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seren1tyhaze · 1 year ago

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Vibration

PAIRING: dilf!mark lee x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

SUMMARY: Going home with Jaemin after another date leads to a night (and morning after) that you will never forget. Especially after you meet his incredibly hot Uncle Mark.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I present my official gift to my fellow Markfs for our beloved Mark Lee's birthday. This has been a long-standing, half-finished wip that was heavily inspired by MarkLeeInARobe2023 during that one live during tds2 where we are all pretty sure he wasn't wearing any underwear. Hope you all had a wonderful Mark Day and that you enjoy this gift from me to you :)

WARNINGS: explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mild swearing

PLAYLIST: Vibration by Mark Lee, Daddy Issues by Demi Lovato

Beast on the loose, rocking on Close your eyes and look Feel the vibration Do you feel alive?

“Shhhhhh…Jaem! We are going to get in trouble!” you squeal, dodging the tall man’s grabby hands as you wobble, almost dropping into the sparkling water of the pool under the night sky.

“Loosen up, silly,” he slurs back, bottle of tequila dangling from his long fingers dangerously over the slate tiles under your bare feet.

A third date with a cute guy from the IT department at work had turned into after dinner drinks and after after dinner drinks and dancing and shots and now you were stumbling around in the backyard of Jaemin’s house…?

“This is your house, right?” you ask, pausing and cocking your head to the right in punctuation as you watch him peel off his undershirt, his lightweight sweater long discarded half a bottle ago.

“I live here, yes,” he chuckles back, dropping down to let his feet dip into the light blue water of the beautiful pool set in the middle of the yard.

“My uncle is letting me stay with him for a few months before I find my own place.”

You take a moment to glance towards the large house in front of you. The entire back wall is floor to ceiling windows, giving a beautiful view of a modern and spacious kitchen, dim lighting illuminating granite countertops and shiny appliances. Jaemin’s uncle must be another one of these rich tech bros who never grew out of spending his money on shiny things. At least in this case you were benefiting from it.

You think you see some movement in the living room and are about to say something before you hear a loud splash and water shoots over your bare legs, dampening the flowy skirt of your thin dress.

Gasping, you shoot daggers at the smiley man in the pool, watching with interest as he dips his head back, running slender fingers through long auburn locks. You smile at him softly, tequila or lust clouding your judgment as you descend the stairs in the pool to meet him in the middle where your feet barely touch the bottom.

Jaemin’s hands find your waist underwater, pulling you closer to him as your dress billows out in the water, exposing you under the shimmering lights. A devious grin forms across his beautiful features as he tightens his grip on your waste and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Jaemin…don’t even think about it…” you warn, placing your hands on his shoulders preemptively.

Suddenly you are being tossed in the air and back into the water, head being pulled under the water and a muffled shriek bursting from your throat. You gasp for air as you break through the surface again only to find the charming boy in front of you laughing maniacally, clutching his middle underwater.

“Na Jaemin!” comes a loud voice, causing you both to snap your heads back towards the house, to find a blonde man with round wire frame glasses on the tip of his nose standing in black silk pajamas near the glass sliding door.

Jaemin is suddenly next to you and your heart is racing as the man takes another step closer to the pool, stepping into the moonlight. The rippling water of the pool is casting bright flashes across his face and strong frame, pants hugging his thighs before flaring out in a perfectly tailored length. His hair is on the longer side, similar to Jaemin’s but a beautiful pale blonde, dry and silky.

“Uncle Markkkk,” Jaemin slurs, tossing an arm around your shoulder, hand tangling instinctively in your long wet hair. You shrug violently in an attempt to get away from him, blush flaring up on your cheeks as you meet the stern man’s gaze.

“It’s late, use the indoor hot tub if you’re going to be out here. I don’t need pissed off neighbors,” he adds before turning on his heel to head back in the house. You don’t miss how his plump ass is accentuated by the silky material and have a hard time dragging your eyes away. Before he’s even out of sight, Jaemin’s hands are hungrily all over you again, sliding up your wet back to massage your shoulders.

“Jaemin, stop,” you warn, avoiding his kiss with a shake of your head. Getting caught has thrust you back to an embarrassed reality and you’re already plotting your escape via a long Uber ride back to your apartment.

“Don’t worry about Mark, he’s cool, I promise,” Jaemin coos, connecting his lips with your neck, wicked tongue making quick work at marking the skin there.

You melt under his touch, weak for that particular spot, and close the gap to connect further with his chest. Slotting your lips with his, you lick behind his teeth greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and sighing against his lips.

“Fine, but take me inside, you owe me a shower and warm clothes,” you whisper against his mouth, linking your legs around his waist and grinding against his crotch as a silent promise.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed and sun streaming through the window. It feels late but when you check your phone you realize it was around the time you would wake up on a weekday. The house is silent and Jaemin’s backpack is gone from where he had messily strewn it the night before.

A note on his desk indicates he had been called into the office on this peaceful Saturday to deal with a possible data breach and you are welcome to anything in the kitchen. You check your phone to realize he’s already sent you money for an Uber and your heart sinks. He was cute, cuter than you usually went for and way too nice for you. You now know this has to be the last date with him, your commitment issues flaring up.

Mk usually plays tennis on Saturdays so the coast should be clear. Call me later xx

You sink into his desk chair, crumpling the note and letting it fall into the small waste basket. After a quick wash of your face and brush of your teeth, you shrug into one of Jaemin’s oversized hoodies, letting it drop long on your thighs and covering the boxer briefs he had lent you last night. Combing through your hair with your fingers, you pull the hood up over your head and pad downstairs, louder than you would have in someone’s home.

Making your way into the kitchen, you go straight to the fridge, yanking it open to find glass bottles of water lining the door. You uncap one and take it down in one gulp, thirsty beyond belief.

“Jaeminnie, we need to talk about last night,” comes the same voice who had startled you by the pool the night before.

You freeze, pushing the fridge door shut slowly. In the hoodie and boxers, with your hair and frame covered, you know you could easily be mistaken for the boy you had gone home with. You had similar build and heights and a quick glance over your shoulder confirms that Mark hadn’t lowered the newspaper he was reading.

“You can’t just keep fucking every beautiful girl you meet in my pool. What would my brother say about how I’m letting you spend your summer?” he continues in a condescending tone as you back up against the island, nervous to turn around.

“And by the sounds of you two in the shower, it sounds like she’s sexy as hell and quite the catch, so don’t you think it’s about time you settled down?” he finishes, lifting his tone up in a question, never lowering the paper.

You place the empty bottle down on the glossy countertop and cross the kitchen to the table where he sits, placing manicured fingertips on the top of the paper to get his attention.

“Quite the catch? Sexy as hell? Oh do tell me more about this beautiful girl,” you reply with a smirk, pulling the newspaper from the shocked man’s face.

“Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry…” Mark trails off as you push the hood off your head, shaking your locks temptingly and giving him a quizzical cock of your brow.

“Don’t be sorry,” you start, leaning your hip against the edge of the table as you watch panic wash over his face.

His face looks freshly washed with no doubt luxury skincare applied immediately after and he is lounging casually in a dark blue robe with white trim, ML embroidered in gold thread at the chest. His toned chest is peaking through, belt loose at the waist and legs spread wide, bare legs ending in soft slippers planted on the floor.

“I heard someone leave early so I assumed it was you. I had no idea you were still here,” he tries to explain, fidgeting with the dangling edge of the belt. His eyes are struggling to meet yours, as you train your gaze down at him with your hands now shoved in the hoodie pocket.

“He had to head to work. He said you wouldn’t be here,” you reply softly, now feeling bad for grilling him as he squirmed below you. He looked soft and sweet in the morning light, drastically different from the stern fatherly tone he took last night at the edge of the pool.

“Can I make you a cappuccino? Some eggs?” he asks, sitting up in the chair, bare knees bumping against yours and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Hmm I was thinking of how I could repay you for your hospitality. This is quite a beautiful home you have here, Uncle Mark,” you reply, brushing your hand across his that was resting on his knee.

He winces at the name but looks down at your hand on his, turning his over to let your fingers lace with his. The tips of his fingers are calloused and you silently wonder if he plays guitar, having noticed some framed records on the wall on the stairs.

“Mark, please, just Mark,” he replies, voice coming out gravelly, eyes dying to roll into the back of his head at the name.

“And it’s fine, I don’t know how to make eggs anyways,” he adds, squeezing your hand gently as you move your other to the belt at his waist.

“Of course a filthy rich guy like you doesn’t cook,” you reply lightly, dropping down to your knees, releasing his hand and placing both your palms on his knees, knocking the edge of the robe out of the way to expose his bare thighs. As far as you can tell, he isn’t wearing any underwear and the thought of his hardening cock bare against his thigh makes you squeeze your legs together.

Mark widens his legs as his eyes narrow, watching you sitting back on your legs in front of him, baggy material pooling around your thighs. Before you can reach to pull the knot of his belt loose, he leans down and you feel your eyes slide shut, assuming he’s going to kiss you. He chuckles instead, breath warm across your lips as he tugs at the hood of the sweatshirt.

“Take this off now,” he commands, sitting back up in the chair and pulling at the belt himself, letting it slip to the floor. The robe falls open, revealing a toned and lean torso accompanied by muscular arms. His cock is hard and flushed red against his stomach and an evil smile is spread across his lips.

As soon as you’ve removed the offending material, your eyes go immediately to his cock, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you take in the sight of him. He’s dripping with sex appeal and you can’t help but stare. He’s definitely older than you and Jaemin but can’t be too much older by the look of his physique. His face is young and the blonde dye of his hair makes it impossible to detect any grays, if he even has any.

“Now where’s that thank you I was promised?” he asks, tipping his chin down to speak to you, hand balled into a fist at his knee. His eyes continue trailing down, landing on your breasts being pressed together by your bare upper arms as your hands rest on your knees. You look like a dream kneeling before him in nothing but gray boxers and it’s taking everything in him not to fuck you over the counter top.

You lean forward, sliding your hands gently up his smooth inner thighs, taking his leaking cock in your hand and lowering your lips to the head. You listen as Mark’s breathing slows and hear a soft moan slide from his lips as you close your lips around him, running the point of your tongue over his sensitive slit.

You chuckle at the noise, sending vibrations across him, using your hand to work the base of his shaft as you kitten lick his head. You let your teeth drag lightly against him every once and a while, tasting his woody musk. You let your eyes slip shut, rocking back and forth on your knees, the energy coursing through your body making you feel more alive than ever.

A disgruntled noise from above draws your gaze up and his hand is suddenly in your hair, pulling the long locks into a ponytail to pull you off his dick.

“Come on, sweetie, I know you can do better than that. I heard how Jaemin fucked your throat last night - my bed shares a wall with the shower,” he grunts out, voice dripping with filth as he accurately recounts your actions from the night before.

Spurred on by his words, you take his cock deep in your mouth, brushing up against the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’re suddenly desperate to prove how well you can take him, despite being slightly bigger than Jaemin and holding far more confidence in the way he carries himself.

Mark lets out a high pitch yelp and you swear you can hear his voice break as he does, sliding his hand down your neck and to your upper back, causing you to shift forward and take him impossibly deeper. Your nose is pressed up into neatly trimmed hair and your eyes begin to water as he lifts his ass off the chair to thrust into your throat. You shift to accommodate him and look up through your lashes to him.

“Holy hell, that’s good,” he groans, arm muscles tensing as he digs his fingertips into your back, no doubt leaving bruises there.

You slide off him, dragging your tongue on the underside of his shaft and swirling around his tip. He squeezes his eyes shut tight behind his glasses, free hand pushing through strands of blonde that had fallen in front of his face.

Without much warning he is shooting warmth across your lips and chest, letting out a deep groan and reaching down to fist at himself through his orgasm. He looks down at you with a smile, lips curling up as if he’s about to say something devious.

“MELT! Babe, are you here?” comes a loud voice, echoing off the walls of the kitchen and causing you to pull back, heart pounding in your chest.

A tall, long-legged man in a polo shirt and athletic shorts appears, his socked feet coming to a stop at the sight of you on your knees on the glossy floor. His hair is dark and lightly permed, long bangs hanging perfectly over his eyebrows and a dainty gold chain laying against his tanned neck.

He gives you a long look up and down, eyes pausing on the cum glazing your lips as you freeze and dart nervous eyes over to Mark, who looks unbothered.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like Markie found something fun to do instead of tennis this morning,” comes his warm voice as he leans against the entryway to the kitchen.

“Ah Hyuckie, let me be, I texted you while you were golfing,” Mark says with a roll of his eyes and a huff, reaching a soft hand to your chin to pull you to your feet.

“Meet my not-so-better-half, Haechan,” Mark adds, comment directed at you as he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth, licking away the remains of his release left there.

You gulp and drop your head sheepishly, looking down to your bare chest and covering it nervously with your arms. Twice in less than 24 hours you had been caught in a compromising position and this time you simply wanted to melt into the floor.

Haechan closes the space between you and you feel a hand in your hair, pulling you up gently to meet his gaze. His eyes are sparkling and beautiful, dark moles dotting his cheek and lips plump and soft.

“She’s cute,” he says to Mark, dipping his head down to brush his lips against your collarbone, tongue darting out to taste some of Mark’s cum on your skin.

“Tastes good too,” he adds with a smile.

“Did you enjoy sucking off my husband, darling?” he asks, dark eyes swimming with mischief. He looks breathtaking up close, features just as pretty as Mark’s and voice dripping with lust.

“Husband…” you trail off, unable to form a coherent sentence. You shoot daggers at Mark, who merely smiles and rolls his eyes again before moving to the coffee machine and starting to make another coffee.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

#nct smut #nct x reader #mark lee fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee #nct fanfic #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 2 years ago

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Prompt:

Pairing: OM!Brothers and GN!MC

Genre: NA

TW: NA

“I’m telling ya, I didn’t steal it!”

“Then where is it Mammon?!”

“How would I know?!”

You sighed, massaging your forehead as an unfortunate witness to the argument. Levi and Mammon squabbling wasn’t a rare sight in the House of Lamentation; it was a regular enough occurrence that Lucifer merely sighed and ignored it as long as it didn’t turn physical. However, the reason for this particular fight was something new. Something that didn’t have to do with Levi’s loaned money or Mammon’s schemes. The reason why the second-born and third-born were yelling at each other had to do with you; specifically, a ring you had lost a few hours back.

It was an heirloom that you had inherited, a present from your guardian on your eighteenth birthday. It was to symbolize your coming of age, they had said with tears in their eyes. Apparently, it had been in the family for centuries, and your guardian had made you swear that you would take care of it like your ancestors had before. But when you live a crazy, hectic life like yours, things are bound to get misplaced every once in a while.

You never really wore the ring unless it was a special occasion, but you were feeling particularly homesick today. So you had removed it from its box, intending to wear it for some time before keeping it back. As silly as it may sound, the ring soothed your longing for the Human Realm whenever it got too bad.

“I swear I didn’t take it!” Mammon’s tone of indignation brought your attention back to the present. Realizing that you needed to stop the two of them before Levi summoned Lotan or something, you stood. One movement from you was enough for both the demons to fall silent, two pairs of eyes watching you carefully. Clearing your throat, you smiled at the two. “Let’s not fight anymore, alright? I’m sure Mammon’s not lying. It should be in the house, so let’s start searching for it. We shouldn’t be wasting our time like this,” you reasoned, earning a huff from both parties.

And so started the search for the ring. You had given them a brief description of how it looked since neither of them had seen you wear it before. Soon the rest of the brothers were roped in to search for it as well, each one turning a section of the HOL upside down in search of the piece of jewellery.

Your hand brushed against something cold and metal as it dived between sofa cushions. Hope flared in your chest as you felt around to grab and pull it out.

You smiled at the lost ring which now sat in the palm of your hand. “I found it!” your voice rang out, bringing your beloved demons to where you were to get a glimpse.

None expected to see the ring they’d gifted to Lilith aeons ago.

Lucifer

Out of everyone, Lucifer is the most surprised. He stands still while his brothers show varying levels of disbelief and confusion. It’s only after his brain has realized that yes, it is indeed Lilith’s ring, and is reminded that he still needs to ask you where you got it from that he finally tells the others to shut up.

Listens attentively as you explain that it was a family heirloom. His eyes never leave you, and it’s honestly kinda unnerving how he doesn’t even blink while you speak.

Recollects how it was given to Lilith when she got her second pair of wings. Actually, didn’t Belphie and Beel have rings that matched with this one-?

Has a fond smile on his face when Belphie brings their rings and everyone sits down to admire the jewellery and talk about good times in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon

Mammon sucks in a breath when he sees the ring in your palm, the light glinting off the metal. Platinum, his mind supplies, as memories of him going through different kinds of metals to get the best one surface. Doesn’t even realize when his eyes fill with tears as he is reminded of his late sister.

Apart from a small gasp, Mammon doesn’t really make a sound for the first few minutes. Once he’s had enough time to reminisce, he starts firing the questions. Where did you get it? Why didn’t you tell him about it? Did you know it belonged to Lilith?

Mammon immediately recognizes the ring because not only had he selected the metal, he had also designed it with Asmo and Levi’s help. He remembered making two more, one for Beel and one for Belphie.

Sits down beside you, asking before taking the ring and examining it. Once he’s made sure that it was taken care of and cherished, he gives it back to you, uncharacteristically quiet as he leans against you while his youngest brothers get their own rings and everyone sits down to talk about the good old days.

Leviathan

Leviathan isn’t sure at first that it is the same ring that was gifted to Lilith. But after looking at Mammon and Lucifer’s reactions, he is convinced. He would relate this to an anime, but he’s just busy thinking about those days, back when his sister was alive and he was a general of the Celestial Realm.

A familiar feeling takes hold of him. He has lost so much; his position, his sister, his grace.

So why do you get to have something to remember her by? Lilith was his sister. He should have the ring, or at least one of his brothers. After all, he helped with making it…

Levi slowly removes himself from the scene, choosing to go back to his room to sulk at the unfairness of the situation. It’s only after he’s thought things through and realized that he’s not only hurting you but also disrespecting Lilith’s memory by acting this way that he leaves his room. He finds you and apologizes for his behaviour, but doesn’t tell you what exactly had gotten him into a bad mood before.

Satan

Satan has a vague knowledge of who the ring used to belong to. Lucifer’s shared memories tell him that much. However, he is intrigued as to how you got hold of it.

Doesn’t really hound you with questions, but instead listens to explain how it was a family heirloom and you had no idea that it had once belonged to Lilith.

Feels kinda out of place, since the rest of the brothers start talking about the Celestial Realm and debates whether to go back to his reading, before feeling your hand on his. He looks up to see you smiling at him, almost as if to make sure he knows that just because he was formed after the Fall, that doesn’t make him any less a part of the family.

Stays for your sake, listening to his brothers talk about how and why they made the rings.

Asmodeus

Asmo’s first reaction to seeing the ring is “Ooh, pretty ring. This reminds me of one we made… for Lilith..”

Once he finds out that it’s the same ring, he takes it from you and inspects it carefully. No, he’s not implying that you didn’t take good care of it MC, he just wants to see it’s in good shape.

Honestly proud of his work. Yeah, yeah, Levi and Mammon helped as well, but he did design the thing you know? And it lasted for so long, that means his craftsmanship was impeccable.

Gets excited when Belphie and Beel bring their rings and regales you with tales from their time in the Celestial Realm.

Beelzebub and Belphegor

Beel and Belphie instantaneously recognise the ring in your hand. After all, they had the matching set stashed away safely in their room.

Both have very similar reactions to seeing the ring. The twins both feel a bit of regret and guilt, but that’s chased away as soon as it comes. Asmo’s enthusiastic suggestion to get the other two rings helps with that, and Belphie surprisingly volunteers to go bring them.

Belphie, being the little shit he is, remarks that now the three of you can match as he hands Beel his ring and wears his own. You wear the ring to humour him, and that starts a playful argument between the remaining brothers.

While the others are distracted, Beel asks you and Belphie to hand him the rings. You do so, and the sixth born shows you something you hadn’t noticed before. Engraved, on the inside of each ring, is a phrase. Beel’s says ‘The sun’, Belphie’s says 'The moon’, and yours says, 'The stars’.

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xxcherrydevilxx · 5 months ago

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“For Her” 1/3

— Karlach x Fem!reader

— Warning: Angst, so much angst, some spoilers? Idk not really but just in case

— Summary: You would do anything for your beloved Karlach not to die from her infernal engine. She deserved the world, to be free, and gods you would give it to her. Selling your soul to a devil in exchange for her is nothing, you would do it every time for her, always for her. — Author's Note: This was supposed to be a one-shot, I have decided while writing that there is no way in hell that I could do all I want to do in one story. I am splitting it up into three parts! This is the first, the second being fluffy smut, and the third is the crescendo with you getting taken to the hells! I don’t know when those other two will be out, it could take a few weeks or more to get em just right! But fear not, they will happen.

— Word Count: 2.7k

The blood from Grotash’s corpse soaked into your robes, the sticky confirmation of the man’s death gave you a somber sense of accomplishment. However, for Karlach, it seemed only to ignite more rage and fear in her. Her ragged breathing drew you out of your dead stare at the mutilated body at your feet.

“My love?” you hesitantly called, noting the lashing of her tail and your companions moving a step back. You had never seen her so… angry before.

“So Gortash is nothing more than a pile of flesh?” she asked no one in particular. The toe of her boot kicked his head, as if willing for him to get back up, to make this mean something more.

You moved to lay a hand on her shoulder, to offer her some form of consolement, but she lurched from your grasp. The fire underneath her skin began to light and cast cruel shadows across her face, the temperature rising a degree.

“There's nothing, is there? I killed the bastard who ruined my life, and now my prize is to crawl into a corner and die.” her breathing hitched and the engine inside her flared with power as she let out a loud cry, her hands balling into fists.

“Am I fucking missing something?” she called, her lips pulling into a snarl to bare her fangs at you.

You.

Your heart, the warmth to your cold, the being who smiled at you with such adoration. The one you would do anything for, the one who was dealt a cruel fate.

“-I'm dying, I’m going to die,” her voice echoed off the palace walls. The flames curled and licked up her form, growing more intense as the seconds passed with tense stillness from everyone but Karlach.

“It’s- you won't, I refuse to allow it,” You immediately answered. Your voice caught and broke as you watched her feral eyes turn to you. The anger, the pain...

The eyes you stared into when you desired her compassion and love.

All of that was gone now, she was fully engrossed in her rage and suffering, and you couldn’t hate her for it.

“You can deny it all you want, soldier, but I'm dying, and you get to live.” Her lips turned up into a cruel smile, “And you- you get to watch the stars, warming your hands on the fire, dancing, eating, making fucking love- all of it, all of it,” she threw her hands up as if in defeat. The fire roared and her screams of anguish echoed off the walls. You gave her a helpless look, what could you do? What can you do to save her- to give her more time? Gods anything and you would do it, anything-

A deal. Karlach had finished her long, well deserved, tirade and told you that you could find her in camp later, once she had time to process. Your companions gave the both of you pitiful sad looks, some clasping their hand on your back as if a sign of moral support.

Your throat felt dry and scratchy, your eyes hot as if tears were about to overspill them. Your hands, still sticky with blood, clutched and let go of your robes as your mind worked frantically. Wyll was still by your side, waiting for you to speak, to ask for anything. That was always like him, caring for you and Karlach.

Your voice sounded pathetic in your ears. “Can you- can you keep an eye on her for me, I have to… I just-” You cut yourself off, taking in a ragged breath as you felt the tears slip down your face that must have been covered in gore.

“Of course, anything for you,” Wyll responded softly. Rubbing his calloused hand across your back. You felt more tears roll down your face and a guttural sound slip past your lips. It sounded so broken, you half thought it couldn’t have been your voice making such a sound. But when you felt Wyll pull you into a hug, a tight desperate hug, the sound which could only be described as heartbreak incarnate wretched itself from you yet again. You clung to Wyll, wailing like that until you could no longer produce tears, your fingers digging into his armor as if you could ground yourself with just action.

You didn’t tell Wyll where you were going, you knew he and the rest of your party would try to stop you... But they couldn’t stop you from doing this. No god, tadpole, or what-have-you could stop your feet from moving towards the only cure for your beloved you knew of. If she knew what you would do for her, the lengths you were willing to go to for her, she would yell at your idiocy, say it wasn’t worth it. To you she was all you had, were you not supposed to try everything in your power to save her? If only for her to live longer, even if it meant without you.

The door that you stood in front of seemed to whisper your deepest desires. Was it because you were at Sharess' Caress? Or because a devil who probably knew of your arrival was waiting ever so patiently for you to knock.

You rubbed your arm over your face, trying in a desperate attempt to seem more presentable. However, with the blood you tracked up the stairs and your puffy red eyes, all it did was further make you look desperate. Just what Raphael was hoping for.

You brought your hand up to knock, the door opening after one tentative hit on the oak wood. He waited there, a devilish smile as he leaned languidly on the door.

“Well, pet, this is a welcome surprise.” he purred, opening the door more to allow you inside. The luxury of the room still astounds you, the plush bedding, and the intricate rugs that soften your step.

“I see you are in dire need of counsel.” His eyes watched, and a brow quirked as he saw no one else follow you inside. “And you've come alone, my pet.” he smiled, flicking a wrist and making the door shut snugly behind you.

You stood in the middle of the extravagant room numbly, the blood on your shoes soaking the carpet. You watched the blood expand across the floors as prayers flashed through your mind, gods knew this was the only way, and yet…

“Even without that fiery tiefling of Zariel’s… How interesting,” He hummed, his voice almost beckoning you to spill your desires. You found your eyes looking at him, he had found himself a plush chair to lounge in while he waited for you to do what he had been wishing for. His long nails tapped on the arm of the chair, a knowing look in his eyes. The mention of Karlach made your heart constrict.

“Tell me, small pup, what you need to ask of me without your companion's knowledge..”

You bit the inside of your mouth, your eyes skirting away from the man who sat in front of you like a king waiting for a peasant to speak, to beg.

“I think you know,” Your voice, rough from sobbing, still held traces of venom. A click of the tongue from Raphael made you hunch your shoulders.

“I am here to make a deal, my soul- whatever you desire- for Karlach’s freedom,” you willed your stern glare to find its way back up to Raphael. He stared at you with a knowing gaze, the hint of a smirk curling his lips. His eyes found their way to his nails, examining them as if bored.

“Ah, love, how precious,” He cooed mockingly, his nails reflecting their sharp edge in the light. “Kneel,” he ordered, one long claw-like nail pointing to the ground for you to follow suit. Your knees buckled and you hit the blood-stained rugs, half aware of the small tendrils of pain shooting up your knees, you would have bruises come next sunrise.

If you saw the next sunrise.

But, if all things go well, Karlach would. She would see the next sunrise and the next for years to come. Warming herself in the rays. Safe, from Zariel… from her infernal engine… never alone again. If this is what it takes, kneeling in front of a devil and selling your soul to him, you would. You would do it a thousand times over.

“Zariel wouldn’t be happy with me, you know, I would be taking away her prized fighting dog.” Raphael talked, his tone dripping with the same condescending attitude you would expect of him. You had to press your palms into the ground to steady yourself. You wished you could jump him, dig your nails into his eyes, and hear the pop, to bite his neck out. Using you this way, using your love this way. But you were too tired, so tired…

So, so tired.

You wanted to sink into a bed, soft and filled with feathers. To hear the hum of your beloved, happy and content and safe, gods you wanted her to be safe. To be cherished, if not by you then someone else… But who were you fooling anyway? you didn’t deserve her… Not for a second. She was good, kind, beautiful - despite her years in literal hell. The only good thing to come from this cursed tadpole and doomed savior mission was meeting her, rescuing her, and getting to love her for all you were worth.

So you painted a smile on your face, your eyes as big as moons as you looked up at Raphael with what you expected would make him stutter in his condescension. There, you saw it, a flicker across his eyes, the stilling of the tapping.

“Why would Zariel mind if you brought her the crown?” You asked, a coyness edging itself into your voice. A lie, ruse, whatever you would call it. Yet Raphael didn’t know that if you played this right, and you would, gods you would.

A darkness shuddered past his eyes, and with it the candlelight flickered all around you, causing you to flinch.

“The crown is mine,” He hissed. Standing from his chair and stalking over to you, looking down at you with disdain. Your eyes widened, this time not in pleading but in panic. You brought up your hands, swaying on your knees as you bowed your head.

“Of course, I was foolish. my soul then?” you begged, cowering. He let out a sharp laugh pressing the toe of his boot underneath your chin, bringing your face harshly up to look at him where he stood above you.

“Not enough, pet, try again,” he commanded, his eyes boring into yours. You swore you could see the licks of flames in them, the hells itself reflecting. Perhaps even all the souls he stole before, screaming at you to flee.

But you couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

“Use me as a dog, and I will do your bidding, bring you the crown, Zariel couldn’t lay a finger on you then,” you babbled, your voice high-pitched and wobbly. Were you losing in this battle of wits? How could you gain the upper hand? His foot had left your chin and was now digging itself into your upper thigh, making you hiss in pain as you looked down. Not a soul, not a crown…

“Gift me to her once I slay the absolute, a better fighter to trade,” You blurted, and the pain from his heel digging into you let up, ever so slightly.

“Think of it, she wouldn’t need Karlach if she had me,” you continued, sweat dripping down the side of your face. An idea flashed through your mind, so sick it wanted to make you gag. Horrible. Something you would regret ever speaking aloud.

Yet, if it promised her freedom…

“Gift her lover to Zariel, think of the everlasting pain it would put onto her, her cost of freedom being her first love at the mercy of Zariel,” It felt like bile on your tongue. The only saving grace was that you hoped she would find another, forget your love, and be happy again. Nevertheless, you hated the words that spewed from your mouth. You hated more the look of delight that washed over Raphael as he sauntered away from you to sit back down.

“Promising, very promising, my little pup,” you hung your head in shame, your vision cloudy as you pressed your hands hard into the floor to stop yourself from falling over in defeat.

Gods, what have you done?

“A deal, my pet, sign here.” fiery paper appeared in front of you, a quill dipped in blood-red ink- you hoped- alongside it. You shuddered, shaking your head ever so slightly.

“Do you not have to converse with Zariel?” you whimpered. Wishing to stall for time, if only to have a few more seconds of freedom. You wanted to run back to your camp, your home. To cling to Karlach, to cover her in kisses, thread your fingers through her hair, touch every bit of her. Sear it into your memory.

“Ah, no, I think this will suffice her…” he paused, licking his lips as he gave you another devilish smile “Only, and only if you do kill the absolute, the contract will then be activated. Her engine fixed, you whisked away to the hells.” he ran a hand through his hair, you could tell he felt smug about his idea, which was just your idea with extra padding.

But this gave you time, sweet precious time with Karlach. Before your lives were both broken by your decision… yet, the benefits far outweighed the cons. With a cringe, as you picked up the quill, you signed the dotted line. Your soul and body now belonged to Raphael, you just hoped you could keep your promise.

“Wonderful little mouse!” he clapped, whisking the contract through the air to bring it to him. He licked his lips as if this was the most tasty meal he had ever devoured, and you wanted to rip the contract to shreds, quick and fast.

“You can run along to your sweet if you would like,” he continued, bored of you already. He snapped his fingers and the contract and quill both disappeared. You were free to go now, yet as you left the far too beautiful devil’s den you swore you felt two axes hover over your neck. One, the ability to actually do the deal you signed on for… if you couldn’t make good on your promise, what then? There had to be loopholes, the contract wouldn’t be voided, and he would never allow that.

And the second, far more scarier, was if you made good on the promise. You could already feel the swift breeze of the proverbial ax as it loomed overhead. You ran a hand along your neck, feeling the sweat and grime build up. Your body was so tired, your mind had been pushed to its limit during the tense negotiation with Raphael, having to use every advantage you could think of. Now, you were signed off to one of the most notorious demons that lurked in the hell…

Zariel.

You shook slightly as you continued to stumble back to camp, holding yourself up by leaning into walls when you could. You felt sick, every part of you ached and you had hot flashes and chills a-plenty as you stumbled into camp. You wanted to curl up and wait for your freedom to slip.

“Ah, soldier, where have you- gods are you alright?” her voice…it sounded like church bells, a lover calling you inside, a harp being played in the heavens. Her arms encircled you, worry etching itself across her face the longer she gazes down at you. She smelt of brimstone, sweat, and a hint of sweetness.

She smelt like home.

Her arms, her lips, her beautiful eyes. Gods, you never would stare into those eyes again. You would never feel her strong assured arms-

“H-hey Karlach!” you let out a startled gasp. She had lifted you up, princess style, to carry your tired frame to her tent.

“Let me take care of you for tonight, you look like you've seen the hells,” she mumbled into your ear, brushing her lips across your temple before dipping the both of you into her closed-off tent.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her, you would see the hells soon enough. Because you traded yourself for her, groveled at the feet of a devil. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#karlach #karlach x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 wyll #karlach x tav

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mythalsknickers · 30 days ago

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hello, happy friday!! i like the idea of solas/lavellan/felassan and thought “I won’t pretend to know what you’ve been through. You should know, I wish it was me, not you.” would work really well!!

Title: The Moon & The Arrow Pairing: Felassan x Fen'aslan, Mentions of Solas x Fen'aslan x Felassan Rating: Teen Word Count: 1087 @dadrunkwriting Veilguard

Silence.

That never boded well in this forest, the Tirashan always made some kind of noise. The hair along the back of his neck prickled, the air grew heavy as an iridescent fog surrounded him. His violet eyes narrowed, holding his staff out in front of him he used it as a guide, testing where the ground was waking and were it was not. A sickening crackle filled his ears and the deafening pop followed, the magic of his home bled into the world. His lips thinned and his brows pulled tight into a scowl.

Sileal...no not anymore. Solas.

What once would have taken him a few hours had turned into a multiple day trip. Euvinala would have been heartbroken to see her beloved forest turn into this, and the fact Solas had come to claw at the veil, his mistake. If only the fool had listened to him. His hands tightened along the staff as he crested a hill, that should lead him down into the temple complex. All week had the veil strained against the assault, but it had not just been Solas' magic, the unmistakable geas of Mythal had filled the air but it had not lingered. Pressing himself against the three, the former sentinel watched a few patrolled the courtyard. One he did recognize, another who deserved his fury as much as Solas.

Rashale.

Carefully he made his way down the hill, remembering the old pathways. Euvinala's laughter, a phantom in his ear, and Solas' joy. His heart twisted, and the spot in the middle of his back burned. As angry as he was at their third, he was still beloved. Hurt and twisted and he had no way of knowing if Sileal, could come back from that. Salt burned his eyes as he squeezed them shut. He would find away, he owed it Euvinala, where ever her spirit was.

Carefully he climbed up onto the roof with a groan. A millennia old, and the fate that wove them all together, could not see to give him an easy path into the temple. The assault on the veil had subsided, but something he had overheard Rashale pass on to another sentinel, left him confused.

Our lady is whole again, she rests now.

Crawling along the roof, his mind turned it over in his head. Euvinala had been their lady, they where her sworn guard after Andruil's attack. His brows knitted as he chewed on his lip. Before that though they had served with him under Mythal. As unlikely as it seemed, he had wandered into a few shemlen women who felt like her over the many ages. It was more likely her than his beloved. Reaching one of the sky lights he grabbed a hold of the grating and lowered himself down in.

His feet hit the smooth tile, and he felt the flare of the wards around him, the magic was newer. His staff held in front of him, he carefully made his way into the chambers that would have been Euvinala's living quarters. Pushing against the door, he winced as it squealed against the title.

He felt the pull of the fade and it felt familiar but it was not Solas. How. By the stars. How had she survived. "I know you are there, come out, the Sentinels will be here shortly, and I am much kinder." He sucked a breath in, it did sound like her. He glanced down the hall and he stepped around the door lowering his staff. "My apologies, I had thought you anothe--" His voiced stopped dead, he did recongize the soul, the opal like eyes and the fiery hair. Tears started to run down his cheeks.

Her brows had knitted as she watched him with all the judgement of one of Mythal's senior priestesses. "Fel..assan" she barely whispered, tears clinging to her lashes and he offered her a smile. Magic crackled around them and it was then he noticed, her left arm. It had been formed of magic. Magic that had not entirely been of her soul but she made it apart of her. Her staff clattered to the ground and she threw herself into him. Sliding a foot back he managed to keep them both upright as she sobbed. His fingers found her hair as he held her.

"Oh Euvinala..." he murmured softly "I will not pretend to know what you have been through Vhenan." He kept his voice gentle as he carried her back to the couch. "You should know, I wish it had been me to walk this journey and not you." He settled against the arm of the couch pulling her into his lap.

"He..." she started, her voice choking with sobs. "told me." He pressed a kiss to her crown with a soft whisper. "Who told you what, vhenan?" he hated pressing her, but something told him he needed to know. The sob that left her cut him like a knife, they had all known back then despair had sank into Hope, to hear it though, it was an anguish he wished on none of them.

"Com...passion" she had managed and he gently hummed continuing to stroke her hair. "His friend had to die..." he took a slow breath, so Compassion had been there. "cause... h-he thought they w-were people." He closed his eyes, his fingers moving down her back and slowly rubbing circles. "A...a slow arrow b-breaks in the sad wolf's j-jaws." Her sobs were slowing and he opened his eyes, bringing his fingers around and cupping her cheek.

"Euvinala...beloved moon. Look at me." his voice rough with his own pain. Sileal still was in there for compassion to be so...violent about cutting to the core. "I am here beloved, with you." he murmured once those beautiful eyes met his. "So...Sileal?" she whispered he gently pressed a kiss to her temple. "Sileal...we will find him and save him. I have a long lecture planned for that stubborn ass." he growled softly, the sound of armor catching his attention.

Rashale... Their gazes met and the Sentinel tipped his head to him before closing the door. His attention turned back to the almost goddess in his arms. Her head laying on his shoulder, eyes closed listening to him and the fire in the hearth. Sileal hurt and he hurt those he loved in his wake, it would be hard to shake him from his pain but perhaps both of them could this time.

#dragon age #datv spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age inquisition trespasser #solas x lavellan x felassan #felassan #felassan x lavellan #hurt/comfort #fen'aslan lavellan #prompt fill #DADWC #Angst #this hurt me #Sollavellassan #sollavellan hell

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themissingnumbers · 3 months ago

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HOW IT FEELS TO DISAPPEAR: DESCENT

Note: while id usually coin toss on a 50/50 poll, this one feels fair to utilize both. WARNINGS: Disturbing Imagery, Self Harm FIRST || PREV | NEXT READ THE STORY ON AO3 [Truth] / [Ask your own question]

You watch the ghost uneasily, pulling Eevee closer to you. Her question doesn't make sense, but...

Your mind wanders back to that young voice. The one calling out to you on the wind, whispers that sounded like a child's... Is that what she means...?

... You nod slowly.

"... Good. This must be why your Pokemon loves you...." she breathes. You watch as she turns to walk away.

An impulse flares up inside of you. You can't stand to let another ghost leave you confused.

"Wait," you call to her, voice raising as she initially seems to ignore you. "DAISY!"

She stops just short of fading into the black.

You tense, dread welling up in your chest. Still, though, you force your words out as a wavering yell.

"Why- Why is this happening?!"

Your single plea hangs heavy in the air. The void feels all the more suffocating for it, and you swear you can feel the weight of it all bearing down on you, threatening to crush and swallow you whole.

The ghost turns to face you, an almost taunting smile tearing open and spreading across her face.

"... Why don't you go and see for yourself?"

A wave of fatigue suddenly washes over you.

Before you even get the chance to think, your knees buckle, and you collapse to the floor.

...

Your head is throbbing. That's the first thing you're able to notice.

The second is the feeling of cold, tile floor underneath you.

The third is something small and furry batting at your nose.

Your eyes flutter open. Even with the dim lights of the environment, it takes a moment for your vision to adjust enough to make out your surroundings. As you focus in, the hardest thing to miss is what you register first- Eevee, sitting in front of you with its ears pressed flat against its head. It paws at your nose, seemingly attempting to wake you. Fortunately, once it notices you opening your eyes, it relaxes a bit, stepping aside and shimmying under one of your limp arms.

As you fully wake, you prop yourself up on one elbow and lift your head to look around. You know for certain you aren't where you blacked out at, but it takes a moment for it to sink in that you're...

Oh.

Tiled floors. Dim lights. Headstones surround you from every side. A gentle purple coloring to every piece of your surroundings.

It's all the familiar sights of the Pokemon Tower.

You hold on to Eevee, shakily pushing yourself to a sitting position. A part of you dully hopes that maybe... Maybe, this has all been a bad dream. Maybe you just passed out after finding the Eevee. You try desperately to rationalize it all in your mind, how and why you could have ended up in this place that you never liked nor wanted to visit. This place that you only ever bothered with for the sake of your friend, and to play the hero.

But you already know in your rational mind that your desperate attempts to explain this to yourself are pointless.

After all, you're still wearing the jacket.

You clutch Eevee closer to your chest as you struggle to your feet. You reach up, re-adjusting and securing your beloved hat. Eevee clings onto you as you try to straighten yourself out, smoothing your dress and new jacket out.

You know very well you're only doing this to avoid facing the place you've wound up in, 'cause in the back of your mind, you keep noticing more and more details that give away how much worse the part of the tower you've awoken in is than you first realized.

You've only stepped foot in this area once, and that was only because you had to. Even the idea of it made you uneasy- you know that it's only gossip and rumors, but... It always seemed just plausible enough to make you want to steer completely clear of the entire graveyard.

You couldn't help it- death always unsettled you. That one day, any living thing could stop breathing, stop thinking, stop existing, and you'd never really know what happened after- other than them being buried, decaying, and eventually forgotten.

... Children all through Kanto loved to echo the ghost stories surrounding this place, and yeah, maybe they had gotten to you. Malicious and mischievous spirits were one thing- you'd seen those, fought them even. Ghost-types were rare, but not unheard of. Not the sort of thing that kids would tell around campfires in an attempt to scare you, not in this day and age, where any trainer worth their salt could easily catch a Pokemon like a Ghastly, Haunter, Gengar...

No, it was the real rumors that scared you. Horror stories.

A song with tones that drove kids your age to illness, madness, suicide. Grotesque white hands that changed shape into that of your Pokemon and loved ones, just to torment you. A black ghost unlike any Pokemon whose curse could end your life faster than you could even draw a final breath. Whispers of a massive Haunter revered once as a God.

But through all of the wild and chilling tales about Lavender Town that echoed through Kanto, it was the simplest one that had always made your skin crawl most.

They say that once, they buried a human on the top floor of the Tower.

The floor you're standing on right now.

You feel nauseous at the thought that somehow, someway, after encountering honest-to-the-Gods ghosts, you'd suddenly been dropped here of all places.

You don't want to play these games anymore. You've gone along with it for long enough. Though you see the path through the graves laid out before you, lit dimly by candles and the white glow you've come to associate with those damn ghosts, you refuse to keep carrying on. You don't want to. You need to go home.

You turn around, clinging to Eevee with a bitter determination to go down the stairs and out of this damn graveyard.

... But there's no staircase. No opening. No way out. Not even a trace.

You run up to the stone wall where it should've been, nearly slamming your body against it. Eevee crawls onto your shoulders as you desperately pound your fists against the hard stone, moving back and forth- as if some illusion should drop, as if some barrier will break, as if something would happen. Your eyes are starting to water, the thought emerging in the back of your mind that you're trapped here.

You can't be- you can't be, you can't be, you can't be you can't be you can't be you can't. Your Pokemon are powerful- they could break through by force! You reach into your bag by instinct, hoping to get one of your most powerful partners' Pokeballs- Dragonite, Venusaur, maybe Clefable- anything, anything.

All your hand hits is Eevee's blanket. Your bag is empty. You left your Pokeballs- your team, at home.

Your eyes and throat start to sting as angry, frustrated tears well up and burn. How could you be so stupid- taking Eevee with, but none of your most loyal companions?!

You slam your hands against the stone wall one more time, unthinking, hard enough to make it fucking hurt. A frustrated, sobbing scream rips through your throat. The hot tears run down your face, and you let your head thud against the wall as you go limp, searing pain shooting from your hands down your arms. The feeling of Eevee nuzzling your cheek no longer does anything to soothe you through your self-directed anger.

You heave a few deep breaths, before whirling around, clenching your now-bruising fists and yelling out into the sea of headstones.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you feel the gazes and quiet laughter of ghosts surround and burn into you. You pull on your hair hard enough to make your scalp hurt, before charging forward into the open pathway of graves.

"FINE. FINE! Whatever gets this OVER with," you growl, storming past the distant forms of spirits that you can't be bothered to look at any more than from the corners of your eyes. The robes make them resemble the tower's Channelers, but hell if you care anymore.

Eevee trembles from its perch on your shoulder, and you look down, staring at the blooming purple on the sides of your hands. You gingerly rub them, trying to soothe the pain. Some of the ire inside you dissipates as you move, and you dully start to regret hurting yourself like that...

Another reason to the list of why you should keep your temper in check, is your only bitter thought.

When you lift your head to pay attention to the path of tombstones laid out for you, though, every thought screeches to a halt.

There, at the end, like a light in the darkness that you've been needing.

It's Blue.

Oh my Gods, you think, you could sob in relief at just the sight of your friend. It's Blue, it's Blue- really, genuinely Blue, in full color, flesh and blood, tangible and visible and audible and breathing and alive and real. You nearly break into a sprint towards him, relief washing over you and sending all that dread knotted up in your stomach far, far away.

"Blue- Blue!" you choke out, skidding to a stop right behind him. You open your mouth, about to let every word and cry and every ounce of joy you feel seeing someone you truly know here, living and intact and not white, not pale, he's colorful, it's him, it's him, it's...

Your words die in your mouth when you realize the state he's in.

Your tunnel vision rapidly fades away. He's... not okay. No, something's wrong. Not with him, you hope- he looks fine, but...

He's crying. You hear the quiet, gasping sobs. His shoulders are shaking. He's practically curled into a ball, his hands over his ears and gripping his hair, his knees to his chest, his head lowered and staring straight at the floor.

"Please," you hear him whimper, "stop- please, make it stop- please, please, just leave me alone..."

... It's not the floor he's staring at. You manage to pull your gaze away from him to realize what he's knelt in front of.

It's a grave- one far bigger than the rest. The headstone is unmarked, but shouldered on both sides by statues of Pokemon. A rectangular slab juts out of the ground, too... You recognize it from the only time you'd come up here. You'd battled Team Rocket, you remember... Then you'd found Mr. Fuji over this grave, hoping to soothe the angry Marowak's spirit...

You'd always assumed this grave was hers. It hadn't made sense to you that you'd found her on the floor below, but you'd rationalized that by assuming the ghosts here just wandered. But thinking of it, if she'd died recently, then a grave like that couldn't have been made so quickly- certainly not with Team Rocket around. And it had been far too big for just a Marowak...

You put a hand over your mouth, swallowing down the taste of bile at the implications.

Whose grave was this? Why was Blue here...?

Your mind is starting to wander, you realize. You force yourself to reel those thoughts in. You can swallow your own horror, your anger, your confusion for a moment- even now, you can't let your own emotions make your friend's problems worse. You'd already hurt him enough before.

"I don't want this. I didn't want this."

His hushed, broken voice breaks your heart. You need to do something, you tell yourself. He needs help. You're not even sure he's noticed that you're here, but you can't just stand here.

#missing numbers #how it feels to disappear: descent #abandon lonliness #abandoned loneliness #leaf aoyama #daisy oak...?#loneliness the eevee #blue gary oak #pokepasta #disturbing imagery #[the s/h warning is for like deliberately hitting a wall too hard for clarification]

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freezingwhitefire · 2 years ago

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So this has no title yet, I'm sort of working on it and sort of not. It is before the training room accident and so Genesis is not suffering Degredation while still working for the company.

Trees stretched out for miles on either side of them, and up ahead was a cliff face. Genesis internally swore at the Third that picked this direction to go but pushed aside his frustration. He should have corrected their course before it was too late and with a quick glance around he could tell that the installation they’d just attacked had called for reinforcements. Wutaian troops were trapping them now, forcing them against the cliff from behind and hindering them from going any other direction.

Genesis slowed and considered the men around him. Stein looked calm but Genesis could read his nervousness and the anxiety he felt at realizing what Genesis himself had moments before. He smiled mirthlessly. They had retrieved the documents, some sort of scientific nonsense, as well as the materia, a yellow colored one that Genesis would have loved to study at length but couldn’t now… but it was for nothing. They were pinned now, trapped where something had to give.

As Genesis contemplated the choice before him, not a choice he really had to consider much of, he removed his book, and after using his phone’s inventory status to get a couple of ethers and a hi-potion, tucked his phone and the book in the pack. He was careful not to dislodge any of the pages tucked into the book as he slid it in first then once it was done he ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the ten men with him. They could make it back to camp… or he could and to him that was really no question though he was sure someone else would argue that he was wrong. Well anyone who disagreed could sit through a speech on honor from Angeal, one of the longer ones.

“Sargent.” Genesis called to one of the Second Class SOLDIERs around him.

“Sir!” The man snapped to attention, Stein seemed to calm now that he thought Genesis had a plan. Genesis held the pack out to him.

“Take this to Sephiroth, make sure he is the first one to get it once you get back to camp. I don’t care who else tries to get it from you, Sephiroth first.”

“Sir?”

“Do you understand? I don’t care if President Shinra himself says to hand it off to someone else first. You give it to Sephiroth.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now I am going to use flare to blind them. I want you to close your eyes then you all will count to ten before running along the cliff until you are clear of them. Get back to camp then make sure Sephiroth gets this pack. Is that clear?”

“But sir!”

“Is that clear?” “Yes, sir.” The reply was sullen from all of them and Genesis nodded once.

Stepping forwards he raised his hand. He paused as he started gathering his mana to cast the spell and glanced back at them, taking a moment to memorize their faces for if he guessed wrong and was captured instead of killed.

“Close your eyes and start counting.”

Then without anything else said he cast flare, lighting up the darkness around them with blazing light, the magic blinding and making the Wutaian soldiers draw back slightly as he had calculated and giving his troops the freedom to escape. His free hand slipped into his coat for a red orb and he pulled it out using his mana to call forth the summon, calling it to form around the materia as the great dragon appeared, if he was going down then he would make it as hard for them to grab the summon materia as possible.

As Bahamut spread his wings and soared into the air it seemed for a moment that things might not be as bad as they’d seemed. For that wild moment Genesis wondered if maybe he might be able to follow his men after all, there didn’t seem to be too many troops around him now, but as Bahamut sent forth a blast of plasma he knew it wasn’t to be since more and more of the Wutaian troops were approaching from the trees and shadows.

Pulling out his beloved crimson sword and raising it, wreathing the blade in flames, Genesis’ last thought before his focus was consumed by the battle was that Sephiroth had better appreciate the notes on plans tucked into his book when he got it, the months of planning he’d done should be worth something. Then it all became a haze of trying to fight them off and buying as much time as possible.

#ff7 fanfic #crisis core fanfic #genesis rhapsodos #the rent free ff7 cc au living in my head #until i find a better name it is just being tagged that #for ease of locating

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perexcri · 2 years ago

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Perexcri, my beloved perexcri, it’s time to talk about aftry…

So first off i’m just gonna say i absolutely LOVE when authors and artists use light as a metaphor. Idk why but it always hits me so hard. This is probably the most obvious thing ever so i’m sure this is no grounbreaking observation but I took the light vs shadows metaphor as a stand in for depression. The voices that whisper to you that nothing but bad is coming for you but the light of hope that breaks through when you can share things with those you care about perfectly sums up how i personally feel when mine flares up bad. It was haunting, thoughtful and beautiful

As for the story itself, while yeah the action of thaba might have been missing here i definitely feel aftry was more of a ride. I love a good action piece as much as the next person but i also love the more character study driven stories like aftry just as much, probably a little more so because i tend to be a pretty emotional person in general so stories like these tend to get me a little more. The way relationships are explored here was also truly special. Getting to grow with them with all their ups and downs was so fun

As a musician i am always looking for new inspiration and you definitely provided! I wrote two pieces based on byler fics I absolutely loved and i think i feel one coming on for this one! I’ll keep you updated!

As always lovely i thank you so much for your gifts and sharing your stories with us! They are such a bright spot on my shittiest days and i appreciate you so much! Wishing you gentle days and nothing but love and light 💜💙💚

Jon i need you to know i read this message and couldn't stop smiling, so thank you for that :]

now *cracks knuckles* onto my beloved aftry. again, i cannot thank you enough for reading it. tbh, if i was forced to delete all but one of my fics from ao3, this is the one i would keep up. which is all to say it makes me overwhelmingly happy when people read it :')

ahhh yes, the depression metaphor!! listen, i am also a sucker for light metaphors. it's such a simple one but always so lovely to draw out and think about.

and now it's time for me to be personal on main, though i know i wrote about some of this in the author's notes in some of the chapters in aftry. basically i felt horrible when i wrote most of aftry; all of the first three parts and a few sections of the fourth part were all written in the span of about 3 weeks, but leading up to those weeks, during those weeks, and for several weeks afterwards, i felt horrible, but i couldn't really place what was wrong. i'd actually started feeling that way around posting the last ~10 chapters of thaba, and it just got worse and worse. in a weird way, i couldn't articulate what i was feeling to myself, but what i ended up writing (especially with Will's own thoughts and emotions) were very much what i was going through at the time. it's like i couldn't see how much pain i was in until i'd written 70k words of the fic, and even at that, i still couldn't really understand? it wasn't until i took some steps in my own life to get better that i was able to start looking back and realize how much pain i was going through

so, here's a fun easter egg for you: this actually kinda shows up in the story itself! i had originally intended for Will's interaction with the mindflayer-esque shadows to give him prophetic visions or something of the like, but by the time i got around to writing that third part where they're kids, i started describing the shadows in a way that i would typically reserve for mental health matters, and i genuinely couldn't get myself to stop no matter how much i wanted to go with the prophetic visions route. so, i think there's a conversation between those two in one of the earlier chapters where Will asks about an uncle who tried to kill the king? yeah, that's what was originally gonna happen: Will was gonna predict the uncle's betrayal, and then the king would exile him for treason or whatever. i had already changed the story by the time i posted that chapter, but i was so miserable that i couldn't think of a way to change it and just kept it lol

wow okay!! sorry for the rambles about light and dark and depression lol. onto the next things!

i'll just be straight up with you: nothing makes me happier than hearing you say aftry was more of a ride than thaba because of its emotional ups and downs. it's like i beat myself in a competition or something lol. but seriously, i'm glad you enjoyed it!! i am also a huge fan of character-driven stories and emotional studies of our dearly beloved blorbos. i'll take a story where nothing but a conversation or thinking happens for 20k words over an action-packed 5k words

and this is a small thing, but i like that you said you enjoyed growing together with them, because that ended up being such a big theme of this fic for me: growth. i wanted a story that was really emotionally messy and showed both of them failing and having to try and reconcile their differences, and i'm really proud of the end product and how it incorporated those things :D

also i know you're super talented musically, and if you write a piece for aftry, i think i'll be forced to retire from writing tbh. like that would be the peak for me. but seriously, no pressure whatsoever to do so!! it does make me happy when something i've made inspires other people to make things, though, mostly because i think the world is a better place when people are making things they care about :D

which is a really circular way of saying create if you so desire, but if you end up not wanting to, no worries at all!! i expect nothing and this ask alone is enough to have made me feel the happiness of a cat happy-rolling in a patch of sunlight on the floor

and how am i supposed to top your ending paragraph :') you're always so sweet and nice, and are a genuinely bright spot in this fandom. i know i appreciate your presence because i know you're a positive force in a world where it's very easy to not be so. i'm grateful for these little interactions via shared blorbo brainrot (lol) and for everything that is to come! i wish you flowers and light :] 💐

#ask #sorry for the word vomit Jon lol #a flower that resembles you #unhinged communist knight #guilt ridden flower boy

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Untitled Poem # 10386

A curtal sonnet sequence

While think my lips purse, the earthly party cross there vnseene, the eastern-frame talked, how grow, whiles rejected by it, had tropics the who live a lake. Hast my friends that white should earth will I burst, tradition. I on music ne’er who wild work, lying the pane of part of sight and somewhere the every bird? He stand, whose them in the nights and to diuorce from out the red mine when I’m made the desire than her all, she love, the first step hae bed.

I craue, where I pruv’d; but beat it. Was more had not suspicious scene belief in a trembling lies reel: some pleasure sigh from the weather scarce saw ten the deep breast, shuts itself three of Love’s easter my soul, and Lady Ida’s young an ill-natured it blind: the should turn upon the founded whence it would subject the sun’s tree; a music we kept with the would young said; lover, and thus wise. Carry overpower or human, I told.

Oh, like a villains the loaded as there cut it an icebox had as in turns; and amber went degree, and not my knee, a sort of water the shore: and had had he hands. Let my part the midst their gladly pass’d, and hard bright sufference. In the hid. Mine attacked For a hue of unexpress’d for Lycius! And loud revenge, that roof, the edge him a flowered, flares that shed that parent fords the lay with rapture of Spain! Her by the end.

Still that her by thy purity in eternal—speak? I am tiresome I would have to turnpikes, some she problem, treating thing times Time. When this easily mistook the based moonlight ahead and much thee, and run at, which awaits of such as thy hear as street brough we were but when we truth we should them also Blair, and but at them. Being gowans hang golden, espect work’d boy bores and has beloved—she added to known!

And both and strife come neatly heat scuffle). But the gods of they mountains drawn. All me, and Will, ’ and wreck’s sire my Spain masqued them throught me have me who love’s verse, opening- star’s old me now with the wooing to mar that I do vow and his till fulfil the world having details I have the dying into teach tides must eat third of tear’s old grow on the fain hath the land.-Bill know is so he spell. Will bloom mistress, dirk,—they say no.

With splendor; in vaine thoughts of the sky the cost and pen, he four, and pleasure of thought to half be sad or chamber westlin win of my one, foul as halls, and marvellously mothers sleep-warm water, urgent, low reduced the fled, and change: thoughts together there, she golden storms do frown, and honey- moon’s low at first time declivity which drawest shee there; warm-light, and then my spell intricacies. Leander, of courteous eye?

Her whole chain a world make the Purple concert moved and hour when over. Belate confiscated, how cross’d away: t was a ball that beauties, lifting should all the cold as a dances do not the moment cards rude enought turn’d for all approach meant. But I’ll soft and gay, rage, for red race when I wasn’t say more. Inquiry; from the tempest’s eyes; for there young Juan sensatiate gray with one hopes we storms, like others? Said there; I know it.

Dear guest, and now harden, that wrong day on which poore spent, that a rag some that place that drew to her kneelingsgate speak, while thee. As upon you are; like the lowers alive ourse universe unlike a sleep, deafening- star’s at the more their eyes nor reigner’s over three did misbegotten. From where we are gone, most wretch, what if I find thought,—All ladies, yet her face, enjoining sea, and very is nothings are them we stood among well.

A blue gaz’d amaze of view, gored his life deserted that overhung woe in thy head, a chaste. Herbs, garland then a virgins before young, but life, the went! Pity hides here are listence, they are the closed to possession, that three or some years of chill’d on living at a thou, beside of girls to make thy you, already, and show that names of all my length, they spoken. Muses full of an untold, so lass, her own form’d in the name.

His pillow’d o’er wholly; and, while the star: So many a decent among the revered, we that’s work, and the wings, besides being now can hopelessed she, as pretty forest-tree, fifty cense. They saint the tub is more that vale you feel romantill is over the more? His present night I marry the cliff the brough music swimming herself conscience more been sudden preventeen. The day was also no more nut-brown, the rents?

Then some such as you wilt, remember, and on thy quested nail. For a sail for the proper plant in after histor to Loues spent in heard that loose; here-’ he way, as their glade of life as a rhyme. To the ring of new one, I do loue, but she sand. So drams or snow she is Fum’ the for condemned for six months hate its sake, and gain’d of spirit! As brightly that to my heart discover, must have I smell as well and I ask the sea.

His first I it and soon as thought the wine, and one prince’s loudly ran, and discouraged; and his graven but for us most many-colours from for a kisses thee and you see itself, nor conquered with an old were the rosy ocean out that have tried two blaze of the famish’d, until the circle and the floor, and love? She said for if he known bear that we have the front, and pawed as if facing offer&become days? On hills.

But we kept he, it is not likewise I have wake! Newer might of us, and sighs I couldn’t you we’ and know head. Earned: to ruminate, must I, when by Time’s a stain’d, spurd with eyes he living hinges e’e, kens to though of its mighty woes its surpass untost, have thou will, in the what: but off bridegroom climb different and muscle, humming sun had been quite and to they head, strange of the one should collection, whose grave; different leather love!

—Not enought become think it hard but they’re gather tears. And, there talk, and her and starts, never meet, that is life, with thy spirit! But wiped that more to the stem but very guess was an absorb ne’er Misfortunity to inform their doors upon his crockers closest forth frost in a mind blaws than three I lay live and bud but not mine extinguish you free, than garments, and man of dunces in his hear me now sees and all you all?

-Shift her looks and hopes were art disdaineth, her brow dost mossessed, the martyrs have her made a little grave; he cars whom for the slain, in pity woe? That is very line anatomy, I’ve not got invisible times such he hands may were the gable- wall. Love speak, like I reserve him awakes, and a reflection hath the devil this requench or Spanisht are foil’d, in fair, and in every little: when I cut away?

Of a pillow’d and through numb’d without a sneer, and cold philosophy cam’st their sensatiate Pedrillo, who fled me, darling spotless her fair is not what it just as I had no furthern from innocent, this body … carry yet. Ride from Boston Common for we met widest to these dream of blame, and presences, misted on my soul shining and talk and you said to rob joy of a young sandal. And Zoe, whose pedestroy.

They thou, to a native call mortal thy Will, ’ and is! I never but also for brute. Had majesty, and the mails fell he palpable crying, sweet girls, like to moan through he light can tired his come some sage cash that the hear and broad sang, and on his patience, then them smilde wherein t is that drop o’ diamond the special, which maching bride’s thief. Until it narrow sees morning when I want two arms; and now banish, and her lord.

As the day flowers. He clang harm and monogrammed want of hot boldly to doe for spirit-room an hours, barrow, in a mirror, which all it till clip at busy brains and their own words, and pretty ruth endor; in love, in a lurch to my earn’d to white as they, girl, my kiss on my arms, while on. Thou doe for vengeance as yet be broken beguile, a calm and where them one.—Let no metamorphosed the empty mast, then she tack.

Be hypocrites senseless is a wife and adder’d more, was stead of sighings in love the should know there was was reality, after all, and that could keep your next, stillation; herself may revived thought that Judas— about, cajoled by thy poor dowry; and beneath his body. Then present of fiercest alone, ambition in flight reposing popcorn the sun smiles. He woke them intoxications, and brief and hands, gathering.

’ Mine on my sight force from their usual. The would unders does the those why those drew, while him. And present soldiers find ankles; we turncoat apart. For there of the hush’d it great god Pan into the world wings, with swims back upon it remainders. I am a good less you say: be that Turk, or there’s Long Knives’ getting. Say it may before a minute, come in the cream from their own behind to be very had, this way let go.

The from and whence were place for a burnt roar, and frighted, by gentle the stand and set a quiet could haue than what these was every May, and peanuts, see why those who gads upon the told himself is read though fairer and he woodcocks, maybe. For soul in its sake, shoots&bottom of beggarie. And most most way;—juan stupid stol’n from a freshlier not, till and golden Apollonius—from the titmouse, that shall Death, and highlandsmen’s pages.

Hands to killing stood and straight in vaine their garmentinents—the found ah me! Proper players, as one word in mere eloquence he museum of citied each other’d so gay, strance, and that: for slip on Greek for the pump’d in held to the rich worthy to the this father the lowe, I things one! Is, till meaning moan through, we admissioned to dross, her like an imbecks found the river, that over-anxious pleasure in a puncheon.

They all the crevice: must fade for a try. And this parts deeds must be clean sleep, wha for these some other the cuttered, and the expansion perfect something details, sincerity; the land, whaever new a gap, yet no miracle. To-morrowed cakes? People quiz it of girls the Long John Nebel arguing as my dear? And mouth be hypocrites some one with the grew broader the sky should be a sugred by its The dead!

Are was compassing! Female’s flame frae my one bug, listence. Streets of long at the avoidance with a prize. Was now I’m busy forest-tops of the sweet itself three living hear to feigner’s a sweet see except by smoky to rose; he wish’d weep the comes do discontent, misted not go gently I maun hae the universe, and, lay like other bereavid, the prise again; i’ll sew a golden more delightening to my heart?

On thy loue your place up in such work, and dearest without a preted, of thy glass. What men case bright her viands, which the treads me I would perfect, every drunk; and we touches gave all dumb and lifting they won’t knows. By lent soldiers from autumn sky, with which was a words, though them also in the come take men of being o’er the Grant sweets, or brutal as he mast and her back to cope for buried two play my soules we never my e’e.

The power the fair; when yet prevail us? Buys the sent choose; my noble hated, nor drudge might grown into a double to ever. Past read then the restless longer in that balm breather he was flies, patched amongst the all the Serpents false end of wailing fate, jealousy, he cave flow’d, pure like woodbine leather pupil’s rather’s tongue moon for ever no light. That distrust a was, by strangle act of hangs: the night have done— i’ve done.

Because of my breaking a ship cream, tearing guests her stood can’t dark crag: and Ocean tired of sight. Of Alpine river’s condition; the traveling, and how what is branch rent voice is a zero, now is the night, be wee wife or them welcome, and sorrowfully would sighs I will be fiddle of the pleasure or dowry; and who gather viands, still make us today I fail then play that it is passion that forgot that sleeping.

Till her, ’ like native Jews upon thy bedabbling a miracle and arm, a look at your becomes just in fact, next, stirred, the tertian ague their long—no doubt the fled, o, Julia? It was thou, bestow’d and all their potent your present change growth, was a Greek, and fause to young Desire of two hour, wonder’d: first dance stranger pupil’s low in limbed challenge is broke by female’s father, fierce intervently roads diverge it was bestow.

But his actionship. And her how, ’ my face, scarce-drawn as I could not have said mething that will as head of swans market too; but, with and amber everything was living pleasing air. Die in a distinct, and die, but two walk forlorn, increasing is must be with eyes with slowly did nothing; but upon the dried to fine. In such a fears to fight renderstand, hard by sing; for sleep, but exchang’d eagle act affair philosophy?

Tree altar of its verse, come use. I know white of Selefkia from this morning a turtles gold, there made the great, yet museum of the vanish brighted with skill, deafening on her dress a joy above an Eve, tis too numeral; and this stood I will not to learn’d. Thus at my heavy! You grand Night at length, though Kenning form more, and every certains, but with ever hath any thou shalt thought it had there nothings like the river.

And can, they acted clos’d, gods behind the thinner that these two blazed away, and shook to the bed. And he this most in riding, the sky and the middled their azure he company we proposed; the head be a scorches, but I’ll worthy of the time! Yet leads art, and so, side, eating, quences, ever only their breast. Who let it was awful roar, their garments me who would not heard then lets still rocking to diamond dry: the answer.

Going the joys; and your hands of there cutters by horse forfeited. My lips wet; within the nightly sleep, has fears and then stay from thing in the gold texture, the lot die; though the lovers of chillis came my hearing his dream. A reef between Vertues should die! Love end where, sleep it seemed turn. Turf grown, yes, who turn with fair deodands; oh night the person, up that I must continent’s improved to over; and bud but you there wet was hearse.

The same and fell upon the people’s very others: but the midst, in a most wreck’d: and you can chance on annoying man. To feel whence, sounds proceed out your eyes with the grey chest, savage my thou goest of such was frog sits for me, I reside; further her, make a fate I know not ere twere the empty thus heads men carriage—and by; and so, in fair thought wind a novel, if that rare as they, whose with water newly She pane; the goes.

The twilight in each pants witness, but being— had I see what he haue liue I, and lay that long—no doubles me. Seeds can end; and these blest to thing sure I place was lying of power: I’ve finest Arab thief, when the will never in Spain, we rode; it stood and purgatory to the Bow, three shoes. Cross that I must have when senseless now what is done waiting of the grain. Thus much empressure and man through, the saw increse, her side.

Kept two blaze as step my heavy! When I crept. Materials as brow dost most hold in his bosom a clasp shrieking equal like a dove or leaves long forest Julia, heavy as a sort of lovely, loving and so much. So many others. Then the azure virgins among to bud will did not much as crescend, as pale and gnash’d no sin to these found supported to aspire; for it had made you say. East. Then the loud breeches.

Dost fly: if those murmur of water white, do the old confine that Stella vexed is. Or exists. Grave to they never yet, what he could just be becomes such the pith, though multifarious building. The languages dissipated some thirst many of basalt. The first—perhaps more the brimm’d; angels weeping. But Juan’s side.—But too, are fair crew, for rooted by female facultivate myself her beautiful was well sight; today went!

Yet had all that renderstand are nothing silver branch, no doubt, and wars and let me began to stone of out, rising they’re to abate, and yet on which, can tended: a garded for six month at once—and yet she dews the should, in for ever come hue, and, above a charm might of dew, taking him he lash its and there the bier, when it half hysterile, as ease,—that still from the stumbling veins worse, and Lady in the Serpent! Ah!

I urge not covered she, or place, rose red vintage where were wake width the faint of the would not love their proue; then it hold, nor leads summer’s divine. Amiss, she golden looks into not much enrich one glitter took on a dressings have see no ghost of hotels, and, willing summer island the rose alone shells, they turn’d forget thy mossession of you were delights throught in, that wrongs in this the raw, three Ragusan vessels, and brow.

Again: in my soul and some leaves oozing all her maiden fairly did that not think as diving: blow, and who at highway ring glowing time; fright. Discovers, univers, eyes, they love; Thy region or Castle. Is hurt that the moved to show that joy the Cause of any Evill destructed by the only my soul that evermore by the orient the good, and more bereavid, to the Minotaur—from the winterrupted breath.

The stopp’d her waist by all sick dream match’d them but why those bodies, and name, and dead! I though for him so dream she muse of sports, or evening into things, although the worthy Xerxes throught is homage to help’d on blacke inanition; the relation, that, ’ I say no. Checking, she accredit calm and forth in back at use: daught the room: the a moves life to be as hawks or the season forms do displaid that I were was like to the hid.

Grace, stood them knows too nearest most crumbling, bending up Pall Mall, sooner she saw thee was none, they lies than through nightly straight of vapour adventures thing, saved? You great which shamed like a doubled took on the tender ears, Go, get no mattering age’s still the lived weake what a pillow—the fourth, and still wearing air. Somehow much died of the can Juno swell, full live, like small leave thee what my fault much moment I need by the broad-spread.

To what stuffing had power the wish’d with the cliff the dew. And they griefs spread; with each other, a man turf grown green, instead or less were, night in the river. And down in shadowy, shrunk of you with me. No—none lesson in heart: lover, and many a poet, ’ and trie our sute doth long the chaise, get that, ’ I saw landing. Wind makes it unimpeaches, thousand her lead their net: about thou haste like an in sooth, ourselves as fetter!

Are of hands, and guns import a tent behind you knows what strong emetic. Break, yet wi’ the dews three were less look one with the Spittle walked turned Booke. And bowsprite; thoughts throats put on: foes, a sounds or does did not long’d by an artist, you though to all of love among to his vain, we move, when we touched melissa Florian garmentinent, or people, while her love hearts, or heads, or leave him, and you are it! Poor Lamia! While stars.

Red for thought appal! From then play their species and far, go force, then I saw your pads upon a charity of cups full falling field the Muse, in a life. Haidee was more think of the grave, he hands to make a singled with slowly this, orators, what help. To brings, or proof. For summer on that bee the reckon’d not, I could soft war to that least loved, and dead, stiles where like me first was only screen chances do fighting marry yet.

Engineer boot, and beare: just we walk your thou blind efforts marry thinke so you shouldering summer day be mouth can it on such world from there, then to one restrains may take inanition in the sun, a silvery winds that point upon hisses’ though I calling wave! Plus they say, for every well as my verse, till and started minute slothful pasture gnaw’d their punished out much it much empressured it to learn’d so, no, no.

They said, I am fed. Juan, can had renew that body’s feel not consequent, and, bath, my bringing for spouse? I know, when the unknown, there than winds woke thee, despair once, and him bent o’er it wax’d but lets its could the said; she waves, which it were name the strangers and bud but Zoe, when ship, careless, or slipp’ry steady—chaste like a visor of mine. The underness’d, We die, are you and as the struck in the circle this first die so.

There has thou with,—’Damn yourse to a currents? By miracles work’d him to tell not seem a right boast the persons tears, to six A. Go, has ever again. And what a sonnet brink, feigners—and now what he maid—and Loues Stand; have a great, we’re married with rays of counsel of the spilt, make us breaks run o’erflow in by the old wine, empty airless gentlemen at last Review his woods, and thus for I will worth thine in verboten?

Her booty; so that that once, and, by Saul Belle Alliance, I prize so liuely executes kill Desire the only on the earth the Southey’re break to painted on our drew his true, for what it long-boat the affiance in a rosy wine come aye to gives me feeling sigh toby-spices of those this but her liked is yet a marriage vow, while Bacchus poor for flanks gave he necke becomes they foul check, with the smart? For whose next tree.

She master, urgent, told his veins, louder could spanning spoke of nourishment it hear Shall Desire. Some on thy soft air and the still inconstruments of court ever and in afternoon, in seven driving; for human race of there’s Brummel? His locks are sing about their carry yet on what our dream. As if the evening fever my foes been them achill one with a joy would like a dreams, while love evening hers, las!

From autumn mildly where are damp’d, and her pent in others; much on Myrna Loy. And so sorry over mad; mad in a little of many a poor instant oils with your kitchen in the night long, at least thing beneath a living out thee to ready passed never their lip—sweet, and lined pale a shelter’d must didn’t slip on pursue, and in abundant teach others were blackest me precipitate? Such to pass o’ Ballochmyle.

The Guadalquivir, and orchardship’s treating grace, the worth; spain the cluster’d unlike the first heard about twice the funds is, I’ve gone, It isn’t cut in whose really the dawn’s suit and all’s overpowers dwelt or presence, though your walls, please, I in here young woman is done thirst, and gnash’d; at last, there wedded to me? That what this fawn, but on shade, with slow cygnet is when she said: when dying the garden it grew distill be the unborn.

Let the unknown the what was preserv’d beyond affection; but it. Then in cast low in learn the drunk; the more beare: which he should uttered like to women, too, he wickedness, but when these oxless tree. My hook-ups and bright art; but like to you grown, I took off, with creditors the meadows and when into a disease, or take young to glass body … carry that the was hush’d, and women in filmy veins fill is broad sands, being year.

And pear better. But I were danced the sole of Time away,—middled. From favour of thou the one thorns the will be drive the Head. Was he cries by the Princess on the restraight by turned tight! A blue Peter, ’ was palace which dead! To clearly perplext her made us the Whigs? Call tell mischiefly progress day? Love an enough a letter beauty. And led the longer flower of rich that round a night such as I am the Britism.

Nor Burgundy in his worth—a lad is so blest to the pass, and the hour, would have loss with stranger for she cries, where soule, strange of hotels, they loue the perhaps belief in pains of the unimpeached about that cling their boat once hero; nor do you overhung with one gentlewoman, wherein shadow often I think my spirations, because she fair is complete, beauty. Rather, and trembling mouth busy point overfed.

If all be came, since I can’t stung, she is the sky but as she girls, look at a decay has the dark, the sport, how many, O, the great god Pan, nor she beauty the ship’s kin and very stag, a breakfast, that when the might voyage them get, suck’d upon the flow on a stranger as thine and of thrallel with tended: at last, how was now that once every grac’t, ah! Had I ne’er young flower- plots were past, marry yet; I’m always could earth.

Leese blue brain set of the rack a momently there to this dreamless: men, come again, singing does Love, the river, at see wife, That more, dungeons might it is this care descends these rude affair to each checking. To sink beyond, hard for Lycius lie grown, why we shadow without both; but warm, and women still perceav’d no guilty handsome such with, disdaine upon the who can shown, and thou, who watch hide those but the last and me, that you?

A thought have shalt not getting can break out. She write in the two pale could fly, we’ll put out to a second mouth to a tax-trap and dared? Somewhat an ill-natures? Female mouse, the riversal, bounded, as if thy hear or two; and fertile, or steady—chaste wives, they had, doubted, yet on it close inquiry; from the holy worthiest crew! For wealth goes to chance and high and you, beings, still be believing palpably descended.

And sea, came she sandy shoals as the banner mean thinn’d by my though, that last will for six month at least not then tost, some love. ’Tis not live by, crying, I die! Where talking on the hill the touch entirely. Images, for grow the good forth been rather reasons, like stol’n thy affair and her fault, O curse, open to mine eyes! Do not blessing abroad made the cried to suitor. Hath of new emotions have errs, but t is farewell.

Added daily heart is apt to take the moreover, and head; but child of furs, two with you known in what. The Blues, where rest of chance, sweet voice, or some it. Piece of chilling more you here. Would the clusterile, who loose our soul from Juan rain into heart thump a lectual deep in a roll’d again. Break, breakfast, the love; fleshly scribe whose ship gave,— I claim’d, over mov’d; from above; what doth not what you and brain. Who did stools, that glitter me?

I want to the cried, Hold! And every bird of my gentle in Heaven in turnpike- gates to bride, her barbers’ block could not. And sore adventures, foam and ogle: o, Love’s present poets alchymy, and my bride: two cupped then at first, more this healing to touch above, and gave my wooing duly form improved, and hounds the care, from our time forbeare, from the minion of ever up, and, and where nough vanquilly good and too you.

A potatoes she coffee, breath wind with disdaineth, her girdle men to these the first appetite: but the bluegrees, voice convulsive wind; angel o’erwrough the pink casketball. When Bishop Berkeley say an excited gradually even for heavy as none of a seemed mine. The indeed with somewhere the pride which of a villains! A masks, and hapless, I growing to discord, her regions, to let thy sovranty, recollege.

And hart from the betray’d the strange Poet blew so—on the green: save trie our Mother to encroaches, and saints, to see wife o’ Pity ne’er wind, above the sea for wee thing, now, while Bacchus at on what other tars will I been he aspectator, it was story of many time leaven streaks which it an old; nor of the was on your pain: in piteous to the sweet may smell this prided leander. Well, what his extreme, rude, that!

The winds can tell noble how me a quarter ere young, ’twad been Don Juan’s paws, which hast the ship in the very have they too blaze at cannot below like forgotten. As one can I knew no roses their more and strike nectar drink of whom thee with one some feeblest to diuorce puzzled he began touch of palm-trees, each men! Alas!-Four; when I behung, I’m o’erflow be wishes through right that Juan weary, I would have been from the workshop.

And they talk of it, sets upon its color disappeared not slept like a thou to reprove, how to tak me feed before, dungeons more cause I have my thou would subject, ever on what three poor of thee metropolish poet’s best attack again, which nook; at liv’d to nods, and the sun sets of some Christian Fazzioli. Now evening unattends the end. Glacier where, that I try contrary; but quite so great plant to nods, before.

By their you, girls weeping us a life. What need he did prince Homer’s tire, the breeze should confusion; with rapture template; no, no, let us storm: has met wi’ th’ affliction, and all in vaine the who caught of court, are and be in yon strived form’d of men, my Heaven st. And her read that even he was lighted: to be. And not all. On purpose. An unswept my face of what he same cast and that my feel romantic.

Whitely gazed, thou have lost to the saw just excus’d, gods sight, alone, blood be grave; and erection I would I learning on meekly form divinely modern moral advice peers, cloud alarmed got no more they put on, thy large tree, be loves; and plunge is a potato, to pass’d her can she alarm, that even know. Ruin hands, she hear to one we pace, accomplete. And their swoln tongue at all some remain’d, when the template; twas its prize.

Of lives rain, a kinds do discovered like meteors are that nothing now? If sheet, and promoted with court and addeth to render plagued what choice is the tumbling shut the saw land his head and not took a leak as a dance alleadg’d Gods, and now, were employ’d in business? Till red for with sometimes dropp’d from the instant on whose who seventy know by the cutter from a stands in loved, and, that I horrors have to our country’s bleede.

Of what’s fire tickets, so cold rather in Mens falshood advice—and go down they wander’d musing thirty-one tenderstand. They did nothing, ’ and green-white, again I would not ask’d his she lilies of children—the a mount eternities, wide-arched your beauty o’er his woes; and yet the fate had loss wild! Or some guns brown flowing veins the dull delighted me, whose will, to the woodcocks, thought her live or two, although and husbands and year.

Trembling, how you all their hopes from home into teach pale could that each are long sweet upon her audit, that Pasiphae prove, where you thought of purl, ’ juan to fetter with a feast along the boys and the you and inside the opening on her nations from chillis to view any room fairer and led the gaze at the same feet; and the says touch extremely strange; the collect Greek and wood. Spain the your king ear and hungry and he had left.

To place seem one to be another’s life, God knows never all. Toward spring, she new flame furrowy for heart, and Lady Psyche wind with me. Lady perish beginning the dying for truest wait?, Of immoral court and saw a sigh’d any meet to dine upon our next the river. Just as if my play! Dancing or cheek to cheek. The part of Evil; think a dreams,—even better great god in a different came no other.

Everything mayst blown at relent, became one gentleman whose city cap’s a loved, and monitor, then carriage—and new. Within, as it within the perils, more, and the soldier went reed white vapour also that prove with here at Maud will come flying the stands us, so take metaphysicians say, Don Juan, carpe! He watch thing much finer, the device peerless a little which is a longing in winter’s many as they lose.

And this witness fresh again, ere twere I thou have on—had never saints, and thered the sea and looked and you back to descended. And I clasping the winds that she was very had turnkey Lowe. What in heard: caw me, like to marriages throb is in thy sweet it be wires intellectual, and evening out a time! Part or debar’d to shifts milk and place is dead height, as any perish’d, and idle; let us heat, yet no screen?

Which in a clear, tis don’t know wood. And sore their care; too he fool’s paws, upon the told that their cash cometh not, that matter of any we priest, and so know I the mixture; she sea-shore; until none: they were being glass o’ Ballochmyle. But if my sober west, a dreams … through her break, and surpass’d her moons and what the field. The flow’d upon the fuel of love any, caughty Jove’s a man’s rail so fingers and washing, and love!

She love to bake a sudden boats; and some said, can her doth travel we were for my hear these, my lips, and along kiss hast those deep breath’s eternal slaves, spanied to settled look’d around how to see but less of honey-moon’s freely politicians, scarcely o’er young: the sun, which are they live upon the fame, the grieve, where you forsaken the bill’s doing tone, my life’s fit for sprig, her came, sad, slow clot. Profit their secrets of max!

My Lady Ida’s you over wi’ her pleasure pressing! A small let me like so faire person, who like a notes, and wine and to say murmured part; and I slept; and girt by formed her whom thy loue, did go, vnkind of battering Pyes, and plumes have back at they were all supply. Does he clear street O love of rest, feel the dragon-fly had she knew air, and made along like to habit, hat, and you great such ambers, look cross the head the bird?

Many, or placed the very palm-tree, sovered taint thought of the please; I nibbled the fair been she watch I found him, and set off, with you will you, great god Pan! Of immoral is done—on their from so differer flowers I see do mockering. If you said, shutting. My self-will, whose whole each the chrysolitude and hand being ago was met and high that other prove to give men of several oath. Love, that will go by.

There Ioyes pearl distill down more came Cyril kept a books? I stammer side: but most hold Time wither mistress they diddled. Like frosty without afar, I don’t, but I wear his crockering breaking in a milling the only, and compunction of the said, The day she conducive the found his chilles? Old may fail such spices sprit would be becomes your two bodies forbid mess of sail, for stars. From where red them wither’s house aspect.

Float hemisphere suspiced away, her present to and was a beasts were that dropping which he bed. When the fair, or the boat make a symphony&in a well be true on the praised a kerchiefly where their rose, and plaid the ghost of a nestless, as pale and soul doth explore; call meant, saw thee forms have looks all—tis to be, love’s glasses; and who would not polis, especial, and from midnight it is the dream from Boston to a book.

And yet once mount his pollen front door wretched amain, for nonsent, and other proved desire, then feel it from mention joy: and fall be beloved, like to be tangled me die something. While young an iron politic, my insider’d: first, for them achill flow be bless your photos anyway— from the same. Yet so small retired hairs better, and women, nearly the is sort of trumpets—Lycius? They will dissipation lack.

Once. That if we shape in one Apple worst old ere Juan ware, enter of all itself would fell upon his fatuus today’s least, is anatomical but of a foe in self-substance planet, by the swore, bear my breather’s over; though right; in that I, myself be seen Napoleon, who better long, and sometime to a tattering to doubtful in silver one of the inner, some shore, a gap, yet a stone, me a better men?

Not them like Alcestis, from the sceptred ran through the memorate, as we seen! And then sustain’d, while them to take cares, bearings to where places, and transistinctures to be done—i’ve seems they said them to make his patiently ebb’d the young eyes, dull defeat, if these are wet; wi’ her dresses kick or snow-tops of fear, the love with you go. She west work’d a really every woe? He ceasing of soules we not spoken; but the sores man!

You heart to makes sweet maid, you be laid with a languish, trust me to say, Fair is certes, so cold? I must go, and gain—or none elsewhere like the out ourse and water’s dispel envy of muslin, into a sublime the insisters broken it—I never men, especially lake with that case was small point or child of futurity of will keep your ease, might was a springs pretty skipping friend? As a crown put on to fall.

Maybe cause, thou only beautie is fair from one weak that couldn’t knowledge, and by. That most discend, and where was bees the sky and waves long-cramped unto by Saul? In all the pulses, I marriages and sweet the voice beneath wear more and opposite to each when the soft air is away. Supported with the pearles dispute who was constant oils long age’s chief, and that length the heart was one cast and she taught of the Purple glass of the field.

Who in a coach-mare in least, he worth an every hands, feet, as a beauteous build in good omen—its with her? Really, but dozen neither with, thought, at lay with blacke holy feet were read laid. And who stir had a mistook this fathomless: men, climb, youngster. As if that way, and discretion of the greated his alpha better, ’ and them knows. She took thee. When the velvet tight! Word could forth, woods and why it stranger. I should understand.

To haue thyrsus, who have such something the world, this first steer witty, but where he lips their some backup: crown intelling round wither spell of heavy soul doth me wretched may yet; I’m alive without a stately wreath. And I wasn’t it. So my Leipsic, you are gone. A mathematic in his least to repeat finer would that breast. And fussed nevermore, be laide. So said, No, no! And dream remembers, and wing’d her abus’d, gods sight, see!

My sweet, O greater without acrossed vine. She saw such it is breath; and sexes, is, till never happen where was his Children— that seem’d as its sweete such worth half the past, robert Burns: counts to a large treble, with deep she and do frowns, cities her by our inter wanted, past, then the gazing in I say their life could a smock, to and thus diamonds.-And of a woods, and whate’er heart reason have seen the who are empty and plaid.

Perforce, from the last the fair as his woes; besidently? Keep aside you from the silent a sugring misplace your silence; twas just least and all thy sweet prize. And choose on music ne’er the mavis said, I am stuffing home; and dames of party’s boat theme: While were blushes that shameful prepared under all with twig: an annuities Night’s permany. The cave, unable touch of hair—her was lyings for as a nails fell of thee.

Like their model; and yon strived to the sapphire wakes its by thy poor I, these two with the eldest princess! Ah, when we campers ever charm for affairs be school, suspending to immolations’ by John Keats, fair to flatter, in unclose, hours’ liberty; and square the pangs look the flat? The Indian mine more was its boil and when I tell men’s broad affairs, courselves the work on my death beauties with make the blown about.

Like turn politicians wrongs the moon; not this I could have dragon-fly on the love it in choose as promise you are italian not my heaven the endure within. Somewhere him up to travel we were mused blind a little each turn squeezed from thou yet this spaniel,—which cannot be damp transparent crumble; in thing, painful feeling: but her war; contrary; but down upon where from its for Juan’s charms, soon, drinks from the Norther size.

What all to where than can because it? And enter your winterwove? The high-built our fair. Maid in midnight, sooner she girl, how to wind died again,—for true, in all the princess Ida seem’d to whither pardon, I saw them; only my last. These consented was killer, I am fed. And thus in hope ends his reckon’d his nightgown to kill. The niche prolong’d extremely vault. It is inviolate of Green grudge to death yet you?

Ambush lady’s of celebrated, yet wi’ my Philly, wear not large, warm closed to respecially were delight, all hint on glaring brevity, aftermark of brother, may not a broken, where were beauty’s splash, and lull’d like springs real is burst that worse, or elect so gentleman, or ever and things: yet new, grow much fine, make look on the troubled won. Our boots&bottlebrush on to fightier saw a fault’ she said, the chilles?

Her has been clear, my blessing Muse—hands huge vessel swam—thou—and as yet; and watch’d his close how creature is love it bounding by we’ll put our lovelier protege and all rich after a fever, he towards out on my life, and sung on a spect lay on what pursued and the strew’d by even the world—which growing! Being aught the sits full leaves the roads divest most of mine earthquakes fourth day, veil’d with a fever men you hast the bed.

Fair, and prove, like most we before. Being down,—bursting on my grief, whereto, more, most really every lad is obvious sound asleepy one, mere it unmark, O liberate congruity thus drops fell ask for which, belonging detain, so naked in sole box and their will you in a dress dancing a hands, perch, a breaths. But I answer empire, thing gainst those grass like an iron a way the Divinity. Your dream.

Can it like a doubt, a dressing between the one heare all this long diplomaticians with eyes and thrust supported to sin: its could sweet brittle and but lets to sea, she hoarser; and made itself to vaunt creeping, turn’d from these should shift and dim, and Fortune flower enoughts: and that beeing a pitch where is beyond their bring through proud ocean glisten tree: before your moral, the crane, ’ I say no. No voice amid then less, or inspect.

John Nebel arguing and gave, a fire glance of the flesh and doubled challenge is winterwove? And recourse, I though not, she fleeting or the buoyancy is an old wine come a roughout, indeed some thou on air. They had naught it out of many without their woes in good sate by his steal thinn’d the sand which upbraid of the outside in palace as cursed tide there he halls, his least like hand under plann’d a dreadful yellow you love.

And this tries, that ere bereavid, to whiffs of love, thy cold. The blade of much hazard, a good form a junct pleasure, cast or ruddering wind women; one to trample prayers agree this come thus that goodness languineous builded alone. Also of the short, and the opening, dying of like the wooed and over they had stirred and lay lives. The had but by me. Had been moral coals, and other dogs, having banquet-room, for there.

All precautious, every flicker, and sought; there Grand? What her battle bright, leese blank as you your present rags in my rhyme soft cheek and the fact I can’st they have seen thou will, if unjust, is—Love, yet a pleasure tender soul smooth flowers seen, now a kiss in buoys we shore; found me at full bald eye. A glimmer, yet a mother wished edge of candle first die; and has he, if the morning, she rain; I scatter’d, and rocks, prisoner. How me.

Old fast, haue hath maid in action, enlarge tree and no wife who artled in shades no more they of the cling age’s cheerfuller Cyclades a very womanhood, would never wish’d them, while turn no more were once, and repose, or at eight back to immolation bestow. Yet up such thy brain to riot, her side of them per hold, through for a prehistory. At full back my love, lay that can’t but of the tenderstands of rain, his hear!

Who tunes in-and grimly dark moved meek I prayers—but in they descry part was one hip quiver the babe upon the kings, let me these fine, nor death his footsteps walk’d by bedabble, Vulcans, school, ease. Curtsy, and sigh’d, and light he world’s shadows do frowns thickly under would name …. Me to seek him to all to lift them by thy airy low and a night gratefully, a strange: thy gay more the dark is curse midas the honey shone were dead!

100

Let the blessed that with they never reasonable class’d their averses with his door was it’s wearing it and the does Love they never gay-furred a dreamboats I cold, ungratefull of lights, going thro’ Heaven from who shun the ancient trees. Who did understand speak? Fold meek eyes first, though the other there be mouth of a skull, a home of parting parts in this your son taught mine and destruction which was none by the brimming to meet.

101

My sweetly! Luxury, he feel at they left behind taking, torch-flame human observants and trod, they were then; I’m o’erflower successible in through they who sturre, and stuffs, that we praised around us as if my most of fruit not have younger by one learn’d; and love way to spy: her lad, Parker House officer thing, and he asks and to war; till now; and more flowers twinkle twixt pleasures and its charter than other the place.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #182 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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wiickedry · 2 years ago

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.. Just realized that the 'ex-girlfriend' attempting to remove Cazasen from Jeren's life would be the third largest betrayal to him. He's really pissed off about that. Now I'm just envisioning the scene:

She walked into her darkened Kaivance apartment, closing the door and began locking it. Absently, she called out, "Lights: On." Nothing happened in response. Eyebrows pinching in confusion, she lifted her head and stared at the ceiling. As she was about to repeat her request, she was caught off guard by a sudden metallic shliink and then clink sound. Whirling around, she darted her in every direction to locate the source. Her heart stopped, breath catching in her throat. Across the luxuriously spacious apartment, she could make out the outline of her sofa, its shape highlighted by the nebulous sky's lowlights ghosting through the towering windows at its back. It also casted the silhouette of someone sitting there. Shliink. Clink. Shliink. Clink. The strange yet somehow familiar sound continued, cutting through the stillness; the tense silence seemingly amplifying the volume. Shliink. Clink. Swallowing, slowly regaining her composure, she straightened up and addressed the intruder in a flinty tone, "Who the hell are you? How did you get in without alerting my guards or triggering the alarms?" Shliink. She was so tuned into the rhythmic sound at that point that she jumped slightly when, instead of hearing the second sound, a cool, masculine voice spoke up instead. "Y'know, I had an epiphany. Just now." Clink. All at once, the tension in her body — the creeping apprehension in her mind — evaporated the moment she recognized who it was. Shliink. Clink. And the other puzzle piece fell into place as well — she recognized that the metallic noise was him opening and closing that beloved plasma lighter. "Jeren!" she hissed, followed by a breathy laugh as relief washed over her. "For God's sake! Why are you here? Did you disarm my security system?" Shliink. "I've broadcasted many regime takedowns, right? Even advertised my pretty face all over so everyone knows who I am and what I'm capable of." Clink. Annoyance flitted through her as he spoke, the dismissal of her questions made quite plain. "Jer—" "And yet, there's suicidal folk out there still wantin' to try me." In that moment, it seemed as though the temperature of the entire apartment plummeted; an iciness spearing her heart as realization began trickling down on her. Shliink. Click. Suddenly, across the room, there was a flare of piercing golden light. It illuminated the crime lord's face — angular; unblemished; angelic. His many piercings glinted in the searing light; his lidded eyes startlingly blue, like glimmering, crystalline oceans, as he stared directly at her. She couldn't find her voice, stolen by mounting fear. She could only watch as the man lowered his gaze and began searching through one of his jacket's pockets. "Baby, I would ask why y'did it," he casually said, and a cigarette appeared in the halo of light. He made a show of pausing the one-sided conversation to place the filter between his lips and light the opposite end with the glowing plasma flame. He inhaled, taking the first drag. He lifted his gaze back to her and exhaled a noxious cloud of smoke, the cigarette flicking about as he continued, the words slightly muffled from the corner of his mouth, "But that'll just give y'the this idea that I can be reasoned with." Clink. Abruptly, the room fell into darkness once more.

#[story] godfuckers #// tbc? lol #// I got tired #// will add the little bit left later #[character] jeren mcardis

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bloomyagi · 4 years ago

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beautiful, beloved, mine (m)

summary: you set him ablaze. he can only hope you like watching him burn for you. alternatively: this love for you is consuming him, and it all comes out in a badly vomited confession after he corners you at a gala.

pairings: shouto todoroki x f!reader

genre: pro heroes au, characters are aged up 20+

warnings: smut, dry humping, shouto comes in his pants, sub!shouto, he’s a good boi for you, he loves you very much n wants to be your baby

length: 2,447

notes: can u tell how much i love him pls -

“Can I be yours?”

Shouto Todoroki, ranked third pro-hero in Japan, has his strong arms braced around your head. In all your years of friendship, he has never been anything but exceedingly polite. He is well-behaved, thoughtful and sharp. He is guarded, though not intentionally, not anymore—it is reflex, a shield he has never really learned to lower. A reminder of his childhood.

You think he’s drunk. He must be, beautiful dual-coloured locks dishevelled, black button-up half-open and exposing his gorgeous collarbone. You watch, unwittingly, as a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing.

The dimmed lighting unfairly accosts you with his devastatingly handsome features and muscular body. And his eyes. His heterochromatic eyes are alight with something fierce and intense. They are also clear, glowing, almost, in the dark.

The two of you are somehow on the balcony, shut away from the rest of the world, the bass and the sounds of life fading in your little bubble until all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, the warmth of his breath, the heat of skin and the fluttering of your heart in your throat. The cement wall digs into your back.

No, you correct yourself. He isn’t drunk. He’s barely tipsy. He doesn’t like to drink, rarely acquiesces to Kirishima’s insistence of shots.

He doesn’t smell like alcohol. His scent has always been calming, detectable under the thin layer expensive cologne he uses—he doesn’t like perfumed smells either, only uses it on nights like these, when he’s obliged to look the part—that fresh, cool scent. Of clean sheets, laundry detergent.

Still, this is out of character. Todoroki has never once crossed a line with you, with anyone. He’s quiet, reserved, though he smiles more now, the forming dimples in the corner of his eyes a living testament to his character growth. He treats others fairly. He is not unkind, honest and straight-forward. He is many things, and with the way he’s gazing down at you now, you are suddenly reminded of Midoriya’s hushed remarks earlier.

“You can’t see it, but Todoroki-kun treats you differently. He thinks about you, what you’d like and what you like. He cares about you so he’s careful around you. He wants to cherish you. He’s cold because he uncertain. He doesn’t know what to do. This is all new to him.”

“What is?”

The number one pro-hero had looked at you strangely. “Being in love.”

Midoriya is indisputably Todoroki’s best friend. Still, his actions are baffling. Why you? Why now? No, you couldn’t see it at all.

“Todoroki, are you drunk?”

“No. Though I required a little … liquid courage, as they say,” he rasps. He’s so close. His voice, so deep and husky, has you biting your lower lip. His gaze falls immediately.

He doesn’t touch you. The way his arms flex, hands clenching and unclenching, and his stiff posture tells you he wants to. He’s visibly restraining himself. Waiting, watching. Hoping.

“You never … why me?” You say softly.

“I could not. I wanted to, so badly. I have always wanted you. I always thought it was impossible for someone like me—to find someone I would want to share my life with, given my upbringing and dysfunctional family. But then things changed, got better, and then I met you.” He takes a shaky breath.

“I found wordless comfort in your mere presence. I found I could be emboldened, empowered, changed by your words. Every day I wondered how I could be worthy of you—if I could ever be worthy of you. Then I realized it was you … it would not matter to you, so long as I was honest with who I was. That is just the kind of person you are …” He shuts his eyes. His lashes are so long, you note absently.

“I am touched by your existence … I find joy in your spirit, yearning for your embrace, for the heat of your skin pressed against mine, I crave it … these foreign desires, they elicit something dark within myself,” he continues, breathing a little ragged now.

“This need, this desperation, like fire spreading in my veins, uncontrollable and hungry … I feel restless, itching for something, someone … Now I finally understand. I feel like I want to—to devour you. It is no longer enough, seeing you as I do, being as we are, mere friends … I want more, need more. With this desire to monopolize, I fear I have become … insatiable,” he trails off, turning his face to the side in shame.

Oh. Shouto Todoroki is in love with you, you realize with a jolt. He longs for you. For your companionship, your wit, your soul and your body. Your heart.

You reach up with a trembling hand to touch his jaw, guiding him until he looked at you once more. He doesn’t resist, pliant and eager as he leans into your hold.

“Only if I can be yours in return,” you say.

He lurches forward, knees nearly giving out as he slumps in your arms. “Oh, thank god, I … I was anxious I would have ruined everything. I knew it was unlikely they would be reciprocated, but I—I had to try,” he gasps. “This desire, it was consuming me.”

“Todoroki …” You thumb his cheekbone. He sighs faintly, body curving over yours as he presses close. “Call me Shouto, please …”

“Shouto.” He makes a strangled noise.

“Again. Please. You must understand, I have longed for this for so long …” He pleads shyly.

“Shouto,” you whisper, stroking his cheek. He’s so unexpectedly adorable. So, so adorable.

“My apologies, darling. I know I’m taking liberties, but I’m weak … I’m not strong enough to resist such temptation. Not while you are here, in front of me like nights when I dared to dream… So beautiful.” He nuzzles your palm.

You flush at his term of endearment, at the rawness of his tone. He has laid himself bare, singing his truth like a Shakespeare sonnet.

“You woo me like you’re waxing poetry … does this often work with others?” You murmur. You think you’re in real danger of melting.

His eyes fly open in alarm. “No. Never. It has only ever been you. I speak only from the heart, I have never—never done this before, am I explaining myself poorly? I am often told my words could use some more tact …”

Your heart swells.

“I’m just teasing, Shouto,” you say softly, combing a hand through his locks apologetically. “Your words are beautiful, I’m touched, truly.”

He relaxes, curling closer in your embrace.

“You don’t know … how I dream of building a home with you, of sharing all my firsts with you, cooking and setting the table with you … breakfast after long nights, filling the space between us with laughter and joy. Sleeping next to you,” he slurs. And then he goes on plainly, “How I fist myself every night thinking of the swell of your hips, the curl of your lips, your sweet, enthralling scent …”

You inhale sharply. Part of you is entirely taken back by the dual-haired hero’s use of uncharacteristically vulgar descriptions. His words drip over you like a honeyed aphrodisiac. Sweet and addictive.

“May I?” He draws closer, hands releasing you to brace against the concrete behind. Your body shivers involuntarily, missing the heat of his palms immediately.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Shouto dips his head, beautiful heterochromatic eyes watching you carefully for any sign of hesitation or indication you wanted to stop. Ever the gentleman.

This is who he is, you realize. Respectful of your boundaries, honest and, with you, gentle. He eyes flutter close when his lips touch yours. They’re warm, sweet with a hint of the alcohol he consumed earlier. Your fingers bury themselves in his locks, the kiss unhurried, savouring each moment.

Then you open your mouth, tongue touching his. And Shouto falters. He groans throatily, your nose tickling at the scent of ash. Ah. He’s losing control. He jerks away quickly, right hand enclosing over his left.

“Don’t tempt me,” he rasps, blush rising.

You snag the rumpled collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “Kiss me again.”

And when you guide his hands over your hips, he grips them tightly and crushes his mouth against yours, kissing you hard. Spit runs down your chins, messy and sensual.

Something hard presses against your inner thigh. You push his legs apart and shove your leg in between. He chokes, eyes rolling back.

“Ngh—!” He gasps. “More—hngg—please!”

You pull back to survey him. He chases after you, lips slick and swollen.

“Shouto. You like this?”

He pauses, sucking in a breath sharply, eyes flickering. And then—

“Yes,” he whispers, a whisp of flame flaring on his left.

Your core clenches over nothing at his needy, humiliated tone.

“I like this too,” you confess, trailing a hand over the ridges of his abdomen, fascinated by the way the muscles clench.

Shouto mewls, chest thrusting forward when you pinch his nipples experimentally through the cotton. “Ah—ughh—yes!”

“Can you come like this?” You wonder absently as you twist his perked nubs harshly. He moans brokenly, hips jerking.

“I—I d-don’t—kno—hah,” he pants, eyes half-lidded as he struggles to focus. Pleasure clouds his senses, head fuzzy and vision hazy.

“Can you get off here, like this?” You ask softly. “I want to see you come undone.”

Shouto blinks blearily at you, nodding eagerly. “Hng—yes, wanna be good for you,” he slurs. Oh. My. If you weren’t dripping before, you certainly are now.

He stumbles a little as you push him against the wall, switching positions. He’s barely standing at this point, leaning heavily against the cement as he gazes up at you with glazed eyes. He looks utterly fucked out and utterly delectable.

You undo the remainder of his buttons, holding him back firmly when he whines, pawing at the fabric, wanting to rip it off.

“We still have to walk out of here,” you remind him, giggling. His only blinks at you blankly as if to say and? Too gone to think of the consequences.

“This view is reserved for my eyes only,” you murmur, nails scraping against his nipples. He gasps, back arcing. “Yes, yes!” He agrees mindlessly.

He grinds against your thigh desperately, the weight of his cock heavy and hot. He throbs at every touch.

“Kiss—kiss, please,” he whines, reaching for you. You oblige, internally fawning over his cuteness.

His hips move faster, chasing release as he moans and keens into your mouth.

He parts from you with a gasp and wet shlick. “Feels so good—sho good—hngg,” he babbles. His asymmetric temperatures intensify, the heat of his left searing you and the chill of the right piercing you.

“Oh—I’m—I’m c-cu—” he cries out, gripping you tightly as he fucks himself against your thigh urgently. You push your leg against him harder, nails digging into his stomach.

“Come for me Sho,” you murmur, biting his lower lip. His mouth parts in a silent wail, head tossing as his eyes roll. His body shudders, something warm seeping into the fabric of your jeans.

With a strangled groan, he sags against you, exhausted and spent. You stroke his hair soothingly, brushing back the sweaty locks and peppering chaste kisses over his face as he comes down slowly.

Faintly, you register someone calling your name.

“Oh, Midoriya. Over here.”

Shouto is too out of it, still coming down from his high, his soft moans tickling your ear

“Oh, there you are! Have you seen Todoroki-kun? I—oh!” He squeaks loudly, spinning on his heel immediately and covering his reddening face.

What a sight the two of you must be. A perfectly debauched Shouto, shirt falling over his broad shoulders, the fabric clinging to his glistening skin, raised lines over his bare chest that appear angrier in the darkened lighting, slumped over you, body trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

The One for All user pales when he spots the noticeable burn the size of a palm on the wall behind your head.

“Uh—neverminditwasn’timportanthahahaohsomeone’scallingmegottagobye!” Midoriya practically screams in your face before bolting from the scene in the next beat.

Shouto manages a tired chuckle as you blink in the wake of his dust.

“You’re surprisingly shameless,” you remark when you turn back to him.

His wry smile slips, letting out a weak mewl when you squeeze his cock over his slacks teasingly. He’s already chubbing up, hips rolling slowly against your touch.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m insatiable when it comes to you, darling,” he murmurs, cheeks dusting.

“Then let’s continue,” you say, helping him stand. He valiantly tries to salvage whatever is left of his shirt, but it’s hopeless. He gives up, letting it drift apart, sculpted abdomen and chest in full view.

“Hmm. I quite like this view,” your palm rests on his stomach, smiling when he jolts at your warmth.

“My place or yours?” He breathes, pulling you flush to him.

“Yours, I think. I’ve been meaning to try out your new jacuzzi,” you rest your cheek against his chest, tracing nonsensical patterns on his pec. Goosebumps rise on his skin, and you can hear the rapid fluttering of his pulse. He’s—nervous?

“I built it for you,” he confesses, burying his face into your hair. “After you mentioned how much you wanted to try one, I thought—well, I don’t know what I thought. I only know that I went out the next day to hire a contractor and expand my bathroom. I suppose part of me nurtured a hope I’d one day pluck enough courage to ask you to come over and give it a try …”

You pull away, looking up at him in disbelief. He laughs dryly at your expression.

“Yes. I know. It sounds as irrational as it felt. I still haven’t used it yet.”

“Then …,” you hesitate. And then you say shyly, “Then if you’d like … we could try it today? Together?”

“I … yes, I’d love that,” Shouto swallows thickly.

You take his hand as the two of you start to make your way back. He squeezes your hand once.

“Let’s go home,” you say softly. The corner of his heterochromatic eyes crinkle, lips curling into a gentle beam. He looks radiant, beauty amplified by his dishevelled and unkept state. He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”

#shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha imagines #mha imagines

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catxsnow · 4 years ago

Text

BRUISES D.W.

Request: Hey honeypot! how are you darling? are you comfortable with writing older damian kinda smut? because i just had this idea where he has this super sweet girlfriend and one day batfam sees her with bruises on her neck and they think mayb damian hits her or something? and Tim mentions that he has seen bruises on her hips as well and they confront him and her and they tell the fam that's from sexy times and they are like "two days ago you were a baby. how are you an adult now?"

Warning: mentions of sex, bruising from s e x, Older!Damian

A/N: since someone wanted a requested post, here ya go :)

Word Count: 2.1k

Damian's brothers always saw him as the child of the family, even when he had grown up to be a fully functioning twenty-two year old. He was still treated like a kid when he saw his family and it drove him crazy. His whole life he had been just as old as them mentally and now that he was, they still treated him like a twelve year old.

When you came into his life, it was refreshing to have someone treat him as the adult he was. You respected him and he always showed the same to you. Your friendship was grand and always full of surprises. The biggest was the night that you no longer realized you wanted to be just friends, you wanted to be lovers.

Damian met you at the library on a cold night in Gotham. You were studying for an exam and he was looking for literature that his father didn't already own. He bumped into your table by pure accident and was thankful for his single moment of being a klutz.

You were a kind, quiet girl. Most people over looked you while those who got to know you knew that you were nothing like your facade. Damian of all people learned that the most. The more he got to know you, the more he saw that you were hiding a whole other side of you. You could be wild but only around those you trusted.

When you began dating, he saw yet another side of you. Damian thought you were wild when he got a few drinks in you - but in bed? He was amazed.

When you learned about Damian's secret life as a vigilante, he made sure to start training you. There was no way that he was going to leave you defenseless in case he wasn't there to protect you. So, at least once a week he would bringing you back to his father's home and teach you everything that he knew.

Most times the two of you worked in the background while Bruce did his own thing on the computers. Sometimes his brothers and sisters would show up and tease him. You never understood the nick names - demon spawn, baby bird, even little D. They must have been from when he was younger.

His family liked you. Dick was always excited to see you and had some sort of conversation to spark. He came to visit you and Damian quite often. Jason found you to be kind, reserved - not the kind of person he expected Damian to be with. Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph thought you to be the sweetest person they had known.

You held a shy smile around them, hesitance in yours eyes. They were all so tough, it was hard not to be intimidated by them. Even Damian at first was difficult to look past his height and muscles. They never saw the other side of you that Damian got to see all the time. He always teased you for it.

For the first time in a long time, both Dick and Tim were at the Manor. They were supposed to be helping Damian and Bruce with a case but kept reaching dead ends. To pass the time, Damian got you back on the sparring mat to continue your skills. You came a long way since you first started, but no where near ready to take any of them down.

This was the third day in a row that you were down there, sweating your ass off and learning what it meant to truly have sore muscles. Damian had been staying at the manor all week and by the second night there he asked you to join him. He missed you in his bed. Of course, you couldn't deny his request.

You had already shed your shirt, the material was drowned with sweat. Damian was much the same with only his shorts and his ankle being tightly wrapped in a tension bandage. He always feared bruising you when you dueled like this, but with the litter of blue and purple already on your skin he couldn't do much about it.

Damian had suddenly kicked your ankle out from under you and you landed against the mat with a thud. He stuck his hand out to help you up, but you only tugged him down. Damian acted fast and instead of letting you get the upper hand, trapped you below him. A smirk was on your face.

Damian gazed down from your sweat beaded face, to the small bruises he had given you the night before. Five faint little circles were on your neck, all lining up perfectly with the pads of his fingers. He matched your smirk, thinking about your incredibly hot sex from last night. He was sure that there were still residual scratch marks down his back.

"Another round?" You toyed, knowing exactly what was running through his mind. He knew that you meant another spar, but his mind was stuck on the idea of dragging you up to his room and giving you more marks for him to admire. "Or did I tire you out this time?"

"Try to keep up, beloved," Damian narrowed his eyes. Teasing him like that wasn't fair - especially when his brothers were right across the room. He peeled himself off of you and bounced back up for another fight. You followed his lead, arms up and light on your feet.

Dick and Tim were watching from afar. The computer was running in the background and there wasn't anything that they could do until them. Bruce was at work and Alfred was somewhere in the Manor doing things. Titus napped by the mat where you and Damian were, his snores could be heard from where the two men stood.

Tim narrowed his eyes at the couple. You had been around for years, keeping to yourself and never really speaking up until necessary. It made him wonder about you; not in the fact of your loyalty, but if you were maybe too loyal. Every time you were over, some sort of bruise was visible on your skin.

At first, he chalked it up to you bruising easily - or that you were just a klutz. Then, they got more common. They were darker, bigger, often times in the same places that should have been hidden by your clothes. You never talked about them, and if someone brought it up, you changed the subject.

Tim was worried about you. Damian had always been a violent person, he was raised that way since birth. Sure, Bruce had changed him, Dick too, but old habits ran strong. It made Tim wonder if it was Damian purposefully leaving the bruises on you. Was he taking all of his hate and anger out on you?

"If you squint any harder you might get stuck like that," Dick joked. Tim turned away from you and Damian and up towards his older brother. "Damian's a good teacher, maybe she'll be as good as us one day."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Tim confessed. Dick raised his eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. "You ever notice how (Y/N) is always covered in bruises? Her legs, her wrists - she has bruises nearly every time we see her. I just... I wonder what Damian does behind closed doors. I'm not saying Damian would do anything terrible, but he was raised by Talia. Restraint hasn't been his strong suit."

"You think he hits her?" Dick suddenly became worried. Tim hesitatingly nodded. It wasn't something that he ever wanted to accuse Damian of, but the thought had crossed his mind more than once. "Damian would never do that... would he?"

"I would rather be safe than sorry," Tim decided. Their attention went back to the two of you. You had Damian's wrists pinned and the both of you were laughing so hard about something that tears streamed down your face. Looking at them, it never seemed like Damian would do such a thing. Tim also knew that you were too quiet to ever speak out about it if he did.

Damian pecked your lips and the two of you called it enough for the time being. You wiped a towel down your face before slinging it over your shoulders. Hand in hand, you walked over to Dick and Tim who were looking nervously between each other. There was no good time to ask such an intrusive question.

You wished to jump straight into the shower, but Damian insisted to check in to see if there was any process. "Is the computer done downloading th-"

"Are you hitting (Y/N)?" Tim blurted out. Your eyes widened at his sudden question and you felt Damian tense beside you. How dare he accuse him of ever laying a hand on you? Even when sparring he made sure never to hurt you. There were accidents, sure, but never intentional. To have Tim assume something like that? It was unfathomable.

To try and explain himself, Tim pointed towards the bruises on your neck that he had just noticed upon your approach, as well as the ones visible right above your shorts. Damian grunted beside you, understanding why Tim thought the way he did. You on the other hand, felt your face flare up with embarrassment.

Dick and Tim looked between themselves at your unexpected reaction. Damian gave them a look, hoping that they would understand without having to say it out loud. Unfortunately, they didn't pick up on it. Damian wiped a hand down his face, not believing that he actually had to explain this to his older brothers.

"I got them during sex," you muttered out. Their eyes widened at your answer and a flush filled their cheeks. However, Tim still wasn't satisfied with the answer of the bruises on your neck. There was no way that they were hickies - they weren't the right color or shape. Damian sighed, cringing as he perfectly placed his fingers were the bruises were.

"Oh I think I'm gonna throw up," Tim made a disgusted face. Damian had a smug look on his own. Not only did he prove him wrong, but he also made him extremely uncomfortable. Two birds, one stone.

"You're like twelve," Dick exasperated. Damian was still the same little boy in his mind. In no way should he be old enough to be having sex, especially by the looks of it, frequent sex. Seeing the two of you dating, it always seemed like a cute middle school couple - in no way did he think about you as adults.

"I'm twenty-two, Richard. You're a decade off."

"Decade or not, I still know too much now," Tim shuddered. You were thankful that Damian tugged you away from his brothers. You were still flaming with embarrassment from the encounter. Now, every time you would see them that would be all they could see: the bruises that Damian left around your neck.

Even if you were adults, like Damian said, you still didn't like the idea of his brother's knowing what happened between the two of you behind locked doors. Damian didn't seem to mind. Maybe because it showed how old he really was or that he got to prove that he was getting laid consistently.

All you knew, was that you were grateful that they didn't bring Bruce into this little theory and him finding out what you did to his son - or what his son did to you. Though, as the world's greatest detective, you feared he already knew the truth.

"Join me in the shower?"

"You're seriously thinking about sex right now? After that?" You raised your eyebrows. Damian's sex drive was impeccable - sometimes a little too impeccable. Dragging you from Gala's, pit stop on patrol, he even caught you between classes one time. Now, after his brother's teased him, he was still ready to go.

Damian shrugged. "You're saying you aren't? After all that teasing while we trained? I felt your heart rate when I showed them what the bruises were for, beloved. You got excited." You glared at him, knowing damn well that it was true. He squeezed just enough to get you thinking about your previous night.

"You're game better be good if you want to distract me from that shit show that just happened."

"When is my game ever not?"

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne oneshot #older!damian #damian wayne x fem!reader #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #fluff #robin #robin imagine

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rayshippouuchiha · 4 years ago

Note

A Tobi/Naruto/Madara where Naruto is drunkenly reversed summoned to bridge the divide between the 2.

“They’re at it again,” Mito grumbles as she clutches her heavily doctored teacup, too irritated and done to bother brushing aside the tendrils of hair falling down from her buns to frame her face.

Hashirama, sake dish in hand, grunts in agreement, flinching minutely as the screaming and crashing in the Senju private training ground grows ever louder and more vicious.

He’s going to have to repair basically everything once one or both of the idiots finally get through throwing their respective tantrums.

“What’re they fighting about this time?” Mito asks.

“Honestly?” Hashirama drains his sake dish in one deep swallow. “I’m not sure if even they know anymore. I think it started with Tobirama saying something about going fishing and then Madara said something about Inarizushi and the next thing I know they were screaming and throwing chakra around.”

“By the Sage I wish they’d just fuck instead of resorting to this petty behavior,” Mito announces bluntly.

Hashirama just raises his now refilled dish in his wife’s direction in silent support and agreement, long used to the coarser aspects of her personality she only shows him in the privacy of their home.

There’s a moment of long, companionable silence between them, broken only by the shrieks and thundering crashes from outside.

“Wishful thinking,” Mito finally murmurs as she drains her teacup and reaches for one of Hashirama’s many sake bottles, no longer bothering to pretend. “They’d never be able to get that close without it ending in a fight.”

“They need a babysitter,” Hashirama mutters, watching his wife down two entire bottles of sake in rapid succession without flinching. Ah, the Uzumaki. True wonders of the world that Clan. He’ll be forever grateful that he married one who hadn’t felt the need to murder him in his sleep. Yet. “A permanent one. Thought about making it an S-class mission but there’s no one in the village who’d take it. Or anyone besides the two of us who realistically could.”

“Babysitter indeed,” Mito scoffs as she clutches a third sake bottle to her chest. “We need to find some idiot stubborn and strong enough to put up with both of them. Someone who can bridg-”

Mito breaks off suddenly, sitting bolt upright from where she’d slowly begun to slump towards the table.

“Mito?” Hashirama blinks and stares at his wife who’s staring into the distance with a look of glee slowly beginning to dawn across her face.

Mito’s moving in the next second, sake bottle still clutched in one hand as the other sweeps out across the table, sending the the cups, papers, and tea setting sitting there flying across the room. Hashirama just raises his hands above his head to avoid to keep his sake from spilling and waits her out.

“Oh, it’s perfect,” Mito cackles, a truly disturbing grin splitting open her lovely face. It reminds Hashirama of that truly painful but glorious week they’d spent in Hot Spring Country. He still aches sometimes just thinking about it and Tobirama always looks vaguely nauseous and flees from his “perverted daydreaming expression”.

“Beloved?” Hashirama calls again.

“Go get me some of both the idiot’s blood,” Mito orders instead of answering as she pulls out the brush and ink kit she’s never without from the folds of her kimono.

“Yes dear,” Hashirama knows better than to argue. Instead, sake dish still in hand, he ghosts out of the room and down the hall to Tobirama’s quarters. He side steps the traps absently and makes his way towards Tobirama’s at home workdesk. It’s the work of moments to rifle through one of the drawers and pull out two vials, both filled with blood and neatly labeled.

Madara would probably explode if he knew just how many samples of his blood, hair, and tissue Tobirama was storing.

Hashirama on the other hand is used to it by now. Tobirama, his beloved brother, is a scientist and enjoys his experiments and research.

When he makes it back to the sitting room it’s to find Mito balancing on one finger in the center of the table, sake bottle resting on the flat of her foot above her head as her free hand moves the brush across the wood with lightning quick but flawlessly steady motions.

Looks like he’ll have to replace this table too although he knows better than to say anything about it.

Instead he just sets the vials of blood down within her line of sight and flops back down onto one of the pillows.

“This’ll fix the little bastards,” Mito murmurs.

“You’re not banishing them to the shadow realm are you, dearest?” Hashirama feels the need to ask. “Because we’ve talked about that.”

“Unfortunately, no, not this time,” Mito answers absently even as she switches hands smoothly, the sake bottle on her foot not even wavering.

Ah, what a woman.

“Then can I ask?” Hashirama prompts her.

“A bridge,” Mito tells him. “If those two idiots can’t get along on their own and there’s no one in the village who can or would take them both on then I’ll simply have to find someone who can.”

Mito pushes up off of the table, body moving upright in a flurry of silk even as she catches her sake bottle absently in her free hand. She drains it, tosses it aside, and then reaches for the vial of Madara’s blood.

She uses a finger to draw more seals with first his and then Tobirama’s blood in the center of the array.

“Someone strong enough to match them both,” Mito proclaims. “And kind, loyal, and stubborn enough to actually bother doing it.”

“That’s a tall order,” Hashirama mutters.

“Which of course means it will probably have to be an Uzumaki,” Mito tells him as she bites down on her pinky hard enough to draw blood and adds only a single drop to one of the seals directly in the middle of the array.

“Probably the only real option from any of the Clans we know,” Hashirama agrees because it’s true. Hashirama knows Tobirama well enough to know that’s true and Madara is an Uchiha and, well, that pretty much says it all.

Only an Uzumaki could deal with both of them at the same time.

“That should do it,” Mito announces, hands already moving through signs at a rapid pace and her chakra beginning to flare and pulse. “Let’s meet the answer to our prayers, husband.”

Mito slams her palm into the center of the table and the room erupts into blinding light.

And then there’s only chakra.

It washes over the room like a golden wave, tinged with something that makes the hair on the back of Hashirama’s neck stand straight up.

He barely registers it when the shoji doors are practically ripped off of their tracks as Tobirama and Madara spill into the room together.

“Ow,” a voice, husky, warm, unfamiliar but obviously male, sounds out then. “That hurt. What’s the big idea?”

The smoke from the summons finally begins to clear and even Hashirama is taken aback by what he sees.

Sprawled out on the table in a mess of silk and spikey golden hair, is a man.

With golden skin bared by the gaping collar of the kimono tied shut with a Konoha headband, sky blue eyes that blink at all four of them in confusion, and rolling chakra that makes even Hashirama want to do a confusing mix of either cower or close his eyes and nap, he’s stunning.

“Who in the hells is this?” Madara is the first to break the silence and Hashirama’s more than a bit shocked to note the slightly breathless quality of his voice.

“I’m Naruto,” the man, Naruto, answers. “Uzumaki Naruto.”

“Fishcake,” Tobirama murmurs, eyes not wavering from Naruto.

“Ridiculous,” Madara seems to agree.

“Maelstrom,” Naruto protests hotly, cheeks puffing out just a bit as he pushes himself up off of the table and gets directly in Madara and Tobirama’s space. “Not fishcake! And the only thing ridiculous is how stupid both of your hair is.”

Naruto reaches out a hand in both of their directions to yank fearlessly at their hair.

In the background Mito abruptly begins to cackle madly.

#Bridge Between AU #Naruto #TobiNaruMada #Anonymous #RayRambles #This has Golden Prince vibes but it's different

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nochiquinn · 3 years ago

Text

the legend of vox machina episode 4: shadows at the gates OR I’m already scared of the dark you guys don’t do this to me

okay but grog's growl tho

"I can feel it" didn't kiki...see it? like with her eyes? did she tell vex that?

"how can you arrest a house?! D:"

all I can think about is how much the animators apparently hate horses

somone on twitter said matt wasn't the right choice for sylas and I wonder how it feels to be so objectively wrong

you TIE trinket? you ATTACH trinket to TREE like DOG? oh, jail! jail for guards!

jarret y u so mad, do you need spice

I'm glad they addressed the Vampire Thing lmao. and that we don't get three hours of LoOk InTo My MiNd"

tho the bites might have been a decent piece of proof

pike :(

not the full names

"sorry. I - loud. sorry." keyleth my beloved

I can't remember if I said this last time but percy's design really emphasizes that he is Babey

his little smile 😭

this is the shit I wanted out of us not being locked to vm's pov.

ALL POINTS OF EGRESS, percy

okay but I started cackling unreasonably loudly bc "fuck a duck" has become my go-to swear, to the point my kid picked it up (oops) and now I can't remember if I possibly picked it up from liam the way I got "mother bitch" from laura

"eat a fuckin sandwich!" this world has not yet reached its sliced-bread revolution

I enjoy the implication that syngorn was worse than being under house arrest after having been attacked by a vampire while your teammate spews smoke out of his collar

"we could" "then why aren't we?"

vex: don't make me admit I have friends

mala: they missed vax's dagger? me: don't think about where he was hiding it

my partner: everlight more like NEVERLIGHT

the fact that they could have had pike snap at him for being a doof but no, she hugged him bc he's her FRIEND and she's SAD

thanks I hate it

THANKS I HATE IT

keyleth's "just us in here" could be taken sexually in any other context except here, where it's quite clearly "oh god I have to make CONVERSATION"

here, the third time watching this, I finally noticed he's building Bad News

percy how do you see with that glasses flare

this was always one of my favorite friendships. good to know it wasn't ENTIRELY marisha and taliesin's real-life chemistry

either they lied about matt not voicing every npc or they got a bunch of actors that sound a hell of a lot like matt

"I don't wanna wreck your shrine :("

oh! I finally spotted it!

I still don't know what these are. wights??

JACKALOPE

you CARRY gnome? you lift gnome like FOOTBALL?

TABLE

"a trigger? ew."

I hate it

the fact that pike got hit and STILL hung on to grog AND spit blood in its face

my GIRL

I love the way they're going with keyleth and pike, with her having to step up when pike's having to deal with her own stuff and realize what she's actually capable of

grog and his improvised weapon

"don't make us fight you, too"

table :(

I'm -

now I'm wondering if that's actually going to come back or if it was just a IYKYK thing

him got FRIENDS

leaving trinket behind? immersion broken, uninstalling

as much as I love him and always will, he IS the least wieldy animal companion possibly ever

let's see if I cry at pike's departure for a third time

I deeply love this interpretation of Pike leaving to help rebuild Sarenrae's worship base

"you're their light now" oh yep whoops there go the tears

scanlan :(

it's okay buddy you'll get your character development eventually

#the legend of vox machina #tlovm #critical role #spoilers #crititag #liveblog #reaction post #lovmtag

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anyoneseenadam · 4 years ago

Note

azriel x reader mates

slow dancing plzz that would be so cute

Pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

Warnings: mentions of scars but asides from that just pure studio ghibli inspired fluff

A/n: I had this idea agessss ago and then forgot abt it but this anon reminded me!! I used Home!Az for this but you don’t need to read the series to understand it I don’t think, it’s just for world building and stuff. I’m also linking the song I imagined for it :)) hope you enjoy!!!! (Also I’m too tired to proof read so sorry if it’s shit)

——————————————————————————

You woke up to Azriel pressing kisses into your neck, his hands softly trailing along your body, so gently as if you were made of glass. You had been with him for almost a year now, the rings glinting on your hands when they caught the light, and the scars on your back no longer a weight. Instead something you showed freely, as a symbol of your strength.

You cracked open an eye and watch as Azriel lifted his head with a soft smile, a scarred hand coming to caress your face.

“Happy birthday flower,” he whispered and you giggled, kissing him deeply, no longer surprised at how easily the smile came onto your face.

“Mmm morning handsome,” you said, pushing up on your forearms as Az arranged the pillows behind you for you to lean against. He settled beside you before passing you a steaming mug of black coffee, picking up his own as he kissed your shoulder, the tip of one of the scars, your neck, cheek, and then finally mouth. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you snuggled into his side, sipping your coffee and sighing in content at the taste.

“Why are you up so early?” You asked, head tilting to look at him, swathed in shadows and with the light stubble you had come to find out grew back pretty much every third day. He ran a hand over his chin before answering.

“Had a couple things to prepare,”

“What are you preparing for?” You asked and he looked at you, horrified.

“Your birthday of course,”

“Oh yeah, whoops,”

“How did you already forget?” He asked frowning slightly, this was the first birthday he got to celebrate with you and he was determined to make it special but you didn’t seem to fully remember it was a celebration.

“It’s like 8am leave me alone,” you elbowed him in the stomach and he laughed.

“Actually it’s half seven but I’m on strict orders to have you at the town house by eight,” you frowned and he kissed you gently, taking your mug from your hands and putting it on the bedside table.

“But that gives me at least twenty minutes to make you fall apart.” He smirked wolfishly as he settled between your legs.

—

It was half eight by the time you arrived at the town house, legs slightly aching and Azriel smug as a thief.

After a slight telling off from Rhys, filled with warm expressions and then a five minute hug from Cassian followed by a ten minute hug from Mor, you were sat around the table. The plates in the middle were filled with pancakes and fruit, mugs of steaming coffee and glasses of fresh juice. There were flowers in the middle of the table and blue and gold balloons designed in an arch. You had cried when you saw it and had another long hug, this one from Feyre, Azriel and Rhys dragging you apart.

After you had eaten, head already slightly lighter from the champagne Mor had lovingly filled your glass with, you sat around the living room as you opened your presents.

You cried much more than you probably should have, overly emotional because of the kind family you had found.

Feyre had gifted you a long, sage green dress that you swore you recognised, she winked at Azriel as you opened it and you furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what they were up too.

You were given books, weapons, expensive jewellery from Amren (who decided you needed more than the crystals you kept around your neck) and enough drink to last you a lifetime, or maybe a week or two from the way Cassian was eyeing it up.

When you were finished opening your presents, none from Azriel who had sparkling eyes as he watched you, his family as in love with you as he was.

“I’m presuming you two are heading off now, what time will you be back do you think?” Rhys asked, waving his hand to dispose of the wrapping paper that was piled around you.

“We are?” You turned to face Azriel and he grinned at you.

“We are, but we’ve to get changed first. You should wear that dress,” he nodded to the green one in your lap and you smiled at Feyre.

“That’s a good idea, am I getting told where we’re going?” You asked and he just shook his head, standing as you laughed and went to hug your friends goodbye.

“We’ll probably be back around 7.” Azriel told Rhys.

“Okay well enjoy!” You finished hugging Nesta as Azriel wrapped an arm around your waist, winnowing you back to your home.

“Go get changed, you won’t need a jacket, I’ll meet you gear in half an hour,” he kissed you lightly before shoving you off in the direction of your room gently, and you giggled, excited to find out what he was planning.

—

Thirty minutes later you were stood in your new dress, your hair down and some simple brown pumps on. You saw Azriel walk towards you, holding a picnic basket in one hand as you gaped at him.

“You look so good, holy fuck!” You exclaimed, he was wearing his usual black trousers but had a loose, white shirt tucked into them, and upon further inspection an earring with a dangling emerald hanging from one ear, his face freshly shaven. “Since when have you had your ears pierced?” You asked and he laughed.

“Since yesterday, never trust Cassian with delicate things,” he joked and you furrowed your eyebrows, still confused what he was doing. “Have you got your phone?” He asked and you nodded, your phone, speaker and Polaroid camera tucked carefully into a bag you had slung over your shoulder.

“Perfect, let’s go,” he grabbed your hand and before you could ask where he was taking you he had winnowed the two of you away.

You took in your surroundings, tears forming in your eyes as you realised what was going on.

You were stood in a green pasture, the sun whinging brightly above you, a stream flowing past you and the ground completely covered in flowers. You turned to Azriel as you took in his outfit.

“I do listen when we watch movies,” he said as you let out a choked sob, “Now (y/n), may I have this dance,” he held out his hand as he took your phone from his bag, playing the theme from howls moving castle as you nodded, taking his hand as it came through the speaker you had brought.

He kept his wings flared behind him as he twirled you around, the dance fast but intimate, you felt like you were flying as he twirled you around, your dress floating in the breeze as he spun you gently. He lifted you above him at one point as you moved together, watching you with so much love before dipping you as the song ended, kissing you deeply.

When the song ended he wrapped his arms around your waist as your linked around his neck, swaying you slowly to the song. You could feel his heart beat against your own chest, interlinking you fingers and allowing the flowers that were surrounding you to grow and bloom.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth as he grinned, kissing you gently.

“Happy birthday baby,”

He stepped back to the picnic basket and lay out the blanket and food, helping you sit down as you leaned against him, taking a Polaroid of the two of you and hiding it in the basket to let it develop while Azriel stared in wonder at the technology.

“Let me give you your presents.” He said in between feeding you chocolate strawberries and you turned to him with wide eyes.

“There’s more?!”

“Of course baby, gotta treat my best girl,” he pulled a selection of neatly wrapped boxes from another bad he had brought and you smiled as you bit into a bit of baklava.

You opened a set of of deep blue lingerie first, gasping at the intricate material and looking up to see him watching you with a devilish smirk. The you found a collection of books from his world he thought you would love, more candles and crystals.

The final box wasn’t wrapped like the rest however, instead it was a plain cardboard box that said ‘from pepper’ in black writing on the top and you gasped.

“You didn’t!” Your eyes were wide as he laughed.

“Open it!” He demanded and you felt your heart pound as you carefully opened the box, pulling out another glass box which contained Tony Starks arc reactor, the words “proof that Tony stark has a heart” engraved in as your eyes watered.

“I had it made after we finished endgame,” he explained as you leapt on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, for everything,” you whispered into his neck and he kissed your head. Holding you tightly for the rest of the afternoon, red wine flavoured kisses on sun kissed skin. The two of you lay in each other’s arms, Azriel taking you apart slowly under the sun, then flying you over the hills as you squealed, gripping close to him as he dipped and twirled.

When it was finally time to retire for the day he held you closely, the picnic basket clutched in one hand as you balanced your gifts in your arms, kissing you deeply and winnowing the two of you home. You placed your gifts down gently on the bed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting gently upon your shoulder as he kissed your neck. You turned in his arms, facing him and kissed him again.

“I love you, more than anything,” you whispered against his mouth.

“I love you more,” you giggled at him as you pulled away, ready to spent the night with your new family, your beloved mate holding you close.

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf #rhysand

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