#if he’s always believed that the love they had for him is dependent upon his usefulness why would he believe they love him unconditionally

[terrorofthetrident]

thinking about olivia saying “the closest relationship [alicent] had is probably with aemond, but he’s turning into an absolute killer, which is terrifying for her” and how their relationship will change once she finds out about luke’s death. she’s going to be in such disbelief that the son she thought wouldn’t disappoint her, has in the most horrific way. will she even be able to look at him the same way again?? will they reconcile and be on good terms before he leaves king’s landing for the last time? based on ewan’s interview, aemond thinks his family’s love for him is conditional, i need them to prove him wrong. but then, wouldn’t it be so tragic if aemond continues on with that belief, desperately trying to prove he’s useful and worthy of their love by ending the war he believes he’s responsible for starting? no matter the cost, even if that means he has to die in the process.

[thebutchersbitch]

18+ ONLY | Cooper Adams x Reader | Daddy Kink / DDLG | Reader had a life with a husband before Cooper abducted her | But now she’s all about that Stockholm Syndrome life, y’know? … 👀 | Infidelity, twisted relationship dynamic/power imbalance | reader uses the bathroom in front of Cooper | restraints are used

PART TWO

Rain softly tapped against the bedroom window. Your eyes opened from sleep, the room gradually coming into focus. You felt Cooper’s warmth against your cheek, where it rested on his chest, his bare skin just slightly damp with sweat. Your eyes traveled up Cooper’s neck and you felt your heart flutter just a little. Even after months of being together, you’d never quite gotten used to how handsome Cooper was. It was hard to believe sometimes that he’d chosen you; it felt as if you’d been together forever.

Remembering the past, your life before Cooper, was difficult. All of those memories had become so muddled in your brain, clouded over by the power Cooper held over you…YOU, his special girl, the one he’d risked so much for, who he…loved? You weren’t exactly sure if Cooper loved you, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. But then, nothing about Cooper was traditional. It was best not to wonder about his feelings for you; it hurt too much to consider that the risks he’d taken to have you, that he took every day to keep you, were motivated by anything but love.

You became aware of the dull ache in your wrist. You felt it some mornings upon waking. The metal cuff dug into your skin just a little, depending on the position you slept in, and today was one of the days you woke up hurting. It didn’t even make sense for Cooper to use restraints; he should know by now that you weren’t going anywhere, that you were his. But there was something inside Cooper you didn’t fully understand, a sense of distrust inside him that stemmed from being emotionally abandoned by his own mother throughout his childhood. He needed proof that you weren’t going to leave him. The cuff around your wrist was uncomfortable sometimes, but Cooper needed it to be there. He needed that physical bit of assurance that you were not going to run away, that you wouldn’t hurt him.

Cooper would be lost without you. He’d told you as much, holding you tightly in his arms, your cheek nestled into the warm curves of his chest, his heart thundering against your ear. He may not have said it with words, but the way he held you spoke louder than any profession of adoration ever could have. Cooper needed you. The void you filled in his life was too important and besides, you were too precious, too pure, to be set loose into a world that would eat you alive, if given the chance. He was protecting you, Cooper explained, by keeping you here. This house was just for you, yours to roam and clean and enjoy, as long as you promised not to ever leave it. The restraints were just a visual reminder for Cooper of your devotion to him, the metal ring around your wrist like a wedding band.

You felt Cooper stirring under you, the low rumble of his breath as he exhaled through his nose. When his eyes opened, Cooper let the ceiling above him come into focus, telling him which house he was waking up in. This was the house he kept you in, the one with the beige-colored ceilings, one of his secret houses. The soft body pressed against his moved just a little, further confirming for Cooper where he was. When he turned his head, he’d be looking into your eyes, not his wife’s, not this morning. He’d make some excuse to Rachel just like he always did, and as usual, she’d believe his lie.

“Daddy?”

Cooper’s lips pull into a contended smile at hearing your sweet voice. The sound of your restraints quietly clinking beside him gives Cooper final confirmation that he is, in fact, with his special girl.

“How did you sleep, princess?” he asks, his voice husky with sleep. He reaches for the key on his nightstand. “I slept fine, Daddy,” you reply, and it’s true. You have the best dreams sleeping next to Cooper, much better than you used to have when sleeping by your husband…in that other, far-away life you can barely remember, before Cooper took you for himself.

His arm goes around you, both to hold you and to unlock your restraints. The key jingles inside the lock; you smile in relief as the cuff loosens and drops from your wrist. Cooper pulls you into him, his lips nestling against the top of your head, his nose buried in the soft warmth of your hair. “How did you sleep?” you ask, and Cooper sighs.

“Not great, unfortunately,” he replies, shifting so his chest and yours are pressed together. “I kept having dreams…bad ones. But I’m better now. Now that I’m with you.”

He smiles, but there’s a look of sadness behind his eyes. It’s a sadness that never seems to leave Cooper, no matter how much sex and love you provide him. You’d give anything in the world to remove that sorrow from him, but it’s buried so deep inside Cooper that even he can’t reach it. That doesn’t stop you from trying, though.

“I could make the bad dreams go away,” you offer, even if isn’t true. Cooper takes your hand in his, guiding it beneath the blanket covering you both at the waist. His cock is stiff, pressed flush against his belly. Cooper wraps your hand over it, groaning contentedly into your touch. “I’d like that,” he murmurs with a sleepy smile.

The rain has picked up considerably, pelting the window beside you. It drums against the roof of the house in time with your heartbeat as Cooper’s hand nestles between your thighs, cupping your cunt in his palm. He massages your clit with the heel of his hand, his fingers gently teasing your moist labia apart. Your breath hitches; Cooper smiles against your lips. “Did Daddy find your special spot, princess?” he asks, his cock pulsing in your fist. Your soft whimper is all the answer Cooper needs. He keeps rubbing you, kneading your pussy in his palm while gradually slipping his fingertips just inside your entrance. You bury your face in the curve of his shoulder, a vulnerable little sob muffled against Cooper’s skin. “Oh, there she is,” he hums, his fingers sinking deeper. “This is what Daddy needs, angel…is this what you need, too?”

You nod into Cooper’s shoulder, lifting your hips to grind against his palm. He lets you sink over two of his fingers, taking them as deeply as you can, curving them slightly around the natural contours of your body. You rock forward and back on Cooper’s hand, humping his wrist. You feel the veins in Cooper’s cock pulse against your palm, his cock throbbing as you stroke him. His breath heats your skin, dusting a few strands of hair from your forehead as he exhales. A groan rises from Cooper’s chest as you curve your hand around his tip, squeezing firmly, increasing the pressure as you stroke him. He follows your lead, parting his fingers just slightly, your cunt rejecting the added stretch.

Cooper growls into your hair, his words full of a pride that strokes something even deeper in you than his fingers: “That’s my good girl…squeezing Daddy’s fingers and you won’t let go, will you?”

You shake your head in the curve of Cooper’s shoulder. “Never,” you reply. “Never going to leave you, Cooper.” Although you can’t feel it, a sense of peace swells inside him, spreading through his body like a drug. That’s right, he thinks. You’re never going to leave me, sweet angel…never.

You shudder on Cooper’s fingers, your climax steadily building. He strokes his fingers inside you, around the curve of your g-spot, beckoning you closer to release. You whimper at Cooper’s ear, your lips parting and latching onto his shoulder, his skin salty against your tongue. He feels you tense, your moist walls pulsing around his fingers. “Come on baby,” Cooper murmurs. “Let it all go for Daddy sweetheart; it’s okay, you can bite down if you need to.” You do, sinking your teeth into Cooper’s skin, bracing yourself as his fingers pull you over the edge into ecstasy. He throbs inside your fist, his body tensing as your teeth breach his skin. The pain is delicious, the sharp sting of your bite coaxing Cooper’s own release from within him. He pulses against your palm as cum paints his stomach, clinging in the curly hair above his cock.

You massage Cooper gently, squeezing every remaining drop of his release onto his belly. His eyes are closed, his mind uncharacteristically blank. It feels…incredible. It feels like killing, that sweet, elusive emptiness in a mind consumed by obsession and the shame of his mother’s rejection. Cooper feels numb, in the best way possible, a state of peace only you and murder can bring him to.

He clutches you into him, the strong thrum of his heartbeat thumping against your cheek as you rest your head at his chest. Cooper holds you awhile longer before reaching for his phone, lifting it to check the time. You can’t help it; your eyes catch the notifications on the screen. Two texts, three missed calls from ‘Rachel.’ Your heart sinks. You feel Cooper’s jaw tighten; he hates this as much as you do. If only a world existed where his responsibility to his family didn’t stand in between the two of you being together…maybe then, Cooper would trust you. Maybe he’d realize the handcuffs weren’t necessary, that you truly meant it when you said you’d be there for him, always…

Cooper sets the phone back on the nightstand, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. He reaches around you for the handcuffs. You offer your wrist willingly, making it easy for him. It wasn’t always; back when Cooper first took you, he was met with extreme resistance. You kicked, you scratched, you screamed…but now? You gaze up at Cooper with big doe eyes as he fastens you inside your restraints. Cooper smiles as the cuff fastens, settling into the familiar grooves it’s shaped in your skin.

“Daddy has to go now, princess,” he tells you, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I should have asked before, but do you need to use the restroom?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. You simply crave more time with Cooper, even if it’s just the time it takes to go to the restroom. He dresses, then unlocks your restraints, helping you from the bed as your legs as still trembling. Cooper walks you to the restroom, his finger poised on your shoulder the whole way. He lingers in the bathroom doorway, leaning against it as he watches you go. There’s no shame in going in front of Cooper; you’ve done everything in front of him. He encourages it.

“Clean yourself up,” he tells you. You hate to see the tension in his face, to hear the slight aggravation in his voice. “Daddy has to get to work, sweetheart. Hurry up now.”

You do as Cooper tells you. He watches you wipe yourself and flush the toilet, reminding you to “wash your hands.” His finger returns to your shoulder as you approach him in the doorway. Back in the bedroom, Cooper lays you out on the bed like a doll, smoothing your hair and smiling admiringly down at you from above. He takes your wrist in his hand and secures your restraints in place. “I’ll bring you something good for lunch,” Cooper promises, smiling warmly. He leans down and kisses your cheek before turning to go. With a quivering lip and tears building in your eyes, you watch him leave, listening as his car exits the driveway outside, longing for the time you hear it return…

Written for @pinastrihaven x

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could u order some Cregan Stark x Velaryon (Strong) wife reader fluff please? I live for Cregan being a big clingy man 😩

I left this one on the back burner didn’t I? Benjicot brainrot has officially taken over so i apologise for the other characters I promised that I’d write for but Benjicot had my heart, mind and soul rn.

If you were to ever tell the realm that your dear husband-Cregan Stark- was the softest soul in existence for a man of his stature, You wouldn’t have been believed and in all honestly you would have preferred it that way as well out of a selfish desire to keep something to yourself. For it had originally came as quite a surprise to you at first to know that Cregan had quite a bit of a clingy and soft side to his stoic stony exterior, but soon you quickly came to love that side of him to the point you had became selfish with withholding it from other people.

Cregan stark, Warden of the North, loved nothing more than to have his hair played with and he would not let you leave your shared chambers until you did just that. You had found out this very riveting bit of information from when you ran your fingers through his hair, almost in a similar way as when you would rub your siblings soothingly on the back when in need of comfort, only to then quickly pull alway upon realising what you were doing and were just about to apologise when Cregan’s hand grasped your tightly and brought your hand back to his head.

‘What?’ You asked in almost disbelief as Cregan hummed in content, shuffling himself closer to you as your hand started to run through his hair once more, he’d almost look cute if you weren’t currently why a man such as him was eager for your touch.

‘I like it when you run your hands through my hair,’ he spoke to you in a sluggish voice as he craned his neck towards your hand like a needy puppy. ‘Its calming effect lulls me to sleep, all I ask is that you continue to do so.’

‘If only it pleases my lord stark then I shall.’ You said as Cregan grabs you the waist and pulls you close to his chest, all the while your hand kept running through his dark hair in a soft and soothing manner. ‘It pleases me and more my dear wife.’ Cregan replies, groaning in content as your nails scratched his head deliberately and deliciously, so much so that had he been born a Direwolf his tail would’ve been wagging with unmatched eagerness in that moment.

‘Then it is settled.’ You said as you watched the way your husband melted in your hand, evidently relaxing under your touch as you brought him into a peaceful slumber before you yourself joined shortly after, whereas your hand would remain half way through his use until the morning do the next day; yourself now filled with an entirely new perspective on your lord husband of Winterfell who prided himself on duty as though his life depended on it.

From that day forth you would find yourself in a routine where every night just before either you or Cregan fell asleep, you would run your hand through his hair as he laid his head against your chest to hear your heartbeat, all the while the copious layers of furs on your shared bed kept the cold winds of Winterfell at bay from touching your bare skin. Not many words were exchanged during these moments, but there was no need for them as your actions towards the other were loud enough to be heard without the usage of oral communication.

From the constant tugging of Cregan’s rough but strong hands as they were desperate in keeping you close to his chest, scared that you might one day take off in the middle of the night on dragonback back to Dragonstone, to how occupied you were with detangling the stubborn nots within your husbands hair without accidentally hurting him in the process. ‘Where do all these nots keep coming from, I brush your hair thoroughly enough in the morning, but by nightfall it’s as though i hadn’t made an attempt at all.’ You said aloud as you worked on your fifth not in the course of a couple of minutes.

‘Tis but a mystery to us both it seems my love.’ Cregan said against your neck, amused and failing his attempt to hide his smile at your tuts of annoyance and frustration.

You look at him with raised brow. ‘And what is so funny to you my adoring husband? Does my suffering amuse you so greatly?’ You asked rhetorically as you tried to stop yourself from smiling alongside him, not once didn’t you think that you would bore a playful but loving form of banter with your husband so late at night, it was refreshing and exciting that the thought of sleep was long since forgotten.

‘Not at all.’ Cregan replied as he lifted his head to look at you fondly. ‘If I could I’d make your life as easy and comfortable as possible, should the gods ever grant me that ability,’ he lets his eyes wander your features as though taking you in for the first time before continuing, ‘but I fear that you wouldn’t at all allow me to do so in the slightest.’

You smiled at him as you stole a kiss from his lips, making him groan as he reciprocated. ‘You would be correct in that observation my dear husband, I wouldn’t even allow you to tempt such an idea in the first place,’ you rested your forehead against his as you looked deeply into his eyes, ‘for I am my mothers child and i would much rather prove my right to being at your side rather then have it handed to me without the hardship to prove it.’ You tell him as your nails scratch against his scalp, making him let out a noise of satisfaction as he closes his eyes and burrows his face back into your neck.

‘You have more than proved being at my side during these turbulent times in the realm,’ Cregan began as his thumbs caressed your waist as he tugged you closer against his chest. ‘We are on the cusp of being plunged into war and you have been nothing but hands on from strategic plans, to our training sessions in the God’s wood and so on.’ He adds, pressing reassuring kisses to your neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the base of his neck, just where he liked it.

‘You can thank my father for drilling that into my head at a young age, even though I was the one who kept pestering him to teach me until he did.’ You said as you reminisced learning battle tactics from Daemon at the ripe age of thirteen, though before that you were learning the art of the sword at the even younger age of eleven. Daemon was reluctant at first but when you kept hounding him, before threatening that you would learn yourself if he himself wouldn’t, and from then on he taught you everything you would need to fight this upcoming war. Your family had already suffered a great loss in Luke and you weren’t about to loose anyone else if you could help it.

Cregan must’ve felt you tense up at the memory as he was quick to pepper your skin in reassuring kisses across your collar bone, up your neck and across your jawline, causing you to lean into his affection in hopes of forgetting everything. ‘I won’t let any harm come to you my love.’ He whispered against your skin like a vow. ‘But I think it is best that we should get some sleep, we have a meeting to attend to in the morning after all and we must be well rested unless we are suspected to have been awake doing other activities.’ He adds in a sultry tone as you slapped his bicep softly.

‘A honourable man shouldn’t bare a flighty tongue, lord Cregan.’ You scolded him playfully, giving his hair a firm tug as he groaned in response.

‘You wouldn’t mind that being a possibility would you.’ Cregan asked as he held you closer against his chest, your breaths mingling together as one as your hearts beat in unison.

‘Goodnight my dear husband.’ You said teasingly as you pressed a kiss to his lips before getting your self comfortable against him, vaguely feeling Cregan’s lips against your forehead as he wished you a good sleep before sleep overtook you both.

[nineblooddances-if]

NINE BLOOD DANCES

Nine Moons for the Nine Circles of Hell

Ruled by Nine Siblings. Or better known as the Commanders of Hell. Each believed to carry a role in the natural world and each a leader of the Devil’s Army. Each Commander is the personification of their circle and is made with a part of The Devil’s Body.

His Brain. His Genitals. His Stomachs. His Lungs. His Eyes. His Tongues. His Flesh. His Ears. And lastly his heart.

With each part, combined with that of a woman of a different species, flourished the consciousness of the circle, and then from a piece of the circle, a body was molded, creating each commander.

Yet with no one to rule over them.

For the Devil has many things to do and does not have the time to watch over the things he created. So, he gets an idea. A funny idea.

For he wishes not to strip himself of more. So, he goes to a mortal man. One who knew all that of the world, a man who had everything that the mortal heart could desire. Expect love–Yes love. For there is a difference between idolization and obsession and honest love. The mortal man had not that, and so the Devil laughed and lured this man to his death. And when no one showed genuine care for the man at his funeral, he fell into despair.

And the Gods who refused to hear his prayers before now stared upon him and pitied him. And sent the mortal man a gift in order to ease the loneliness.

A gift the Devil needs.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✶ [DEMO]

✶ [PATREON]

✶ [KO-FI]

✶ [DISCORD]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You were a gift. Now to whom? No one knows.

All that matters is that you are a gift and not like any of the others of your species. Uniqueness and importance oozes from every fiber of your being. You're important. Everyone says you're important. But why you're so important?

Who knows?

You must figure out what makes you so special and different. You must figure out what drives you through all circles. And you have to figure out why the nine commanders of Hell all have their eyes upon you and wish to have you by their side.

All before the fall of the ninth moon.

☽☽✶☾☾ Customizable MC

✶ [Name, Species(human, fallen angel, vampire, succubus/incubus, etc), Personality, Gender, Pronouns] ✶ [Appearance (markings, scars, wings, tails, horns, ears, etc), Traits, Love Language, Allergies, Diet, Piercings, Aesthetics, and more]

☽☽✶☾☾ Ability to have certain traits, likes, and disabilities

✶[Favorite Foods, Smoking/Drinking Habits, & More] ✶[ADHD, OCD, Depression + more] ✶[Hearing Aids, Prosthetic Arms or Legs, and choosing how you lost your limb]

☽☽✶☾☾ Options that have an effect on romantic and platonic relationships.

☽☽✶☾☾ Choose between nine romanceable Love Interests or None at All.

☽☽✶☾☾ Stats, Personality, and MC Characteristics that will affect the story and characters.

[Harem Route & Poly Routes Optional]

| IMPORTANT VIEWINGS OF CERTAIN FEATURES | ✶Ear Piercings

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 1ST CIRCLE—LIMBO—

COMMANDER AAPO I LIBERTAS

── THAT OF THE DEVIL’S BRAIN

✶ Personality: Aapo is an overly confident, charismatic man who is proud of the ranking he holds, being that he is ranked above his siblings and seen as the current ruler of the Nine Circles. Aapo walks and talks with a smile on his face and radiates this atmosphere of freedom, which is quickly erased by this underlying need for control, and he demands it. He has no reservations to confirm that. Many fear him despite his faux cheery attitude and overly relaxed posture.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [6’1FT ~ 188CM] with pale brown colored skin that is littered with warm brown freckles. He had deep-set shaped eyes while his eyes were the darker color shades of the rainbow, that fluctuated depending upon mood but remained a deep emerald green. He has short mahogany brown hair with a short fringe that seems messy. He’s lean and long, with long legs and arms. Always wearing overly vibrant and eccentric suits of greens and browns, decorated with bronze and gold.

──"CAMBION"—AMAB—HE/HIM ──PANSEXUAL [MASC PREFRENCE]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 2ND CIRCLE—LUST—

COMMANDER ANIL/AIDEN II LUXURIA

── THAT OF THE DEVIL'S GENITALS

✶ Personality: Anil is a self-assured, arrogant, aloof, hotheaded woman. Always wearing a scowl or frown of some sort. Her mood changes just as quickly as the wind and follows that of the hierarchy. She demands respect and will expect it. Many of the others stay out of her way and allow her to do as she pleases, since she has no desire to disrupt anything and follow the rules in place. Unless they get in the way of her desires.

✶ Appearance: She stands at [6’2FT ~ 192CM] with deep chocolate brown skin with no blemishes or scars. She has bedroom eyes that are a deep navy blue but appear black until in candlelight. Anil’s hair is jet black hair reaches her waist and is curly, while wet it reverts into a more coily texture. She has long legs and a waist and adds to her height by wearing dark blacks and blues, wearing heels, with a subtle male pirate aesthetic, wearing silver with everything. With the remains of two torn leather wings upon her back, with a long and heavy black scaled tail of a crocodile.

──"INCUBUS/SUCCUBUS"—AFAB—HE/SHE ──OMNISEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 3RD CIRCLE—GLUTTONY—

COMMANDER ALICE III GULA

──THAT OF THE DEVILS STOMACH

✶ Personality: Alice of the three siblings is by far the kindest of them. With a laid-back attitude. She is blunt but kind in her words, and the most approachable. She, just like her Aapo and Anil, expects respect due to her rank, though she cares little about enforcing it, especially with her "siblings". However, she has a mean streak when hungry and can become aggressive toward those who are men or those masculine in nature.

✶ Appearance: She stands at [5’7FT ~ 175CM] with warm ivory-colored skin, that’s covered in what looks to be scars, that are prominent on her throat, the back of her hands, her palms, and her knees which are small scars, while the entire along her collarbone, slanting cut across her entire stomach, and along the outside of both thighs seem like bigger scars, but they’re not. They are instead different mouths with sharklike teeth and crimson red tongues. That she keeps closed unless extremely hungry. Alice also has yellowish blonde hair that is a messy pixie cut, with an eye patch covering her right eye. She always has deep monolid-shaped eyes that are a vivid orange color. She has a sheer clothing aesthetic as while as a leather aesthetic, wearing many shades of orange, black, and white with gold. Accompanied by the small horns of a deer, a shade of white, and the tail of a deer.

──"VAMPIRE"—AFAB—SHE/HER ──BISEXUAL [FEM PREFRENCE]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 4TH CIRCLE–GREED—

COMMANDER ERIC/EDWARD IV AVARITIA

── THAT OF THE DEVIL'S LUNGS

✶ Personality: Eric is the quietest of the siblings, rarely speaking unless directly spoken to. He is a loner and prefers to be alone. He is also one of the only siblings who dislikes the hierarchy of siblings, and rarely spends his time commanding his circle, opting to be away, spending his time exploring the other parts and various layers of Hell and the unique punishments.

✶ Appearance: Eric stands at [6’5FT ~ 200CM] with pale skin. With the rest of his features hidden beneath a black cloth that hides his eyes. His black cloth also replicates bandages that covered various parts of his arms and legs. He has shoulder-length curly black hair that he keeps in a ponytail. He has a Dark Victorian aesthetic wearing black, red, and yellow.

──"DHAMPIR"—AMAB/AFAB—HE/HIM/SHE/HER/IT/ITS ──GRAYROMANTIC—PANSEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 5TH CIRCLE—WRATH—

COMMANDER LOUIS V IRA

── THAT OF THE DEVILS EYES

✶ Personality: Louis is a confident, arrogant, egotistical, smart man. Who revels in his circle enjoys using his influence on lower-ranked demons and enjoys spending time with higher-ranked demons. He also throws extravagant parties and chooses to spend most of his time with the Devil, who is the embodiment/avatar of Wrath. Louis tends to his duties well, despite his nasty temper.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [5’7FT ~ 175CM] with limestone-covered skin round bright blue and red heterochromic eyes and short blonde hair that fades into red that cut like a jellyfish. He dresses like that of kings and queens, with a 16th-century royalty aesthetic, wearing that of gold and red. He also has the horns of a ram that are a beautiful gold.

──"HUMAN"—AMAB—HE/THEY ──DEMISEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 6TH CIRCLE—HERESY—

COMMANDER GABRIEL VI MENDAX

── THAT OF THE DEVILS TONGUE

✶ Personality: Gabriel is someone who speaks only of rumors and half-truths. Many don't trust a word he says, and you must force the truth out of it. He gets a lot of humor leading people astray with his words. Even though he is quite knowledgeable and level-headed. He prefers to use his wisdom in more trickster ways, unless threatened, he quickly breaks. Outside of his lies, he is quite kind and fair, yet due to his tongue, no one believes his kindness.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [5’9FT ~ 180CM] with bronze-colored skin and long straight dark brown hair that he keeps in a thick braid, decorated with purple snapdragons, lavender, and vines. Gabriel has a soft flowy cottagecore aesthetic wearing colors of white and purple. While upon his back he has two large gray feathered wings that he keeps tucked away.

──"FALLEN ANGEL"—AMAB—HE/SHE ──AUTOSEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 7TH CIRCLE—VIOLENCE—

COMMANDER DAMEION VII VIOLENTI

──THAT OF THE DEVILS FLESH

✶ Personality: Dameion is laid back, mischievous, charismatic, and cocky. Since he has one of the most popular circles, he garters high respect despite being the seventh. He has overbearing pride and follows the hierarchy of the circles. Still, you will not find Dameion without a cocky smile and relaxed posture no matter where he is. Which leads him to having and being loved by many. Everyone practically swoons when he walks into the room or speaks. This doubles when amongst full-blooded bloodhounds, due to him being able to have a body, unlike them.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [5’9FT ~ 180CM] with honey-colored skin with black armband tattoos upon his wrists and ankles. He has short, shaggy black hair and deep red eyes. With a formal aesthetic, always wearing suits or a more military-type aesthetic. He has two long black tails of a wolf and wolf ears that hide amongst his hair with two red horns of a bison.

──"BLOODHOUND"—AMAB—HE/HIM ──POLYSEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 8TH CIRCLE—FRAUD—

COMMANDER LUCY OR LUCIUS VIII FICTUS

──THAT OF THE DEVILS EARS

✶ Personality: They are an untrusted liar, fake, fraud. Dawning on various masks and looking to deceive whoever they need to deceive. Taking upon titles, achievements, and anything to further their lie, and when it all backfires, they run away and never get caught. Due to this, they are never in hell, nor in their circle, in fact, it's hard to get in touch with them. They also spend a lot of time within the different underworlds and heavens, trying to gain something from the divine. Only to be sent back to Hell without punishment. They are tricksters and unreliable, with no real redeeming qualities.

✶ Appearance: They stand at [5’8FT ~ 178CM] with thick curly gray hair with white faded ends. Their hair is short to their chin and left alone. They have hooded gray eyes and short-bison-like horns with gray bat wings that fade into black with a long rat-like tail. They have varying styles but settle on clothing far more revealing. Wearing pinks and whites.

──"IMP"—[SELECTABLE GENDER] ──GAY OR LESBIAN [SELECTABLE SEXUALITY]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 9TH CIRCLE—TREACHERY—

COMMANDER TRENT IX PRODITIO 

──THAT OF THE DEVILS HEART 

✶ Personality: Trent is a sweet talking and kind person. Always understand and be sympathetic. He’s easy-going and easily trusting. He’s a very honest person and falls into his roles, whilst being obedient and submissive. Not wanting to break rules without important reason. He’s a big man with an honest and open heart and tries to live past his title.  

✶ Appearance: He stands at [7’5FT ~ 230 CM] with tan scarred skin and freckles. He has large heterochromic eyes, his right olive and the left mustard yellow. He has messy brown hair that he keeps in his face, partially hiding his eyes. He bulky and tall, but always hunching over with feathered ears that are dark brown and long wispy split bird tail that is also dark brown. Trent wears many colors yet sticks to neutral tones and dark green. 

──"NEPHILIM"—AMAB/AFAB—HE/HIM  ──PANSEXUAL 

AVAILABLE POLY RELATIONSHIPS

TO BE DETERMINED

ⓒ 2023 CVLUTOSGAMES & nineblooddances-if — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[laurrelise]

someone talk with me about an AU where delores is a real girl who somehow survived the initial apocalypse and spends it growing old with five and keeping him sane

someone talk with me about delores being five’s age when he discovers her body in the rubble and thinks she’s dead before he notices the small rise and fall of her chest before he pulls her out and desperately tries to help her breathe normally again and watches the life fill her eyes with tears in his own that he’s finally no longer alone

someone talk with me about delores being an only child to parents who she wasn’t close with leading her to become dependent on herself until she meets five and learns to trust other people before finding out about his huge family and doing everything in her power to help him not only because she cares about him and wants him to be happy but also because she wants to experience the family she’s never had

someone talk with me about how delores never had powers but survived for the 40+ years in the apocalyptic wasteland of the future due to her seriously genius mind (and five’s help) and lives to help five figure out how to save his family

someone talk with me about young five and delores searching for anything they can find to survive before they stumble upon a half-broken mannequin with a surprisingly intact polka-dotted blouse that five says would suit her so she puts it on out of boredom from looking for materials before five looks at her with the most genuine, in-love eyes she’s ever seen and she decides to keep it just for him

someone talk with me about five always making sure delores has a comfortable place to sleep, to rest, to eat, etc

someone talk with me about five explaining his childhood so nonchalantly one day once he realizes that he can trust delores to her surprise, and she asks why he suddenly had the strength to tell her and he looks her in the eyes and says “believe it or not, you’re stuck with me, and i’m stuck with you, and i want you to know who i am when we’re kicking this apocalypse in the ass”

someone talk with me about teenage five teaching teenage delores how to defend herself with the training he was given during his childhood but reassuring her that he’ll always be there to protect her if something were to happen (to which she reminds him that she appreciates it, but knows she can defend herself with the spite and sheer willpower she has to survive)

someone talk with me about five and delores having a makeshift wedding and five’s vows being along the lines of “even if the rest of the world was alive, i don’t think i could ever hope to find someone that makes me as truly happy as you do, and i will be eternally grateful that of anyone i could get stuck in this goddamn apocalypse with, it was always you, and it will always be you”

someone talk with me about the handler showing up from the commission to recruit five as a temporal assassin and delores as a case worker because they’re both dangerously smart and incredible at surviving in harsh conditions (also, the handler approached them separately to see where their loyalties lied and they both firmly explained they wouldn’t go anywhere without the other)

someone talk with me about delores getting fed up with the handler repeatedly making moves on five despite him clearly being uncomfortable until it bubbles to a climax and she punches her square in the jaw, which results in an ER trip and zero regret (plus five falling even harder in love with the woman who endlessly sticks up for him)

someone talk with me about five and delores plotting an escape plan to get back to 2019 which all goes well, except five had once again messed up the math (or so he thought) and he and delores are placed back in their 13 year-old bodies, but she confesses that she doesn’t mind seeing the boy she fell in love with all those years ago once again

someone talk with me about delores learning to trust and love the hargreeves just as much as five, as they learn to love and trust her just as much

someone talk with me about five always keeping track of dates and specifically remembering the exact times of significant events for himself and delores, like the moment she looked at him for the first time, the moment he knew he was in love with her, and the moment they decided they were going to stop at nothing to keep each other alive and stop the world from ending

someone talk with me about five and delores, the 58 year-old couple that they are, snuggling up on elliot’s couch together because they can’t fall asleep without the other one there to remind them that they’re safe and out of harm’s way (mostly)

someone talk with me about how delores has never been the type to step down, and she continues to stand her ground and be brutally honest when shes upset or wants five to listen to her, and he admires her bluntness (and frankly, needs it) due to his impatience and expectations of honesty at all times

someone talk with me about delores knowing exactly when five needs his time alone and stepping away to help his siblings as much as she possibly can, usually by encouragement or (again) brutal honesty hidden behind a kind and genuine smile

someone talk with me about five reminding delores of his love for her whenever it’s too quiet or he thinks she’s gone too long without him showing it, in every way he can think of, like letting her know that he would’ve lost his mind in the apocalypse without her (which.. he kind of did?), finding little things that remind him of her and bringing them to her, and holding her hand whenever he sees frustration or discomfort bubbling behind her eyes

[weskie]

Earned (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

no warnings, wesker lives au, extremely loose followup to this, wesker receiving affection, i think he deserves it, if that's wrong i don't wanna be right | Fic Directory

Sometimes you can see through the cracks of his cold, unbothered demeanor.

There’s something… fragile under all of it.  Buried beneath decades of shielding himself from the worst this world had to offer, from dealings with the dregs of humanity and a life manufactured and directed without his knowledge.

You remember how volatile Wesker had been after discovering the truth from Spencer.  The cracks you peer through now had been wedged clear open back then.  Salt dumped into the not-so-metaphorical wound.  You found him in a fit of rage when he finally came home, destroying his entire office just to cope in the only way he could think of.  Splinters of debris gave way under your footsteps and he glared daggers at you, daring you to come closer, daring you to cross the fray into the eye of the storm.

His reluctance to let you touch him weaned with every passing second that you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks.  It was startling to see his typically calm exterior eroded so completely. You’d never seen him so… shattered.  It wasn’t until later that you’d understand that the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from under his feet. But, even then, you had an inkling that something had truly shaken him to his core.

“Who am I?”  

You’ll never forget the flare of amber glowing brighter in his eyes as each word fell from his lips over and over, nor the bruising grip he had on your arms, until he hid his face in the crook of your neck– secretly so desperate to hide from the haunting revelations of his life.

And you don’t forget it now as you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head on your lap while he rests.  His recovery had been long and arduous, and it had humbled him more than anything possibly could have.  His dependence upon you had been a nearly insurmountable sore spot, but you wager it taught him a truth so incredibly foreign to his perception of the world.

Vulnerability can be okay.

At least it can be with you.  You’re not out here to stab him in the back or raw deal him for a larger cut in some grand scheme.  You’re not a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company pulling his strings nor the corpse that once orchestrated the entire marionette show.

You’re someone who loves him– adores him. 

It’s taken him a very long time to truly believe that, much less accept it.  You will forever be his greatest weakness and strength, all rolled into one.  You are leverage for anyone who wants to truly hurt him, but you are also the ferocity with which he will unmake them for even considering it.  

Worse yet? 

You are the only reason he’s glad to have not perished in that volcano.  Wesker remembers only flashes of his dreams while cocooned in Uroboros, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he dreamt of you.  That it was your voice that pulled him through, your presence that he reached out to in his near comatose state. It was you who he sought after waking, despite how his body screamed to cease his movements.

So maybe…

Maybe it isn’t so wrong to let those cracks open up when he’s with you.  Maybe you should see the parts of him locked away from the world.  You should know the little boy thrown into the best boarding schools money could buy, the one who wondered if he had parents like the others did, who sought academic excellence so that he’d have even a fraction of the love he’s seen bestowed upon others by right of birth to those who could love them– to the man he is now, stripped of his pride and still always left to wonder what his true name had been.

Long ago, he asked you a question under much different circumstances.  Have you earned me, he’d said.  As he peeks through his farce of sleeping to take in the sight of you looking at him with endless love, only one thought lingers in his mind.

You have.

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Daydreaming

fluffff plot: Satoru Gojo doesn't ever depend on anyone but himself, but waking up next to you is starting to make him feel a little... in love? content: it is like brain rotting fluff. waking up together, reminiscing the love story, mentions of Geto, reader referred to as his pretty girl, yayyyy word count: 1.5k satoru gojo x reader note: a bit of a drabble i cooked up rly quickly but honestly i love it so much I love gojo happy in love. kind of inspired by daydreaming by harry styles if you wanna listen to that!! <3 love u

Satoru Gojo has never been one to depend on others.

His entire life, he has been put on a pedestal by the entire Jujutsu society. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, solely due to qualities he was born with. He has always been expected to never depend on anyone as the world relies on him and his abilities. How weak would he be if the so-called "Strongest Sorcerer" ever needed any aid? So many eyes watch his every room that if he shows any sense of weakness, the existence of the world as humanity knows it may be at stake. He has learned through his training, through his old best friend Suguru Geto, through all of the losses, through every battle, through every decision he has ever made - he learned he was the only one he could truly depend on.

Gojo wants to help others - that's why he became a teacher. So others can grow strong, and they can save each other and themselves. To make up for his weakness getting the best of him; because he depended on his best friend, and it got the best of him. The next generation will at least be protected in a way his never was, and they will never have to feel the pressure Gojo finds himself under.

That's where you come in.

Golden sunlight gently embraces your features, emphasizing your beauty in such a vulnerable state. Your mouth is slightly agape, breathing quiet and evenly paced. You are at peace, dreaming sweet dreams about kittens pitter-pattering through the most gorgeous meadow with you.

Laying beside you and holding you in his arms now as he has been all night, Gojo admires you and the way the sun dances across your face and highlights how perfect you are. He watches the way your pretty eyelashes flutter every now and then, how your delicate fingers lay against your white bedsheets, how your messy hair sprawls across your pillowcase in a way that frames you to perfection. Your cheek is a little squished against the pillow, making your face look all cute and his stomach fills with butterflies, flying at high speeds and knocking into everything in their way.

Gojo can only think one thing as he watches you sleep: you are so beautiful.

You were in the same class as Gojo, only in Kyoto. While you weren't from one of the three great sorcerer clans of the jujutsu world, your lineage was decently known and well respected. When the two of you met, he thought you were cute, of course, but you were best friends with Utahime and she absolutely hated Gojo. At the time, he had no interest in anything other than meaningless flings and sex, anyway - which, from the rumors he'd heard around that that was not your thing (rumors being what he'd been told after bothering Shoko every single day with questions about you and what you are interested in, just because he wanted to hook up and not at all because you were the most beautiful person his six eyes had ever had the blessing to land upon and he never thought love at first sight was real until the moment he first saw you). Something about you had him holding back because deep down, he knew if he stepped too close to you, he would be completely sucked in, vacuumed sealed in your presence in an blink, and unable to control or stop it.

A couple years after being alumni from Jujutsu Tech, you ended up in the same place as each other - teachers at Tokyo's Jujutsu High. You moved after some conversations with Yaga who believed you were the perfect fit for a teacher at his school. You agreed, much to Gakuganji's dismay (though, you never liked the old man, so you were happy to be away from him finally). Gojo, still grieving his and Geto's friendship, tried his hardest to stay away from you at first. He resolved to put every ounce of his cursed energy into becoming stronger and saving as many as he could. He couldn't have any distractions, and he had been doing well with his plan ever since Shinjuku.

But once you were there, he was swept off of his feet almost instantly. He couldn't even try to stop it, because as strong as he was, he was weak at his knees just from looking at you. He knew you were special, but his eyes would never tell him exactly why, and he had to find out for himself or he would - as he had convinced himself - die.

He was over the moon for you. He tried to keep his distance, but how was he supposed to control himself when you kept talking to him at work, asking questions and requesting his help? At some point, he had found he memorized the crinkle in your eye when you smile, the way your cursed energy blended with his, and the curve of your upper lip that had always looked so delicious that he predicted it would be the best sweet he'd ever taste (which he eventually was able to confirm).

After very obviously swooning over you for about a year, Gojo found the courage to ask you to dinner, to which you asked why it took him so long to ask, and then you said yes to the date after that, and to the one after that, and to the one after that, and so on.

Which brings him to today - several dinner dates and a few coffee dates and one willyoupleasepleasepleasebemygirlfriend later. It's still early in the relationship, the time where it's all so fresh and new, and you are trying to figure out each other. At this point, you have practically moved into Gojo's home, with the excuse that it was closer to the school and on the way, so why not stay there all the time and bring all of your belongings with you - even your cat?

Satoru Gojo stares at you and starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to live without waking up to this everyday.

Maybe he could let himself depend on this. On you.

Maybe this is what love feels like.

The realization reverberates in his mind as he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself as he feels like he's dreaming alongside you. Your eyes crack open, growing more conscious as well as increasingly aware of your boyfriend's intense stare. You turn to look at him, confirming your suspicions, then cover your face to block his view.

"Hi, baby," Satoru quietly speaks, smile on his face spreading from the how adorable you are. "Sleep well?"

You smile at the softness of his voice - one that he only uses with you. "Woke up to you staring at me, creep," you tease. Satoru lets out a breathy laugh, watching as you reveal your face to him again. He reaches a hand to move a strand of hair blocking your eyes, allowing himself a clearer view of you.

"Sorry, you're just so pretty. I can't help myself, my pretty, pretty girl. 'm so lucky," Satoru coos. He tucks the strand behind your ear, bringing his hand down to your cheek. He leans your head toward his and places a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent way of telling you he loves you.

Eventually, he'll find lots of ways to tell you he loves you without even speaking the words. Eventually, he will shower you with everything you could ever want, buy you sweets on missions, open doors for you, keep you safe, everything he can do to show how he feels about you to the world. Eventually, he will tell you those three dangerous words - and right now he is thinking of some extravagant ways to - but now is not the time.

Right now, he needs to savor this and savor you. Stressing about the so-called "L-Bomb" can be done later. Right now, he just wants you.

"Toru," you chastise, dragging on the end of the nickname only you can call him. It's a teasing scold, one full of sarcasm and sleepiness, and it made Toru's smile widen even more. He stares at you, his eyes uncovered and taking all of you in, no barrier between the two of you. No blindfold on, no sunglasses on; he lets you see all of him without filter, something so few are every granted permission to have a peek at.

You stare right back, somehow even more lost in his eyes than he is in yours. They truly are mesmerizing. They draw you in and have since the moment you first shared a glance with them - if someone told you his eyes had some magic love potion with no antidote, you would believe them. You lean up, landing a quick peck on his lips, and smile up at your boyfriend.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

The Satoru Gojo never needs to depend on anyone for anything, but sometimes, Your Toru just needs you. His pretty girl.

thank you for readdinnggggg i hope you like!

[awaywardfatherswaywardson]

I'm just thinking about like Dean after finding out about people writing wincest fanfiction and obviously he acted grossed out because that's how you're supposed to act to finding out that people write porn about you and your brother, but also maybe he stumbles upon a fic someone wrote of Sam harbouring feelings for Dean the whole time and he secretly loves it.

He reads the full 50k+ word fanfiction full of angst and yearning and realizes how badly he wants it to be true. How much he wants Sam to have feelings for him, to have had feelings for him his whole life, and something in his stomach twists.

There's something wrong with him, he knows it. He wants Sam to be dependent on him, to never truly love anyone the way he loves Dean. He wants Sam to want him the way women in bars want him. He wants Sam to want him the way Lisa wanted him. He wants to be everything to Sam.

He reads the words on the screen and reflects it to real life. When Sam looked at Jess the first time, she reminded him of Dean. When Sam kissed her for the first time, he thought of Dean. When Sam fucked her for the first time, he had to bite his tongue to prevent from calling out for Dean.

When Sam saw Dean for the first time in years and he's panting, pinned to the ground beneath his big brother, he got hard. When Sam rolled over on top of Dean, he had to force himself not to grind on him. When Sam stood in front of him, just inches too close for brothers to stand, he wanted to kiss him. When Jess interrupted them, Sam wanted it even more, to show Jess that he belonged to Dean. He always has and always will, and she could never compete with that.

Dean knows he shouldn't, but as he reads, he believes that it's true. This is really how Sam felt this whole time. He's not the only one fucked up this way. Sam yearned for Dean for years after they got back together and the tension finally crescendoed when Sam found out about the deal Dean made for him. He realized Dean loves him more than life itself, would spend an eternity burning in hell just so he could have one more year with his baby brother.

Sam kissed him rough and angry before it quickly fizzled out into desperation and longing. Dean sat down on the bed, pulling Sam to straddle him, and Sam gently pushed him onto his back. He mumbled Dean's name into his mouth and Dean pushed up onto his elbows to get closer. They held each other tightly as they rut against each other until finally, *finally*, they come together with each others names on their tongue in the others mouth.

Dean- real Dean- didn't realize he's been rubbing his hand over his crotch until he's wet and sticky in his pants. He hears Sam's name tumble quietly from his lips, and suddenly his eyes and cheeks burn with shame. He tears his hand away from himself before he even stopped twitching. Closing the browser as fast as he can, he launches himself out of the chair and into the shower, barely remembering to slam the bathroom door shut behind him.

Dean doesn't cry in the shower, the water just runs down his face. He's not red with shame, the water is just really hot. His legs don't buckle under the weight of this disgusting burden he carries, the water just relaxes him to the point of exhaustion. There's nothing wrong with him, the water is washing it away.

[signanothername]

May I ask if you think mtt would change their names at all if they left Nightmare? Whether they want to start over, whether the names were from Nightmare and they want nothing to do with him, or solely because after that they could realize they aren't the same, any reason.

For me personally, I always love to think MTT are homesick 24/7, and so for Horror and Murder specifically, they never even signed up to be called anything other than “Sans” cause to them, that’s who they are, and that’s the name they associate with their homes

They had those nicknames forced upon them to “avoid confusion”, but to them that’s just an excuse to strip them of the only thing that is still truly theirs (and that’s true to an extent), they were always “Sans” and now even that is being taken away from them

And cause Murder is in this state of “seeing how much you changed yet still are the same regardless” (the horrifying version™) it’s even more painful to him to be called anything other than his og name

Horror tolerates it, but would definitely perfer to be called “Sans”, he doesn’t appreciate being stripped of the name that associates him with his family and home

Killer is a complicated case, cause not only do I believe he got the name “Killer” before even meeting Nightmare, but depending on the stage he has different reactions to it, with guilt ridden Stage 1 seeing it as the name he deserves after everything he’s done all while holding so much distaste for it, stage 2 not caring about his name and simply treating it with a “that makes sense” attitude and stage 3 having mixed feelings about it, and stage 4 not truly being fully there to comprehend the name other than seeing it as it is, a name and that’s it

With that being said, Murder and Horror would immediately switch back to their og names, making it a point that no one is allowed to call them anything other than “Sans”, too confusing?? Tough luck, everyone gotta deal with it, it’s not their problem, with Murder being aggressive about it, while Horror is more passive aggressive

I like to think Murder and Horror developed a twisted form of friendship between them tho, and so when it comes to each other, it’s a sort of “special pass privileges” sorta thing, so Murder allows Horror to call him “Murder” or “Dust” (Dust being a nickname given to Murder by Horror in the first place) and Horror allows Murder to call him “Horror”

It’s not that big of a deal tho cause both of them will find the first train home and take it, going their separate ways

When it comes to Killer, assuming he now lives with Color, wouldn’t ask Color to call him anything other than “Killer” cause as I mentioned before, one half of Killer thinks it’s the name he deserves, and the other half not having the capacity to care or is undecisive

I like to believe that stage 1 would absolutely love to be called “Sans” again, it’s some sorta far away wish for him, a guilty pleasure, he just doesn’t see himself as worthy of it, and I think as time goes on, Killer would realize how much he truly changed, that no matter how much he resembles “Sans” in looks or how some of his Sans-like attitude is still intact in stage 1, Killer changed too much to truly see “Sans” as a fitting name for himself

So i feel like he’ll keep “Killer” as his name, but i also love to think Color would call him different nicknames too that isn’t negatively associated with him, Color never says it outright, but he sometimes does that as a way to show Killer that he isn’t just his name’s sake, Killer understands that, and appreciates it

[seaswallovvme]

You are the one I’d come looking for. Over and over and over again

A/N: I am SO sorry for this but I can’t believe I’ve never seen a fanfic like this so I took it upon myself to write it. No beta reading or editing. We die like..nevermind

TW: angst, hurt and comfort, leprosy? No one is dying!!

People had thought her foolish for longer than she could think.

A pretty, young maiden from a good house, wealthy parents with political influence others could only dream of and yet she had chosen to marry a leper.

The king of Jerusalem was well known around nobility for more than just that of course, having won the battle of Montgisard against the Arabs at such young age seemed like a miracle from God above.

Even before that she had been by his side and it was not the fortunes, glory or status that had interested her which would no doubt be beneficial side effects of being married to him.

No young woman in her right mind would have willingly accepted the hand of a man doomed and she could hardly blame them.

Her parents had approved of the marriage as their hands were bound, depending on trade offers and the generosity of the holy land for their own existence.

Even then, when the letter from the court of Jerusalem had arrived they had been worried about the future of their darling girl.

Everyone had been, even nobility from far away and the news of King Baldwins marriage had spread quickly and then the whispering began.

She had never been bothered by the likes of them, faithful to her new husband who treated her with utmost care, she had everything she could have ever asked for and more.

He was a good man, gentle and wise for his age and he was grateful she had accepted his hand in marriage, he would have been a fool to not treat her well.

To him it was more than a political match propagating his strength to the outside kingdoms and his own.

To him this young woman was home, acceptance and love.

Despite all this their marriage was a slightly unusual one.

They had never been able to kiss nor were they able to consummate the marriage in a way deemed proper, the king refusing to risk contagion and his physicians agreed with him.

Despite all this she had never minded the lack of physicality in their marriage all that much.

She cared about him in a way that was beyond desires of the flesh, what they shared came close to holiness.

They talked a lot, shared poems and stories when she would caress his bandaged hands.

She would spend the late evenings in their shared chambers, after a tremendous amount of convincing, finally applying ointments to his sore, blistered skin to help it slow the spreading.

She would caress his bare back with fingers gentle as if she feared he would disappear into thin air, like a vision or a daydream, is she dared touching him too firmly.

In their eyes those sacred moments were almost enough but of course even the fate of the most pure could be harsh more often than not.

It started with a pale rash on her side, right over her ribs.

At first she had been sure it had come from spending too much time in the stables, perhaps she had been bitten by an insect.

Then one night when she had just finished brushing her hair before going to bed she noticed the tingling numbness in her fingers and feet.

It started slowly, like tiny ants crawling over her skin, not painful but the recognition was and she could feel her heart drop.

Though it wasn’t herself she feared for.

Baldwin let his best physicians be called to their shared chambers immediately.

After the three men had taken a look at her, whispering in a foreign language with their eyes drooped with worry and told them how deeply sorry they were the young king wished for his instant death.

He had always had a hard time being kind to himself, never to others but the wave of agony that rolled over him threatened to swallow him whole, burning like a demonic fury.

Her own eyes brimmed with tears and she sat up after the physicians had left, so frightened for her husband who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his masked face buried in his hands with his shoulders trembling.

There was no use denying that she had caught the disease.

It was only a matter of time, she is playing with fire, others had whispered behind her back when they thought she wasn’t listening.

“Baldwin..” crawling up on the bed right behind him she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

The gesture that had comforted him even in his worst moments now seemed to shatter his heart even more so.

“I have been so foolish..my beautiful, beautiful angel” he whispered, his voice dying in his throat and when he raised his head his eyes were flooded with tears.

He was trembling as he spoke and she was frightened as he nearly seemed mad with grief.

“You should have never come here..I should have never asked anyone, you, to put themselves in danger for my foolishness. If the Lord wants to punish me so be it but why would he wish to punish you of all people? When it was I who was selfish?”

She only noticed that she too was crying when she tasted the salt on her lips, wiping it with shaking fingers.

“Do not say such things..you are not selfish, nor foolish. It was I who made the decision to accept the offer to marry you with the pain and dangers that I was warned of. And I swear to you that even now I do not regret our vows, a single day or night we spent together”

Reaching out for him he cupped his cheek, a pained smile gracing her features in the soft candle light of his chambers.

“Please do not blame yourself my love. I am not scared of my fate but I am scared of losing you, whether it be to grief or shame. I beg of you, don’t leave me now”

There had never been a moment where Baldwin had to fight against contempt for himself as in this very moment.

He disdained himself for causing her to share his fate when he should have been the one to be level headed, keeping a distance for her own safety when in reality he was the one searching for her warmth like a frightened little boy.

Now there was no use avoiding her, he recognised with bitterness seeping like pus from an open wound.

Now it was too late, the die had been cast but all words of comfort, an apology he could have offered her seemed to be worthless now and he knew this sweet, innocent girl would not hear it.

How wonderfully stubborn she could be sometimes, with too much love to give and headstrong to a point where it was almost unbecoming for a woman but he wouldn’t have it any differently.

“Come now” she murmured, shuffling on the bed to slip underneath the covers.

The silken sheets were cool against her skin and a part of her wondered for how long she would be able to feel them at all.

She pulled him in as she did every night since they had exchanged their vows, his head resting against her shoulder and she caressed his soft hair soothingly.

“The promise of God is not that He will never give us more weight than we want to carry. The promise of God is that He will never put more on us than we can bear.”

Her voice was so soft as she spoke, without a tremor and she was not scared anymore.

Not for herself nor for him, not when God was watching over them, not when her love for him burned stronger than ever and she could feel his heart beating, so alive and warm in his chest.

“Let us not waste the precious time we have..not a second”

This was something the young king could not disagree with and how eager he was for her comfort if that meant to comfort her.

Now he had to be strong for her sake when she needed him now more than ever before, and she was right.

The promise of God is that He will never put more on us than we can bear, no matter how heavy the burden can be in the darkest times.

He shuddered when he felt her gentle fingers sliding the silver mask off his face as she had done many times before but something about it now felt different.

His eyes were wide, still glossy and red, his face scarred severely but she could only see the man she loved more than anyone or anything.

They looked at each other for what felt like hours, the fingers of one hand entwined, the other on each others cheek, stroking over skin, gently brushing a strand of hair behind one’s ear.

She was the one to lean in first and to him the feeling of her soft lips on his, for the first time ever felt like he was being reborn.

The kiss was clumsy with inexperience but it could not have been more raw and honest.

She kissed him like she didn’t care about his disfigured lips and he kissed her like it was the last thing he would ever do.

Both of them kissed like they had been starving for this and now there was nothing left to lose and by the end of the kiss both of them were crying.

A soft sob rose in his chest, fading into a huffed out laugh and he seemed drunk with fondness for her.

She only smiled, wiping his tears as he wiped hers before leaning in again to kiss her warm, soft lips once more with more urgency this time, in disbelief that he would get to experience something like this after all.

Something that made him feel less alone, more like any normal young man instead.

A wave of warmth flooded him when he felt a small, soft hand slip underneath his nightgown, resting on his bare stomach and when he pulled away from the kiss, his cheeks flushed he recognised the desire in her eyes.

Honest and playful as she was and despite his nervously racing heart he gave her the most timid nod.

There was no fear within either of them now, uncertainty perhaps and pain surely, worry about what the future might bring but they had each other after all.

Each other and a life time left to love, however long that might be.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Did I randomly make a WHB and Obey Me oc? Yes, yes I did. Why? I have no idea, but here he is.

(Yes, it's a picrew, I could not be bothered to roll out my art skills from the attic. Considering his personality, he can fit into either fandom, and I was too lazy to make another one, so deal with it.)

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

𝖀𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖑 - Archangel of Wisdom and Jubilation

𖤓𝕽𝖔𝖑𝖊𖤓

Uriel was created to fill the role of spreading knowledge, wisdom and joy to humankind, though, after the disappearance of God/ the war in the Celestial Realm, he became bitter toward humankind and the demons.

𖤓𝕬𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊𖤓

While Uriel's allegiance will always lie with his beloved creator, he answers directly to the seraph Raphael, at his beck and call no matter the location or the situation he was summoned in. So long as it is his beloved God's will, Uriel will follow Raphael even into certain death.

𖤓𝕬𝖌𝖊𖤓

Uriel was the fourth archangel to be created by god; in other words, he is exceptionally ancient.

𖤓𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𖤓

At first glance, Uriel comes off as a kind-hearted and easygoing angel, however, he is an especially cruel individual. While he always sports a soft, almost fatherly smile, he can say the most audacious and ignorant things. He treats demons, humans, and in some cases even some lesser angels as if they don't have the capacity to think. Being the archangel of knowledge is something that he uses to his advantage to gain the upper hand in conversations, although, he has a tendency to gain interest in those who have knowledge of things he does not. However, depending on how knowledgeable that person is, Uriel's interest may cross over into a sexual interest or even an obsession.

𖤓𝕸𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖒𝖘𖤓

Uriel's habits include harshly tugging on locks of hair when he's stressed, clasping his hands in a prayer hold when he's at rest, and biting his knuckles when he's focused.

𖤓𝕬𝖛𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𖤓

Reading by candlelight, discovering and experimenting with hair care products, gardening, praying, admiring Raphael, praising Raphael, and playing the harp.

𖤓𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖘𖤓

Uriel believes that, because he is an angel, he is above all other instances of life that do not originate from heaven/the celestial realm. In his eyes, all life that is not angelic is an eyesore and deserves to be wiped from existence as Raphael had said to him once before.

𖤓𝕬𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𖤓

(Obey Me!)

God: As god is Uriel's creator, he loves and reveres him with every fiber of his being, and although the two hardly have any one-on-one interaction, Uriel will do anything asked of him by his loving creator.

Michael: As he holds the title of the Chief Angel, Uriel holds deep respect and admiration for him and will follow his orders without question, as he believes that out of all angels, Michael is the closest to God, so his decisions must be correct.

Raphael: Because God personally assigned Uriel to work under Raphael, Uriel feels that he has a much closer relationship with him compared to the rest of his superiors. Raphael's cold demeanor upon their first meeting was misinterpreted by Uriel as the seraph looking down on him for his lack of knowledge, thus starting his deep infatuation with Raphael.

Simeon: Uriel has had a deep connection with Simeon since the two met, despite their very differing temperament and views on certain topics. Uriel once stated that he would trust Simeon with helping the next archangel of knowledge should he ever die for any reason.

Luke: Despite Luke being a lesser angel, Uriel respects the young angel for his closeness to Michael.

Lucifer: Even though Lucifer fell from grace, Uriel can't help but respect and even yearn for him. The seraph of humility and arguably the most beautiful angel in the celestial realm (after Raphael, of course); Lucifer was Uriel's role model.

Satan: Despite hating each other's guts, both Uriel and Satan never miss a meeting for their weekly book club. The two talk for hours; having well thought and in depth discussions about the book of the week. It would be a nice image if you ignored the very obvious passive aggression and down right rancid aura that seems to radiat from the two.

Asmodeus: Uriel often admires Asmodeus for his beauty, although, he's not as beautiful as Raphael, of course. But he is still a rose in a garden of weeds in the end.

Barbatos: While he certainly doesn't like the fact that he's a demon, Uriel can't help but admire Barbatos' dedication to fulfilling his duty as the prince's steward. The man's patience seems to stretch on forever.

Diavolo: Uriel despises Diavolo because he has Lucifer under his thumb. Despite what Lucifer tells him of the prince's kindness and empathy, he just can't bring himself to see the good in Diavolo.

Solomon: Solomon always avoids conversation with uriel after their introduction for some reason, but Uriel still tries to speak with him anyway, he knows that Solomon must definitely have information that Uriel has little knowledge of and he's desperate to learn.

MC: Uriel considers them to be more of a pet or a wandering stray animal than anything else; seeing no real value in them as they are a human. (WHB?)

God: As god is Uriel's creator, he loves and reveres him with every fiber of his being, and although the two hardly had any one-on-one interaction, Uriel will do anything perceived as the will of his loving creator.

Michael: As he holds the title of the Chief Angel, Uriel holds deep respect and admiration for him and will follow his orders without question, as he believes that out of all angels, Michael is the closest to God, so his decisions must be by God's will even in his absence. The only reason Uriel would refuse an order from Michael is if it clashed with an order that he received from Raphael.

Gabriel: Because of his status as a seraph, Uriel holds deep respect for admiration for him.

Raphael: Because God personally assigned Uriel to work under Raphael, Uriel feels that he has a much closer relationship with him compared to the rest of his superiors. Raphael's cold demeanor upon their first meeting was misinterpreted by Uriel as the seraph looking down on him for his lack of knowledge, thus starting his deep infatuation with Raphael.

Zeruel: Before they began their raid on "Hell" and even after that, Uriel would occasionally hitch a ride on Zeruel's back or shoulders. Usually, shoving some other angel off so that he could take his preferred spot, Zeruel never seemed to mind though.

Barachiel: As a fellow angel of joy, Uriel and Barachiel get along very well, with the cherub often following him into battle and listening to his rants about why Raphael is logically superior to Gabriel.

Lucifer: Even though Lucifer fell from grace, Uriel can't help but respect and even yearn for him. The seraph of humility and arguably the most beautiful angel in the heavens (after Raphael, of course); Lucifer was Uriel's role model.

Leviathan: Uriel has a deep hatred for the Demon King Leviathan for the simple reason that the demon makes him feel insecure about his looks.

Gusion: After overhearing conversations between many demons in passing about how intelligent Gusion is and after encountering him on the battlefield, he became flustered by his smarts and ended up letting the demon live by accident.

MC: He regards all humans as dogs (because he hates them) or pests. Uriel has only met them once, but he tried to bring them back to Raphael, only to be stopped by a feral Satan.

𖤓𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖇𝖆𝖙 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𖤓

Ranged Sniper; he fires his loose feathers at unfathomable speeds toward his target, usually only bothering to finish off those already weakened by his comrades. Uriel is actually very proficient with a spear and could've been on the front lines, but due to his aversion to being covered in the blood of demons, chose to be a ranged unit instead.

𖤓𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖘𖤓

Expert spearmanship, patient and versatile teaching, easily adapts on the go, expertise with string instruments, and eidetic memory.

𖤓𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𖤓

God and Angels (the three seraphim specifically (especially Raphael)), learning, instructing others, reading by candlelight, admiring Raphael, receiving orders from Raphael, praising God, and taking care of his hair.

𖤓𝕽𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𖤓

Non-angelic beings (obviously), getting his angelic robes dirty, unintelligent individuals, sweet foods, poorly taken care of books, "Hell", The Devildom, and the Human Realm.

𖤓𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆𖤓

Sophophilia: sexual gratification from the act of gaining knowledge or learning. This is displayed both when Uriel meets Raphael for the first time and is enraptured by his knowledge of God's will, leading him to need to leave due to becoming physically excited, and when he encounters the demon Gusion and is drawn in by his intelligent aura.

𖤓𝕿𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘𖤓

The Demon King Leviathan's hair appears much more silky and luxurious than his own, he was chosen to go down to The Devildom with Raphael (although it was Raphael who suggested he go, so he can't really complain.), and his feathers have begun to loosen due to the stress of being surrounded by idiots.

𖤓𝕻𝖍𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖆𝖘𖤓

Athazagoraphobia: the intense or irrational fear of being forgotten, or of forgetting someone or something. Atychiphobia: the intense or irrational fear of failure.

𖤓𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞𖤓

Uriel doesn't particularly care whether his actions are viewed as 'good' or 'bad by anyone but the three seraphim and God. Thus, he'll usually center his moral compass around theirs instead of having his own.

𖤓𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖞𖤓

(OM!) Purgatory Hall in the Devildom/(WHB?) Nomadic movements through hell while slaying demons and following behind the seraph Raphael.

𖤓𝕬𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖙𖤓

Suspiciously Stained Book: The book that Uriel is often seen carrying around and reading in his free time. It is thought to be a personal copy of the Bible, but what is actually inside is still unknown. It's rumored that one time an angel was able to take a peak inside while uriel had it open and saw a bunch of drawings and diagrams of things they dare not speak of. But hey, do you see that on the cover there? Those suspicious white-ish stains, I wonder where they're from.

𖤓𝕱𝖚𝖓 𝕱𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖘𖤓

☁︎ Uriel does not like animals, especially those with fur. The only ones that he can stand are birds.

☁︎ Even though he won't admit it, Uriel considers (OM!) Lucifer, (OM!) Satan, (OM!) Barbatos, (OM!) Solomon, and (WHB?) Gusion as potential sexual partners and love interests.

☁︎ Although Lucifer fell from grace so long ago, Uriel still has a deeply ingrained respect for him, so much so that he still calls him 'Sir Lucifer' like he used to back then.

☁︎ Uriel has been banned from the Great Archive of the Heavens many times due to how often he gets off when reading books he hadn't read previously. The lesser angels assigned to cleaning the archive had complained about the stains and wet patches he kept leaving in the seats he occupied.

☁︎ Uriel and Simeon have been friends since Simeon's creation; with Uriel being present when the younger angel first opened his eyes.

☁︎ Uriel had always wanted to meet (WHB?)Solomon, but never got the chance to as he was too busy fulfilling the duties assigned to him by God through (WHB?)Raphael.

☁︎ When he and (OM!)Raphael first arrived at Purgatory Hall, Uriel insisted that the two share a room instead of having individual ones, thankfully for him, (OM!)Raphael agreed.

☁︎ Uriel finds himself more attracted to a person with status than a person with strength, but he still prefers smarts over status.

☁︎ Uriel absolutely can't stand sweet foods, he prefers his meals to be on the more bitter side, favoring fruits that make his jaw ache with its sour taste.

☁︎ One day, Uriel would like to try his hand at pottery.

𖤓𝖁𝖎𝖔𝖈𝖊 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘𖤓

(Obey Me!)

Event Reminder: "An event has arrived, come back immediately, I've no time for those who dawdle."

Inactive 1: "You do know that it's considered rude to ignore someone, don't you?."

Inactive 2: "I-it is not as if I'm worried for you, but hurry back, we still have much to speak about."

Login 1: "Hoh? So you finally decided to show your face?"

Login 2: "Hello again, my mortal pet.~"

You're Back 1: "Welcome back, it certainly took you long enough."

You're Back 2: "Hm? Oh, you've returned. What? Did you want me to congratulate you?"

I'm Back 1: "Haaah... I must apologize for being away so long, Simeon can certainly talk when it comes to the old days. Anyhow, let us continue our previous discussion."

I'm Back 2: "I've returned! Ahem- Now, what were you saying before? About those human social trends?"

Morning: "In the heavens, the sun has risen; I must say you surprised me, I was sure that you were of those simpletons who stayed in bed all day."

Afternoon: "Good afternoon, I do hope you've been spending the day more productively."

Evening: "Ah yes, the evening time is the best in the day. Sitting curled up with a book and reading by the candlelight.~ Don't you agree?"

Night: "You're still awake? Do you not value sleep at all? Tsk- Off to bed with you, little mortal. Weak beings like yourself need such simple things to survive, didn't you know?"

Touch 1: "Filthy demo- DAH! You-! Oh, it's you, little mortal. You caught me off guard just now. Did you need something?"

Touch 2: "Hmm~ Simeon did not embellish at all, you are indeed quite good with your hands. What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Touch 3: "Tch-! Do you not know how to keep your hands to yourself? Do mortals not know the concept of personal space?"

Skill 1: "Hah! Perish you ingrate!"

Skill 2: "It is my time to shine!"

Skill 3: "Feast your eyes on the power of knowledge!"

Majolish 1: "No need to say anything, I know mortal minds are unable to comprehend the beauty of angels."

Majolish 2: "Are you done gawking? Good, now go find me some accessories to make these rags look presentable."

Anniversary: "It would seem that you've had the fortune of knowing me for an entire earthen year, you must feel proud of yourself, as you should." (What in "Hell" is Bad?)

Lobby Touch 1: "You... What are you doing?"

Lobby Touch 2: "WHERE ARE YOU LOOKING! O-only-- only Sir Raphael is allowed to look at me in such a way!"

Lobby Touch 3: "I won't say it is envy, but I do wish that you were not marked as JUST food for the seraphim, then I could dine upon you with the one I admire.~"

Lobby Touch 4: "GAH! I‐is that a d‐dog? It's– it's disgusting! G‐get away, you little beast! Shoo! N‐no! Don't come any closer! Help! Sir Raphael, save me!

Lobby Touch 5: "You think yourself an intelligent person, do you? Hah! As if some mortal fool would be on the same level of intelligence as an angelic being like myself."

Lobby Touch 6: "Remember to smile~!"

First Encounter: "Hm~? My, My, if it isn't the child of Solomon, Sir Raphael will definitely praise me if I bring you back to him!"

Level Up: "I feel almost as if I've gotten smarter..."

Evolve: "Maybe my capacity for knowledge has grown as well?~𔓘"

Ultimate Skill: "Allow me to teach you the true feeling of despair!"

Upon Death: "S-sir Raphael... please... don't forget me..."

Victory 1: "Hmph, you simpletons never stood a chance."

Victory 2: "Sir Raphael... Did you see that just now?"

Defeat: "Damn you, filthy devil scum! How dare you embarrass me in front of Sir Raphael!"

𖤓𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖔𖤓

Uriel's halo features either a large sun framed by two smaller stars or a curled feather or quill wrapping around the Hebrew character for knowledge, 'ידע', depending on where he is depicted and what he is representing at the time; jubilation or knowledge. However, in some instances, Uriel's halo is a combination of the two.

In the past, Uriel has been teased by other angels of the same or higher ranking about the shape of the feather in his halo. It's become an incredibly sore spot for him since then and as a result you might be able to catch him looking at it in reflective surfaces with a face of embarrassment and disdain. It doesn't look like a human child drew it... right? It's not wonky at all...

𖤓𝕾𝖚𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕴𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖘𖤓

Food: Black Coffee of Melancholy & Backstabbing Sandwiches. Medical: Bandage. Presents: Book & Perfume.

𖤓𝕾𝖚𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕿𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖅𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𖤓

OK!: Both shoulders & middle of his chest. NO!: his head & face. GREAT!: his clasped hands.

𖤓𝕳𝖚𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖒 𝕮𝖑𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𖤓

𖤓𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𖤓

4%: His constellation is... Cancer!

36%: His favorite food is... sour fruit creame sanwiches!

64%: His ideal type is... someone who's smarter than he is!

𖤓𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖙𖤓

👤 <「You dog, where did Sir Raphael wander off to? Don't pretend you don't know; his radiance is too hard to miss.」

Choice 1: 「Er... whose this? How did you get my number?」> Choice 2: 「Sir Raphael...? Is an angel messaging me now?」>

👤 <「That doesn't matter. Just tell me where you saw him last, will you. You're wasting precious time that instead could be spent watching Sir Raphael rid this realm of demons.」

👤 <「Honestly, you humans. The only good one of the lot of you was that human Solomon. I overheard Sir Raphael saying that he was very intelligent and talented in alchemy. It's a pity that someone of such intelligence is a part of a lousy species.」

Choice 1: 「Wait, you met Solomon? What was he like?」> Choice 2: 「I'm jealous, everyone has met Solomon...」>

👤 <「Well, it's not as if I met that human per se, but I did overhear Sir Raphael and the other two esteemed Seraphim speaking about him a long time ago. I was both envious and in awe of them to be able to meet a favored creation of our God.」

👤 <「Oh to be there when he was up in the heavens, to pick his brain and feast upon his delicious knowledge. This event alone is yet another piece of proof why Sir Raphael is the best out of each of the esteemed Seraphim. He's so cool; with his brilliantly shining halo and that mysterious demeanor of his~」

👤 <「Wait a minute! Why am I telling you this? It's none of your business in the first place! Nosey dog, quickly tell me where Sir Raphael has gone, I can't lag behind for too long!」

Choice 1: 「I'm nosey? Aren't you the one rambling on?」> Choice 2: 「How am I supposed to know who's who?」>

👤 <「You dare still evade my question? You humans are such a pain in the neck; always making excuses. Surely it's not that hard to tell the difference between a seraph and any other lowly angel? Are you implying that Sir Raphael is average? You fiend!」

👤 <「Fine then. Since you want to fool around and attempt to deceive me, I shall find where you are and smite you. You dared to disrespect my esteemed and radiant lord, Sir Raphael, so you must be prepared to reap what you sew, you dirty dog.」

👤 <「I shall find you and personally deliver your corpse to my lord, surely he'll be pleased with me after bringing him a fine meal. He might even praise me with that cool look he does~」

Choice 1: 「Man, you sure love that Raphael guy huh?」> Choice 2: 「Jeez, I didn't think I'd talk to a simp today...」>

👤 <「Of course! While I'm not sure what you're trying to imply with that wording, I am truly unworthy of him. But, what's not to like? That luxurious golden hair, those deep crimson eyes, that aloof attitude; he's absolute perfection! And on top of it all, he's nearly all knowing! Such a powerful, handsome, and intelligent being is worth the praise I give.」

👤 <「Now that I think about it, maybe its a good thing that you haven't seen him. Thise filthy demon loving eyes of yours aren't even worthy enough to view his shadow, let alone his ethereal being. I suppose I can't be too angry with you anymore for not seeing him; so I'll let you off for that grievance.」

Choice 1: 「I didn't really ask at all, but that's cool I guess.」> Choice 2: 「Um... cool?」>

👤 <「Yes, he is cool, isn't he? Very cool. The coolest.」

👤 <「Say, you wouldn't mind signing a petition that I've written up would you? As a fellow fan of Sir Raphael, you must know that other angels are attempting to imply that he's below Sir Michael in favorability and standing. It's untrue, I say. Completely untrue. You mustn't believe a word they say!」

👤 <「I shall forward you the petition in due time. Actually no, I shall add you to a group with my comrads, the petition has already been posted there. I expect to see your signature, my brother in admiration.」

[You were added to "Sir Raphael's Admirers"]

End.

𖤓𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖈𖤓

N/A

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

No m.list link(s) this time, sorry burrow dwellers.

[lottiies]

life is beautiful, but you don’t have a clue

⇢ getting all bruised up and battered with minimum medical aid from the government is brutal. leon doesn’t believe he deserves to be helped, though. after months of hiding these moments of vulnerability from you, he lets finally lets you in, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t turn him away

cw: fem!reader, established relationship, leon’s alcohol dependency and low self-worth, religious guilt, attempts to hide depression, brief description of wounds, angst, comfort and reassurance, patching him up, small snippet with chris, 3.2k wc

note: i promise there’s more to me than just writing ooc smut for him 😞 i rewatched vendetta and omg i want to hug him so bad. (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) i’m not sure if the small font is too straining on the eyes, if it is, lmk!! i’ll change it back to the regular sized one. if you see typos, no you didn’t

divider below is by @/cafekitsune!!

just how many confessionals and assigned prayers would it take for leon to be forgiven for all his wrong doings? probably more than he could keep track of. then again, he hasn’t clasped his hands together and recited a muttered chant for redemption in ages. the belief in a savior dissipated alongside his naive outlook in life once upon a time.

he had laid on a cold hard mattress for hours in the infirmary made specifically for DSO agents. the nurses didn’t give him much care, though. he was patched up, prescribed some pain killers, and sent home. the recovery period was over a month long, but he knew he wouldn’t actually be granted that much rest before he had to be back in action.

two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. he’s dealt with those same conditions time and time again, but it never got any easier, especially as he got older. he was busy basking in his misery, longing for only two things: the bitter taste of alcohol on his tongue, and his girlfriend’s soothing presence.

he tried to keep this part of him hidden, he was ashamed. he had already opened up to you about his job, and how he would be away for long periods. what he didn’t tell you was that those said long periods usually included his recovery, so you didn’t have to see him all broken and battered. he usually kept all the lights in his house off even when the evening approached, so you wouldn’t know he was back in town if you happened to drive by his place.

the two of you had gotten together a year and a half ago, and he used to be more…stable. he feared you’d up and leave him if you found out how bad it had gotten for him.

but the thing is, he knew you would take care of him. your love for him was unconditional, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful for it or to feel sorry for you. after all, he was known to have occasional outbursts of irritation, being on edge from all his baggage and his frequent doses of hard liquor. but he wasn’t a bad man, he just needed some TLC.

he could nurse his good ol’ mind numbing beverages stored coldly in his fridge all he wanted, but it wouldn’t make him feel any better. in fact, his self-hatred only grew once he found himself depending on alcohol. in his head, he chose to rely on a drink to feel a buzz. in reality, that was far from the truth. a man like him was drowning in the depths of his baggage. PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and alcohol didn’t mesh well.

it was you who kept him sane, really.

you were the skin-kissing sun after a harsh thunderstorm, like a balm to his traumatized and guilt ridden soul. you saw him for who he was, the selfless and love-yearning man he had always been, not a grouchy killing-machine like some people started to view him as of late.

even when he was overseas, your love always managed to reach him.

it was those heartfelt text messages and voicemails he often received that made him tread through his missions carefully, he knew there was someone back home worth living for.

voicemails:

“hi leon! i know you said you might not have internet connection over there or that your phone might break but…um…i dunno, there’s a chance you’ll hear this, so might as well, right? i really miss you. i was procrastinating during my job the other day, yeah boo me…but i made a list of some movies we can watch when you’re back in town. maybe you can come over and we can cuddle on my couch all night, hehe. anyway, i hope you’re okay. i really don’t want you to get hurt or anything. call me when you fly back in?”

“oh shit, is this voicemail? [incoherent mumbling] uh, okay yeah. hi leon, i’m at rite aid right now. i don’t wanna sound nosy but i saw some of the bloodied medical tape you left in my trash and…and i just got worried and wondered if you needed anything? maybe you didn’t want to concern me but, tell me next time okay? let’s see…there’s a lot of different brands, i dont know which one you’d like. call me back ASAP, i’m gonna stay here for a bit longer just in case you do. bye, i love you!”

“okay i figured you wouldn’t pick up. i know it’s like four am but i just woke up and my dream was about us! it went like…like…oh shit. i think i forgot already, bummer!” silence, and some hums. “i literally just had the dream like five seconds ago and i can’t remember it anymore. i’m pissed! anyway, see you tomorrow? or today, technically. bye!”

messages:

found this meme and it reminded me of you…wait do you even know what a meme is? ha, loser

here’s the link to the letterboxd website i told you about earlier!

come overrrr, i’m off work at 8 today. unless my asshole of a coworker shows up late again, ugh

you left your jacket at my house, it’s mine now!!!

not sure if you fell asleep already but please text me back when you can and when you’re sober. ik we just had an argument but we should talk it over, i want everything to be okay between us, i love you. you’re not mad at me are you??

replaying those sweet voicemails was like a remedy, providing such raw tenderness that nothing else in the universe could. you were the epitome of an angel walking the earth, keeping him from falling into the pits of hell by visiting his dreams whenever fell asleep all splayed out on his floor with an empty bottle by his side. it should be you snuggled against him instead, on a bed.

while you gave leon all your sweet love, there were other people working behind the scenes, dishing out some tough love to leon. like chris, who had hit rock bottom once and didn’t want leon to fall prey to the same thing.

“and how about your girl? you really think she’ll want to deal with you being like this all the time?” chris asked, his voice more agitated than mad. he wasn’t angry, just worried and wanting to push the truth into leon’s head. he had found leon sitting on his ass with a drink too many times to be considered a brief stress relief.

“leave her outta this.” leon scoffed, turning off his phone (he had been staring at his wallpaper that was a picture of you.) “i don’t let her see this side of me.”

“side? leon, it’s not just a side. it’ll consume you whole. what happens when it becomes your whole life, huh? what happens when you start disappearing all the time?”

“get off my ass, chris.” leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to not lash out. “i came here for some peace and quiet, not for you to nag at me like you’re my mother.”

“i’m not trying to–” chris cut himself off, unsure of how to get across to leon. leon was absolutely miserable, the only time chris saw some hope in his eyes was whenever he soberly rambled about you. “i’m just saying that you’ve got a good thing going for you, and i don’t want you to ruin it by not trying to get better.”

silence, so chris spoke up again. “she cares about you. so try to care about yourself too, okay? i’ve been there, i see myself in you. i know it’s not your fault that you’ve turned to alcohol. but, let her in, let her help.”

leon looked down at his glass, watching his own reflection, some guilt burning in his gut. he hung his head a bit, looking like a kitten that had just gotten in trouble. he knew chris was right.

maybe this once, he could break the cycle of hiding and cowering. his throat felt dry as he reached for his phone, wincing a bit at the shock of pain the movement caused.

his fingers struggled to tap his cracked screen, the brightness of it making his nose scrunch and eyes squint. eventually, he found the phone app, you were at the top of his list, and he dialed.

…

“leon!! hi, hold on, lemme turn my TV off, i was watching a podcast.” and surely enough, he could hear the background noise lower until it was gone completely and your heavenly voice was filling his ears again. “okay, done. i can’t believe you’re calling, i’ve been waiting all week! how are you? not hurt or anything, i hope? need me to pick you up from the airport or?”

his lips twitched, threatening to turn into a small smile at your bombardment of questions. but he bit it back, feeling undeserving of such happiness. your voice overpowered the weak buzzing of his fan and the wind that rusted outside.

“uh, no.” his voice sounded hoarse, so he tried to clear it. “i’m actually at home, was wondering if you could come over? i…kind of need some help. only if you can, i don’t want to bother you.”

the silence that lingered made him feel tense, his heart pumping so loud that the noise reached his ears. then he heard some shuffling over the phone, as well as some keys jingling.

“be there in fifteen.”

it was just like you to drop everything to help someone else, no questions asked (at least not yet.) god, he loved you.

his world had felt muted before you, devoid of any color and saturation. but every time you he thought of you, suddenly colors were blooming as if he was a blank canvas and your paintbrush strokes were bringing him to life and giving him a purpose.

waiting fifteen minutes felt like an hour, maybe because he was counting down the time on his fucked up lock screen. the numbers looked wonky, he could barely make them out. his watch was broken too, no luck there. having no concept of time, even for a moment, felt weird.

he eventually heard his front door lock twisting. he had given you a spare key just in case, he trusted that you would never snoop through his things or take advantage of that privilege.

“um, hello? leon?” you sounded worried.

“god, it’s dark in here…” you then mumbled, splaying your hand against the wall and searching for his light switch. a couple seconds later and bingo, the sudden bright light left you disoriented for a while.

“i’m on the couch. just…don’t say anything, please?”

your brows furrowed at his request, and you rushed on over, your shoes thudding against his wooden floor. surely enough, there he was, laying on his back with agony written on his features. he had his leather jacket off, his arms having nips and tears all over. small ones, at least, but still collectively all painful.

“oh leon…” a worried mutter fell from your lips, and you kneeled down, the harshness of the hard cold floor not even registering because you were too engrossed in him.

you didn’t want to cry in front of him, not when he was the one suffering. but the pain you felt in your chest for seeing your sweetheart look so defeated just had you getting a bit teary. leaning forward, you planted a kiss on his forehead, your hand raising to stroke the crown of his head. his hair was a bit knotted.

he leaned into your touch like a puppy, letting out a pleased sigh. your affection felt like a gift in a bow after the way he had been slammed around by infected enemies earlier.

“what happened? i—“ okay, he said no questions. you could save the context seeking ones for later, but you did have to know what was wrong. “where are you hurt?”

he didn’t dare look into your eyes, knowing that it would break him. he was looking down further at your neck though, so his gaze was at least on you.

“everywhere.” he managed to croak out with a dry chuckle. um, not helping. “if we’re talking specifics though, the doc told me i broke two ribs on my left side. i also dislocated my left shoulder, they put it back into place but um…y’know, it still hurts like hell.”

after taking a breath to compose yourself, you nodded and stood up. “okay. do you have an ice pack?”

leon nodded. “in my freezer.”

you went off to fetch it, also taking one of leon’s small kitchen towels and wrapping it around the ice pack before placing it onto the coffee table. then, you went to his bedroom, getting two of his pillows and the first aid kit in his bedside drawer.

his eyes lit up when you returned. you were so nurturing it made him want to sob into your arms. but he’d open up to you one step at a time, one day at a time.

“can you…can you try sitting up just a bit? you’re supposed to be a bit propped up.”

well, that wasn’t the worst he’s had to do with a broken rib. he could manage. with a grunt of pain, leon slowly propped himself up, giving you some time to slide the two pillows in.

“there we go.” with a small smile, you couldn’t resist but place another kiss against his forehead. it made him feel good, it was like all your gestures were doses of ibuprofen.

the coldness of the icepack had seeped into the towel. and you gently applied it to his left side, your eyes lifting to meet his face to watch for any indicators you might be hurting him.

“down or up?” you asked him, moving the ice pack up further. he hadn’t told you which ribs had been broken, after all.

“down, please.”

you hummed, moving it back down and letting it rest there.

“how do you know so much about this?” he asked. sure, an icepack was probably a no brainer but you seemed so sure of yourself by making him sit up more.

“google works wonders.” you shrugged alongside your answer. “i just figured some knowledge on the most common injuries would be good for me to learn since your job is pretty dangerous. call me psychic but i saw this in my future.”

some brief moments of quietness washed over afterwards, making him feel unsettled. were you angry because he had often kept his bedridden moments from you? he couldn’t tell.

“i’m sorry.” his apology hung in the room, every one of his nerves feeling on edge.

but it was your warm and gentle touch on his face that had him crawling out of his low self-worth and into reality. a reality where someone loved and cherished all parts of him from his darkest to brightest days. you.

“what are you sorry for?” your question was spoken through a whispered tone of voice. “you’re out here risking your life and saving people whose names you don’t even know, yet you’re apologizing?”

you kneeled down again so you could be closer to him, stroking the side of his face with your knuckles. “i wish you had told me, but i think i can understand why you didn’t. i don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this from me. you know i’m here for you.”

“i…i know.” he didn’t doubt how much you cared for him, but it was hard to feel like he deserved someone as great as you. what did he have to offer?

“c’mon, look at me.” you pleaded, having taken note of the way his pretty blue eyes hadn’t met yours even once.

he blinked, his eyes darting around a bit. he bit his bottom lip nervously before releasing it. it was only when he felt your hand slide down to hold his that he finally mustered the courage looked into your eyes.

he looked broken, but willing. a small glimmer in his eyes that begged for devotion and comfort, for his angel to continue guiding him even when he lost his path. to not be cast aside like he was replaceable. he couldn’t leave his job or the hell that was his life even if he wanted to, but you made life worth living.

you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “i love you, leon. through sickness and health.”

you couldn’t suppress the desire to kiss him yet again, this time scattering them all over his face. your affection brought a surge of joy over him.

the wedding vow reference made him crack a grin. he chuckled a bit even though it caused his injured body discomfort. “i love you too.”

“did you think i wouldn’t help you?”

while you asked the question, your eyes skimmed over his body. his clothes were nipped at, the tears revealing some patches of his skin that had dried up blood or that were bruised. geez. you just wanted to cling to him, but you knew that would only strain him.

“i knew you would.” he began, watching as you stood up and disappeared back into the kitchen. he could hear the sink running. “i didn’t want you to spend your time looking after me, you have your own life to live. you shouldn’t have to babysit me.”

you came back with a wet towel, using it to clean up the dirt and blood on his arms, making sure to be gentle.

“babysit you? that’s not what it’s called, leon. i’m taking care of you, is all. i know you’d do the same and be even more stubborn about it.”

his eyes were trained on you, appreciating the concentration you held while cleaning him up. like a feather, your nimble fingers only left fleeting sensations against his skin. so delicately and tenderly, you treated him.

“yeah, i probably would. thank you.”

“don’t mention it.”

you spent the next twenty minutes disinfecting all his open injuries and putting gauzes over them, making some conversation but keeping it light since you needed to focus. there was more of a sparkle in his eyes than before, you had patched him up both physically and emotionally.

“how’re you feeling?”

“better. can’t say i’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow, though.”

“you need lots of rest to recover. you should sleep.”

and he was fucking tired, having stayed up all day. his body had been on fight-or-flight mode so many times that it had exhausted all his emergency energy. and initially he was sure his injuries wouldn’t let him rest, but you were here now, watching over him.

“yeah, i should.” he agreed with you. “will you…will you be here when i wake up?”

okay. you felt warm inside, he was opening up to you, allowing you to stay by his weakened side. “of course. and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and um, you get the point.”

you lifted a hand to rub at his temples, alleviating the headache he had. leon groaned contentedly, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes shut. he could feel some drowsiness kicking in already.

“i could get used to this.”

“mhm, just go to sleep.” you voice was getting quieter and quieter in his mind, when’s the last time he fell asleep this quickly? maybe when he was 20. last time he had a broken rib, he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

maybe life was constantly testing him, disrupting his peace at every turn, seeping into all the crooks and nannies. but he found his person, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, the one who reminded him of how valuable his life and accomplishments were.

yeah, he could see his future, alright. one where he only picked up a bottle of beer during celebrations, one where he could be tangled up with you and be doted on without feeling guilt.

and it was sooner than later that those thoughts would be fulfilled.

[imtryingbuck]

To Be Loved

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n realises her self worth. 

Word count: 2,831

Warnings: angst. angst. cheating (I’m sorry). self hatred. Sharon. forms of self harming. Steve and Sharon are scumbags. 

A/N: i was listening to Adele To Be Loved and this idea came to me

Masterlist

Everything was in their correct places, she made sure of it. Seven times. It had to be perfect. Today marked three years of marriage for her and Steve, instead of going out they both agreed to celebrate their anniversary at home with a home cooked meal, fine wine and slow music and to top it off with an intimate moment shared together in their bed.

The plan was perfect.

The house was perfect.

The dress she was wearing was perfect.

The meal smelted delicious as it cooked away in the oven.

The only thing now was for her to wait for her love to come home.

She sat at the dining chair watching as the clock on the over tick on by getting further away from the agreed upon time that he was supposed to arrive. Every time she rang him the call dropped straightaway, her messaged just staying on delivered. Fidgeting ever so often trying to smooth out the crinkles of her dark green dress that he told her to wear for their special occasion.

Two hours, still not home.

Three hours, still not home.

Fou- she finally gave up.

Emptying the plates full of now cold food, she turned off the radio, took her heels off and collapsed on the couch.

It had been a long time since she had cried, and that night she cried until her heart started to squeeze painfully.

She cried until sleep over took her weaken body.

She forgave him the next day when he got in at six o’clock that morning. He showed up with flowers and told her that he was sorry, something about a mission brief that ran way too long.

Though she didn’t necessarily believe him or his lie but she was just happy he was home so she never questioned him.

She plastered a fake smile and made out that she watched a sad movie and that was the reason for her make up - the same she took time in perfecting - was ruined, not the real reason for the dried mascara tear tracks running down her cheeks.

A week later she walked into the tower finding it strange that no one made their way to greet her like they always did before. She walked into Steve’s room to surprise him, when she got a surprise of her own.

Her husband of three years, the man that she had been with for six years, the man that she had been in love with for eight years was thrusting away like his life depended on it into a woman that she had been insecure about since she came back to work for SHIELD, the same woman that Steve had reassured her that she had no reason to worry or to be threatened by.

Sharon.

She had no idea how long she stood there for watching the scene in front of her until she watched them kiss, it was then and only then she stumbled backwards knocking into the door which caused a noise.

The headboard stopped violently banging against the wall, the mattress stopped squeaking and Steve’s face drained of all colour as he saw his wife catching him in the act of his betrayal.

“B-baby” he had the audacity to call her whilst still inside of another woman.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she forced her legs to take a step in front of the other, shaking as she pressed the elevator button her eyes stung as the tears threatened to break over the barrier.

The moment the silver shiny doors open she stepped in repeatedly hitting the close button just as Steve managed to make it around the corner.

This man who she had loved for eight years, the same man that she had just caught cheating had the audacity to look sad at the heart-breaking expression on her face.

A month had gone by since that painful day, and after weeks of him begging and grovelling and profusely promising that he would never do it again, that he would be better. Promising that he would go to therapy to fix his mistakes.

She asked how many times he had cheated on her and he hesitated before telling her that it had been going on for a month before hastily telling her that it meant nothing, just sex - as if that made it any better.

Now please don’t judge her, for eight years she had loved him more than she had ever thought you could love someone and for six years he was all she knew. She loved him with all that she had even if he did the one thing that she never thought he would do to her. She took him back.

When the team found out what he had done they rallied around to the apartment she shared with Americas golden boy, all telling her that they knew nothing, Tony had told her that he told Fury that he was kicking Sharon out of the tower and how Fury had made her move to a different SHIELD location. The team cleaned up the mess she had made the night she got back to their apartment after catching her husband’s betrayal. 

The team understood why she agreed to take him back though none of them liked it. They thought-no knew she deserved better than their friend, their captain. But they promised that they would always be there if she ever needed them, no matter what.

Steve understood that it was going to take her some time for them to go back to being ‘normal’ even though she didn’t know if they could ever get back what they once had.

She tried, she really did try and put it behind her but every night when she closed her eyes she was plagued by the memories of him with a woman that wasn’t her. Every time she woke up she would look to the right of her to find him facing her sleeping peacefully.

And every night she sneaked into the bathroom to put two fingers down her throat to be sick.

She was trying to be better she really was, she couldn’t help but flinch every time he went to kiss her or when he told her that he loved her.

She tried.

God she tried.

The first time they had sex was four months after his betrayal came to light. She hated how much she loved that feeling of him being on her, that feeling of him being close to her. She hated it because the loud banging of the headboard and the squeaks of the mattress took her back to that moment.

After what was normally an act that she once loved and treasured, that had now become a bittersweet moment between the married couple she went to the bathroom and did her routine that she did now after every meal she was forced to eat.

Though she was struggling, she wasn’t the only one.

Steve had gotten mad more than once about how she would always pull away from him or how she wouldn’t look him in the eyes anymore or how their lovemaking was now him doing all the work. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t gotten over it like she said she did - she never said that, she just forgave him.

He had also complained not only to her but to his friends about her weight loss, how he would see her flicking the elastic band against her wrist that she would now wear.

What Steve hated most was when a storm made its way through New York she wouldn’t seek shelter in the warm comfort of his arms, no she would now lock herself in the bathroom and sit in the corner with her knees pulled up to her chest, flinching every time the loud cracking sound made it’s way through the apartment.

He had made the biggest mistake of his life and now it was costing him.

A year had gone by, six months of Steve getting solo counselling and another six months of them both going to marriage counselling later they had gone back to being how they once were, don’t get it wrong she still sometimes got nightmares about his betrayal but each time she would talk about it to him the next morning and they would talk it over, just like their therapist suggested.

Everything was going perfectly once again they celebrated their fourth anniversary together where Steve took her to a cabin that had a private lake, they spent the nights looking up at the stars that twinkled up in the dark sky and she would giggle when he picked her up and carried her to bed before making love to her over and over again.

Sometimes she would be okay with what happened in the past but then she would find herself thinking if Steve had what they had with Sharon.

It all came crumbling down six months after their fourth year anniversary when Steve announced that he would be travelling with the rest of the Avengers to help out the SHIELD headquarters in London.

Her heart stuttered hearing that.

That was exactly where Sharon had been located to.

He promised that he wouldn’t go anywhere near her, said that he would never make that mistake again. Swore that he was so in love with her that he wasn’t going to stray away from their marriage again.

She believed him.

She trusted him.

Five minutes after he left their apartment she rang to the bathroom to do something she hadn’t done in months. She put her fingers down her throat.

Every day that he had been away he rang her to talk about everything and anything, she had asked him if he had seen Sharon, he said yes but every time she tried to talk to him he walked away.

She believed him.

She trusted him.

When he came home with a massive bouquet of her favourite flowers, neither one of them left the apartment for three days straight. Both had grown sore from their activities.

One night, three weeks after he arrived back from London she received a text message from an unknown number, two photos were attached.

Her heart shattered.

A photo of a sonogram with Sharon Carters name at the top and a screenshot of Sharon’s messages she shared with Steve. Steve talking about how he couldn’t wait to be a dad, her saying that their time in London was special and him agreeing.

She looked to the right of her and saw him sleeping peacefully.

And once again she crept out of bed and began her routine she unfortunately picked up again.

He told her he was going on a solo mission and that he would be back in two weeks. She nodded and kept her head down. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t look at him or how she moved her head to the side so he only kissed her cheek.

She wasn’t foolish. She had gone through his phone and saw the messages between him and Sharon, he wasn’t going on a solo mission he was going back to London to spend some time with her and the growing baby in her stomach.

Her wrist had now a permanent circular bruise from snapping the elastic band.

She had lost count of the amount of tear she had shed from his betrayal and now that there was going to be a child added to the mix she cried more than she had ever done before.

Finally gaining the strength and courage she went to a lawyer and filed for divorce, it broke her heart to do so but it needed to be done. She could no longer go on like this. She could no longer be made a fool out of.

She needed to finally love herself, once again.

When he came home after being in London with her and their unborn child he frowned at seeing their apartment next to empty, all of her things missing, he saw her sitting on the couch looking just a beautiful as she always had.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“I know about London and how you’re having a baby with her. Please sign the divorce papers”

“B-baby no… no she means noth-“

“You told her that you love her. You’re having a child with her. Please just stop and sign the papers”

He got down on his knees in front of her begging and crying, pleading with her to change her mind, told her that he would never have anything to do with Sharon or the baby ever, that they could be happy again.

She responded with telling him to sign the papers.

He cried and cried. Telling her how much of a mistake he had made, telling her over and over again that Sharon meant nothing to him. She flinched and grew angry when he said the baby meant nothing to him. That’s when she snapped.

“How dare you! That baby is innocent, as much as I can’t stand it’s parents don’t you dare say that! Poor child was only conceived because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, because you and its mother are terrible people. Yo-you promised me last time and I forgave you, and yet here we are now and you’re having a child with a woman that isn’t me. Sign the papers I won’t ask again.”

“P-p-please we can m-make this work”

“You honestly expect me to stay with you whilst you have a child with your mistress? No Steven that’s not happening. I choose to pick me first now, I deserve better, I deserve to be happy. You and your mistress deserve each other, you and your mistress deserves to be so miserable with each other. Just sign the fucking papers!”

He flinched at her swearing, his heart cracking as she pushed the divorce papers into his chest, he admits that he only slept with her once in London and the next morning the regret washed over him like a tidal wave threatening to swallow him whole. He didn’t love Sharon, god knows he didn’t. He loves the woman standing in front of him. Heck he wasn’t even sure if the child was his as Sharon has a boyfriend.

He finally took the pen from her hand and shakily opened up the papers, his heart sinking into the pits of hell seeing that she had already signed it. Gazing up to face her once more he realised that she was dead serious about this, he couldn’t let her down again so he signed his name next to hers.

“Thank you. Goodbye Steven have a terrible life”

They were the last words he would ever hear come out of her mouth as she walked straight past him and out of his life.

Months later she was behind the counter of the diner she worked at laughing at what one of the customers was saying about something his two year old son had gotten up to, wiping down the counter as another customer chimed in talking about how it only gets worse from here on out with children when the TV that was hanging in the top right corner said something that had a woman laughing.

It was being announced that the baby that Sharon had publicly announced as Steve’s was indeed not his. The baby had been born not even a month earlier and was already infamous by being the possible child from Captain America’s affair.

“I still can’t believe he cheated on his wife with that thing” Joey a loyal customer scoffed with a shake of his head.

“What’s your take on this sugar?” Lolly - Joey’s wife - asked as she sipped from her coffee.

“It’s a shame really” you answered keeping your eyes on the small television screen watching as Steve walked out of the courthouse where the camera man zoomed in on Steve’s wedding ring finger, seeing the ring that she put on his finger nearly five years ago still sitting there.

As for her, she finally found was it was like to love herself again. She could look herself in the mirror now and not point out her ‘flaws’, she no longer wore an elastic band around her wrist, nor did she force herself to be sick.

She was still sick sometimes but not because she wanted to be.

She was finally happy, her skin was glowing as Kiki - her boss - had kept telling her. Her happiness and self-love continued to grow along with her stomach.

Placing one hand on the right side of her large protruding stomach she smiled up at the screen seeing Steve in his car with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Let it be known that she had survived, and that she had gained the love for herself that she thought she had lost.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[ghoulsbounty]

can you make a fic abt baby billy and like being one of his wives or like when he's on the run from tiff idrk depends on what you want to do

A Fall From Grace

Uncle Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Baby Billy comes seeking comfort, and you are always willing to shoulder the burden.

Warnings: smut (18+), backshot, cum eating (kinda), p in v, alluding to an affair, mentions of religious beliefs relating to the show, angst, alcohol, smoking, emotional hurt/comfort, reader pining for baby billy, dejection.

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Anon and anon, thank you for requesting that I write for this emotionally stunted baby man. I love him, I love the show, and the world needs Baby Billy fics! This is set before he is with Tiff (because I love her.) I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

You longed to utter the words, to express disbelief at finding yourself in this familiar game of cat and mouse once more. But honesty was a luxury you couldn't afford, not when your conscience was already weighed down by a litany of sins. Each lie added to the burden, and you couldn't bear to heap more upon your soul.

There was a time, not so long ago, you walked the path of life with a sense of purpose and righteousness. Like any devout believer, you diligently carried out God's will, spreading His word among the neighbours of Pumpkintown. But then, on a scorching summer's day, destiny led you through Freeman's Gap, where you found yourself standing at his doorstep. From that moment, everything changed.

Baby Billy, with his irresistible charm and captivating façade, swiftly drew you into his intricate web of deception. His presence cast a shadow over your once-virtuous existence, blurring the boundaries between right and wrong. In his company, your convictions faltered, and the very essence of your faith began to erode. Slowly but surely, he transformed you from a devout Christian into a mere echo of your former self.

No matter how many times you had promised yourself that this would be the last time, that you wouldn't let it happen again, it all amounted to more lies to add to the growing list. When he reappeared in your life after an eighteen-month absence, you were poised to slam the door shut in his face. But he possessed a silver tongue that could persuade the sun to set twice.

So here you were, pressed face down against the mattress, your skin glistening with sweat as he drove into you from behind. This was your preferred position; it prevented him from gazing at you with adoration, as if you were the centre of his universe, while he consumed every inch of your being. It made it easier to bear his departure after he was done with you, when he didn't linger. The ache in your chest always remained, but your time with Baby Billy had made you realize that you were nothing if not resilient.

Your gaze lingered on the half-empty bottle of gin perched on the bedside table. It was his customary offering, always referred to as your favourite. Whether it truly held that distinction was a matter of uncertainty, but you always accepted it. Flowers and chocolate might have softened the edges of your encounters with him, but they could never dull the sharp pang of inevitable loss you’d feel when he returned to whichever-number wife he was on.

"I'll accept the bottle, but not the intent," you would murmur each time he presented it, extending the gesture like an olive branch. His eyes would gleam with anticipation, tinged with a hint of apprehension, as he waited to be welcomed in. How many lies had you accumulated by now?

More than you cared to count. This self-proclaimed righteous man of God would lead you to the depths of hell itself if it meant avoiding solitude, and you would willingly follow. That was the truth.

"Haven't lost you now, have I?" His voice snapped you out of your trance, his hips grinding against your backside with a fervour that seemed desperate to anchor you to him.

Clutching the sheets tightly, your knuckles turned white as you shook your head. "I'm here, Baby Billy."

He chuckled, his hands gripping the flesh of your hips as he pulled back slightly before thrusting back in with force. Your walls tightened around him, drawing out the most obscene moans from his lips as he maintained an unfaltering rhythm.

"You're always here for Baby Billy," he remarked with a hint of satisfaction. "You're a good girl."

The words ignited a surge of conflicting emotions within you, sending sparks flying through your mind. Somewhere deep within, a wire seemed to short circuit, and you found yourself instinctively grinding your hips back against him, matching his movements.

"Damn," he sighed, his voice heavy with gratification, as one hand dropped to your front. His fingers traced along your wet folds until he found the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a high-pitched wail from your lips. "Well, if that ain't the prettiest thing I've ever heard."

His other hand released your hip, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you against his sticky chest. The new position drove him deeper, your head leaning back against his shoulder in the crook of his neck as he slowed to a heavy grind. His fingers continued their expert ministrations on your clit, tracing familiar circles, while his other hand left your hair to grab harshly at your breast, pinching your nipple just as he knew you liked.

"Let me see you now," he panted. You hadn't realized you'd squeezed your eyes shut until he slapped your clit with an open palm, causing you to flinch against him, and when you opened them, he was looking down at you with those hazel eyes that sucked you in every time. "There she is. Tell Baby Billy what you want from him."

He always did this, despite your attempts to bury your face into the mattress to hide from what you were doing with him. He always found a way to make you look at him, to confront your demons and tell him what you desired most from him. It was as if he couldn't let you come out of this unscathed, regardless of his claims that he needed you right there with him.

He didn't truly need you, not in the sense of wanting you for anything more than warming his cock and easing the burden of the life he had created for himself. You were a distraction from the suffering he had caused, never once caring for your own.

You wished you could refuse him. In every other aspect of your life, you were strong, but when it came to Baby Billy Freeman, your resolve wavered with just one look. Perhaps it was the underlying desperation he always seemed to exude, making you feel sorry for him, as if you were providing a service by temporarily alleviating his misery. Eventually, you stopped trying to make sense of it, allowing it to happen and taking from it what you wanted, what you needed.

"I want to cum," you breathed against the skin of his neck, then remembered what he always liked to hear. "Please, Baby Billy."

The familiar tightening in your stomach signalled your impending climax, and he seemed to sense it too, his movements growing more urgent as your walls fluttered around him, drawing him deeper with each thrust. His fingers worked faster against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing against his as you cried out into the silence of the bedroom.

He grunted, continuing to thrust into you through your orgasm, your walls milking him as you pulsed around him. Your body went limp as the last surge of electricity shot through you, and he tossed you back onto the mattress to reach his own release. A few more thrusts, then you felt the tell-tale stutter of his hips before he withdrew completely, leaving your pussy feeling empty and used. The sound of your juices squelching around him filled the room as he used them to pleasure himself, pumping once, twice before finally cumming hard onto your ass with a shout of release.

You laid there, your sweaty face pressed against the sticky cotton sheet as you slowly grounded yourself back to reality. He panted above you, running a finger over the curves of your ass, scooping his release from you before bringing it to your mouth. You accepted it, your tongue swirling around his finger, lips closing around him as you sucked the salty mixture and swallowed it down. It was a habit he enjoyed, claiming that if he couldn't cum inside you, he at least wanted to ensure you received what he was giving in some way. It had become a routine you found yourself needing more than you cared to admit.

He withdrew his finger, delivering a sharp slap to your ass before rising from the bed. The mattress groaned with his movement, and you lay still as he carried out his next habitual task. Moments later, he returned, a lit cigarette between his lips and a wet cloth in his hand as he gently cleaned off the evidence of his release from your behind before tossing it onto the bedside table with a wet thwack. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaned over you with an arm resting on the mattress. You turned onto your back underneath him, running your fingers over his forearm as he looked down at you.

"Don't look at me like that," you said, tracing patterns through the hair on his arm.

"Like what, angel?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement as he brought the cigarette to your lips. You took a drag before he reclaimed it, exhaling slowly as your eyes met his.

"Like you might love me," you whispered.

He chuckled, briefly glancing away before returning his gaze to you. "Maybe I do."

Once, you believed you loved him, back when you were still innocent to the manipulative games he played and your part in it all. But that belief didn't last long; you soon learned to shut it out, along with the company of men who weren't him.

"Right girl, wrong time," he had once told you, but you quickly learned that the right time would never come.

For Baby Billy, love wasn't in the equation. It soon became clear that he merely enjoyed the possession of you. You were like an old toy to him, tossed aside until he desired to play with you again. Your emotions, your needs, they were secondary to his whims, serving only to satisfy his fleeting desires.

Baby Billy Freeman didn't love you, he loved having you.

He would depart soon, leaving you with uncertainty about when you would see him again. Yet, deep down, you knew he would return. He always did, seeking refuge in your presence to distract himself from the harsh realities of his life. And you would be there for him, as you always were.

Because unfortunately, somewhere along the way of Baby Billy using you like a drug, you had become addicted yourself.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Rafayel who would much rather continue being the fool, the jester of your court if it meant maintaining a permanent place within your life. If that’s all it takes to stay in your life then he’ll make a fool out of himself for the rest of forever if you need him to.

He acts like nothing could ever truly phase him that even you start to believe that lie, but the one thing that Rafayel feared more then anything was being abandoned, left at the wayside to dry up and die of loneliness and a broken heart.

Out of everyone who fell for that lie, he wished you’d be the one to see through it and call him out on his bullshit bravado, just so he could finally hang it up and put it to rest and live a relatively modest lifestyle with you.

Rafayel the man who insinuates that he likes you a lot, even going as far as to point out the moments where he found himself falling harder for you, only to deeply fluster himself into backtracking his words out of pure embarrassment and fear that you might not feel the same as he first assumes.

He’s always been a coward when it came to being honest about his feelings. So much that he felt more comfortable teasing you about liking him in order to cover up the fact that he was purely projecting his own thoughts and inner most emotions onto you a hundred percent of the time.

It’ll probably cause a point of contention between the two of you as you assumed he wasn’t taking things seriously as he should before telling him that you were leaving for some time apart. Naturally this sparks Rafayel’s fear and he’s already holding onto your forearm for dear life just as you were about to leave.

‘Please.’ He’d utter too softly for you to hear.

‘What?’ You’d say

‘Please don’t leave.’ He say a little louder. ‘I’ll stop with the teasing and the joking from now on if that’s what you want. Just…just don’t leave me alone again…’

‘It’s not the teasing or the joking I have issue with…it’s the fact that that I don’t feel like you’re being with genuine with me anymore..’ you open up to him and as you go to look at him, you were to see a man with a face that looked as though it had all life drained from it. ‘You’re hiding from me and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.’ You’d tell him.

‘I’ll be honest from now on, promise.’ Rafayel said desperately as he practically clings onto your side as though his entire life depended on it.

‘Then what are you hiding from me?’ You asked, equally as desperate to fix whatever has been broke between the two of you. ‘More importantly what are you so deathly afraid of that’s leading you to pushing me away?’ You added on upon seeing his hesitance towards answering the question.

‘You.’ Rafayel responded. ‘I’m in love with you and that scares me, which is ironic because falling in love with you is all I’ve ever wanted and now that I have it…I’m scared that it’ll chase you away if I ever were to admit it.’ He chuckled humourlessly as fear gripped at his throat with each word that left his lips.

‘You could never scare me off Rafayel.’ You say softly as you hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks as you brought your forehead to his. ‘For I love you too silly boy.’ You’d continue, pressing a small kiss to his nose, feeling him physically relax under your touch.

‘Yeah but I’m your silly boy.’ Rafayel replied as he smiles widely in relief as his arms caged you against him.

‘You are indeed my silly boy.’ You echoed, smiling yourself as you both could finally put aside the misconceptions for good and revel in the presence of the other.

[yoredoesmore]

HOSHINA MOON HEADCANON! Highschool AU edition

a/n: fan fiction at the end ^^ i did not plan for this to become so sad this was supposed to be a “shy boyfriend hoshina headcanon” post, chat how did we lose the plot so badly 😭 i don’t choose the angst, the angst chooses me 😔

summary: "the moon needs the sun to shine” / “the sun is alone but still shines.”

genre: romance/angst [wc: 1,3k]

enjoy!

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who first took notice of you when you decided to become the Student Council President for the last year of highschool

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who thought that because he is the (good looking) Vice President, he could easily have you fall for him (he was wrong)

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – who found himself captivated by your kind and sharp-witted personality

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who once saw you get hit on by some jerks and came to your rescue, only to end up frozen in place as he watched you calmly clock them with your words.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who fell in love with you right then and there

“Oh, Vice President. I didn't see you there, is everything alright?” You asked, approaching Hoshina with a friendly smile on your face. Only seconds ago those lips were releasing the most brutal, malicious curses at the two students and now they were kindly greeting him.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who came to you whenever he needed help with some documents or other tasks, even though he was more than capable to work on them on his own, simply to see you more since you were in separate classes

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who admired you for always giving 100% and helping out wherever possible. Yet at the same time it felt like you were miles away from him and never depended on his support.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who made sure to pass by your classroom every opportunity given. He had to go to the bathroom? Instead of using the one closer to his class, he would walk all the way past yours in hopes that he'd randomly meet you in the hallway.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who felt like the moon, admiring the sun

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who, despite having the fattest crush on you, keeps his distance when talking or walking together, since he feels like there is a wall separating your worlds.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who praises you when you do a great job, wanting you to know that none of your efforts are going unnoticed.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – who talks to Mina about his concerns, worries and all the cute interactions you two share

WINGLADY MINA˚⊹ – Who pretends to have an important appointment in the evening and asks you to take care of the leftover paper work by yourself (she had promised to help you a couple days ago). You agree, unable to deny the sweet smile of your friend, and get ready to stay behind alone. But upon entering the small office you see Hoshina waiting for you.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who sits in silence, working on the papers in front of him while trying not to lose his mind. The two of you are sitting right next to each other, working on some details for the summer festival.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who wants to confess his love for you so badly but is scared that you will reject him. As you finish up, he quietly packs his bag, ready to go home, when he notices you still being seated.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was laced in a mild layer of concern. Your gaze remained focused on the desk for a little longer, your mind lost in thoughts, before you looked back up at him.

“I’m sorry..I was just thinking about something..” The subtle sound of paper moving and pencils clicking filled the silent room. Something in your presence had changed, Hoshina could feel it, but he wasn't sure what it was. Your movements were slow and delayed, as if they were trying to prevent something..but what?

Even the expression on your face hung low, missing all its colors or enthusiasm.

Did something happen?

Whenever you came to submit your work you would meet the Vice President with a shining smile which displayed your pride. But now none of that joy remained.

At first Hoshina believed it was because of the late hours that were pulling on both your strength but then a thought ripped through his head. As you stood up from your seat you were suddenly met with the male standing right in front of you, his sudden appearance suddenly startling you.

“Is everything al–”

“You really are something, Y/n.” Hoshina said, a smile sitting on his face. His eyes were filled with amaze and admiration, a deep passion directed solely ar you. The way his eyes shone, like the reflection of stars on the calm sea, it made your heart beat uncontrollably.

“I..where is this coming from??” This was the first time Hoshina has experienced you in such a flustered state. Normally it was you who would have this effect on him.

“Let me walk you home.” Was all he said before turning on his heels and opening the door for you, waiting for your stunned body to defrost.

The walk home was calm and warm, yet borderline awkward. Neither of you said anything as you strolled through the dimly lit streets. You had long collected yourself from the shock, yet the surprised feeling still lingered on your heart.

“You really are something, Y/n.”

Those words had come out of nowhere? Hoshina was not the type to say something so sincere out of the blue and that did not sound like a “good job” praise either.

And that look on his face..

Have you ever gazed upon such dreamy eyes? Painted by such soothing colors? It was a view out of a dream.

You were so lost in thoughts that you hadn't even noticed that Hoshina stopped moving a while ago. As you came back to it, there had already been a noticeable distance created between the two of you. Your eyes locked with his, causing the tension from before to reappear.

“Hoshina..?”

“Yer shine is so bright..sometimes I have to take a step back to admire it all.” He spoke softly, not moving from his place.

“Will you allow me to admire you from up close, Y/n?”

Admire you from..up close?

“I'm sorry, please forget what I said..”

Hoshina shut you off before you could say anything, walking right past you as if nothing happened. He always did that, keeping his distance, only allowing you to get close when he felt like it.

An uneasy sensation spread through your chest as you watched him distance himself further and further away from you.

“You keep distancing yourself further and further away from me..” Your hands reached out for his, preventing him from taking another step. Hoshina's eyes widened upon seeing the distraught look on your face, his heart sinking into his gut.

“What is the use of me shining so bright when there is no one to absorb the light?”

An unexplainable tension lingered around your bodies, slowly suffocating you. There were so many things on your mind, thoughts, wishes, worries– an entire collection of emotions– and the same reflected in Hoshina's eyes.

The wind gently pulled on your skin, messing up a few strands of your hair.

You suddenly felt his gentle hands on your cheeks, caressing your face in careful motions.

All came to a temporary still stand as Hoshina looked you deep into the eyes, before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. The sensation felt oddly comforting. You melted in his arms and allowed your heart to rest safely in his embrace. Upon pulling away, you noticed the soft smile that tugged on his lips from before.

“You are my sun. Your light will always reach me, no matter what.”

a/n: ik highschoolers don't talk like that but this is just some silly writing practice (want to improve my skill) and i wanted to go for a different plot setting this time!

for those who don't get it, hoshina feels like he isn't putting enough work into his role as vice president and y/n admits that she's only working so hard because of Hoshina's praise and she wants his recognition