaving you alone in the store.

He’d picked a simple bouquet for you to reproduce; a dozen red roses with a few sprigs of baby’s breath and a touch of greenery. The work is pleasantly methodic to complete, and by the time the sky is dark, a small sense of pride blooms in your chest at the pile of bouquets you’d managed to complete. It’s five minutes to close, and not a single customer has come into the store in the last hour. You’re snipping the ends off of the last branch of baby’s breath when you hear the rustle of the curtains behind you.

Immediately the atmosphere of the room changes. The once warm and light mood that filled the shop dissipates, replaced with a heavy, silent tension that causes trepidation to ooze into your veins.

“These look pretty good, Y/N,” Kirishima speaks from behind you, thick fingers moving over the packages of cellophane in a slow, analytical sweep. You roll your eyes, wondering if he’d thought you’d do a shit job or something.

You open your mouth to give him a curt thanks, but your voice dies in your throat as you feel his presence a hair’s breadth from your backside. The heat that rolls off of him licks at your skin through your clothes, your hands fixed midair.

“Though this one’s a little off,” he murmurs, breath washing over the shell of your ear. His hands come into your field of vision, arms absurdly thick and just generally large in comparison to you. His hands are just as big, dwarfing yours as he plucks the dainty flower from your stiff fingers.

The tattoos that peek out from the cuff of his sleeves hold a certain gravity that captures your stare. You watch him tuck the stem among the bouquet in your peripheral, placing it in precisely the perfect location to make the ensemble flawless.

Your stomach lurches when his chest brushes against your shoulders, fingers turning in on themselves to form to meager fists that you place atop the counter. “There,” he whispers, and you can feel just how close his lips are to touching your ear.

His voice does something to you; up close like this it sounds almost akin to how a tiger’s purr rumbles through its whole body. Except it’s your body that it thunders through, an unwanted heat beginning to form between your thighs. You shift your legs slightly, bringing your feet closer together in an attempt to mitigate the sensation.

You nearly gasp when he pulls away, eyelids fluttering shut in relief.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” he comments, returning to the pile of bouquets that rest along the countertop. He starts to tuck them into his arms, red gaze flickering to gauge your expression. There’s a knowing gleam in his eyes, and you try your best not to allow heat to flood into your cheeks. But he doesn’t push it any further, turning and walking around the counter to crouch in front of one of the fridges that line the wall. You find yourself wishing for the cool air to wash over your own face, and you grab a few bouquets before making your way over to him.

You kneel down next to him, slightly annoyed that even sitting down he’s still at least a head taller than you. Stupid proportional man. You open the door and prop it open against your hip, leaning in to place the fresh bouquets inside an empty bucket, following Kirishima’s lead.

Kirishima watches you from the corner of his eye for a moment. “Thank you,” he says as he continues to fill the buckets in front of him, “for filling in for Yuki, I mean. The shop doesn’t look too busy but it needs two people to keep it up and running, so… I appreciate you coming in.”

His words are unexpected, and they bring a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks. You’d never seen the playboy be so openly appreciative before, although honestly you’ve only seen the fuckboy side of him— the one that eyes you down, and blatantly flirts with you when you come to visit your friend during her shifts. “Of course, Kiri,” you reply automatically. The burning in your cheeks only intensifies when you realize you’ve addressed him so informally, but when you turn to apologize to him, you find he’s much too close for comfort. He’s leaned in, taking you by surprise as the scent of his deep, savory cologne wafts into your face. Those carmine eyes piece into yours, making your stomach fill with butterflies, flapping round your stomach in a concoction of nerves and— you hate to admit it— hunger.

“You’ve done such good work today, Y/N,” he nearly whispers, and you watch as his full lips part to utter the words, sharp fangs glinting at you. Before you lose yourself to the moment, he stands, mollifying the intensity and severing you from the invisible string that pulls your gaze to his. You hesitantly take the hand he reaches out to you, trying not to think about how truly huge it is compared to yours. He pulls you up effortlessly, and you still as his other hand comes to touch the back of your waist when you all but collide into his chest. “Sorry,” he says but you wouldn’t deem his tone apologetic, “you’re so dainty, y’know— like a flower.”

You turn on your heel to face the other direction, hoping he doesn’t notice how much his comment affects you; you’re sure you look like a bird with fluffed, ruffled feathers— you certainly feel that way at least. You let out an awkward laugh as you take a hasty step toward the register, your body wanting nothing more than to rid itself of this infuriatingly delicious heat that Kirishima’s words create underneath your skin, licking and crawling along your bones. Finding yourself safely harbored behind the counter once again, your eyes fall to the nearly-completed bouquet you were just wrapping up when Kirishima exited the back room. Your fingers reach for a sprig of greenery, flat wide leaves fanning out in an elegant manner that could only accentuate the beauty and simplicity of the red bouquet.

But your sense of security is proven false, for Kirishima’s deep, demanding voice trickles like honey into your ears. “Red roses are accepted as the symbol of love all around the world,” he pauses for dramatic effect, and you hate to admit you’re left teetering on the edge of your metaphorical seat waiting for his next words, “but true florists know they convey another meaning.”

By the clarity of his diction you can tell he’s standing not far behind you, probably a step or two away. You can feel your heart rate spike again, your breath catching as you wonder what his next move will be. “And what’s that?” You reply dryly but it comes out more like a breathless whisper.

His thick forearms intrude your vision and settle on either side of your figure, leaving just a touch of space from your flesh. Your nearly shaking fingers drop the twig of leaves when he reaches between your hands, plucking a single thorny stem from the assembly before you and holding the soft, velvety petals to the tip of your nose. He doesn’t have to say the words for you to know to take a sniff of the blossom, and you inhale as much as your lungs will take before he answers your question, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“Desire.”

Your body freezes completely, too shocked to even draw in a breath of air, when his pointy teeth graze the very tip of your ear. Jaw hanging at his sheer impudence, you’re still as a statue when he moves the soft swell of the bloom across your far cheek, soft petals trailing along your fiery skin. The action tickles slightly, causing your head to turn toward his face that hangs down above your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” he coos, and again there’s that rumble in his voice that resonates through your frame. He drops the flower, not caring to even spare a glance as it falls from his fingertips. The digits move to cup your chin, middle finger pushing the corner of your jaw to swing your face directly in front of his. Simmering red eyes stare deep into yours, flickering toward your lips briefly before he decides he no longer wants to drag this out.

You’re horrified to moan so unabashedly when his lips press against yours in a vicious siege, dominating them and claiming them as his. His kiss is rough, as if he can’t hold himself back from his beast-like passion, yet it’s much more meaningful and encaptivating than you’d imagined it would be. His arm slithers around your hips to place his hand atop your ribs. Your eyes widen at his undisguised motive, and you open your mouth to call him out— but before you can pull away to tell him to stop, his tongue slips between your lips. Knees wobbly at the sudden intrusion, your tongue begins to move with his, stroking, and swirling, and tangling into one sexy, sloppy mess. His hand slips from its place on your ribs, drifting underneath the side of your apron and cupping your entire breast— not much of a challenge for his large palm.

Kirishima moans into your mouth at your acceptance, and you can only croak out a small whimper of reciprocation. His hand is hot through the nearly sheer fabric of your blouse, and the bra does not do much to block his calloused hands from your chest. His other hand continues to grip your jaw, just hard enough so you’d have to struggle to pull away from him. That is, if you were ever to want to pull away from him.

Your hands are still frozen in front of you, unsure what exactly to do in this situation. Mind completely exhausted of all higher levels of thought, the only emotions you can recognize are lust and satisfaction. Actually, your brain is so hazy with these feelings that you don’t even complain when he starts to undo the tie at the back of your apron. His teeth drag across your bottom lip, the sharp edges not quite pressed hard enough to cut you, but for some reason it brings an unexpected thrill. Pulling away from your mouth, Kirishima’s lips meander across your jaw, his hand tilting your head up so he can continue his journey to your throat. He sucks on the tender flesh there, inhaling your sweet and clean scent as his tongue washes against your skin. You gasp at his brazen action, ass pushing against his hips to discover something long and thick there. Teeth prick into your flesh just a touch too hard, but he’s let go of you after only a minute, and he traces over the small wounds with careful licks.  

“Do you,” you suck in short breath when he squeezes your breast, your words faltering, “Do you do this with all your employees?” You taunt, but Kirishima can recognize the doubt in your tone. It’s hidden under false scorn, but your question is pure and filled with true intent. 

He pauses his treatment on your neck for a spell, and when he speaks, the wet skin on your throat feels cold as his breath falls upon it. “Of course not,” he purrs, raising his head to take your earlobe between his teeth, pulling away and sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. Your body jolts at the stimulation, and your bottom brushes against his crotch again. This time, his hand moves from your breast to wrap around your waist, securing you in place. He presses his concealed cock against the swell of your ass, and you bite your lip at the sheer size of him. Leaning in, he places a long stripe on the side of your ear with his hot tongue, and you can hear the teasing dripping from his voice. “Only with the pretty ones who beg for it.”

Kirishima’s hips rut against your ass, and he holds you in place so that the gentle grind he offers is felt in full effect. You nearly moan at the feeling of his hot length rubbing against you, your pussy starting to leak onto your panties. Of course you know he’s been around, but he’s so sexy— and he’s got to be good at what he does with all that experience.

He pauses, angling your face to still in front of his again. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and a pleased smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. He turns your face away again, and your eyes fall shut as his nose scrapes along your cheek. “Yuki says to stay away from you,” he grumbles, lips pressing against your cheek as he speaks, a groan slipping from his parted lips as he rolls his hips into yours particularly hard. Your bottom lip is held prisoner between your teeth in a desperate attempt to hold in the moan that craves to be set free. “Says a good girl like you is too good for me to be messin’ around with.” His words convey a dash of irritation, and you’re caught off-guard at the seasoning of disdain.

You wonder when she’d told him that— when they’d talked about you— but Kirishima does not allow you another moment to ponder it. He kisses you again, and all thoughts are cleansed from your brain as his lips seize yours. The hand on your chin drops and you gasp as it lands on the hem of your skirt, curling around you so his hot palm rests on your inner thigh, just a short distance from your soaked panties. Your feet move to draw your legs together, and your quivering thighs rub against his hand as you struggle to make your body move to your will. Pulling back to fill your lungs with fresh air, you mumble against his lips, “Kirishima, that’s—”

“But I know you’re not all that innocent,” he continues, fingertips brushing over the saturated lace. He groans as he traces along your slit, delighted to find you’re more than aroused from all his touching and teasing. Your cheeks feel impossibly hot, and you let out a soft whimper as he grazes over your clit a few times, your head falling back against his broad chest. Kirishima takes in your lustful expression, and the way your eyelashes flutter at him makes his cock twitch in his pants. “You’re so wet, sweetheart— fuck, you’re a naughty little thing. Y’want this, huh?”

Even though you only give him the slightest nod, he seems to accept your response, for his grip around your waist tightens considerably, pulling you flush against him. His hips buck against yours and you moan aloud when the clothed tip of his cock rubs against your panties through your skirt. You can’t even react when he spins you around, your head feeling fuzzy and laden with desire. He grabs your hips, easily placing you on the edge of the countertop before his fingers move to rip off your apron, then coming to undo the buttons at the front of your blouse. “The— The store,” you pant, eyes darting toward the door that currently sports the ‘open’ side of the sign. You swallow thickly when Kirishima falls to his knees, landing at the perfect height for him to put his head between your thighs.

His hands move to snag the hips of your panties, and you nearly whine in embarrassment when he slides the item down your legs, a thick string of your lust connecting the material to your pussy before it severs. Kirishima only moans in awe, pride oozing into his system as he takes in how drenched you are for him. He shoves the soiled lace into his pocket, and you whine at the action, about to complain but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry, Princess. No one’s gonna bother us,” he breathes out as he comes closer to your weeping core, your slick trickling down your ass cheek to drip onto the countertop.

White hot mortification bursts through you as he takes a long whiff of your pussy, and you squirm to move backwards but rough hands trap your thighs open, dragging your ass to hang halfway off the edge. He smirks as he looks up at you, examining your flustered expression.

“You ‘dunno how long I’ve wanted to have a taste of this sweet little pussy,” he growls, and your hands fly to the end of the counter to steady yourself, grasping onto it tightly. He chuckles when your cunt twitches before him at his words, his hands spreading your thighs apart into an obtuse angle, moving forward to drag his nose along your slick folds. You whimper at the contact, clenching around nothing as he teases you, your mouth falling open to suck in ragged breaths of air. His tongue darts out just slightly, and he runs the tip along your slit, separating your folds and savoring how your thighs shake underneath his grasp. “Mmmm,” he moans, sending tiny vibrations echoing through your sopping cunt, “good girls always taste the best.”

You can’t bear to look at him any longer, and you move your hand to place your curled knuckle between your teeth as his tongue creeps out, the flat muscle petting over your entrance slowly. His teeth graze your clit and you whine at the stimulation, the smooth enamel sliding across your bundle of nerves easily. His tongue is slow and playful, stroking you and avoiding where he knows you want him most.

Kirishima nuzzles into your cunt, rubbing your clit again with a lewd snarl pulling up his lips. “Look at me,” he commands and you follow his direction instantly, eyes blown wide with lust and tongue pressed tight against your knuckle. He groans at the sight, and you only shift your hips in his grasp to try to get closer to his mouth. Those scarlet eyes find yours once again, and you struggle to hold his gaze as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it in and rolling his tongue over it. He moves the muscle hard against you, just fast enough to have you moaning out, your hand flying from your mouth to grasp the top of his crimson hair. Pulling away briefly, he blows a small huff of air across your heat, shit-eating grin splitting to gloat. “Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart? Be a good girl and keep those pretty eyes on me.”

Your lips waver as they press into a firm line, your thighs straining to close at the intensity when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. But his massive hands hold your legs apart without any effort, and he lashes his tongue against you without mercy. There is nothing more you want other than to throw your head back and close your eyes, jaw hanging open and heated pants drifting out, but you force your gaze to remain on the man between your legs. Your fingernails scrape against his scalp as you try to find some way to channel the pleasure he introduces to your body, but the action only seems to spur him on. One hand leaves your thigh only for his other arm to wrap right around your ass, and your hips buck helplessly against his face when a fingertip prods your slicked entrance.

Kirishima does not ask for permission, and you suck in a silent gasp as his finger spreads your pussy, shock and pleasure shooting through your limbs at the stretch just one finger provides. “You seem a little quiet, sweetheart. Wanna hear that sweet voice of yours again,” he growls against your pussy, tongue flicking down to trail along the edges of his finger lodged deep inside of you.

You can only whimper as he glides the digit out, pushing it back inside slowly and nearly making your eyes roll back in your skull. His finger is already so long and thick— god, if you had fingers like that you could probably make yourself cum in—

A shriek of bliss rips from your lungs as he thrusts his finger into you, curling toward himself and rubbing some place your fingers have never reached. There’s a cocky grin on his face, and you hate to admit he looks so good looking up at you like that from between your legs, but you can’t bring yourself to form any words. “That was cute,” he chuckles, jagged teeth nipping gently at your pearl again and forcing your entire body twitch against him. He makes sure to capture your full attention before he finishes his thought, the corners of his lip curling with something darker. “Is that the best you’ve got? I think you can do better.”

He’s anything but gentle, the heel of his palm rubbing against your folds as he fucks his finger into you at a rapid pace. You’re seeing stars flash before your eyes, the sliver of sanity you were so desperately clinging to ripped from your grasp. You cry out when his mouth returns to your clit, sucking, and flicking, and slurping. Your eyes just won’t stay open, jaw losing the opposite battle as it hangs ajar, broken and unrestrained moans tumbling out like a burst dam.

Kirishima seems satisfied with your reaction, and he begins to groan against your cunt. You’re dripping with enough slick to coat the entire lower half of his face, and the vibrations from his throat only reverberate through your pussy, making you sharply tug on his hair.

“K-Kirishima,” you pant, a plea about to leave your lips. You’re not sure if you want to beg him to stop, or to give you even more. But Kirishima makes that decision for you.

A strained gasp slices though you when his finger slides out of you, only to be pressed against another digit and shoved into you. The unexpected addition causes you to yelp, a strained moan purring out of you as he allows a few slow strokes for you to adjust. Jesus, having two of his fingers in you feels like you’re being stuffed already— a fleeting pang of fear shooting through you as you wonder what his cock will feel like. But you’re not allowed to ponder the thought, his fingers picking up the pace and curling against that spongy spot again.

Body squirming with bliss, your hips thrash in his hold, switching between scooting back and forth, rocking yourself against his mouth. Kirishima can feel your cunt begin to tighten snug round his thick fingers, your walls fluttering and pulsing at his rough but generous stimulation. “Gonna cum? Bet you make sucha pretty face when you cum, come on sweetheart,” he murmurs, slick lips kissing along the top of your pussy, across your clit. You would’ve cum already if he just kept that sly mouth of his on your clit, and you don’t expect his next words to affect you so much as you cum all over his hand. “Sooner you cum, sooner I can split you open with this cock. You want that, right? Wanna have me fuck that tight little cunt— y’wanna be my good girl, huh?”

Kirishima holds your hips close, arm tightening around your bottom as your body spasms with your orgasm, euphoria zipping through your entirety. The broken moan that rings out into the room makes his cock pulse in his pants, trousers feeling suddenly much too snug for his liking. Your head is thrown back in ecstasy, thighs quivering atop the counter and toes curled in your sneakers.

Finally he allows you a moment to breathe, fingers slipping out of your pussy and standing before you. His arm slides up with him, snagging around your waist to lay his palm flat against your shoulder blade and hold you upright. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he smirks as your eyes finally open, only to catch him tracing his tongue along the fingers that just brought you to heaven’s gates.

Your palms land on the broad expanse of his chest, fingers curling around straps of his apron. He laughs as you whine gently, ducking down a considerable distance and allowing you to slip the loop over his head. You undo his shirt as your lips collide, this time in a sloppy and desperate kiss. His tongue rolls over yours in your mouth as he tugs your bra to rest on top of your chest, your breasts spilling out into his eager palm. He thumbs over your nipples and growls against your mouth, and you whimper and allow your fingers to spread across the flesh of his chest. When you open your eyes, you notice a black and red dragon carved into the top of his pec, dipping halfway down from his collar bone and curling around his shoulder down the length of his arm.

Shirts thrown to the floor in crumpled heaps, you trail your fingers down his hard six pack, thumb combing through a neat trail of black above the button of his jeans. Digits running down to cup his hard length, you look at him with wanton eyes and groan. “Wanna taste you, Kiri.”

Kirishima clicks his tongue in his mouth, a beefy hand wrapping around your wrist entirely and steering your hand to rest on the bulge on his thigh. Your eyes widen almost comically, your throat drying and pussy tightening with a cocktail of apprehension and excitement. He leans down to run his tongue along the column of your throat before he pulls back with a brief nibble to your jaw, locking eyes with you. “I don’t think a sweet girl like you can handle taking me in your mouth.”

His fingers move to undo the button on his jeans, the suspense thick in the air as you watch in awe. He tugs the jeans to rest beneath his ass, the bulge in his black boxer-briefs already indicating you might be in for more than you can handle. You try not to let your jaw drop when his cock springs free, swollen tip glazed with a sheen of pre and pulsing veins decorating the entire shaft. Hand around the base of his cock, you whimper as it only covers half his length— his fist is already considerably bigger than yours and suddenly you’re in fear for your pussy.

Kirishima laughs at your expression, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and smoothing the hair from your forehead. “Don’t worry Princess,” he murmurs, arm around your waist again to push your hips to the very edge of the countertop. Your pussy twitches when the head of his cock brushes your folds, and you find yourself wondering if you’re about to be in a world of pain or pleasure. Probably both. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing gentle, wet kisses there.

“I don’t— I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you croak out, arms hesitantly wrapping around his neck. Yet your legs spread on their own accord, inching forward so his cock rubs against your opening.

Kirishima purrs at the action, licking his lips against your throat. “We’ll make it fit, sweetheart.” He brings his hand up to his mouth and spits into it, the crude noise making you flinch and wrinkle your nose in disgust. But it doesn’t last for long— any conscious thought leaves your brain when you glance down, seeing him stroke the top half of his cock with his slick hand. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and pull him closer, trying to prepare yourself for whatever is about to come.

Thankfully his movements are slow as he pushes into your wet cunt, and you’re surprised how easily his length slides into you. The stretch is unreal— unlike anything you’ve ever felt before— and it takes all your willpower not to clench around him for you know that will just cause you further discomfort. He only enters you halfway, grip tight on your waist as if he’s having a hard time controlling himself. Sighing against the flushed skin of your neck, he moves to kiss you again, lips tender and careful.

You whimper when he gives a tentative thrust, your nails clawing into the muscles lining the top of his shoulder. His cock is so thick, and knowing it’s only halfway inside you has your stomach twisting in terror. He’s goddamn huge. It takes a few more gentle thrusts for your grip on him to loosen, and your body relaxes slightly in his arms.

Kirishima clearly has enough experience with this, because the pace he sets is perfect. His hands slide all over your body, cupping and squeezing every inch of flesh he can find. Hips rock into yours at a slow, benevolent pace, your pussy stretched wide around him and fluttering as his thick veins drag along your velvet walls. Lips finding yours again, his tongue and pointed teeth distract you as with each thrust his cock shifts a tiny bit deeper inside of you.

At some point you start to moan, head falling back and mouth open wide as long, unadulterated sounds float out from the bottom of your lungs. Kirishima’s pace hastens, hands landing on your hips and thrusting into you swiftly. His cock is making your head spin, brain full of fog as your heart hammers in your ribs. He swears as his rough hand claps atop your ass cheek, taking note of the way your pussy shivers around him and a sharp squeak is summoned from your lips. “God you’re fuckin’ tight sweetheart— fuck, you a virgin?” He moans, fingers biting into the reddened skin on your ass. When you shake your head at him, he questions how on earth it is possible for you to be this snug around him, but he makes sure to thank whatever deity there is for it.

You cry out when his thumb greets your clit, and he fights to maintain his measured pace at the way your cunt squeezes so tightly. Your slick is dripping onto the countertop, his cock buried deep in your core, again and again. His added stimulation to your clit has you gasping for breath, a coil in your stomach filling with pressure. “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod Kiri please don’t stoppp,” you beg, pupils drifting up into your skull and your hands flying all over his torso, grabbing whatever skin you can reach.

Kirishima groans, palm pushing your tailbone forward so your hips bump against his. You scream at the full intensity of his cock inside of you; every inch and every vein setting fire to your insides, his thumb relentless on your clit. Your vision turns white as you reach your peak, your body seizing in ecstasy. Pulling him close, you wheeze for breath against his chest, his thumb never stilling its movement on your clit until you grab his wrist and rip him off of you, overwhelmed with the bliss from your orgasm rippling through every bone in your body. He’s still moving inside of you— albeit at a snail's pace— but it’s enough for him to prolong the pleasure simmering in your veins.

Finally you collapse into his chest, mind numb and eyelids too heavy to keep open, your lips pressing clumsy kisses into his skin. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, his fingers carding through your tresses. “Now, that was cute, Princess,” he says, the amusement in his tone laced with something darker. His fingers curl in your hair, pulling your neck back so your head tilts up to meet his sinister gaze. “But you didn’t get permission to cum, did you?”

Your heart begins to race, your stomach plummeting as he holds your gaze without vigilance. You whine as he pulls out of you, your cunt never feeling this empty before as his hot length disappears. Kirishima picks you up without effort, biceps swelling with intricate swirls of charcoal ink. He places you on wobbling feet before spinning you around, your hands flying out to grab the counter as he shoves your shoulder down.

“That makes you a bad girl, Y/N.”

Horror streaks through your every limb, and yet, only a sinful moan wanders out of you, your feet moving apart and thighs spreading for him to fit between. You crane your head to look at him, drinking up the beautiful man behind you. Broad shoulders trail into a broad, thick chest, tapering down to a tight and powerful waist. Each muscle on his body is prominent and enticing, covered snugly with tan skin that glimmers with a sheen of sweat. His red hair hangs to frame his handsome face, mostly still tugged back into his low ponytail.

As if reading your mind, he moves a hand back and snags the tie off, vibrant locks of scarlet licking the tops of his shoulders. Running a hand over his forehead, he looks at you with a predatory gaze, a smirk curling up one side of his lips. “Y’know what happens to bad girls, right?” You bite your lip and shake your head, egging him on as the top of his cock traces around your opening. “Bad girls get punished.”

The loudest scream of the night rips through you as he thrusts into you without warning, his cock hitting all different kinds of places than before in this new position. Kirishima doesn’t allow you a moment to adjust; he starts slapping his hips against your ass roughly, fist gripping the hair near your scalp again and pulling it tight so your back arches. You cannot breathe, or speak, or think— but somehow his name slips out of your mouth between all the moans.

A harsh slap across your ass sounds, the sting causing your pussy to quiver around his length. “Bad girls don’t get to use my name,” he growls into your ear, leaning over your body to take the tip of your ear between his teeth.

Your eyes are crossed in pleasure, your expression probably comforted into the most lewd, carnal face you’ve ever made. His cock is too big, and you know you won’t be able to walk right tomorrow, but maybe that adds to why it feels so fucking good right now.

“You’re makin’ this seem like a reward, not a punishment, Princess. You like taking it rough, huh?” He teases, pulling your head back by your hair and eliciting another moan from you. “Answer me.”

His cock pounds into your cunt, the sheer stretch enough to make you cum, let alone the length. Your lungs begin to shake as you feel your orgasm building again between your legs. “Yes Sir!” You yelp when his palm cracks against your ass again, your knees wobbly and the pressure continuing to build.

Your reply makes his cock twitch inside of you, and Kirishima sucks in a cool breath of air between clenched teeth. His hand grips the bottom of your thigh, and you cry out when he hikes your knee onto the countertop, cock drilling into you even deeper than before.

Your pussy twitches as you cum instantly, a drawn-out moan vibrating through your throat. Fingernails scraping along the countertop in your gaze of euphoria, Kirishima is forced to halt his assault on your cunt as it squeezes him tightly, his teeth piercing into his lip in pleasure. But as soon as your cunt loosens, he’s fucking into you with renewed vigor, your hips knocking into the counter as he plunges his massive cock into your sloppy heat. “You just don’t fuckin’ learn,” he snarls, wrist twisting to pull your hair tighter, bending your spine to his will.

“I’m sorry Sir,” you choke out, tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks. Each thrust brushes your cervix and it hurts, but at the same time the intensity of it all feels incredible. “I didn’t know I could… could cum so q-quick! Please, Sir— ah!— Please forgive me!”

Kirishima tosses his head back at your admission, your apology immediately accepted. His hand slips from your hair to your throat, turning your head so he can see your face as he pounds into you without mercy. The tears slipping down your cheeks make your eyes sparkle and he groans, his own end in near reach and only approaching quicker at the sight of you. “Y’look so pretty when you cry, sweetheart— shit, I know you have one more for me,” he leans in and pokes his tongue out to collect a salty tear, kissing the wet skin on your cheek. His thumb on your throat wanders to your lips, and you take the digit into your mouth with enthusiasm, keeping your eyes locked with his.

You whimper around his finger when his other hand comes around to circle your puffy clit, already overstimulated and thighs shaking. Your legs try to close but he keeps them spread apart, cock still ramming into you as his lips trail down to your neck. His hand on your throat loosens and comes to rest on your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and tracing his slippery thumb over your puckered hole. Your eyes widen with shock, and you force your voice to work even though it comes out scratchy and breathless. “W-What are you— Kiri wait, that’s—”

“Have you ever had anything in here, Princess?” He inquires as his thumb slips into you, making you shriek at the fiery stretch. Pushing the digit into your ass, he moans at the sight of you sucking in his thumb so obediently, your hole trembling and squeezing round his finger.

You shake your head, at a loss for words once again. You can feel his cock rub against his finger through your walls, and though it’s a foreign, unfamiliar sensation, it’s far from unwelcome. More tears of pure pleasure descend from your lashes, the combination of all his stimulation driving you insane. You can feel your climax building with every thrust, your walls dragging along his cock and his finger, his other hand rolling your clit.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me, it’s alright,” he purrs, balls feeling tight with his near release. His fingers pinch and rub all over your slick clit, and you mewl out as that familiar pressure heightens in your stomach. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Show me how good you are, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t allow you a second to think, and you whine out for him when his hips crash against your ass, shoving his entire cock inside your soaked hole and spreading your aching walls. The spot he’s hitting with the head of his cock causes your eyes to cross— you didn’t even know it existed before now— and suddenly everything is too much, and you’re crying out his name as your orgasm tears through you.

Kirishima gives a few more hard thrusts before he’s there too, the tips of his teeth piercing into your neck as he floods your pussy with his heavy load. Your cunt pulses around him, milking out every drop he has to offer as you’re thrown into waves of complete euphoria. Eyes closed, toes and fingers coiled tight in pleasure, you whimper as he gives your clit a few more rubs before his hand moves up to push his hair back. “Good girl,” he praises, hot palms sliding along your curves and rubbing circles into your skin.

You’re totally spent; body limp atop the countertop, nipples hard and hot against the cool plastic, tears drying on your cheeks, ass feeling warm and fuzzy, and pussy trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. Kirishima is careful when he pulls out, and you can’t even find the energy to make a noise of complaint at the emptiness between your legs. You can feel his release begin to dribble out of your abused hole, and your body twitches when he presses his thumb in to shove his seed back inside.

He sighs as he grabs a paper towel from the sink behind him, dragging it along his weeping, yet still impressive, length. As you’re still catching your breath, he walks around the counter and into your field of vision, tucking himself back into his pants nonchalantly. When he reaches the door, he flips the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’ before sauntering over to you, eyes trained on yours. “Well, sweetheart,” he chuckles, gaze raking over your exhausted form, still collapsed on top of the counter in a sedated-like state. He reaches forward, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he smiles brightly, but a shadow of something more ominous lingers in those scarlet eyes. “You’re gonna have to cover Yuki’s shifts more often.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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soooo that happened. finally some dom kiri on my blog!!! please be sure to lemme know if you enjoyed <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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[zafirosreverie]

Maybe it was me so I’ll send it in again I asked for a Agatha and reader where they go on a walk and they find something that dampens Agathas power so they go home to fix it but on the way there Agatha twists her ankle and reader has to carrie her back and on the way home Agatha makes a joke about how she didn’t know how strong reader was and reader comes back with a witty come back please.

i really don't know what happened with the other message. Tumblr is weird.

Anyway, here it is. Hope you like it!

Adorably irritating witch (Agatha x reader)

“Don’t” you scolded as you watched your girlfriend approaching the glowing stone. 

Too bad she didn’t listen. Nothing new, to be honest.

Agatha and you have been together for a while now, having survived to both of your trials and decided you needed to be together. In the beginning, you used to fight too much, always wanting to be right in everything and to be the most powerful being. But you soon learned that it was better to let her be the one in charge. She was much bolder, curious and noisier than you, besides, you were a few years younger than her, so she always pulled the age card to win. Unfair move, yes, but it gave you a chance to make fun of her.

Over time, you became great friends, and shortly after that, something else. It was something surprising for both of you when Agatha kissed you for the first time, but deep down, you knew that sooner or later it would end there. Now, you just couldn't imagine a life without her, and you knew Agatha felt the same way.

Living in the forest was relaxing and productive, you had plenty of potion ingredients on hand, and you didn't have to worry about unwanted visitors or human nonsense. But it also meant that you got bored sometimes.

So this morning you and your girlfriend decided to go for a walk near the river. It took you a while to get there, but Agatha's tireless talk made it more entertaining. You would never get tired of her voice. 

However, when you arrived at the river, both of you felt something in the air. A source of magic. Of course, Agatha wanted to look for it, even when you told her that it could be dangerous. When she didn’t listen, you sighed and helped her search the area. You turned when she yelled and saw a glowing stone on the grass. You felt something was wrong just looking at it. 

Agatha crouched down, and laughed when you warned her. 

“Don’t touch it” you scolded her again. 

“It’s just a stone, love” she said and rolled her eyes, taking it. Her amusement didn’t last long, tho. 

You gasped as you watched the stone glowing more and Agatha screamed. Her dark purple magic seemed to be absorbed by the stone. You ran to her and using a stick, you struck the stone from her hand, throwing it away. Agatha leaned against you, tired and shocked.

“Ags, are you ok?” you asked, taking her face in your hands and making her look at you “Aggie, answer me” 

“I- I’m fine, dear” she said, but the way she grabbed your arms, told you she was scared. 

And you knew why. You couldn’t feel her magic anymore. At least, not as powerful as it used to be..

“The stone” she whispered and you sighed. Yes. It took it. 

“But i don’t think it is permanent” you assured her “ i still can feel some of it inside you. As if it was just sleeping”

“Then we have to wake it up” she demanded and stood up. 

You blinked. Her fear was replaced by determination. You smiled and stood up too, knowing she wouldn’t rest until her magic was available again. 

“I think it is just a matter of time, Ags” you said and she stared at you, looking pretty offended. 

“I can’t wait, Y/N” she frowned. 

You just shook your head, smirking. She was adorable.

Agatha walked quickly through the woods, wanting to go home as soon as possible so she could fix this. She already missed her magic. 

“Hey! Agatha! Wait for me!” you said, almost running after her. 

“Move my legs, Y/N” she said, but stopped until you were by her side anyway.

“Your legs?” you frowned

“Yes, those legs are mine” she winked and you laughed. Good to know the stone didn’t take her ability to flirt at any given moment.

“Be careful” you said as you walked again “watch where you put your feet” 

“yes, yes” she rolled her eyes “as if I haven't walked these woods for years”.

You were about to comment something when she fell in front of you.

“Agatha!” you kneeled beside her and saw her taking her ankle.

“I’m fine” she said, but when she tried to stand, she fell again. 

“Twisted ankle” you sighed 

“Of course not, i can wal-”

“No you can’t” you said firmly, putting your hands on your hips “Really? I told you not to touch the stone and you got your magic blocked, I told you to watch where you step and you got your ankle twisted, how hard is it to listen?!” 

Agatha blinked. You haven’t talked to her like that in a long time . And she cursed herself for finding it hot. You sighed as you crouched down and and you put one arm around her waist and another under her legs.

"What are you doing?" she asked

"I'm going to sing and dance with the forest animals to see if they bring me a prince charming to free me from the adorably irritating witch" you replied sarcastically.

You didn't give her time to answer anything, because at that moment you took her in her arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all. Agatha squealed in surprise and instinctively wrapped her arms around your neck.

“Y/N!” 

You chuckled at her surprised face and started walking carefully. 

“How- When did you become this strong, darling?” she asked when her surprise faded away “I didn’t know the dove has been working out” she joked and you smirked.

“You see, my love, the dove was the one helping Cinderella and making sure she was able to go through the day” you joked back. 

When you arrived at your home, you carefully placed her on the bed and started to wash her ankle. 

“Seriously, how are you so strong, Y/N?” 

You smiled. Agatha seemed to be really impressed by that and you knew she wouldn’t let it go any time soon. 

“Well, I've spent years caring for an old woman who thinks she is always right but who frequently forgets to eat and cannot even cook without almost burning the kitchen. I surely hope to become stronger for carrying this whole house on my shoulders"

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 3]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: While you are trying to figure out why the Witcher is so abhorrent towards you, he finally gives you a hint as to why he doesn't like you. Also, you realize something— Yennefer and her spells can never go wrong.

Warnings: Geralt being a dick is what.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

It had been weeks since you slept with Geralt of Rivia, but you hadn't been feeling any different. If it were up to you to say, you would say that Yennefer's plan didn't work— although you couldn't muster the courage to ask her directly if it did.

What made you so sure that the plan hadn't worked was the fact that Geralt and Yennefer had been fighting about something since a few nights and you could feel the strain in their relationship starting to show up. This hunch that you had only strengthened when one day, you unknowingly stumbled upon an argument between the Witcher and the Mage.

It was almost a week after that night on the Great Mount. Geralt had been indifferent towards you since then— not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction when the four of you were in the same proximity.

You were now back at Redania— your home, but so were Yennefer , Geralt and Jaskier— staying at your place like unwanted guests who were exceeding their stay.

Jaskier held two heavy logs in either of his arms, while your own hands were stuffed with the eggs from your coop, that you were intending to cook up for dinner tonight, when you heard shouting from one of the rooms upstairs.

"It was you that said that the plan would work. It didn't work, clearly."

You could recognize Geralt's voice from afar; broody, low and devoid of any emotion.

"Aren't you going to go check in on them?" You turned towards Jaskier and frowned, your eyes shooting upwards, fixing on the topmost stair before you withdrew it and fixed it on him again.

"Me? Stuck between a broody Witcher and a scary Witch? God save my poor soul then." Jaskier commented back as he placed the logs by the fireplace and began to light it.

"Jaskier—" You couldn't help but smile at him, as you placed the eggs on the table and blinked, turning towards him, "Yennefer isn't a witch, she is a mage. Besides—"

Before you could complete your sentence, Yennefer's shaky voice reached the both of you, and you couldn't help but wonder what was actually going on between the two of them.

"I don't understand what's gotten into you, Geralt. These things take time. Why won't you let the spell take it's due course?"

"Yen, your spell failed. It's high time you realize that."

You shook your head to yourself as you busied yourself with trying to prepare the stew for dinner, but your ears were fixed on them.

"You don't question my spells, Witcher. I know what I'm doing. Besides— now to come to think of it, did you even fuck her right?"

Jaskier couldn't help but snort, but when he looked at how red you suddenly were, he immediately masked his expressions as he propped himself next to you.

"Did he, [Y/N]?"

"Jaskier, I'm not having this conversation with you," You shook your head at him, exasperated that he was still bugging you with this question, "Now can you please help me out? I need help with the stew, Jas'." Jaskier stood up, whistling to himself as he fixed himself next to the pot, stirring it while you began working on getting the bread ready when the door above slammed shut and heavy footsteps began descending down the stairs. Both you and Jaskier turned to see a very annoyed Yennefer walk towards the front door, without her Witcher in tow, just like he already was.

"I've got some business to attend to in Novigrad, Jaskier." She pointedly ignored you, and you couldn't help but bite back the words threatening to spill out of your mouth. Living under your roof, she was behaving like you were an outsider. Secretly, you were thrilled that she was leaving , even though it was for a short while.

You watched, through the window as a portal suddenly emerged just outside of your barn, and she disappeared through it, leaving you and Jaskier gawking at each other, Jaskier finally speaking, "I say, trouble in paradise?"

"It's none of your concern, Jaskier. You really need to stop meddling with other people's businesses. Now would you be kind enough and go ask your friend to come down? Dinner's almost read—"

"Jaskier, come on now. We're leaving." Geralt cut you off as he finally appeared, all dressed in his tunic and breeches, his sword peeking out from behind him. You parted your lips, ready to ask him where he was off to but it was like he had already anticipated that this was going to come, so finally he looked at you, but with the same indifference with which he had treated you so far.

"It's time we move on. Keep the coin. Seems like Yennefer's plan failed after all—"

The sheer coldness in his voice stung you like a thorn but you didn't let him realize that. Slowly, you lifted the cloth, wiping your hands with it, trying to act just as indifferent towards him— even though you felt like you had been betrayed, which you mentally cursed yourself for.

This was going to happen one day or the other— and wasn't it better that they were finally going to be out of your life now? And not later when they would mercilessly pull your babe away from a mother's breast and call it their own?

"Where are we going, Geralt? We can atleast stay for dinner, a man needs to eat—"

"We will roast a deer on our way, Jaskier." Geralt's irritation was evident from his tone, so the bard turned towards you, choosing now to ignore the Witcher with a sulk on his face.

"Oh Jaskier," you whispered, softly, "Don't you worry. I'll quickly pack some food for you, for the way."

"Oh hush, woman, don't go so soft on me, I would want to switch the roles with that broody gentleman over there."

Your cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire; and you were sure you had turned a tomato red. You instinctively looked away, quickly finding yourself a distraction at the table as you began packing some bread and ham in a cloth satchel for him to take along with him— fighting back the smile that craved to break out.

"Jaskier, you are free to stay here for as long as you want, the minute I get on Roach, I leave," grumbling, the White Wolf slammed the front door shut as he walked off, your eyes suddenly widening, as the smile was quickly replaced by a lingering hurt upon listening to his words. Why did he hate you so much? Was it because you couldn't give him— them— the child they so desperately wanted?

"Okay thank you for the dinner, and don't, like DO NOT mind him, he has always been a grumpy ham."

Jaskier took the satchel, flinging it over his shoulder, whilst at the same time grabbed his lute and immediately darted out, and by that time, the Witcher was already trotting towards the main path. You fixed yourself by the front door, watching the poor bard struggle to catch up with him and once the two of them were out of sight, you went back inside.

If there was anything that turned a bright way for you after the three of them stepped out of your life for good was the fact that you had enough coin on you now to last for atleast a year. You bought three new goats so you could milk them and sell the milk in the village, along with the eggs.

But the void remained—

The night's were the most difficult, because there were nights when you woke up to a dream where a certain white haired, amber eyed man was laying in bed with you, his thick palm resting on your waist, your back pressed against him as he spooned you.

Maybe it was because you couldn't sleep that night too, that you did not miss the strangled groan that you heard from outside your window. You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes as you leaned over the window to look out but you couldn't see anything. Just then, someone began pounding on your front door, startling you.

It didn't take you long to run down the stairs, still dressed in your chemise, your arms wrapped around your arms as the knocking became frantic and urgent. When you opened the door, you felt like someone had kneed you in the gut—

"Jaskier?" The bard looked a mess, his clothes were bloody and dirty, his hair slick and sticking to his face.

"I didn't know who else to go to nearby. Geralt needs—" Jaskier began, and the two of you turned towards Roach. Geralt was although perched atop, he was now arching forward, his body almost limp, his head resting against the saddle.

"What happened, Jaskier?" You ran out towards Roach, who whinnied at you, perhaps having sensed that something was wrong with her owner. You placed your palm on Geralt's shoulder, but the minute your palm came in contact with him, he grunted and looked up, and you saw how weak and pale he looked, "I told J-Jaskier — I'm f-fine.. Jaskier.. Jaskier..fuck.. Novigrad.. I asked you to take us to ... Novigrad."

Geralt of Rivia was injured, the flesh on his side had almost been ripped apart by what looked like claws, and yet he was being a stubborn pig. You grabbed him by the fabric of his tunic, balling the fabric as you began literally dragging him off the horse, paying no heed to his annoying murmurs.

"Jaskier, can you help? I alone cannot get him off, you know?"

Helping Geralt walk into your home was a difficult task but somehow, you and Jaskier convinced Geralt to do it. You sat the very injured Geralt by the fire and knelt down in between the space of his legs, using gentle fingers as you rolled up the torn fabric of the tunic. He hissed when your fingers came in contact with his clawed flesh and that's when you saw how massive the claw marks were.

"Who did that to him, Jaskier?" You let go off the big man as you stood up, your hands now caked in Geralt's blood. You ran up to one of the wooden racks that stood by the fireplace with a dozen glass bottles on it. You grabbed the mortar and pestle, placing it on the table in front of you, as Jaskier lowered himself on a chair, now wiping the blood off his face with a washcloth.

"I swear you should have seen it, it was the tallest harpy I have ever seen— well technically, it's the first harpy I've ever seen," he mumbled, and you couldn't help but give him a weak smile as you began to look for the ingredients to make a paste for Geralt's wounds.

"What are you looking for?" Jaskier asked, intrigued, as he watched you fiddle with the glass containers.

"Turmeric, Jaskier. It will stop his bleeding, although had he been human, that injury would have killed him— instantly," you pointedly stared at Jaskier, and he gulped nervously when your words finally registered into the back of his mind. You quickly turned away, resuming your search for the other ingredients. You pulled out two containers; one with lotus petals and the other one containing chamomile, placing it on the table, next to the mortar and pestle.

"Jaskier, while I prepare the paste, can you get Geralt to lie down by the fire? And take off his—" You pointed towards his tunic that was already ripped apart, hanging loosely by his side. Jaskier immediately nodded, getting to work.

You knelt down next to Geralt. His eyes were open, but his face was sweaty and his breathing was uneven; his lips tightly pressed together as he stared at the fire. Your fingers delicately moved over the gashes on his side, and he didn't flinch as much now.

"Can you sit up, Geralt? I need to bandage your waist."

That's when he turned towards you, regarding you briefly as he grunted, pushing himself up slightly and you quickly bandaged his wound with a cloth, securely tying it around his waist before he fell back against the makeshift bedding you had created for him by the fireplace.

You were finally done tending to the man's wounds so you stood up, moving to wash your hands by the sink, when Geralt's voice reached you, startling you.

"I told Jaskier not to bother you. Yennefer could have fixed this."

Your head sharply turned towards him, and you parted your lips, but it was as if your words were lodged to your throat, refusing to come out.

"You can't put all the blame on Jaskier. He could have left you to rot, stolen your mare and left, but he stuck around to ensure you were brought back to safety. You need to learn to swallow that thick ego of yours and give the bard some credit," you intentionally chose not to talk of Yennefer.

He grunted in response, shifting slightly so he could get comfortable, his body tilted at an angle towards the fire that you could see more of his back— full of old scars— this one will be adding to it soon.

"Are you a healer?"

His question pulled you off track.

You shook your head, wiping your hands with a clean cloth, reaching out for one of the blankets that you had stored for yourself as a winter supply, placing it over Geralt's legs— with half a mind that you will have to fight him for this act too— but much to your surprise, Geralt of Rivia accepted the blanket, pulling it over his chest.

"No, not a healer, just a woman with a passion to know things. You see, living alone you need to know certain things as you never know what life is going to throw your way."

"Hm," he fell quiet, and all the two of you could now listen to were the embers erupting from the fire.

The next few minutes, Geralt was quiet, so assuming that he had fallen asleep, just like the bard had; already snoring away to glory, you pulled your chair closer to the fireplace, lowering yourself against it as you began working on another blanket for Jaskier.

"You should have said no."

Startled to hear the low broody voice again, you looked up but this time found Geralt sitting on the makeshift bedding, the pads of his feet resting against the floor, his back turned towards the fire but his face turned towards you.

"Geralt, you should lie down—"

"You should have said no to Yennefer, but you agreed although you knew what she wanted to make you do."

"Says the man who makes a living slaying monsters. Would you say no to a good bounty if that meant being paid enough to last you a year?" You snapped at him, not meeting his gaze.

"You needed coin, there were thousand other ways to do it."

"Like what, Geralt? Don't you think I tried all these ways you are talking about?" The half done blanket now lay forgotten at your feet, and you were standing, towering over Geralt, your lips trembling with rage. How dare he?

"There are many brothels in Redania that I know of that would have gladly taken you in."

"You know what, Witcher?" You spat, "I'm NOT having this conversation with you. I don't like you anymore than you like me, so there's no point in even speaking. Once you are well enough, I would gladly have you out of my home."

You turned away from him, and then blinked, for you couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, as a thick chunk of a tear rolled down your cheek. Swallowing bitterly, you began climbing up the stairs, rather loudly, when Geralt mumbled, "You won't see us when you wake up tomorrow, don't worry."

Ignoring him, you reached the topmost stair, but when Jaskier began speaking to Geralt in a low voice, you couldn't help but pause, inching your ear towards them so you could listen to what they were saying.

"Why do you insist on being like that with her, Geralt?"

Jaskier's words were followed by what sounded like a bitter laugh, and a cough.

"I knew you were awake. I wondered why you didn't jump in to defend her like you always do, Jaskier."

"That is not the point, Ger—"

"If you must know why I can't stop being the way I am around her is because every single time I see her, I'm reminded of the false hope that Yennefer gave me, Witchers are sterile, and that's how it is, I should have known than to fall into Yennefer's words."

He was hating for you something you hadn't even done. You gave him hope, or Yennefer did?

You would have stood there and continued listening to what more he had to say, but you couldn't help it— your face turning sour, when sudden nausea hit you. Your palm instinctively flew up to your lip; making you almost double over and your eyes lifted up, scanning the area for anything you could use to relieve yourself. Grabbing an empty basket that lay close by, you fell down on your knees, your knees scraping against the wood of your flooring and you began wretching out the contents of your stomach, sweat trickling down your forehead as dread filled you up. You were scared that Yennefer's spell had worked. Your palm flew to your flat belly and you pursed your lips together, blinking away the tears and wiping the corner of your lips.

Now that you had wished for the spell to fail, it had perhaps, worked. Maybe things weren't destined to go about the way you wanted them to— all you wanted was to watch Geralt of Rivia leave you alone for good and never come back [Wishful thinking]. But if, the spell had worked, it meant that you were probably carrying his Witcher baby, and that meant, you will have to see more of the white haired man with amber eyes, whether you liked it, or not.

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[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  Chapter 10.1

Author’s Note:  Travelers! We are nearing the end of Reader’s journey! (I’m expecting it to end at 10.4 but we’ll see if that ends up being an accurate estimate lol)  Enjoy the newest chapter!

Zhongli was lost in deep thought as you and Xiao faced the Tsaritsa, while Paimon and Aether were arguing on whether they should jump in to help or not.  Despite Paimon's protests, it seemed to Aether that Xiao could very well handle the god on his own.  He wasn't exactly a team player to begin with...

"ZHONGLI!"  Paimon's high-pitched screech finally prodded a hummed response from the former archon.  "We need to jump in!"

"It would be wise for the two of you to leave the palace at once," he advised instead of indulging in the mascot's wishes.  It wouldn't be long now; he could feel the power from the battle reaching its peak.  "Xiao cannot unleash his full power with the three of you here. Your bodies would not be able to withstand it."

"We've already fought with him plenty of times and we're fine!  Don't go underestimating us now!"

"As much as I agree with you, I'm siding with Zhongli.  We'll only get in the way."

"W-Wha-!"  The frustrated emergency food placed her hands on her hips as she gawked at Aether for a few seconds.  Then she turned to Zhongli.  "Then what about her?  Shouldn't we get her out of there too?"

"Do not fret, dear friends,"  the metallic clank of his polearm rang against the floor, "I will retrieve her.  We'll meet again outside.  Go now."  Aether nodded and ran in the direction from which the group had entered--followed by a pouting Paimon.  Zhongli returned his eyes to the throne room as the tiles in the hallway began to freeze over.

"Now."  You and Xiao nodded in confirmation before pushing off the ground in opposing directions.  The air parted for you like the wind had granted a favor, though you had yet to realize you were the one manipulating it.  Metal and gale met ice in a shockwave that sent the Tsaritsa's opponents flying backwards.  

Xiao landed more gracefully than you did and was already at the Tsaritsa's neck by the time you sat up.  He swung his lance down at her, rage filling his eyes.  The karmic debt illuminated his body in black fog, but the Tsaritsa remained unfazed.

She caught the blade in the palm of her hand like it was nothing more than a wooden staff.  The force of the impact sent icy winds ricocheting into the walls.  The support beams and columns groaned unhappily from the jolt, and parts of the ceiling crashed to the floor around the three of you.

"I've killed your kind with ease in the past," she cooed up to him.

"And I've slaughtered hundreds of gods stronger than you."  

"Then you've underestimated my strength."  Her free hand swung towards his chest, with a dagger of ice forming from her palm.

"And you've underestimated mine!"  The chunks of the stone ceiling came tumbling at the god from both sides at a tremendous speed that should've been impossible given their weight.  The hand that was about to pierce Xiao gave up on the idea and went on the defensive to stop the boulders in their wake.  Ice pillared up just in time.  Xiao flipped back with his lance still in hand.  There you stood, on the other side of Tsaritsa with both palms facing her as you controlled the gales.  

How is she manipulating anemo?  Did Barbatos-  Xiao squinted only to find your beltloop devoid of any vision.  And since when was she ever this powerful-

A deranged, fed-up cackle chilled the throne room further, and the Tsaritsa now set her sights on you.  She was before you in an instant.  A breeze was enough to send her back a few inches--a subtle defensive tactic, but it worked enough so that you had a fraction more of a second to react.  Xiao went for her nape, then her knees.  But the god was prepared for the repeated pattern of attack; she ducked enough to expose you to his blade, and Xiao was forced to shift his momentum with exercised precision to avoid decapitating you instead.

A burst of ice emitted from the Tsaritsa and blasted the two of you several feet away from each other.  Xiao, just like last time, landed nonchalantly on his feet while you violently collided with a pillar.  Besides the dull jarring pain ringing through your spine, a sharp one stung your hand as you pushed yourself to all-fours.

"What..." It wasn't the blood that caught you off guard.  Carefully but quickly, you removed the glass from your palm.  Then your tunnel vision dropped to your empty beltloop.  My vision shattered?  When did my-  Realization finally struck you like a brick wall.  How had you been fighting all this time?  How did you have access to manipulate the snow?  Were those stars above you related?  Wide eyes stared at your bleeding hand, your brain pushing out the sounds of the battlefield and of Xiao yelling for you to get out of the way.  When sound finally returned, your gaze trailed upward to find a wall of iced spears barreling at you.

"Rise!"  Another wall of material shot up in front of you, though it was way more solid than the Tsaritsa's attack.  The pillar blocked the spears' paths, then the familiar boots of Zhongli entered your vision.  A hardened gaze met your lost ones, and flashes of a Zhongli in a white hood interrupted the present.  The faint golden glow of his shield shimmered protectively around your crouching figure.  

The archon held his hand out to you with a warm expression.  Mesmerized by his conflicting appearance, your hand met his.  "Rex Lapis..."

Looking down at you, Zhongli couldn't help but see Xiao in your stead just like all those years ago when he had taken the yaksha under his wing.  "Come.  Let us leave now."  It was clear you were having the same sense of deja vu as he was.

You stood obediently, but quickly snapped back to the present moment when you heard Xiao's grunt as he struggled fending off the cryo archon.  "Wait," you stepped away from Zhongli, attempting to get past him.  "We can't leave him.  I have to fight!"

"Xiao is more than capable of handling this matter on his own.  You'd only get in the way."  A grip on your arm was somehow enough to stop you in your tracks despite how light and gentle it was.  Your head whipped back to him.

"I can't abandon him."

"He will join us as soon as he's done. Do you trust me?"

"I-"  Your gaze returned to the violent battle ahead of you.  At some point in your daze, the Tsaritsa had injured him; he was bleeding from his arm from what you could make out.  "Zhongli, I can't leave him.  He's injured.  We can't leave him!"

"Do you not sense the power in the air?"

"Huh?"  The question made you falter, but he was right.  Something about the air was different.  Whether it felt thinner or heavier, you couldn't tell--but there was a clear, crisp feeling to it that wasn't correlated to the icy chill of the Tsaritsa.

"Xiao cannot unleash his full power with you here.  Trust in him; he needs you out of the way."

"...Fine," you muttered with an ache in your chest.  Zhongli pulled you towards the exit as more pieces of the ceiling came crashing down behind you.  You regretted glancing over your shoulder when you heard a cry of distress once you reached the door.  "Z-Zhongli, wait-!"  The entrance collapsed before you had the chance to dive back into the throne room and chase after the sight of a severely injured yaksha.

"We must go!"  He didn't let up his grip on your wrist.

"Xiao!"  The desperate cry fell from your lips this time as you still attempted to fight against the archon's grasp.  "Xiao!"  Please don't die! You come back to me alive, you hear me?!   Please!

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

Golden hair was the first color other than white that greeted you outside.  "Aether?  Paimon?  What're you three doing here?"

"We must keep moving."  Zhongli finally let go of you and took the lead away from the palace.  His grim expression made your puffy red eyes fill with more tears.  Zhongli said to trust him and Xiao, but what if Zhongli didn't believe that Xiao could win this fight on his own?  

"Come on, it's okay.  We'll get you out of here."  Aether protectively wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled your heavy feet forward.  "Xiao will be just fine."

"Yeah!  He's handled worse than this," Paimon encouraged.  "He'll meet up with us once he's done!"

"Just how far are we going?"  The group must have walked a mile or two from the palace by now--the sight of the shrinking building filled you with trepidation.  That battle would not be easy to win, and it wouldn't be a short one, either.  Still though, you couldn't help but panic at how long it's been already.  "Isn't this far enough?"

"We will rest for a few moments, then we must continue until we get out of Snezhnaya.  Xiao will-"

"I thought we were going to wait for him."

"The country is swarming with Fatui.  We cannot risk-"

"You didn't mention we were going to leave him behind completely!  We can't just leave him, Zhongli! Do you not care at all what happens to him?"

"Keep your voice down-!"  Paimon shushed.  "We can't attract any unwanted attention..."  The ground shuddered, and Paimon's eyes widened as she stared past you.

"What?"

"T-The palace!"

The group turned its attention to the epicenter of the earthquake, and was met with a disturbing sight.  Pillar by pillar, wall to ceiling, the building collapsed on itself.  The palace was reduced to rubble in mere seconds, and the sound echoed faintly until it was replaced by an eerie silence.

"X-Xiao," a faint murmur, then your knees gave out beneath you.  All you could do was stare in shock at the palace, unaware of the tears that streamed down your face.  "Xiao...?  Can you..." hear me?

"Seems the Tsaritsa finished her fight," a foreign voice had everyone but you on edge.  The view of the rubble was blocked by a large hat and blue hair.  "What luck, that I've run into the intruders."

"Scaramouche."  Aether tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

"Hey, get behind us!"  Paimon yelled out from behind you.  "You're in no shape to fight!"

"No...shape...?"  Your gaze finally focused on the harbinger directly in front of you.  He found amusement in your broken expression, his lips even having the audacity to curl into a sadistic, lopsided grin.

"I have orders to kill, but I won't give you the chance for reciting your last words."  He raised his hand to strike you down--

--And was met with a blast of anemo that countered his electricity.  He stumbled back into the snow, his hat even dislodging from his head.  "'No shape to fight?'"  Paimon was met with desolate eyes that lacked their usual copy of an amber tint.  Puffy eyes were dried and replaced with a rendition of anger that was neither boiling rage nor cold revenge.  Zhongli could've described it as similar to the Tsaritsa's change of heart over the centuries.  "I feel perfectly fine, Paimon."

"Are you...?"  Aether took a step forward and lowered his sword when you held your palm out to him as a threat.

"I'm fine.  I'll hold him off.  You guys should leave before things get messy."

"Messy?"

"Traveler," Zhongli caught the attention of Aether and Paimon.  "I think it would be wise to follow her lead."

"But she's not in the right state of mind--"

"I'm afraid that's exactly why we should listen to her.  Come now," he ushered them over and they all began to head in the direction of the border.  Aether was still protesting, but you couldn't hear what he was saying.

"You--"  An angry voice prompted you to turn your head.  "--are DEAD!"

"On the contrary,"  you didn't budge when he came running at you, "it's you who'll die today."

Sparring sessions in the snow with Childe made it much easier to navigate the fresh layers.  It appeared that Scaramouche's time in Mondstat had made him rusty when faced with using the snowy terrain to his advantage, but that didn't stop him from promoting a superconductive reaction whenever he managed to get close to you.  If your vision didn't break, it would be much easier to use that strategy against him.  Instead you relied on an old tree branch as your weapon and the wind to guide your stiffing movements as the temperatures finally bit into your skin.  

Speaking of Childe, where is he today?  He couldn't be waiting at the border to ambush the group...right?  A quick glance over your shoulder gave Scaramouche an opening.  

"Haah!"  Electricity pulsed through the branch that blocked his attack from striking your head.

"Ngh!"  Bear through it.  I've felt worse pain.  I can handle this! "Get back!"  Your hurricane-force winds didn't catch him off guard now that he knew it was your only strategy against him;  you had no idea how to use this unfamiliar power, and while your movements were quick, your inexperience showed.

Scaramouche leapt in time to dodge the gust that tried to sweep him off his feet, and the hat that was in his hand struck your jaw hard enough to bring stars into you vision.  Who knew such a small person could strike like one of those electro skirmishers-

You stumbled and attempted to regain your footing, but not before those all-too familiar jolts rang through your body.  "Ah!"  The snow beneath you didn't help, and neither did the fact that you were now on your knees.  Violent winds whipped blindly in every direction; you couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes.  It seems you were missing your target since you were still being electrocuted.

A sharp kick to your stomach, and you were now staring at the overcast sky.  Then that damned hat obscured your view.  "After this, I'm killing that hero of Mondstat and your retired god."

"Tch."  The taste of iron overwhelmed your tongue.  "You won't kill us that easily."

"What do you care?  You have nothing to live for now that that adeptus is dead.  Die while you still have some smidge of dignity left."

Your confidence faltered if only slightly.  "Take that back.  Take that back!"  You swung the branch at his catalyst and leapt to your feet.  "He's not dead!"  Your aimless, sloppy swings were enough to draw a laugh from the harbinger.  At least, until he kicked you backwards, using his vision to push you further and harder into a tree behind you.

CRISTCH.

W-What...Involuntary tears of pain made it difficult to see where the wound was until the pain pinpointed somewhere around your right kidney.  What just...?

"Good, right where I want you."  Scaramouche began to stalk over with his catalyst floating closely behind him, eyes glinting with satisfaction at the growing spot of blood at your abdomen.

"The tree..ngh..."  What do I do? What do I do? I'm pinned.  I can't--I can't think straight--

"Hey girlie, hold still."  TWISH.  The firing of an arrow rudely interrupted the battlefield and the force of his elemental burst knocked your opponent off his feet.  The voice of a dangerous man shouldn't have been this comforting.

"C-Childe?  What the hell are you--"

"What the HELL are you doing?!"  Scaramouche readied his catalyst and sat up prepared for 'friendly' fire.  Anger practically radiated off of him.

"Making amends.  What does it look like?"  The harbinger emerged from somewhere behind you and moved so that he was between you and your opponent.

"What...?"  Your whisper reached his ears, and Childe glanced at you briefly.

"What a gorgeous sight you make, ojou-chan!  Your blood on the snow is simply breathtaking."  The friendliness in his eyes emptied.  "Unfortunately, I'll have to cut my admiration short.  Can you move?"

"Ngh, I think so.  Give me a minute."

"Perfect," he returned his attention to his fellow harbinger.  "Sorry to interrupt, but you won't be killing her today.  And I have to say, Scaramouche, I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

[mrsjadecurtiss]

What do you think of Robert? What are your opinions on him, do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

I think Robert was fundamentally not made to be a king - He has the charisma and the looks and is an able warrior, but his negative character traits are indulged and enhanced by his position and led him down an almost unavoidable path.

Robert is someone who above all wants to enjoy and live an easy life:

"You need to come south," Robert told him. "You need a taste of summer before it flees. [...] Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. "And the girls, Ned!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat.[...]" The king laughed happily. Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. - Eddard I, aGoT

"Robert wanted smiles and cheers, always, so he went where he found them, to his friends and his whores. Robert wanted to be loved." - Sansa IV, aCoK

He has just enough of a moral understanding to at least know when he is doing wrong and to even feel bad about it at times, but not enough to actually change anything about himself.

The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. "I should not have hit [Cersei]. That was not … that was not kingly." He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. - Eddard X, aGoT

Robert desires to have an easy life, he wants to be loved, he wants to have fun, but he does not want to deal with the hard and unpleasant things. In times of crisis, he wants to take the easy way out, and he prefers to avoid uncomfortable truths.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. "[...] When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children." - Tyrion VI, aSoS

"Well, now I know Jaime's dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten. I am heartily sick of secrets and squabbles and matters of state, Ned." - Eddard II, aGoT

"Most likely the king did not know," Littlefinger said. "It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see." - Eddard IV, aGoT

He feels most comfortable when he is surrounded by people who love him and know how to handle him/want the best for him, and steer him onto the right path in a way where he can still feel good about himself.

"These are difficult times. I need good men about me. Men like Jon Arryn. He served as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, as the Hand of the King. He will not be easy to replace." - Eddard I, aGoT

In an environment that works against him, or goes against his wishes even if it is for the better, it creates a destructive energy in him. He cannot stand dissent to his wishes because it robs him of a pleasure he desires, and creates unwanted conflict. He also cannot handle constructive criticism because it makes him confront unpleasant truths - he always wants the easiest path with the least tension. If he is presented with a situation that strains his limits as there is no amiable solution to a difficult/disturbing problem, his reaction is a toxic one; turning to rage and violence even towards his own child.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing here and why he had come. He was no Jon Arryn, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robert would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Ned could say or do would change that. - Eddard II, aGoT

He may act against what he knows is right, because it is the easiest route; like when he has the wolf Lady killed to please Cersei:

“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold.” [...] "We have a wolf," Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph. It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably. "As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it." - “Robert, you cannot mean this,” Ned protested. The king was in no mood for more argument. “Enough, Ned, I will hear no more." - Eddard III, aGoT

"I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean. My son was lying, I'd stake my soul on it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And when Ned reprimands him about Daenerys he will not hear dissent, even though he knows deep down that it is wrong:

He gave the king a long cool look. “Would [the man who spared Barristan] were here today.” Robert had shame enough to blush. “It was not the same,” he complained. “Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.” - “Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl.”

[...] “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?” - “No, Your Grace,” Ned replied. “Have you?” - “Enough!” the king bellowed. “I am sick of talk. I’ll be done with this, or be damned."

[...] “I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to  it.” For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. [...] “You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.” - “I wish him every success.” Ned [...] laid [his badge of office] on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.” Robert’s face was purple. “Out,” he croaked, choking on his rage. “[...] Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!” - Eddard VIII, aGoT

“Gods have mercy,” he muttered, swallowing his agony. “The girl. Daenerys. Only a child, you were right . . . that’s why, the girl . . . the gods sent the boar . . . sent to punish me . . .” - Eddard XIII, aGoT

Robert is a man who always wants it easy, he wants his demands to always be fulfilled, to be loved and have fun without dealing with the bad things; but an important theme that is repeated over and over in asoiaf is that you can only act good if you are willing to face the bad that may come with it, and if you cannot live with the consequences, your action might not be justified.*

Bran thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?" - "That is the only time a man can be brave." - Bran I, aGoT

"Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice." - Davos VI, aSoS

"The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die." - Bran I, aGoT

Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself." - Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall. - Eddard III, aGoT

This is why putting him on the throne was poison - all the power in the world, and noone who would dare go against his wishes. It indulges all of Robert's worst traits, and buries anything he had inside him that was salvageable.

Ser Barristan Selmy spoke up. "Your Grace," he said, "it is not seemly that the king should ride into the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?" - "Ser Barristan is right. There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare risk your displeasure by hurting you." - Eddard VII, aGoT

I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools. He thought he knew already. - Eddard IV, aGoT

And Robert knows it - he knows being a king isn't for him, that he doesn't enjoy the actual work that goes into governing, that he doesn't have the personality for such politics or to deal with the people involved, and that he would much rather spend his time enjoying life and doing what he loves...

"Look at what kinging has done to me. Gods, too fat for my armor, how did it ever come to this? [...] I swear to you, I was never so alive as when I was winning this throne, or so dead as now that I’ve won it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one. Laws are a tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people … there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. They all want something, money or land or justice. The lies they tell … and my lords and ladies are no better. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness, Ned. Half of them don't dare tell me the truth, and the other half can't find it. There are nights I wish we had lost at the Trident. Ah, no, not truly, but …" - Eddard I, aGoT

Robert groaned with good-humored impatience. "If I wanted to honor you, I'd let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave." - Eddard I, aGoT

"Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that's what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And yet he doesn't do anything about it and keeps staying at the position he hates - he does not want to deal with the uncomfortable consequences that would come with upsetting the status quo, or making changes to his own personality and going through growth, or confronting ugly truths about himself in a productive way, etc etc.

He does make a talk of changes at times during aGoT, and seems to have a sense of responsibility about his Job, but as it is his desire for changes came too late, and what responsibility he felt mostly served to paralyze him in place.

"The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?" - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I'm still young, and now that you're here with me, things will be different. We'll make this a reign to sing of, and damn the Lannisters to seven hells." - Eddard VII, aGoT

In a way Joffrey is to Robert what Ramsay is to Roose: an exploration of the inherent flaw in their way of life, demonstrated in the most extreme case. In Joffrey's case, it shows what happens to give someone unlimited power with noone daring to oppose them.

Do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

It's a little unclear which war you mean, so I will briefly touch on several points:

There could have been ideal circumstances where he might have worked out as a king, if he was surrounded by people who know the perfect way to deal with him and make him work past his flaws (intuitively doing the work of a modern therapist), but the average life is not ideal and grrm shows the realistic fate of a man like Robert.

I think by the time Ned arrived it was sadly too late to change - maybe if the Lannisters didn't exist, or this or that event hadn't happened, but Grrm shows that most of what lead to Robert's downfall was in the end caused by himself. Cersei kills him because she came to despise the man he was, and for good reason as he abused her during all her marriage - and while he has some scenes of feeling bad or even apologizing for it, he never made any attempts to actually change the terrible way he was treating her.

If Robert's Rebellion never happened, he would have probably made an able enough Lord of Storm's End; delegating his "boring" administrative duties to his advisors and maester, enjoying the privileges of highborn life, and having just enough responsibility to feel like the alpha male of his society yet not enough to do as lasting damage as he did for the throne. He would not have been the best Lord, but sadly there are many worse in Westeros, since the entire dynastic ruling system is inherently flawed. If he would have been a better person depends on who he is surrounded with, if circumstances would have motivated him to change, or if perhaps his position of power and outward influences would still just have indulged him into the man he was in aGoT. Ultimately, there are a lot of butterfly effects leading to different results that i’m sure have been explored in many fics.

"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature." - Eddard IX, aGoT

This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he'd known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly. - Eddard VII, aGoT    

What do you think of Robert?

Since i am someone who frequently enjoys morally grey and villainous characters, despite his many negative traits i have a fondness of Robert; I think he is an interesting character and very human in his flaws, and there is a lot of melancholy to his story that makes me somber about him even if it obviously does not excuse his bad actions. I also think he has a great character design that's fun to draw and some fun boisterous scenes, and some of his positive qualities remind me of people i know.

*Stannis is an interesting character as Robert’s brother, as he is the opposite to him in this regard, as well as in many aspects of their personality and even their outward presentation (like how Stannis crops his beard short to contrast Robert’s wild one)

[simpingfortheages]

//COME STAY HERE WITH ME//

Sally Mckenna x fem reader

(SUSPENSE, FLUFF if you squint, ANGST, has a twist )

Promises aren't words without meaning. They leave a mark on your soul you need to fulfill.

The reader just isn't ready to make such a big commitment. Sally doesn't approve or believe her and she is determined to change that.

~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~

"Sally I love you of course I do. I will come back soon, i promise but you seriously cannot expect me to stay here forever" I argued with her as I hurriedly pack my carryon with unfolded clothes. Sally sat silently on the bed dwelling in her own thoughts. I could feel her sharp eyes bore into the back of my head as i maneuvered my way around the small room collecting my things. She didn't speak after i made that statement, no she just looked upon my sloppy movements .

The atmosphere in the room was stifling, the air was stale of sex and cigarette smoke. I was choking on the suspense of what Sally was going to do. I know she would never kill me, she promised me that. I was almost done packing when I turned around,only to meet her towering figure standing right behind me. She was a hair's width away. " I really wished you'd stay" she said in raspy low octave . There was not a door or window open to let a draft in, that was because it was her voice that sent shivers running and prickling along my spine. " I will come back to you very soon. I promise Sally" I replied to her, with a lack of commitment in my voice. Sally has managed to keep me stuck in the Cotez for 4 months. My family misses me, my job , my house was all waiting for me at home. I love Sally I really do, but I just wasn't ready. Sally slowed squinted her eyes at my response as though she was analyising each piece of word that left my mouth. I gave her a nervous side smile before I bent down to zip up my carryon. As I gathered my bag I made my way hesitantly toward the door. I felt as though Sally could read my mind. She may be a ghost but she doesn't have the special ability to read minds.

The humidity and tension in the room,caused beads to sweat to form and roll down the side of my face, the sticky and disgusting feeling of my shirt sticking to my armpits and my back didn't make my situation any easier. I squeezed my eyes tightly to try and get rid of the on coming headache, my stomach was churning. It was getting hard to breathe at this point. I gripped the copper handle of the hotel door and slowed turned it to make my way out of the room. *SLAM* the door was shut. I blinked a few times to understand what just happened. I looked at the door only to see a black chipped nail polished hand pressing firmly against it. My suspicions were confirmed. It was Sally who shut the door. The coldness from her close proximity radiated off her ghost form, but the breathe I felt on the nape of my neck was warm and inviting. Sally was really close. I didn't even realised my breathe was held, I was making myself feel faint just by her being close to me. I didn't have to turn around and face Sally since she was already leaning over my fraile form . She moved herself closer to place her red messy lipstick lips near my right ear. " You really didn't think I'd let you leave..." Sally began whispering in my ear. I didn't let her finish her sentence, she was cut off from the loud release of shakey breathe I was previously holding. Fuck! Sally was going to kill me right here and now I thought. Her soft frizzy hair was brushing my sweaty hot face, but the way my body was reacting didn't affect her. Sally wouldn't care if i were covered in blood so why would sweat deter her. She was nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck, without thinking I closed my eyes and leaned into her. The gentle kisses that she left upon my neck each sent small electrical pulses down to my stomach. She knew what she was doing. " like I was saying y/n,you really didn't think I'd let you leave....without your phone?" She said in a teasing manner as she pushed the device into my hands. Sally angled her head even closer to the side of my face , my facial expression was one of relief. However my heart still said otherwise, the rapid palpitation of each beat could have been heard if not for the muffled sound of traffic on the streets outside. It took me a while to find my words of gratitude, but Sally was patient. She continued to stare and admire the every twitch and subtle movement my face made. I couldn't bring myself to meet her hopeful eyes. Her eyes held a wanting future with me at the Cortez, she spoke many time how the least painful way to kill me was like Overdose with the use of her white China...but I didn't want any of that. I love Sally. Just not to death. Her body was now pressed against me, it was not one of a sexual manner just one to give the feeling that I was her prey and she was the predator.

Sally does scare me. No one knows the extent that she will go to keep something or someone she wants, there's no real way to stop a ghost such as herself. I forced myself to mumble a thank you, which would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for her face being so close to mine. Sally only replied with a soft pur, she really knew what she was doing because my toes curled at the erotic sound the woman made . We stayed in this position for a couple more seconds but not before Sally moved closer to my neck and licked a wet strip along the side of it. A pathetic whimper ripped it's way from my throath into the still air of the room. She swiftly removed her palm from the door allowing me to leave. My body was flustered and longed for more contact with Sally. She has me wrapped around her finger and boy did she know that. I wasn't going to throw myself into her arms, this time I am committed to leaving the Cotez. As I opened the door to exit, the warm air from the hallway came rushing in to mix with the cold air that was created inside the room. I turned around to wish Sally goodbye....but she was gone. I couldn't feel her presence anymore in the room. Maybe she was else where. The walk to the elevator was a long one, I tried to look down each corridor to see if she was lingering near by. No luck.

Did she not miss me? Will she move onto someone else?. As the elevator doors opened my thoughts were interuppted. The lobby was empty, no Liz and Iris arguing. The help desk just sat there in silence. I fumbled with my bags waking towards the exit. A feeling of unwanted and doubt returned in my stomach. Was this the right choice? I have already made it this far. I have been trying to leave the Hotel for the past 2 weeks. I furrowed my eyebrows at the thought of me succumbing to my weakness . No. I am going to leave. I will return to visit Sally, of course I will, but I just couldn't stay here forever. I took a deep breath, the cold icey air filled my lungs giving me a new sense of confidence. I marched my way towards the exit, taking one last look at the place I called me home for the past months.

I was almost to the door when i felt a sudden drop in temperature. The hairs at the back of my neck was now alert. The silence was in room was filed with Crying??? I turned my heels and saw her standing in the middle of the lobby with black tears running down her porcelain face. My heart broke at the sight. "YOU'RE REALLY LEAVING ME??" Sally screamed into the quietness of.the lobby. I visibly flinched at the level her voice raised, I opened my mouth and basically explained to Sally that it was only going to be for a while and that I would return to the Cortez and that I do love her. Her face that was once filled with hurt and anger was slowly replaced with confusion but slight understanding. The pout her bottom lip did and the way her brown doe eyes looked at me, made me drop my carryon. I

impulsively ran towards Sally and enveloped my arms around her. She immediately returned the hug, while I nudged my face into her chest as she rested her head upon my head. Sally felt like home but there was still so much for me to do outside the Hotel.

Her embrace was like poison to me yet it was the antidote at the same time. Time seemed to not exist at this exact moment. I felt Sally turn her head and rest her cheek on the top of my head trying to get as close to me as possible. Even though almost every night for 4 months we cuddled like this, I will never get enough of it. However, I really needed to get going, I loosened my grip around her waist in hopes of her understanding to let go, but she remained hugged me in her arms. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, " Sally baby let go" I requested, my voice was still kind of muffled since my face was basically pressed against the material of her dress. Sally silence my request with an elongated shush, as she increased the hold she had around my body. It was getting hard to even breathe, Sally was basically smothering me . I wedged my hands between our bodies and pressed the heels of my palm into her chest . Trying to push myself away with everything I have to break free of her deadly hold. At this point the only think that filled my nose and lungs were the cheap perfume Sally wore that her victim's brought with them to the Hotel. "SALLY WHAT THE FUCK LET GO" I screamed. I wiggled and started to hyperventilate still fighting her. Sally didn't budge. "GOD SALLY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WIT-" ....no....she wouldn't . She said she wouldn't. My mind was going haywire at the thought. I stopped fighting against her and let my arms drop to the side. What the fuck??? There it was again. A sharp burning sensation in my back. It was hurting to breathe at this point. The pain was unbareable, sounds of agony and pain escaped my throath as hot tears cascaded down my face. The combination of the pain in my back and the difficulty to breathe was too much for me. Sally's grip around me was now loose enough for me to shove her off and step back. I felt weak, my knees buckled and gave out, I fell to the floor landing on my knees. The new angle allowed me to get a good view of Sally. She was smiling with joy, tear of happiness running down her face. The bitch welded a fucking kitchen kife covered in crimson blood,not just any blood. It was my blood .Sally Mckenna stabbed me in my back . My lover was planning on killing me. The wounds she created started poured a bloody waterfall down my back and onto the floor.

Sally smiled even bigger at the sight, she had this glint of something in her eyes. I couldn't tell what it was but my blood or whatever was still left in me began to boil. I hated Sally so much right now. There's no way in hell am I going to die in this fucking Hotel and be stuck here with her for all eternity. I gritted my teeth in pain and forced myself to push Sally onto the ground. It may not have been much but she fell back on the carpeted floor. This gave me time to turn on my knees and crawl towards to exit of the Cotez,to make quicker haste of my actions, I dropped down flat onto my stomach and tired to army crawl my way out of here. I craned my head backwards to see where Sally was but she was already back on her feet, the look of anger and annoyance was casted upon her face. I never stopped crawling away from her, the carpet that decorated the floor was now covered in a trail of my blood, my elbows were getting carpet burn but i didn't care. I heard the movements of Sally shifting behind me,she could have stopped me a long time now,but she just wanted to stand there and look down at me. It was sick. Her heel clicks were muffled into the floor, as they got closer. I screamed for help non stop, she didn't like that I was getting closer to the door. Sally grabbed me by my ankles pulling me away from my freedom. I tried to kick her away but my body was too weak. My nails were breaking and bleeding as I scratch along the carpet trying to grab hold of anything. I cried out in pain but Sally didn't care, " oh baby no come stay here with me" she cooed trying to calm me down. She managed to drag me away from the door. I knew if I even escaped her hold I wouldn't make the distance. So I cried, the adrenaline that was coarsing through my blood was now decreasing. My heart beat was soft and my eye lids were heavy. Sally parted her legs and pulled me flush against her chest. My back wounds made rough contact with her but I was too weak to even hiss. She was cruel, Sally sat me in such a way that I had clear view of the door.

I could see it, the sun shining down on all the people who walked the streets, the cars the hurriedly drove pass the Hotel . I detested the sight. I could have been one of those people who went about living their life. I was no longer crying, the tear tracks on my face were fresh but no more followed. Sally repated kissed the side of my temple whispering silent I love you's. I zoned her out at this point. If i was going to die in the Cortez that doesn't mean I have to interact with her. I hate you Sally. I hate you. "Y/N?" Sally spoke, breaking my silent brooding. I didn't acknowledge her but she knew she had my attention. " I'm going to speed up the process, so we can be together even faster" I ignored her, there was nothing more i could do. Sally gripped the knife that was covered in my blood and quickly slashed it across my neck. My eyes went wide. All i saw was red. My lungs quickly filled with my own blood, the only taste that painted my tongue was metallic. I cried for help but blood gushed its way out instead. My body began to feel prickly and cold. So this is how it felt to die. My vision became blurred, the doorway of the hotel was now unrecognizable. " close your eyes baby I am here...I will be here went you are awake" Sally whispered into my ears as she held me tighter. I complied, I closed my eyes and felt all the warmth slowly leave my body. This is how I died. I died by the hands and embrace of my so called ghost lover.

~~~~~~~time skip ~~~~~~~

I groaned as I stirred awake, I couldn't see properly but I could feel a weight on my chest,but it wasn't uncomfortable. I needed to blink a couple of times to clear my vision. I knew I was back in the Hotel but where was I exactly ? Apparently my shifting cause the weight on my chest to be lifted. I looked down and saw that it was Sally who was resting on me. My vision was still a little blurry, but i could have seen that she was smiling at me with her red bottom lip tuck away under her teeth. I tried to move but Sally moved her hand that was resting on my thigh and pressed it against my bare chest,shoving me back down onto the mattress. It dawned on me that I was completely naked,expect for the fact that I was wearing her leopard print coat. She saw the perplexed look on my face and answered the question in my head. "Your clothes were bloody, so I showered and wrapped you up in my coat.". I looked around and now realised that we back in her apartment. Room 64. I had so many questions, I wanted to yell at her but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a soft "why?..." She looked at me with admiration and love. Her hands were wondering all over my naked body, ghosting over all my moles and scars. " You were going to break your promise, I just made sure you fulfilled it." She said in a matter of fact tone.

Sally punctuated the sentence with a kiss upon my chest. "You stabbed me and slit my throath why that way?" I further questioned the ghost. " You needed to hurt Y/N like how you hurt me , but it's all okay now because we are the same and we have each other" Sally justified . She moved to straddle me and cup my face as she recited the statement. Her forehead was now pressed against mine, and I could have felt the warmth of her breathe brushing across my face. Sally kissed me, but the kiss was not one of love ,it was one of fulfillment. She got what she wanted. Sally slipped her tongue pass my lips to deepened the kiss, I could hear the change in her breathing. It was loud and heavy. She was created a heated kiss, but I couldn't allow that to happen right now.

So i took my hands to shove her off of me.*CLINK* what the fuck??? I cut off Sally's kiss to turn my head and see what was the reason for the sound . My right hand was handcuffed to the bed. Sally looked down at my chest smirking as she rubbed her hands up and down from my chest up to my neck. She was ignoring the look of concern that was painted on my face. "Sally what the fuck??? Uncuff me" I demanded. All she did was laugh at my words. Sally crawled further up my body and played with the curls of my hair with her index finger. " no" was all she said. "What do you mean no??" I raged. Her patience was running thin now, her smile transformed into a scowl. Her hands gripped and dug into my jaw, " You are dead so that means you don't need food,you don't need sleep, you no longer need the requirements of the living."she spat her words out like it was venom. "You think I don't know you baby?"She continued, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes shifted from between my lips and my eyes every few seconds. " You cannot escape me and I am not going to let you avoid me" she finished. I was scrambling for words," wha-i but- sally you cannot keep me chained here" my voice was lowered this time, I spoke softly trying to get on her good side." I know baby but when you come back to me and understand that what i did was for us, I will uncuff you." Sally kissed my forehead and returned to her previous position of lying down on top of me. Her head was resting on my heart ,but I doubt she would be able to hear a beat. Silence surrounded the both of us, I tilted my head backwards hitting the bedrest with a soft thud. I accepted that this was now my faith and my future. My eyes were glued to the ceiling, taking in the smallest details, eventually focusing on the small cobweb being built in the corner. Sally whispered softly into the peaceful silence " y/n my love next time you should remember that promises are not just words spoken."