#mysterious orb friend

[quixoticrobotic]

tell me ur thoughts on hermes or persephone hadestown for that ask meme

BAM! HERMES TIME!

How I feel about this character: I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I was not a Greek Mytholgy Girlie growing up, but i do remember liking hermes. and this version of the chracter is just like the definitive hermes in my brain. link if i had to pick which versions of greek gods i like most this is THE hermes in my mind.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: no character that like canonically exist in the text but. i did make a Charon design so he can have a train boyfriend, because he deserves one

My non-romantic OTP for this character: HIM AND PERSEPHONE ARE SIBLINGS WHO DRIVE EACH OTHER CRAZY BUT LOVE EACH OTHER

My unpopular opinion about this character: so like. when i first read a fic potraying these two as siblings i thought that was such a cute idea omg???? a friend had to explain The Horrible Truth about greek gods to me and i just decided THESE TWO SPECIFICALLY are siblings

and I know some people ship hermes and persepone romantically and like. i cant stop you from doing that like whatever floats your stoat but. i headcanon them as siblings and alsso hermes as gay so its really weird and kinda uncomfy for me, y'know??? like its not bad or wrong to ship it its just not my thing

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I have this mental image of him having a fancy silver pocket watch that he checks riiiight before the major plot beats, like he's timing the story, making sure its running smoothly. because him having personal attachment to these characters but also knowing their fates is SO COMPELLING

[nyhne]

.

[coryosbaby]

we (8 billion people) are begging for dom fem reader and coryo dynamic. Why she always gotta be sub like my dom ass would slap the shit out of him ong

ʙᴇɢɢɪɴ’ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ !

Synopsis: Coriolanus will do anything to get to the top, right?

Content warning . power dynamics, loss of virginity, face riding, multiple orgasms, marking, sub!pussydrunk! Coryo, dom! Reader that’s a lil fucked up

notes: me when coryo has hair real . This kinda sucks I’m sorry

When you see Coriolanus Snow, you see a desperate man.

A boy, actually. You see a boy. A desperate, handsome, power hungry boy. You can see it in the way he towers over his peers in a sort of fake dominance, the fauxness behind his sugary sweet words directed to anything or anyone in a higher position— some even directed towards you, when that blush isn’t flushing his cheeks with a feral intensity.

As the daughter of Dr. Gaul, it’s quite easy for you to advance some of your friends in their studies. You are not only her daughter, but in a position of power yourself. You know people— and Coriolanus knows that. You aren’t dumb. You can tell by his eyes, the empty, icy blue orbs not quite telling the truth.

Coriolanus, in a way, is just like you.

Maybe that’s what intrigues you so much about him. Besides that pretty smile, or those golden curls or those muscles that make you drool, you admire his determination. You know about his poorness (not all know, but some do, as Dean Casca Highbottom once quoted to him), and you know one will go far to satiate their own greed.

It’s just a matter of how far.

—

Coriolanus walks into your lab crying, one day.

Not obviously. It’s subtle, as you demand he sit down and take off his shirt so you can stitch up his wounds. Your hands graze it softly, and he winces.

“Does it hurt?” You ask him, even though you already know the answer.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at the seat.

“Yes.”

An honest answer. He must trust you.

You hum, beginning to work on his wound with taught precision. Looking at him now, his jaw is clenching tightly and the boy is shaking so much you fear he might break.

“I killed someone.”

He states it in a remorseful tone, the tone of someone weak and pathetic.

“Someone in the games, if I’m correct?”

He turns to look at you in surprise, as if you didn’t have access to your mother’s decision of allowing him to walk in there and save his friend Sejanus. He says nothing, then. He sniffles, and cries silently.

“You know,” you state, beginning to stitch him. “I’ve killed someone too. Someone I needed to kill.” You smile, remembering the one time a student who was threatening to take your place mysteriously fell into the pit of snakes. “It was necessary.”

Coriolanus tries to stay nonchalant, but you can see the way his shoulders tense. He doesn’t say a word, so you continue.

“Was it necessary to kill the person you killed?”

He looks down at his hands. Caked with blood, knuckles drawn taught. You want to bite them.

“No,” Coriolanus answers slowly. “No, it wasn’t.”

Maybe there’s more darkness to the boy than you originally thought.

You speak to him in a much lower tone now.

“Maybe it was. You just don’t know it.” And then, “There are a lot of things certain people can do to get to the top, Coriolanus.”

Your insinuation doesn’t go unnoticed. He moves his head to look at you.

“And what would that be?”

Typical. Someone so power hungry that his head turns at the mere mention of an opportunity. You’ve got him right where you want him.

You finish up his stitches. You move around to his front, your short red skirt all of a sudden incredibly suffocating as he looks up at you with something utterly pathetic in his gaze.

“How far are you willing to go, Coriolanus?”

And that’s when, a few moments later, you get your wish: that skirt, oh so suffocating, is strewn on the floor, Coriolanus’ big hands massaging the skin of your thighs as you straddle him. Your lips press against his in a hot and heavy kiss, your tongue massaging his lips with fervor. He may be doing this for advancement, but the blonde wants you nonetheless. You can see in the way his hips grind up, the way he lets out desperate whines as you lick up his tears with your tongue. Pulling away from him, your cunt clenches when he tries to push your body down onto his crotch.

“No, Coryo,” you demand, though your voice is desperate. “I want you on the floor, okay? You’re going to taste me first.”

He hesitates, his eyes darting to your lacey panties and then to the colorful tiles.

“… the floor?”

He seems nervous, jittery. It’s not as if he’s afraid of getting dirty, or something.

No, this is something else. In the way he nervously twiddles his fingers, the way his bottom lip catches in between his teeth. It’s not as if he wants to stop— it’s more so that he’s inexperienced.

And then it hits you.

Coriolanus snow is a virgin. This big handsome boy, beautiful and delicious, has never done had sex before. He’s never felt the touch of a woman, never eaten pussy or got his dick sucked.

And for some reason, that makes you want him more.

“Oh,” you coo to him, soft. “Coryo, you’ve never done this before, have you?”

His face turns dusty pink, but he tries to deny, deny, deny.

“What? No! Of course I’m not. I’m just..” he looks at the floor, his lie clear on his face. “The tiles are cold. Dirty.”

“You’re caked with blood and sweat, sweet boy. I’m sure the tiles will be fine.”

He looks away from you, his lips drawn up into a pout.

“I’m not a virgin.” He states, merely to himself. You raise a brow, an amused smile playing on your lips as you move farther away from him.

“Then why don’t you come and eat my pussy, baby?”

His cock strains against his zipper, and you swear you can see it twitch from where you’re standing. He gulps, and with a submission you would’ve never expected, the boy drops to his knees on the tile and makes his way towards you. His shirt, unbuttoned, shows the pretty lines of his chest and his rippling back muscles, and when he gets to you, he stops at the front of your still standing knees. Satisfaction wades through you when his hands move up to the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down with shaking hands. Your smell hits his nose, makes his head tilt back as he lets out a throaty sound in the back of his throat. His tongue laves over the skin of your inner thigh, his hands going around the back of one of your knees to pull you close. You spread your legs to allow him access, your pussy lips drenched with arousal as his breath laves over you.

“Go on, Coryo,” you urge. “You want me to put a good word to my colleagues, yeah? So you better do a good job.”

He moans, his tongue finally slipping in between your folds as he tastes you. He’s messy, sloppy, and it’s good but it’s not good enough.

“God. I thought you were experienced? Huh, Coryo? Don’t you wanna make me feel good? Are you even fucking trying?”

He pulls away from you, shame in his eyes as you scold him. He pleads, his lip wobbling, his arms holding onto your legs.

“Please, I’m sorry. ‘M so sorry. Teach me, please…”

He tries to press a kiss to your cunt, but you kick him away with your foot. He falls to the ground, helpless.

“Lay down—I don’t care if it hurts your back. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He does as he’s told, all sweet and sweaty and bloody. His back hits the tile, injured but he ignores it when he watches you tower over him. You move down, pressing your knees on either side of his head. He grabs your thighs to place his mouth back on you, but you grab his golden curls in your hands and yank him back. He groans in pain, his feet kicking in a sort of pleasured resistance.

“You use your mouth when I tell you to, coryo,” you scold, watching the way his eyes flutter and only focus on your dripping pussy. “You do what I say. If I guide your head, or press myself down at a certain spot, you go along with it. Do you understand me?”

He nods, desperate to get his mouth on you, his cock thrusting into the open air.

“Good. Now, go slower. Stick out your tongue.. wider… therrre you go, baby.” His eyes focus on that one spot, his tongue hovering right over your clit. He must have read up on this a time or two. You press him closer, shoving his face into your heat as his tongue hits the swollen bud. “You see that? That’s my clit. Yeahh, stick your tongue right there…”

He groans, the taste of your sweet slick making his eyes roll back. His palms splay across your ass, digging crescent moons into the skin. You move your hips in a circular motion, giving Coryo the impression to move his tongue that way. He’s a smart boy, so he knows exactly what you’re communicating to him. His tongue moves in slow, languid circles, your slick already dripping down his chin. You can’t help but give into the pleasure he’s giving you for a moment, riding his face like your life depends on it before slowing down and stopping.

“Good, coryo. You’re being such a good boy. But you need to move your tongue down. You don’t want to play with my clit too much, because I’ll cum quick if you do.”

He makes a noise of understanding, moving his tongue down to your hole. It’s much funner this way, he thinks. The tip of his tongue can gather up the awaiting slick that’s spilling out of you, it makes your taste all the more prominent. You give him some room to experiment now, letting him move his tongue in between your clit and your hole. He catches on, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was experienced now— he’s a natural learner. Your hips grind down into him, and when he tongues your hole you use his strong nose to grind lazily against. Coryo can only breathe in your slick, his brain becoming fuzzy from his lack of air. But it’s okay. It’s okay because he’s doing good.

You can feel yourself getting close, the languid strokes of his tongue making your legs shake. You hump against his mouth, your head thrown back.

“Gonna cum,” you say to him. “Gonna cum on this slut mouth.”

He groans, his jaw working even harder now. He focuses on your clit more, save for the few times that he slurps up the slick from your hole. Your orgasm is fast approaching, your body drawing up tight.

And finally, you’re cumming on his mouth, moans spilling from your lips and Coryo’s. He’s desperate to catch all of your cum onto his awaiting tongue, his legs still moving around as he consumes you like a man starved. Your eyes roll back and you grind your hips against him as you come down from your high. Coryo pulls away once he’s satiated, looking up at you with his chin coated in slick.

You sigh, pulling your hips back to give him some air. You move your body off of him, going to your knees to watch his pussy drunk face still follow your cunt as you move. You want to return the favor, now. It’s only fair.

But looking down, you notice a wet spot soaking through Coryo’s pants.

He lifts himself up on his elbows, looking from his crotch to you. He flushes, apologies spewing from his wet lips, shaking his head.

“I tried not to. I really, really did. ‘M so sorry.”

He tries to reach out to touch you, but you just move away and down to his crotch. You unbutton his jeans, and he lets you. You look down at his red briefs, watching the white stain peeking through.

“Oh, baby. You just couldn’t help, it could you?”

You mock him, your hand palming his shaft. He lets out a whimper, his head falling back against the tile. He knows it’s too much, but he isn’t stopping you. You pull his briefs down, and boy is he big. Thick and long, all pretty and red with cum dripping down to his balls. Your mouth waters, but you figure that can wait another day. His seed can be used for other things.

You flutter your lashes at him, your hand wrapping around his shaft, jerking him to hardness again. He’s got this look, contorted and pained and pleasured at the same time. You straddle his meaty thighs, your cunt lips brushing over his cockhead, and he gasps.

“W-Wait—“ he starts, choked. “It’s.. ‘S too much—“

“Then why are you hard again?” You tilt your head at him, your movements paused because he didnt give you full permission. “Don’t you want my warm, tight pussy? Don’t you want to make it to the top?”

And that gets him going, his arousal for you and power and riches. He nods, eyes rolling back as you sink down on him. The cum from his last orgasm coats your walls and makes it easier to fill yourself up, warm white streaks dripping down his cock again.

“Oh.. oh my god,” his mouth drops open, and you’ve never heard a boy so vocal. “Please… I want it, I want it!”

You know what he’s asking for. Your stilled hips are non moving, letting him stretch you and sit heavy inside your cunt. You smile, moving your hips just a bit, letting him feel your gummy walls sucking him in. His mouth is in the shape of an o, his hair messy and disoriented. He tries to grab your tits, your hips, and with a surprising force your palm strikes his cheek haughtily. He cries out, his thighs shaking, his hips thrusting up.

“No touching,” you demand. “You don’t get to do that. Give me your hands.”

He lets you take them, and you push them far over his head as you begin to work your hips harder, faster. His balls make plop plop plop-ing noises as they hit your ass, quivering and begging for you to let them empty inside you. You move down to his neck, leaving purpleish bruises over his skin, marking him as yours. You let go of his hands so you can rest your hands on his torso, and his hands move up. Not necessarily to touch, but to hover over your tits bouncing through your tight fitted shirt. You give him permission, just a moment, to squeeze the soft skin in his hands, give them a teasing, bold little slap. You breathe shakily, his cock filling you up in ways no other has. You watch as Coryo’s head tilts back, and you know he’s close.

“Gonna cum?” You taunt, your nails scraping against his chest. He groans, nodding. “Gonna fill up my tight little pussy? Cmon, give it to me, I know you want to.”

And when he spills into you, rope after rope of warm, hot cum filling you to the brim, you let out a cry. His fingers find your clit— he’s thought this through, hasn’t he? He rubs you until you’re seeing stars and clenching around his overstimulated cock with a loud sob. He moves up to kiss you hot on the mouth.

“Did I do good?” He asks.

You smile, your hand threading your hands through his hair as you both relax against each other.

“You did very good, Coryo. I’m so proud of you.”

He breathes out a chuckle, shoving his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he winces. His wound has been withstanding a lot of pressure.

“You probably want to put some ice on that.” You suggest to him. He shrugs.

“The tile was cold enough.”

[yessirplease69]

❝Domain Expansion: Love❞

Synopsis: You are Gojo Satoru's only weakness. When the bearer of the Six Eyes discerns that your life is in jeopardy, he will do everything to keep you safe.

෴ Genre: fiction, fanfiction, mystery, dark fantasy, short story, one shot, romance, imagine.

෴ Content: husband!gojo satoru × wife!reader, jujutsu society, sorcerer!reader, angst, fluff, sensitive content, bloodshed, suggestive (mature content), satoru gojo!yandere, satoru gojo!tsundere, this takes place shortly before the shibuya incident arc, reader has a maternal relationship with megumi, pregnancy.

෴ Word Count: 3.4K

— Oi, I ain't revised it yet, so sorry if there's any mistakes! Hope u enjoy it 🤞✨

Satoru Gojo is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in existence. However, the moment he sees you, his beautiful wife, unconscious on the battlefield with nearly incurable wounds, this man's world crumbles completely. Suddenly, all of his physical and mental energy is being drained, even his enthusiasm to exorcise curses vanishes. He is motionless in place, trembling enough with wide eyes under the black blindfold, and even though they are hidden, they scrutinize all the blood leaving different parts of your body. Minutes ago, there was a stupid and arrogant smile shaping the face of the confident man all the time as he killed horrendous creatures. A countenance of terror overtakes his face now. He feels his legs weakening, his feet seem to be too far from the ground, and he remembers that he is not manipulating the space to make it levitate. He is feeling weak for not having been able to arrive in time to protect you, this emotion has intertwined with him. Especially since Satoru Gojo never even had a weakness until you came into his life.

His heart is beating rapidly and his breath is so intense that all the curses around him are impacted by the reaction of the mighty man among them. Time frenetically ceases as the strong cursed technique is creating an invisible barrier in the air and continues to repel the malevolent creatures that persist in their futile attempt to touch the bearer of Mukagen and Rokugan, while he himself is left vulnerable like a puppy that has just lost its owner.

Didn't she use the reverse cursed technique to stay healed?

Why...

"Satoru." The presence and hesitant voice of Nanami become noticeable at a certain distance. The tie-wearing sorcerer clenches his jaw, too tense as he sees you in a deplorable state. Nanami fails to try not to show all his agony. Witnessing one of his closest friends on the brink of death equals the feeling of having his heart cut with the cursed blade he carries.

Amid the scene, Satoru is lowering the blindfold covering his eyes, the white locks of hair cascading as the black cloth falls. The fabric hangs on his neck before revealing the orbs, the bright blue darkening as a storm brews within them. A lost and distressed gaze is exposed on his face, as if you somehow took his emotions along with you.

"My wife shouldn't be on that suicide mission." The tone of voice of the Jujutsu High teacher is harsh, firm in the way he usually imposes on a very serious subject. A power which makes the walls vibrate when he is arguing with Gakuganji. He is so angry.

As he melancholically walks towards you, the semi-grade 1 curses around him are exploded in a matter of seconds. There are parts of physical structures scattered and fluids like blood painting the ground at this moment, justified by the power of his ability to manipulate space.

"I should've just isolated her from the world, maybe locked her on the 15th floor of a building and then acted as if I didn't do that." A small sad smile forms on the edge of his mouth, he is imagining how you would laugh at this idea if you were conscious now. You would probably find it absurd and put him to sleep on the couch.

Damn, he misses you and wonders why it hurts so much. His intention is to act quickly to take you to the jujutsu sorcerer doctors and stay by your side the whole time while they are taking care of you. He will not leave you for even a minute, and those are the words of Gojo Satoru against anyone. If someone dares to touch you right in front of him, he will definitely be willing to kill.

The strongest sorcerer abandons these thoughts, he does not hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around your body, holding you close to his chest. The man notices the wounds on parts of your face, your jujutsu uniform is dirty with blood and so destroyed, revealing your naked skin. The sweet taste on his tongue is bitter now, his mind can only focus on the fact that you suffered from fighting until you could not take it anymore. You resisted too much because of your undeniable strength, and on one hand he feels so proud of it. He loves showing everyone that his wife is one of the best professional jujutsu sorcerers, strong like him. But you should not be dealing with this cruel world. You are the most precious thing to him.

Satoru could feel your energy miles away, making it easy to identify your presence. But now he's not sensing any cursed energy flowing according to your emotions. It's all so quiet and calm. The powerful energy emanation should be surrounding your body as it always has, but it's as if something inside you is blocking it right now, since he can't feel your aura. It's different. He will question Shoko about this as soon as he takes your body to her for analysis.

"Do not mention it to the students, especially Megumi." The request leaves Satoru's mouth like a command. He imagines how the teenage Fushiguro would react upon finding out your condition, as you had become a maternal figure by making sure to take care of him since he was so young. The spiky-haired student is on a mission with others, and the best choice is not to disclose the information as the bad news would have a big negative impact on the boy. Gojo knows you would want that too.

On the other side of the area, the grade 1 sorcerer nods in deep silence. Nanami feels the muscles strengthen beneath his formal clothes. He is aware of the gravity of the situation, the actions and the consequences. He is not one to conceal lies, but that will be an exception he makes.

"She's losing a lot of blood." The blond man pushes his glasses closer to his eyes with his hands as he gazes at the white-haired sorcerer. He sighs deeply, containing the desperation within him. "Take her out of here before it's too late."

"Thank you, Nanami."

And that was the last thing Satoru Gojo said before teleporting with you unconscious in his arms.

෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊

The night takes over the city, darkness has crept upon Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and 2 hours have passed since the sorcerer of the Six Eyes emerged in the place, insane, with you clinging to his chest and enraged enough as he searched for an available doctor. Gojo laid your body down onto the nearest stretcher, his hands dirty and consumed by your blood, staining the sheets red and making a mess. 2 hours ago he was screaming at anyone who crossed his path. At this moment, silence hangs in the air like a fog, it is peaceful again behind the school doors.

In one of the infirmary rooms, you are peacefully sleeping on the stretcher. Your chest rises and falls in a steady motion, your body completely healed through the spell cursed technique reversal performed by professionals. The minor wounds and even the most serious ones - like the rupture of your rib - had vanished, and your skin is renewed under the hospital gown you are now dressed in. Sitting in a chair quite close to you, the strongest sorcerer is comfortable with legs apart, assuming a relaxed posture as he rests the upper part of his body on your legs enclosed by the sheets. Satoru Gojo is resting, his eyelids is closed and his head supported by his own arms. He spent so much time watching you sleep that his eyes were influenced by exhaustion. Satoru has no idea of the time he spent caressing your face, running his fingers through your hair, and kissing your forehead several times before settling into his current position. His neck is turned towards the ceiling, his white hair falling naturally loose. There is only a black t-shirt hugging his torso as he had taken off the jacket of his jujutsu attire since your blood had stained most of his clothes. The exposed skin of his arms is almost glistening in the light of the room.

He has kept you safe all this time, only leaving you when he realized that everything was under control. The man always ensures to protect you at all costs, even though most of the time you don't need it. After inspecting the entire perimeter and realizing that you were safe at Jujutsu High, he went to finish the mission that was according to the superiors, just as it had been ordered to you. Since he completed the task of exorcising a special grade curse, his precious time now remains only for you. By the time indicated on the wall clock, Satoru wishes so much to take you home and he only thinks about holding you close until morning comes again. Nevertheless, Shoko was quite insistent when she said that you still require monitoring by a doctor, and that for now you should stay here. What did she mean by that?

This question echoes in Satoru's mind, suddenly he awakens fully and opens his eyes as quickly as if he felt some creature attacking him without warning. A movement of your legs under the sheets does not go unnoticed by him, his blue orbs almost popping out as they contemplate you lazily waking up from eternal rest. For him, it was truly eternal.

"I knew you were here." You whisper. Your voice is weak from just waking up, but a strong smile spreads across your face when your eyes slowly open and meet the white mane. You try to push yourself up out of bed using your arms, but your efforts are blocked by Satoru.

"Babyyy! Easy, easy." Your husband gestures with his hands, a gaze of relief on his face. You're really strong, huh? He is smiling like a little boy who just tasted his favorite mochi flavor, and you are certain you see stars twinkling in his eyes. "Gee, you're already eager to fly."

"Satoru, if you don't let me get out of this bed right now, I swear I don't know what I'll do."

"When in doubt, do nothing." He is clapping consistently to highlight the idea. "Settle that cute and pretty booty down right there, I've locked all the doors and you ain't leaving here. Now tell me how you're feeling, my lovely wife. That's all that matters to me."

"Argh." A small huff of air escapes your lips while you roll your eyes towards the ceiling, defeated enough. The man right next to you is playfully disapproving of your behavior. "I'm fine, 'Toru. You know that better than I do. My skin's just tingling from someone else's reverse technique." You report during the time you notice the scars that have formed on your arm after the outcome of the cursed method. A technique that you have the experience to perform on yourself. After all, you don't carry the title of special grade sorcerer for nothing.

"Nah, don't sweat it. I'm gonna take good care of you." There's an intense gaze that matches his words. The man emits a little chuckle as he realizes he managed to tease you with that.

"And where's 'Gumi?" You inquire, more to yourself than to Satoru. Your eyes are scanning the entire room in search of finding the black-haired teenage boy. You still ponder the king of curse's intentions towards Megumi, it consumes you and leaves you with a nagging feeling.

"You're more worried 'bout him than 'bout yourself, heh." The man raises his eyebrows, indignation stamped on them. A comical expression, almost too much. "You know that tough boy is independent, he's able to handle anything. Can you chill out for a minute, lady?" Satoru's smile broadens before he proceeds: "I took care of everything already, I told him to swing by here before heading to the dorm. Didn't go into the details, of course."

"He's probably gonna be surprised to find out we're here at Jujutsu High at this time of night... Guess I must have slept for a while, right?" You touch the skin of your husband as you place your hand on his face, and give a radiant smile as you realize that there is no invisible barrier holding you apart, even though he always deactivates it when he is with you. "Hey. Thank you for keeping things on the down low. And for everything you do for me."

"Awww! You're welcome, bae." Satoru copies the way you smile, but it is quickly replaced by a grimace. He puts his hand right on top of yours, the wedding rings on your fingers colliding with each other. "Ain't nobody care 'bout me like that. What did I do to not deserve it?"

"It's like I wouldn't be worried about you even if you could move mountains with just your own thoughts." You are rolling your eyes for the second time. Once you blink, he is staring at you with a stern and intimidating look.

"I'm the one here who got the most worried 'cause you got me feelin' this way. A guy like me shouldn't have these kinds of feelings." His voice is husky and his cold blue eyes unravel your soul, the temperature is freezing you. "Don't do that again, or I'll lose my mind and kill anyone around me." The way he adresses this, it is not a bluff. It seems like an objective he would fulfill, a mission that would not require anyone's authorization, not even the higher-ups of the Jujutsu society.

"Satoru..."

"You're trying to make me a widower, hah?" His voice becomes light again, genuine good humor returns. Now he has a broad smile on his face, the eyes are nearly closing due to that action. As if he hadn't announced something so violent just 10 seconds ago. "If I tally up how many folks got worried 'bout you, there won't be enough fingers on Sukuna's hand to count it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that." You are making amends, and he cannot resist gazing at your lips without stealing a quick kiss. A man clingy to his wife. "I had just exorcised a special grade cursed spirit when I started feeling dizzy. My head began to spin."

Satoru reveals a pensive expression on the face, one hand resting on his chin. The most powerful sorcerer is contemplating all the possibilities to uncover the reason behind that eventuality concerning your cursed technique.

"So, I suppose that might have been the reason you didn't recover yourself at that moment, considering you experienced signs of fainting. Your brain became destabilized." He pronounces, cautiously, witnessing you confirm the information. "Were you feeling like that before you got the fight started?"

"When we split up to head towards the mission I was feeling fine." The corner of your mouth moves, you display your teeth to the man in an attempt to reassure him. Gosh, he is being so serious about that. "Maybe I used up too much of my energy, I guess I hit my limit. That's it."

"Hmm, there's something more. It's interesting and surprising how your energy flow is strongest now." The white-haired man is examining you with a curious look.

"Are you saying I'm accumulating this more than usual? Is that possible?"

"It's a fact. And I'm the one confirming it, little sweetheart." There is a smug smile playing on his lips. "But at least you're feeling better right now, yeah?"

"Hell yeah, I feel brand spanking new thanks to Shoko's skills!" You are shooting fire arrows with your eyes towards the bold man. "Can you stop staring at my tits now?"

"I'm just checking to make sure everything's really okay." He speaks with such honesty, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. Satoru cannot shake off the thought of how beautiful you look to him, a very sugary sweet and his favorite. You make him feel so mushy and nearly diabetic.

However, Gojo Satoru is a natural provocateur.

"You're getting on my nerves, 'Toru."

He opens his mouth to laugh out loud, giving you a wink. You also join in his laughter as he starts poking your body several times, this real jokerster tickling you. The antics are suddenly interrupted the moment someone knocks on the door. Shoko Ieiri appears seconds later behind it, revealing only the upper part of her body.

"Sorry to interrupt the lovebirds." She smiles faintly, continuing: "I need a quick minute to talk to Satoru." The experienced doctor has a lit cigarette between her fingers, she is pointing it in your direction. You see its tip sparkling at you. "And you, go rest. Don't even think about escaping from that stretcher until we come back."

"You heard that, huh? This time it didn't come out of my mouth." Gojo has one finger pointed at the tongue he sticks out.

You gaze at them and fold your arms, simply accepting your fate.

"Alright. Goodbye." You are turning your back on them and burrowing into the blanket. "If possible, turn off the light before you guys leave."

"Going to sleep without giving me a kiss? That's not fair." Satoru is shocked enough, a pout forming on his lips and a puppy dog look in his eyes. He truly displays his emotions, reminding you of how every night Satoru Gojo questions that same thing after going to bed with you. Every night, the same thing.

"Okay, you two. I'll wait outside." The woman manages to capture the attention of both of you before the noise of her high heels against the floor fades away.

As soon as she departs, warm lips land on the side of your neck and journey up to your mouth. You need to raise your head to reach Satoru's lips, his skin burning against yours like a flame. The instant his hand wraps around the flesh of your waist and grips it tightly, you understand that he would never let you escape his grasp, or his domain expansion. He is kissing you as if he were thirsty and you were the water fountain, this man is showing you how much he requires you in his life. Preferably alive, of course. Otherwise, he will make sure of it for you.

"Hmmm, get outta here. I promise I'll make it up to you with a full kiss later." You moan at the touch, trying not to show that you're shivering just to not further inflate his already oversized ego. As if it were possible to be any bigger than usual.

"Oh, is that so? You know I'll hold you to that, babe." He growls near your ear.

At the moment the sorcerer is leaving the room, he halts on his path and gives you a long look with his blue eyes. Inside them, Satoru harbors concern.

"What's going on?"

"I'm feeling sorry for my friend." Ieiri ignores Satoru, making one's way to her desk. Instantly, a breeze from outside the window extinguishes the cigarette ember in her hand, smoke spreading throughout the room. "She is truly doomed to sacrifice her life, including putting up with your strong-willed nature for the rest of her life."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" Satoru wears a playful smile on his lips. He places his hands in his trouser pockets in a relaxed and unconcerned posture, anticipating a highly amusing joke.

"You have no idea what's happening, do you? And what's going to happen from now on." She sets aside the cigarette, burying it in the ashtray on the table. Gojo watches everything attentively before rolling his eyes, he's starting to get bored with all the fuss. "But I believe you may have already noticed that the train is off the rails."

The doctor is moving around the small armchair in the room. When Shoko sits down, she leans her back against the backrest and then crosses her legs, silently facing Satoru. The expression on the white-haired man's face is impassive. He wishes he had the ability to read minds.

"Y/N is pregnant, Satoru." The sound of Ieiri's sigh is loud. "She is carrying your child in her womb. It's extraordinary that the baby has survived."

Satoru Gojo's world crumbles once more, for the second time that day. Not only is his own world shaken, but also the entire Jujutsu society.

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You were Alastor's weakness. Something about you drew him closer into your orbit. He knew this weakness would be his downfall, but he couldn't pull back. No matter how hard he tried.

☒ Contains: fluff, gender!neutral reader, slightly angsty undertones, affectionate!Alastor, also possessive!Alastor, sleeping together (literally), implied established relationship, cuddles, one forehead kiss, Alastor undresses the reader but it is not sexual

☒ Word Count: 1,374

Alastor was alluring. 

The mystery surrounding the radio demon made the man all the more interesting to you. The moment Alastor showed up at your friend Charlie's Hotel all those months back, his gaze fixated on you.

His crimson gaze was intimidating at first. But as more time passed, Alastor's stare became somewhat of a solace to you. You felt safe around him. Especially because overtime he seemed to become possessive with you.

Any time you would get a little too close to the other patrons at the Hotel, Alastor's eye would twitch. He would be at your side in an instant- ushering you away. Keeping his hand firm at your waist as he shot the poor sinner a death glare. 

It was flattering, really. You just didn't seem to understand why. 

Why you? 

But hey, you weren't complaining. Plus, it was probably best not to question it. 

It had been an overwhelmingly exhausting day at the hotel. Charlie had you working overtime in preparation for the newcomers ready to be redeemed. You couldn't help but yawn as you trailed down the corridor. Sleepily swaying from side to side as your half-lidded eyes got heavier with each step. 

Suddenly, you felt yourself slam face-first into something- or rather, someone. 

"Careful now, my dear! If you don't watch where you're going, you could end up in a rather dangerous predicament!"

The static crackle in his voice was all too familiar; Alastor.

One of his hands came up to your waist; fingers playfully tapping along your side. Alastor's other hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up so he could get a good look at you.

"My, my! You're looking rather worn down, my dearest! Seems like Charlie's working you to the bone, hm?"

His Cheshire-like smile caught your eye before your gaze met his crimson orbs. Alastor's eyebrows were knitted in concern, making your heart flutter in your chest. 

"Ah, sorry for running into you, Al. I'm just really sleepy. It's been a long day," Your yawn cut you off before you could say more. Your arms snaked around his slender neck as you rested your head against his chest.

Alastor and yourself never discussed the gravity of your relationship. He was bad with feelings, and even worse at expressing them. What you two had was an unspoken thing, and you felt honored to be able to embrace him in this way; knowing no one else had the privilege to do so.

Alastor let out a low hum, static grumbling in his chest. The vibrations lulled you further into dreamland. That was until Alastor's hands swiftly pulled your thighs up, and on instinct, your legs wrapped around his slender waist. Your eyes fluttered open from the swift gesture, and you tilted your head to read Alastor's expression. 

"Al... what are you doing?" You mumbled softly, tightening your hold around the back of his neck as he began his descent down the hall. 

"Why, I'm taking you to our room, my dearest! Seems as though it's way past your bedtime." His radio static voice held a playful undertone as he pulled the bedroom door open. Carefully, Alastor placed you at the edge of your shared bed. 

On most nights, you slept while he worked on his plans for the next broadcast. Alastor rarely slept, but he adored the peaceful sounds of your labored breaths while you rested. Your captivating visage distracted him- only slightly, most nights while he typed up his script. You were just too adorable for your own good, too entrusting. Too tempting.

"Arms up, my dear!" Alastor quipped in a sing-song voice. Sharp gloved fingernails grazed the bare skin of your waist as he tugged your shirt over your head. You shivered slightly from the touch, a coy smile adorning your features as Alastor worked on removing your pants next. 

Alastor hummed along to a tune you couldn't quite put your finger on as he finished undressing you. You couldn't help how your heart pounded against your ribcage from the way his crimson orbs raked over your frame. Strangely, you felt like he was looking at you as if you were his prey. It sent a wave of adrenaline through your entire being.

"No need to feel demure, my darling. You are truly breathtaking! Quite a sight for sore eyes." His voice lowered slightly at the end of his sentence. Alastor made himself comfortable between your parted thighs as he began undressing himself, crimson gaze never once leaving yours. 

He allowed his overcoat and bowtie to cascade to the floor as he unbuttoned his red dress shirt, slumping it off his broad shoulders. "Thank you, Al... you flatter me too much," You chuckled softly, looking at him quizzically as he began looping your arms through his crimson button-up. 

"Nonsense, my dearest! I speak nothing but the truth." Alastor's voice softened as he fastened a couple of buttons of his shirt around your frame, leaving it rather loose-fitting on you. You smiled up at him softly as he lifted you up once more, carrying you to your side of the bed. Slowly, Alastor lifted the sheets, tucking you under them snuggly.

"There, now my darling is ready for bed!" He cooed. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before darting back up. Just as Alastor was about to turn on his heel to begin his work for the night, your hand wrapped around his wrist. Alastor slowly turned his head, gaze fixated on where your delicate fingers held him.

"Al... can you lay with me? Only for a little- just until I doze off, please?" Your pleading eyes struck something deep from within him. Alastor swore you were his biggest weakness of all, though he would never admit it aloud. Let alone allow any lowly wretch to discover his drawback; you. 

"Well, how can I deny such a sweet little request from you? You did say please, after all!" Alastor wasted no time slithering in beside you, pushing you gently toward his side of the bed. His scarred flesh was cold to the touch as your hands came up to his bare chest. Alastor stiffened slightly under your touch before allowing himself to relax into the plush mattress. 

Alastor let out a hum of approval as you drew shapes into his chest with your fingertips. "Thank you, my love," You yawned. Finally, permitting your droopy eyes to close shut for good tonight. Alastor quietly shushed you before bringing his hands to your waist, holding you firmly against him. 

He became accustomed to your touch, something Alastor never believed would be true in his case. But you were just darling; he couldn't get enough. You were his and his alone. He would make sure everyone in Hell who dared to lay a single finger on you would be the next guest on his broadcast. 

Alastor's smile deepened as he played out his little murder fantasy in his head. Your labored breaths began filling the dimly lit space. The crickets chirped quietly from beyond the forest on the other side of the room. Your legs were tangled beneath the sheets as you sleepily weaved your hands in his two-toned locks. Alastor's breath hitched as your fingernails lightly grazed the base of his ears. A crimson color coated his cheeks. 

As Alastor allowed himself to succumb to your touch, his mind wandered. Just how did he get so soft? How did he allow you to sneak your way into his cold dead heart? His feelings were conflicting. Alastor cared for you deeply, but fuck did it frighten him more than anything. He was a prideful man, cool, calm, and collected. But you caused his mask to slip ever so slightly. 

Just what was he to do about this revelation?

A small sigh crackled out of his throat as his smile slipped; a rare sight to be seen. Alastor's eyes closed softly as he rubbed small circles into your hips with the pads of his thumbs. Allowing himself to drift off into a deep slumber. 

The workload would still be there in the morning after all, but this moment with you was fleeting. So he planned on greedily allowing himself to enjoy your embrace to the fullest tonight. 

[rezwrites]

𝓝𝓸𝓬𝓽𝓮 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓼

Vampire!Rio Vidal x Reader

Word count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, consensual non-consent, blood, stalking, knife play/knife-fucking, pervy!rio, choking/breathplay, double-ended strap, classic vampire cliches

a/n: happy halloween!

Stepping into the library, you're greeted by the soft creaking of the wooden floor beneath your feet drowned out by the mellow music that plays in the background, creating a soothing ambiance. Ancient bookshelves tower towards the lofty ceiling, dust particles dancing in the slivers of sunlight that penetrate the stained glass.

You make your way to the cafe ordering your usual coffee, the strong aroma wafting through the air, mingling with the crisp scent of old books.

Scaling the winding staircase, you delve deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of books and tomes, until happening upon your favorite cozy, nook by the window that overlooks the town square. Settling in, cautious not to spill your drink, you surround yourself with the new murder-mystery series you’re ecstatic about. The hours slip by unnoticed as you’re immersed in the numinous atmosphere, unaware to the pair of eyes that occasionally lingered on you.

“Don’t you have any friends to hang out with?” Rio’s smoky voice startled you out of your trance, questioning orbs probing you. She seemingly appeared out of nowhere, wavy, auburn hair fell over her tweed jacket.

“You always ask that, Rio. The answer never changes. I just enjoy reading.” You placed your bookmarked in between the pages, closing your book.

Rio pulls up a chair at the small table, “I know. It’s just that you’re here all the time. Always staying late.”

You narrow your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows at her, ”Well, what about you? You don’t ever seem to take off or anything. Besides, don’t you have other customers to bother?”

“Everyone’s gone home.” she motions to the window behind you. Turning to see the sun long gone, the near full moon high in the sky casting its brilliant glow unto the earth. Looking back at your phone you notice it’s almost 8’oclock. Slipping your books into your bag you gave Rio a sympathetic smile, truly feeling bad for losing track of time and hindering her from closing the library.

You gazed at her as she acts uncharacteristically nervous, shifting from foot to foot. Before you could ask what’s wrong Rio blurted out, “Can I walk you home tonight?”

She hates knowing the fact that you’d rather walk home alone at night than take the bus, you had mentioned something about carbon footprint. While she admires your dedication she anguishes over the idea of harm coming your way. Since you’re always the last one to leave, she closes the library as quickly as possible to watch and make sure you get home safely.

You nodded smiling, grateful for the offer. The library was normally quiet, of course, but as Rio led you through the bookshelves it has a different more eerie, quietness to it. You just chalked it up to the fact that it’s nighttime outside. You waited by the front desk while Rio finished up the rest of her duties, returning to you surprisingly quickly, you noted. Watching the lights go out one by one you clutched your tote bag, the darkness of the library was slightly unpleasant. Before any panic could stir Rio called you over to the front door so she could lock up.

The cool air feels crisp and refreshing against your skin as you both stepped outside. Small puffs of breath flowing into the night each time you exhale. The twinkling stars in the sky seem to shimmer and dance. The night is calm and peaceful, enveloping you in a sense of tranquility. The faint rustling of leaves in the wind carrying the scent of petrichor. The streetlights lit your way as you traverse the suburban roads.

“What book are you on now?” She asked, hands in her pockets as she walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street.

“That new murder-mystery series I’ve been telling you about! The bookstore across town had it out just in time for Halloween, I’m already on the second book.” Rio just chuckled at your enthusiastic ramblings, you’ve been raving about this series since late-May.

Rio doesn’t understand why you like Halloween so much. In all her time alive and the countless Halloweens that have passed her she has never grasped it. She just doesn’t understand Halloween, much like how she doesn’t understand why she’s so drawn to you. You were just a regular customer in the beginning, and even though you both built an acquaintance you’re still just a regular person. She tells herself it’s because you’re an easy meal but if you’re such an easy meal then why hasn’t she fed on you yet?

“So, why a librarian?” You inquired

“Quite, mundane. Books make decent weapons.” She laughed before quieting again, “Honestly, books provide a solace no one else can.”

“I get that.” You nodded along, “That’s really why I’m hidden away in the corner all day. My friends all moved to the city a few months ago and even though I just settled into my new job, I still have time on my hands.”

Rio listened intently, holding your front gate open, “Books are great way to lose yourself for a while.”

“Exactly!” You both shared a laugh, coming to a stop at the bottom of your porch steps, “Thanks for walking me home.”

“It’s not a problem.” You bid her a goodnight, fiddling with your keychain trying find your house key. Before you could enter your home she calls out, ”Do you want to go on a date?”

Spinning on your heel, shock evident on your face. Rio’s eyes widened at your shocked expression, clearing her throat, “I mean I might as well close for Halloween. We could watch horror movies all night. What better way to take a break, right?”

“I can make us dinner!” You instantly piped up, so many recipes already swimming in your mind, “it’s the least I could do walking me home.”

“Nothing with garlic, please.” She requests, playing coy. Faking an embarrassed chuckle, “I’m actually allergic.”

Bidding an each other a final goodnight, Rio watches you disappear inside your home. Hearing the click of the lock Rio checks her surroundings, before dipping around the back of your house. The lights in your bedroom already on by the time she crouches in your bushes. Peering through the sheer curtains of your bedroom window Rio watches you undress, noting every curve, dip, and mark on your body. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of mapping your body, it’s her favorite thing since developing this routine over the last month. She knows it’s morally wrong, but when she sees your angelic body she doesn’t dare stop herself from indulging in fantasies.

As you step into the shower Rio’s mind wanders to the thought of her hands roaming your warm body. Images of you shaking in bliss underneath her, arousal clear in your blood as she tastes you dance in her mind. Rio grunts lowly when you emerge from the bathroom instantly turning everything off and crawling into bed, upset she isn’t able to gaze at you a little longer. Rio makes her way home after listening to your breathing slow, confirming you fell asleep.

—

Buzzing with excitement when Thursday finally rolls around, you don’t hesitate to log off of work the second the clock hits four. After queuing up the movies for tonight you dash into the kitchen to get started on dinner and desert.

Rio stands in your walkway, staring at the fake cobwebs hanging from the porch banisters. After knocking she counts the fake spiders in your door wreath as she waits for you to answer the door.

“Hey!” You open the door with a cheerful smile on your face, “come in, come in.”

“All deck out for Halloween I see.” She closes the door behind her taking in all the decorations around your house. Little skeleton animals, pumpkin, and witch decor littered every inch of your living space, “My god, it’s like Halloween threw up in here.”

“I made bloody brownie bites for dessert!” Rio rounded the corner into the kitchen with her eyebrow turned up. Setting the brownies on the rack you turned to her, “Brownies with a little cherry filling. I also found a lasagna recipe that doesn’t have garlic in it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Rio walked closer to you, the rich smell of tomato sauce and cheese filling the kitchen.

“No. You’re my guest, just sit and relax.” Pulling a chair at the table gesturing her to sit. Setting two glasses of water on the table.

"Are you really wearing plastic fangs right now? They look so realistic!” Taking in her dark makeup noticing the sharp canine teeth poking out.

She took in a sharp breath, holding a hand to her chest in offense. "These are my real teeth! This is just the one time a year nobody freaks out about them!”

You laugh, “Sure, sure.” Fixing two plates you place one in front of her, sitting down. A few minutes of silence passed before you spoke up again, “So do you sleep in a coffin or?”

“No. Ugh, those stupid movies never get vampires right!” She breathed out exasperated. She takes a sip of her water, “Call me crazy but I actually live above the library. There were a few rooms on the third floor, so I decided to renovate them as a living space.”

Cackling you held your stomach as it starts to cramp, “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you living at the library. Your commitment to the vampire character is convincing.” Taking a deep breath you wiped a tear from your eye.

“Dinner was delicious.” Rio complemented, handing you her plate, “How about we skip the movies for right now.”

“What did you want to do instead?” You placed the dishes in the soapy water, grabbing a towel to dry your hands.

“Let’s go for a walk. We can come back and finish the night with the movies.” Rio suggested, pushing her chair back in the table. Agreeing, you grabbed a light jacket before heading out.

—

The streets were alive with costumed children and their parents darting from house to house, colorful outfits glowing in the moonlight. The air was filled with the laughter and excited chatter of eager trick or treaters, blending with the rustle of leaves under their feet. The street lights were off letting the glow of Jack-o'-lanterns illuminating the street, casting eerie shadows on the houses and adding a touch of mystery to the atmosphere. The feeling of anticipation hung in the air.

“I’m sure the werewolves are having fun.” Rio stated, gawking at the large full moon.

“What?” You casted a pointed look at her, “There’s no such thing.”

“You really don’t believe in them? Just werewolves or all monsters?” Her face contorts with confusion. She’s not sure why she’s displeased. The fact that you don’t believe in the supernatural despite all your love for Halloween, and folklore upsets her.

“Like ghosts, spirits, stuff like that yeah, but vampires, werewolves, that’s where it gets tough.” you notice the streets getting quieter the longer you two walked. Rio perked up once you neared the graveyard. Running ahead she pushed open the grand metal gate, creaking as it gave way.

“Why in the world would we go in there?” You freeze on the sidewalk, goosebumps breaking out all over.

“Because it’s spooky,” she teased, bringing her hands up making them into claws. Cackling she turned, already walking onto the grounds. Huffing you followed after her eyes downcast, making sure not to trip over any tree roots protruding from the ground. A knot of dread slowly twisting in your stomach as you traversed the rows of tombstones. Rio gasps turning back towards you, “I hope no zombies wake up while we’re here.”

“That’s not funny.” you admonished, pressing a hand to your chest, attempting to soothe your racing heart. Glancing around, wide eyes darting all over, you hear Rio behind you, “Let’s play hide and seek.”

“What! no.” Turning to find yourself all alone, Rio nowhere in sight. How did she even disappear so quickly and quietly? It suddenly dawned on you how much silence there was, save for the crickets and occasional owl hoots. Shouting her name you searched around for her, quietly apologizing to each headstone you passed. Each passing second fear and anxiety welled up in your chest.

Frantically combing every inch of the graveyard, tears welled in your eyes. Coming to halt you let the tears fall, gathering your scattered thoughts. Fear turning to anger when you heard Rio’s laughter. Glancing up you spot her hanging upside down from a tree branch, your fists balling realizing that she just watched you run around the graveyard like a crazy person. Jaw clenching, you yelled at her, “Get down here, Rio! Stop kidding around!”

Rio stopped laughing, her face deadpanned. Dropping to the ground Rio stared you down, not uttering word as she advanced. Your blood froze when Rio’s eyes turned red, lips curling into a sinister smile, baring sharp fangs. Frozen in place, captivated by her hypnotic gaze. Time seems to slow as Rio leans in, breath brushing against your earlobe, “Your turn to hide.”

Immediately turning tail, you bolted out of the graveyard, your blood-curdling screams filling the air. Your breaths heave, heart pounding against your ribcage as adrenaline courses through your veins. Feet hitting the ground as fast as your body could take you, not caring how people looked at you as you ran past them, you just needed to get home.

Rio watched you run away, laughing to herself as she started the long way to your home. Now that you’ve invited her in your home she can come and go as she pleases. By the time she reached your backyard she was surprised you hadn’t made it home yet. Shimmying a library card under your window, she slides it open. Climbing into your bedroom, she heard the lock of your doors clicking. Cautiously closing your window she slipped behind your door, lying in wait.

Checking to be sure all the windows and doors were locked, drawing all curtains you made your way to your bedroom. Turning your on the bedroom light, you felt the cold steel of a blade on your neck. Rio grabbed you tighter, pressed the blade closer to your throat, her singsong voice floating through your ear, ”I found you.”

The blade of her dagger dangerously glinting in the light, swiftly slashing through your shirt. Peeling off your bra, Rio held you down on the bed. Hand on the middle of your back, wrestling off your pants. Hastily ridding herself of her own clothes Rio was thankful she’d forwent undergarments tonight. Every swing of her strap causing the end inside of her to press against her walls, sending a delicious shiver up her spine.

Flipping you on your back Rio caught both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. Trailing the knife down your neck and across your collarbones, she stops the knife nicking the skin above your breast. Rio made a series of rushed, small cuts down your torso, the sweet sting of each one increasing the wetness between your thighs.

Rio fixated on blood bubbling up to the surface of your skin. Moaning each time she dipped down, warm tongue lapping at the fresh wounds. Rio’s eyes lit up with enamor as she licked your blood from her lips.

She dragged your panties up pinching your clit, jerking your hips towards her. The pulse in your clit growing stronger as she presses the blunt side of her blade on your bundle of nerves.

“Look at this mess. It’d be too easy to just-” voice trailed off as she gathers your slick on the hilt of her dagger. Head falling back as Rio lines the handle to your entrance. A pleased hum passes your lips as the icy steel stretches you out.

You shiver under Rio’s predatory gaze, her hand moving to cover your neck, lightly squeezing the sides. Head feeling light and fuzzy as she thrusts the hilt inside you, the curve of the handle passing over that soft, spongy spot perfectly. She can feel your pulse fluctuating under her fingertips as she tests the pressure around your throat.

Yelping at the sudden emptiness in your core, you squeaked watching her bury her dagger into your headboard. “Absolutely soaked,” she husked out spreading your juices on her shaft. Holding your panties to the side she inched into you, both of you moaning in unison. Sharply inhaling when Rio sped up, deft fingers squeezing your neck again.

It’s such a power trip she thinks, gazing down on you. Your life is in her hands, but your face shows pure blissed-out pleasure. Releasing her hold on you she uses her thumb to push your head aside. Teeth scraping against your earlobe, “Depraved slut.”

Her hips thrusted at a near inhuman speed, nails digging into her wrists as her gripped tightened. Pussy clenching around Rio’s cock, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the thought of bruises forming on your throat. She swallows your moans, sneaking her other hand between your bodies, thumbing your clit. Each hard thrust sending electrifying, shockwaves through you, heels digging into her back. The squelching sound of her cock pounding you fills the room, mixing with the filthy moans you’re both emitting.

White spots blotted the edges of your vision, warmth rolling over you in waves. Shrieking, a sharp pain radiating as her teeth pierce your skin. Hearing her sucking on your neck realization hits you like a ton of bricks that Rio wasn’t masquerading as a supernatural creature for the night. Dragging your nails across her back leaving red trails in their wake, a loud moan escaping her. Rio latched on tighter, tasting your delicious blood as you convulse in her arms.

She doesn’t want to let go, wanting to stay in this moment for the rest of her eternity getting drunk off your taste. You weakly try to push her off as she licks at the hot liquid trickling down your neck.

Sucking in a deep breath when she relaxed the hand on your neck, her face remaining buried in your neck. Rio stilled inside you, collapsing on you. Shifting around to get comfortable, feeling the sheets soaked through beneath you. Rio found the way your heartbeat gradually slowed to normal rhythm calming, reveling in the way it grounded her. She felt your chest rise before you spoke up, “I know we talked about the- the sex and everything, but you’re actually a-”

“I tried telling you before.” Rio interjects, voice unusually small.

“I thought you were kidding! I thought you were alluding to your Halloween costume and was just super committed! You’re an actual-,” facepalming yourself, “Oh my god. Am I going to become a vampire?”

“No.” Rio rolled off you as you shot up, eyes bulging as you look at her. She figured you’d be screaming more, freaking out. You opened your mouth to ask another question but she beat you to it, “No, I’m not going to kill you.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you looked away from her, fingers reaching up to feel the puncture wounds she left. Watching you flinch, she propped herself on her elbows, “…Are you alright?” Rio felt more vulnerable with each passing second of thick silence, mentally trying shove herself in a grave. Boring holes in the back of your head, awaiting any form of reaction from you.

Thoughts running a mile a minute, too quick for you to grasp and focus on one. Despite Rio being a vampire she still felt like a haven. It shouldn’t be like this, but it is. Exhilaration, that a creature that’s portrayed as this evil being can deliver you such a cathartic experience. Fear, shame, embarrassment, feelings of the like surrounding the erotic fantasies you have, gone with Rio around. The ache in your neck and core solidified one thing: you wanted this again. The thrill of the chase as you ran home, arousal already forming knowing what awaited you the second you locked your doors. Eventually you straightened up, turning back towards her, an excited grin on your face, “Let’s fuck in the library next year!”

Rio’s eyes darkened, a smirk on her face, “Why wait?”

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Girl Who Cheated Death

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - There was no one in any universe who would dare to approach you without fear, that is until you meet a certain Shadowsinger. Once stone cold and vicious in your own right, you soon come to realise that perhaps all it takes is a pretty male with hazel eyes to set you free.

Warnings - kinda dark reader, stone cold, lots of sass, swearing, drinking, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of trauma, some subtle sexual tension, everyone being afraid of the reader because she's giving death vibes x

Word Count - 8.9k

Physical descriptions are present in this fic.

Based on this ask! Thank you @cleverzonkwombatsludge for the request 🫶🏻

"Can I offer some criticism?"

"If it's constructive..."

"You're an idiot," the unwinding braid at your side loosened more with each twist of your fingers, and to your right, through the reflection of the recently polished vanity mirror stood Amren, your closest friend that you had gained when you had first moved to the Night Court one hundred years ago.

It had been no accident that you and Amren had met, in fact, she had been the one to seek you out after a rather intriguing show you had directed at Rita's. Amren watched man after man almost break their necks to look at you, the most beautiful resident of the Night Court, and in all of Prythian. Hair that reminded Amren of a black widow swayed behind you in perfectly loose curls, it was sinfully dark and shone in the faelight, shimmering so brilliantly that Amren had thought that threads of silken web were weaved between each glossy black strand.

Amren also remembered the dress you had worn, it was short and tight, the fabric hugged every curve of your body and kissed the thighs that were connected to those incredible taut calves. If looks could kill then the Night Court would certainly fall to its knees.

It wasn't what you looked like that caught Amren's attention, however. It was the way that every single person in that room shrunk away from your stare, a stone iced glare that was void of any life, all that lay in them was ire and boredom, which quite perfectly summed up what you felt about life in general.

The firedrake sought you out, coming by the gallery you had opened in the city which held an array of carefully collected artworks and mysteriously rare antiques, just to get a glimpse of you, to see the one who had been the first to pique her eye in centuries. Amren had not been disappointed by you. There was something about the way you carried yourself that attracted her to your aura, the perfect posture and slightly hooded eyelids that encased walnut orbs that glimmered gold in the sun. That wasn't all, no, it was also the way you spoke, so sultry and dark, but there was a certain elegance your words. A siren luring souls to the darkest depths of the ocean floor.

Rhys had once suggested that you'd never truly age considering you never smiled. That had earned him a rare small quirk of your lip, and he considered it to be his greatest achievement of his life to date.

It had made sense that the Night Court had been the place where you had chosen to settle, it had moulded very well with you, to the point where Day had become an infantile dream that was floating away in your subconscious. Forgotten.

Despite being a collector of sorts, Amren had soon found out just how far your talented talons stretched, you were incredibly well versed in old dialects, ancient symbols and traditions, a talent that Rhys had soon asked Amren to take advantage of since he was too afraid of you to ask you for aid himself.

Seemed as though the terrifying High Lord of the Night Court was actually scared of something.

"How exactly am I an idiot?" Amren enquired with darkened orbs that kept on glancing downward to the scars that littered the bare spine from the licks of Illyrian whips. They were slightly raised and pallid in comparison to the rest of your healthy glowing hue.

Untethering the last of your braid, you ran your nails over your scalp and pulled slightly, shivering at the relief that surged through you as your hair fell unbound down your spine. All the taut tension in your body quickly evaporated. Silently, you turned on your seat to face your friend, "You're asking me to revamp my evil lair to make it more welcoming for your odd little family," you said incredulously and unblinking, "You're an idiot."

Amren wasn't exactly asking you to make your own home more appeasing to the Inner Circle, she simply meant the private office that Rhys had bestowed to you for whenever he needed your help with something, and it had become a place that you frequented often. It was located in the library of the House of Wind so that your nimble fingers had access to all of the books and ancient texts they needed.

The only settling thing about that office was the view of the golden valley of Velaris, of the snow-capped mountains that loomed to the north. Everything else filled any resident with dread. Tall well-loved candles were scattered about the space, cloths stained with millennia old text hung from the ceilings, tomes lay splayed open on the desk and centre table, each depicting some form of terror. To you, your work was fascinating, studying the origins of evil and all of its forms, to others it was petrifying.

It wasn't odd to find the firedrake confined in your apartment, whether you be with her or not, glass of red in hand and reading some sort of research text. Amren often didn't even glace up at you when you entered your own home, all she noticed was your shadow gliding across the room, drowning out the golden candlelight.

"Rhys would spend more time with you if you did. He's actually really insightful, he could help you with your study."

"Why would I want to spend time with him?"

A poor attempt from Amren to try and push you into a monotone civilian life yet again.

"Fine," Amren rolled her coiling silver eyes and tutted, "Are you ready? Rhys doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Irritation was rife in her voice, you clasped a dainty blood diamond around your neck and allowed your shoulders to drop, "I don't particularly care for your High Lord's time." Rhys was not your High Lord and he knew it, he knew that you couldn't be ruled over and would never answer to anyone but yourself. A queen of her own kingdom. But one he very much wanted to keep on his side.

"Y/N," Amren bit, and you too tugged back the smirk that was quaking in the corners of your mouth.

Meeting her fiery gaze in the mirror, you rolled your head to the side in one swooped graceful motion, "I'm teasing, Amren." Rising from the bench before the vanity, you felt the silken hem of your dress brush against your feet. It was a simple garment, black buttoned up fabric, a deep v-neckline that showed the beginnings of your cleavage, short and soft floating sleeves that cuffed above your elbows.

Smirking with approval, Amren moved to the front door of your ornately beautiful apartment, a personal haven of yours that was vastly different to the office at the House of Wind. Brunette carpets thick enough to sleep upon covered the space, the walls were a shade of milked coffee, warm and inviting, and the ceilings were a soft cream and coved with intricate carvings. A large fire bundled into the far wall at the centre of a wall of windows, before it was a onyx seating area of plush deep seated sofas and armchairs.

It was charming. One of the best views of Velaris was from your living room window.

Leaving your home with the click of the lock, you followed after Amren, falling into place beside her as you walked up the winding paths to the House of Wind. The feeling of people's eyes trailing you had become something you'd become rather accustomed to, they were astounded by your beauty, amazed by how someone could look so breath-taking yet so horrifying.

The House of Wind was as it always was, incredibly luxurious in its own right and shivering at your entrance. It wasn't like the house didn't like you, it just struggled to adjust to your energy, it was starkly different to the usual joy it mostly held.

The echoing voices halted when you rounded the corner, your scent of jasmine and sandalwood soaring through the air, infecting their oxygen. Violet eyes appeared before you within a couple of moments, always wary, always laced with the tiniest bit of fear, "Thank you for meeting with us."

"Well," your eyes sliced across the room, absorbing every face and feature and feeling somewhat intrigued by a face you had never seen before. Tall and tan, shadows swirling at his shoulders, large wings that he had mindfully tucked behind his back, and shiny black hair that fell over his forehead. Rhys stood before you waiting for you to speak, your eyes found his and you hummed, tapping your finger against your clothed thigh, "Anything for the firedrake."

A chortled scoff flew from Cassian and Rhys stepped aside slightly to expose you to the general who soon choked on the air, "Something funny, Cass?" Rhys asked with a smirk, he motioned for you to find a seat and make yourself comfortable.

A deep rooted velvet armchair called to you and you moved to it, paying little attention to the hazel eyes fixated upon you. "No, not at all," Cassian sent you a tight-lipped smile which made Nesta grin, enjoying his discomfort nearly as much as you.

Flames danced in your eyes, the fire burning brightly in the fireplace that welcomed your gaze as though it was a mirror. Turning your head, you folded your hands over your thighs, feeling the exposed skin that lay there from the seamless slit in the fabric.

"How about you skip whatever small talk you were going to offer and get to the point, Rhysand?"

Widened pupils possessed Nesta's gaze, she leaned back into her seat and smirked, a wickedly feline feature, and spoke, "I like you."

No words left your lips, you held her gaze and felt your darkness bubble at her determination to withstand your stare, but she soon stood down; though, she continued to watch you, noting your posture and the way you held yourself. Nesta was in awe.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Straight to the point as always, y/n."

"Am I supposed to be anything but?" Rhys sighed, a headache already forming at his temples from your dry sassing. Perhaps he needed some of that powder that Elain had gifted to Azriel last solstice.

The High Lord pinched the bridge of his nose and slid his hand to rest on Feyre's knee, a sweet gesture, "We need your help with some particular text that none of us can translate. If anyone is going to be able to decipher it then it would be you."

"What text?"

Boredom coiled in your gut, "It's the story of Koschei, we believe that there may be a key hidden within the text that could help us to defeat him." The coil loosened and your eyebrow twitched, and a dark spot to your left caught that millisecond-long expression, sliding back to its master and humming in his ear.

Koschei was a death-god, a personification of evil. To have your hands on such a text would more than aid your research. It would make you infamous in the underworld of Prythian.

"Is it in my office?" Rhys straightened and nodded stiffly; rising to your feet, you brushed down the pleats of your skirt, "I'll take a look."

Before you could move from the room, a gentle clearing of a throat sounded from behind you, beckoning and hesitant. Slowly, you turned around, noticing how Rhys was now standing, "I would like Azriel to help you with this. I believe that your collective talents will be able to decipher the message faster."

Of course. The illustrious Shadowsinger that you had never had the displeasure of meeting. Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court.

"Studies have shown that I didn't ask for your opinion, High Lord," if anyone else had used the mocking tone toward his title they would have been misted on the spot. But not you, never you. Rhys was too afraid that Hell would rise from your ashes and devour the continent if he even tried it.

A cool kiss slithered around your ankle, and when you peered down you found a shadow curling there, caressing your skin and shivering in delight. Your eyes followed the tendril back to its owner who was clearly mentally scrambling to pull his shadow back to the others. Hazel collided with molten gold and you found yourself yearning for the shadow to return.

"I have to insist," his voice wavered and it didn't go unnoticed by you.

Amren sucked in a breath, shrinking further into her spot wedged between Mor and Elain, knowing that she told had told Rhys multiple times to never order you to do anything.

"What do you fear, Rhysand?"

"I think that you'll find that the word fear is not in my vocabulary," he doubled down and you couldn't blame him, he was an alpha protecting his territory.

Ticking your head to the side, your eyes dragged up his body, and you smirked, a real one that made his blood chill, "Perhaps. But it's in your eyes," not giving him a chance to respond, you turned to Azriel, finding him looking up at you with an almost bewitched possession in his eyes, "Stay out of my way."

Not another word was spoken as you stalked from the room, the only sound being the footsteps of Azriel who had speedily followed after you. Neither of you spoke on the descent down to the library, even that vast space of aged excellence watched you enter; you almost floated across the room, a grace in your steps that Azriel had never seen before, and it had him needing to know more.

How Azriel had never met you astounded him, he would certainly remember a face like yours. It was one that held the power to haunt his dreams.

As promised, the texts had been left on your desk, and you moved to them instantly, tracing your fingers down the bound leather spine and examining the golden embossment, picking apart the symbols in your mind. Rounding the large oaken desk, you pulled the text with you, opening the cover and not even flinching when it thudded against the desktop.

Thick waves fell over your shoulder and you mindlessly tucked them back from where they had originated, not caring about the effect it had on the Shadowsinger who noted how your fingers grazed against your collarbone on its return to the ancient pages before your insightful eye.

"I've never been in here before," a weak attempt to strike up conversation with you. Azriel had heard much about you from Cassian and Rhys, of how awful terrifying you were, how you intimidated every single person that crossed your path and seemingly enjoyed the terror of it.

Azriel understood it, there was something about you that was unnerving, that he could understand why people were uncomfortable in your presence, but he only found himself in wonderment of it.

Without looking up, you turned the page gently and muttered, "Why would you? It's my office."

Displeasure was prominent on your tongue, the taste of it swelled in the muscle but you didn't allow it to be vile, you pulled the bile back and silently choked on it.

Azriel drank in the room, the begging to be lit candles and the large arched windows, the aged tapestries of history that were clearly too valuable to display in your gallery, "The creation of the cauldron," the words pulled you from the text and your gaze narrowed in on the Shadowsinger rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands folded neatly at his back.

"How do you know that?"

The Shadowsinger circled to face you and took a tentative step to the edge of the desk, "I've seen a couple of the same markings in a cave. This is the original?"

"Yes," there were many deplorable things you had taken part in to secure your collection as the most impressive in the entire universe, some things you weren't proud of, others, you were very much so.

"How did you get it?" Azriel admired the piece, a depiction of Prythian's creation that no one would ever guess was as important as it was, all because they couldn't read the first language of the fae.

Sitting back in your seat, you placed your magniscope on the surface, an ornate tool used by curators and researchers alike to read between the lines of existence, and watched him, "There are some things in this world that would make even your blood burn, Shadowsinger."

The way you said his name had a shudder flickering down his spine, your tone was sultry and low, like you knew of his darkness and had decided that it was a star in comparison to whatever lived within you.

A golden glow shrouded the room from the setting sun kissing the mountain peak, it washed over you, its light glittering your skin with shimmer, turning your eyes into burnished gold. The blood diamond around your neck cascaded speckles of its hue across the ceiling, and your chest rise an fell with even, calm breaths.

Forgetting the reason why he stood before you, Azriel allowed himself a moment to examine you, the beautifully loose hair that swam down that perfectly curved spine, the eyes and cheekbones, the full lips and the indents of your collarbone. You were by far the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

The stolen moment wasn't one that escaped your eye, a gentle heat pooled at your cheeks and you had no option but to look away, clearing your throat and pouring your attention back into the text in front of you.

Coiling the magniscope in your fingers, you hovered it over the written symbols on the page, moving it in line with every line and swirl you could see. It was a heavy object, and you hadn't been surprised when Amren had mistook the glass orb as a bookend.

"What do you know of Koschei?" Azriel found a place in the seat opposite you, his shadows danced from his shoulders and began to inch toward you, and he made no move or command to stop them.

"There are many legends," you began, craning your neck to peer at the top of the adjacent page, "Attacking his physical body won't harm him, he has split his soul into parts and placed them in other living creatures or sentient objects. Destroy the objects and you have a better chance of ending him."

Azriel angled himself forward, propping his elbows on his knees, "How do you know that?"

Again, without looking up, you spoke, "When you spend a lot of time in the Underworld of this continent you pick up a few things. You also learn how to decipher the truth from the lies."

Another gentle turn of the page.

The taupe scribing possessed the faintest words written in a pale gold ink, so miniscule that any other magniscope wouldn't be able to see it. Though yours wasn't just any ordinary magniscope, it was forged with the stardust of a fallen star, a star that used to burn the brightest in the northern skies.

"You know of the Underworld?"

For a moment, your gaze flickered upward, golden pools peering through your long thick lashes, "Very well."

It wasn't surprising that you had dabbled in the darkest reality of the continent, your knowledge was not cheap, and it wasn't knowledge that you could gain from books alone. Azriel wondered how many souls you had stripped from the earth on your quest for knowledge, perhaps it would cause his count to pale in comparison.

"I could only imagine what someone would do for this level of knowledge," his voice lingered, questioning, requiring to know every corner of the mind locked within the female in front of him.

"Are you trying to compare body counts, Spymaster? If so, I assume I would be disappointed with your lacklustre attempts."

Then you were back on the text, scribbling words down in the notepad to your left without even glancing to it, focused to the point where no letter strayed from the lines. But you still felt his eyes on you, waiting, scouring your face and trying to figure out why exactly he had never crossed paths with you before considering your occupation.

"Don't you have some doe-eyed damsel to go and rescue?"

Even with the fleeting few minutes spent with the Inner Circle, you saw how Elain Archeron looked at him, all love-sick and hopeful. Elain was a perfectly mundane being, content with all things bright and pretty. It was sickening.

Biting back the urge to roll his eyes at the thought, Azriel shuffled into his seat, seemingly getting more comfortable, "No."

"Shame," you mused, impressing Azriel with how you scribed, analysed and spoke all at the same time. A very powerful mind was dwelling within you, and it had his attention.

Azriel was finding your dry words quite amusing, though he was spending his time sat before you in silence, sketching every inch of your face and body to his memory.

A soft tug pulled at your brows, and if Azriel wasn't fixated upon you then he surely would have missed it. He let a minute pass, a minute where the pace of your analysation quickened alongside the rate of your writing. Again, your hair fell over your shoulder, clearly bothering you but you couldn't move it, not when you were so entranced, and it took all of his will to not do it for you.

Questioning you on your findings, your eyes held a certain twinkle to them as you explained your theory. That Koschei had in fact fractured his soul and implanted the pieces of it within other living creatures and objects, and that to hunt those objects down was the only way to be able to banish him from the world.

"Run and tell your master," you told him after you were done explaining how to find the first host of Koschei's soul, "I'm sure he will be thrilled with your input."

Which was very little, Azriel hadn't done anything other than invade your space and make himself far too comfortable, but he didn't argue, he simply stood from his seat and bowed, taking your hand in his marred digits and raising it to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles and thanking you before leaving you to your silence.

The ghost of his touch lingered on you skin, as did the licks at your calves from the shadows he hadn't cared to reign in upon his exit.

It was then that a small yet foreign warmth pooled in your chest, you rubbed the spot gingerly and sighed, returning to reality and shaking your head back to sense. Finding peace in the confined corners of your mind.

The next instance where you found yourself in Azriel's presence had been one warm afternoon in the library.

Velaris had been scorched by the sun, the summer breezes swept across the city, and you had decided to wear a simple grey dress that afternoon, it was lightweight enough to flow in the gentle caress of the wind but still managed to keep to your usual elegant yet sharp style.

Since that insisted couple of hours in your office a couple of weeks ago, you were ashamed to admit just how much your thoughts drifted to the Shadowsinger you had seen lurking in the corners of your consciousness. The darkness was lingering in the farthest reaches, as if it didn't wish to be discovered by you but couldn't steer itself away.

The ladder beneath your feet creaked as you reached across the shelf, tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you strained slightly, your fingers barely brushing against the spine of the book you needed. A familiar cool presence washed over you, trailing up your skirt and arms and extending from your fingers to remove the book from the shelf and place it in your awaiting grasp.

Peering back to the ground, you saw Azriel stood at the foot of the ladder with his hands resting at his sides; balling the skirt up in your fingers, you used the railing the lower yourself back to the earth and paused in front of Azriel who had a brow quirked in curiosity, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," his voice matched your own but he found himself faltering when you went to walk by him. His voice called out to you, "I just wanted to let you know that we found the first host."

You paused your steps and turned, "And?"

"It's destroyed," and clearly the gravity of it weighed on him, he had to have known that Koschei wasn't exactly going to make the objects easy to destroy, but it still didn't mean that it wasn't traumatising.

Understanding what he meant, at the life he had just taken to protect to continent, you took a step toward him, an olive branch of sorts, "Are you alright?"

Itching with confusion, Azriel nodded slowly, "I didn't think you cared."

You shrugged, nonchalant, and scuffed the heel of your sandal against the floor with your gentle kick, "I don't."

Azriel hummed, a serene grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "I think that you do," Azriel took a step forward and noticed how your back straightened and shoulders rolled back.

The book became plastered to your chest, "Whatever you think is of little concern to me."

Two weeks had passed, two weeks of not only searching for the first host of Koschei thanks to your wildly impressive knowledge, but two weeks of Azriel doing all he could to gain your attention. It had been difficult to see you at Rita's, swaying to the music without a care in the world beside Amren, and not be able to touch the skin that seemed as smooth as honey.

His shadows had been following you, reporting back to him of how you spent your days cooped up in your apartment reading or in your office analysing another ancient text. They reported no men, nothing untoward or damning, they simply whispering to him how pretty you were. They had been bewitched by you, utterly obsessed with everything that you were, and he couldn't blame them.

Turning on the balls of your feet again, you entered your office, leaving the door open in silent permission that Azriel basked in as he followed you inside, "I'm trying to talk to you, y/n."

A soft hum vibrated against your lips. Placing the book once glued to your chest on the centre table of the room, you faced Azriel once more. The office was cold, as was every chamber built below the main infrastructure of the house, and Azriel wondered how you could be so at home within it.

It was entrancing how a room so dark and full of evil texts and passages could make you look so ethereal. The glossed black hair he had often dreamt of running his fingers through was tied back in a loose thick braid, whisps of hair fell from the vines of it and settled over your eyes. Ornate jewellery twinkled in the pale sunlight, swirls of gold encased your fingers and wrists, and a coiled necklace that resembled a scaled serpent glided around the base of your neck.

"What would you like me to say? I did tell you how to find the first host so that you could destroy it. I don't require updates, Azriel," the movement of your tongue as you said his name for the first time had his resolve withering.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to warm ourselves by the glow of your I told you so."

Then, as though the sun was blessing the earth after eons of slumber, your lips widened into a grin, one big enough to expose your perfectly white teeth and Azriel felt the dark storm clouds in his soul splinter. A golden threat soared through him, reaching out to you and entwining itself with the thread bristling at your centre.

Sculpted fingers drifted over that spot in your chest that had become increasingly hard to ignore and you inhaled sharply. Azriel's pupils had dilated, they were wide and frenzied, and his hand was outstretched to you.

The smile on your face dropped.

"You're my mate," Azriel nodded at the words you had managed to utter, the same ones that had become lodged in his throat.

Heat prickled at his skin, nerves seeped into his bones. You were so unreadable, and Azriel was scrambling his thoughts to clear so that he may be able to figure out how you felt about it. About being fated to be his.

Azriel had learnt from Amren how unaffectionate you were, how much you hated anyone touching you. It was because of the Illyrian camps you had visited in your younger years where they had thought you a witch, and had punished you for it in a barbaric way; the evidence still lingered on your skin in long angry streaks, and Amren had admitted that night is what spurred on your need to understand the roots of evil.

It was understandable, to spend a lifetime studying the one thing that had ever truly hurt you. For what reason, Azriel didn't know, but he liked to think that it was to cause evil to cower in your presence.

Silence shrouded the room like a disease, infecting and poisoning everything in its path, and Azriel way becoming increasingly worried about how your smile had dropped. Was he truly that repulsive to you? He could only ever dream to be mated with someone like you, someone who welcomed death like an old friend and would entertain it in an eons long waltz, someone who was poised and elegant but so brilliantly lethal that it made even him shudder.

Taking an unsettling step toward you, Azriel loosened a breath when he saw that you hadn't retreated, his eyes were trained on you as he took another step, and then another, until his shadow danced with you own, "I'm your mate."

Rhys and Cassian would be mortified of the news, Azriel was sure that Rhys found you terrifying in the same way that Cassian found Bryaxis. No of that mattered though. Not to him. Not when he now belonged to a female as striking and dangerous as the blood in his veins.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at the proximity, the tendrils connected to his essence peered over his shoulders seemingly apprehensively thrilled that it was you stood before them, "Yes, you are."

Azriel's gaze drifted down to your lips and left dragged back upward to your eyes, "Can I touch you?"

A part of you froze at the desperate question. You hadn't let anyone touch you in years, you couldn't remember the last time you laid with a male or female, you couldn't remember what a simple even felt like. Amren had never even tried to get too close to you let alone anyone else.

In the first vulnerable emotion you had ever let anyone see, you sheepishly nodded, eyes boring into his own and he didn't break his stare as his fingers twitched toward you, ghosting along your skin and melting at the heat they found there. Mindlessly, you shifted when his palm lingered a whisker away from the slope of your neck and his eyes became stitched with concern but softened when you had won the fight against your fear to stand still once more.

Azriel's hand lowered, resting against your skin that was softer than his imagination could ever fathom. His thumb drifted down the column of your throat and you swallowed, hard.

"You don't have to accept this or me," he told you, his voice tantalisingly cooing to you in a hush above a whisper, "But gods, y/n. I really hope that you do."

Azriel saw through you then, through that façade you wore like a medal. And he found what saw to be quite heart-breaking. Stood before him was a woman, one that possessed a brilliant mind and equally captivating beauty, but beneath it all was the girl who was brutalised so badly that she vowed to never allow another person close again.

"You're my mate," you spoke with a certain conviction that hadn't graced your words the last time, Azriel watched your lashes flutter, and he felt his soul singing when those eyes found him again, "I'm not letting you go."

Gracefully, your fingers curled around his wrist, your index finger sleeping just over the faint beat of his pulse, just where his marred flesh faded to memory, "You accept it?"

"I- yes, I do."

Jasmine and sandalwood drowned his lungs, and he would have died happy just to be able to say that he knew what your shampoo smelt like. Papaya and coconuts. He gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, noting how much you loved the feeling of it as you shivered in his arms. Azriel pressed a dainty but tender kiss to your brow, and it had you realising that maybe you were allowed to give yourself this one thing that the younger version of you had always dreamt of.

Azriel hadn't tried to push you further, he knew that the moment of allowing someone to touch you, to hold you, was far more momentous than finding your mate.

Instead he asked you a simple question, it was more of an offering than anything. To spend time together away from the prying eyes of his family, so that you may become comfortable with one another before allowing anyone else into it. You had agreed. Eagerly.

So the next few weeks drifted by, afternoon walks along the Sidra, morning breakfast drop-offs at your office, after hours visits to the gallery where you would tell him of your adventures and how on some occasions you barely survived. Azriel was in complete awe of you, he sat beside you on your love seat completely captivated by you, his fingers tracing small circles into your thighs and his shadows curling through your hair. And that smile, gods, that smile could make even the most poised male lose all sense. It was bright and gleaming, and your skin glowed with the happiness of it.

Then you had decided to break the news to the Inner Circle, and as you stood before those doors oozing with grandeur, you felt nerves pinch at your skin, "Are you ready?" Azriel's fingers were tangled with yours and he bowed his head to place his lips on your bare shoulder.

"Yes." Azriel gave your hand a gentle tug, willing you to move from your spot located just behind him.

The aura of the house had shifted, now, it was inquisitive, glancing to the mirrors and then back to your hands to see if what it was seeing was real. Laughter echoed at the end of the hall, your scent had usually silenced them by now, but not this time. Now that your scent was mixed with Azriel’s it seemed much less threatening. Pity.

Turning the corner, you became startled by the smash of a glass, shards of it glided along the floor and fell at your feet. Looking up, you found Mor frozen in place, wide eyes and bewildered. The rest of the room craned to attention, collectively moving their eyes from Mor, to you, and then to Azriel, and then to your entwined fingers.

It took a minute, but you could have sworn you heard the bell ding in Cassian’s empty brain, “Oh shit,” he rose to his feet, wings flaring slightly as a wide grin gripped his mouth.

Rhys appeared before you both, gaze lowered in surprise, clearly trying to picture a timeline in his mind. The High Lord looked to his Spymaster, “Are you-“

“Mates?” Azriel finished incredulously, knowing that your moulded scents had already infected the room, and turned his head to you, orbs gleaming and adoration speckled on his cheeks, “Yes.”

Elain Archeron had sank into her seat, doing her best to not pay attention to you in particular whilst her stomach churned with the scent seeping into her bones. Subconsciously, you moved closer to Azriel, a slightly territorial action that made him smirk.

It had been a brief conversation that you had suffered through, the one where Azriel had made it very clear that the situation with Elain was brutally one-sided. Azriel had only sought to be nice to her, to help her to adjust to her new body and life because she was Feyre's sister and Feyre was his High Lady, and she had taken his kindness for something much more than what it truly was.

Leading you to the velvet armchair that you would usually slither into, Azriel sat and motioned for you, turning you in his hands so that his touch never left your thighs, and pulled you to his lap. A bashful smile formed on your face and you could feel the eyes of the room on you, equally as confused as shocked.

"Since when?" Nesta had asked after sipping from the goblet of red wine between her fingers, the liquid staining her plump pale lips, and she used her thumb to wipe a singular droplet before it ran down her chin. Her eyes held an emotion you couldn't quite make out, Azriel had admitted that Nesta was just as unreadable as you at times, but the way his digits dug into your flesh told you that what the eldest sister was feeling was an assortment of jealousy. Not toward you, toward him.

"The bond snapped just over a month ago," Nesta hummed and burrowed herself into the cushions, pouting slightly, like she was an infant who had her favourite toy taken from her grasp. "We wanted to explore it before we properly accepted it or told anyone."

That made Elain's doe-like stare move from the floor to your mate who was sat with you on his thighs rubbing small circles into your shoulders, "So you haven't accepted it?"

Your jaw clenched at the question, the question that was perfumed with the last splatters of hope, "If you're asking if we've fucked yet, Elain, then no, we haven't. Does that answer your question?"

Azriel's fingers moved to play with the ends of your hair, knowing that the sensation of slight tugging over your scalp relaxed you infinitely, "I only ask because I know how physical Azriel can be. Surely you've heard the stories?" Elain feigned innocence, Feyre sighed from her seat and glanced to you apologetically, silently begging you to not tear her sister apart.

In fact, you had heard the stories. Trying to ignore the gossip of the city was difficult considering how used you were to eavesdropping into certain conversations in the underworld. So, unfortunately, you had heard about Azriel's many lovers, and you'd be silly to not feel insecure of it, but you wouldn't let her see that. Ever.

Craning your neck to the side, you smiled, your iced gaze slicing into her and making Elain shrink under the weight of it, "With all due respect, which is none," you leaned to the side, accepting the goblet of wine that the house had presented to you in premature thanks for the forthcoming words you were about to utter, "Your existence gives me a headache, so please go and find somewhere else to be."

Rhys' eyes widened but he suppressed the smirk forming on his face, hiding his lips behind his fist and closing his eyes. Not even Feyre or Nesta spoke up over it, they clearly knew better than to challenge you. Cassian however didn't really care if Elain saw his joy at your words, he had been growing more tired each passing day of her pining affection toward his brother, and now he understood why Azriel had withdrawn further from the female over the last few weeks.

It was because of the unique female before their very eyes.

The middle sister went to open her mouth, to retort something that wouldn't even irk you, but Amren shushed her, halted the words in her throat and willed her to die with them, "Don't even try it," Amren served you more than her own court, finding a kindred spirit within you, and she would shame herself if she let Elain speak to you as if you were nothing.

Elain would never understand someone like you. She wasn't worthy of it anyway.

No one had ever tried to understand Amren, not really, they thought her too complicated to be worth it. As long as they brought her pretty jewels and respected her then there was little else to worry of in their eyes. But you, you had understood her instantly and had found a particular solace with her, like you were peering through a mirror and she was your reflection.

Sipping the potent liquid in your goblet, you bowed your head to her, quietly thanking your friend for halting the small spat before it escalated and ruined the evening entirely. Tonight was not about Elain and her fragile feelings, it was about showing the Inner Circle who now owned your heart.

So, the middle sister vacated the room feigning a migraine, and the aura instantly lifted. A soft smile formed on your lips when your eyes landed on your mate, your entire face relaxed; entwining your fingers with his, you blushed when he pressed his lips to your knuckles and dragged your index finger down his cheek.

The Inner Circle watched on, knowing that they had never seen Azriel so taken by anything. They feasted on the sight of his shadows purring through your hair, on your colliding smiles, and how your gentle words to one another were contained in an ornate bubble around your bodies.

As the evening continued, you found yourself quite enjoying their company, you sat bundled into Azriel's embrace, finding comfort in the arms that were wrapped around you whilst Cassian spewed war stories, bragging at his prowess.

"Not to brag," you began with a smirk, "But at least eight men have described me as 'terrifying', and two of them are in this room. Choke on that ego, Cassian."

Nesta's grin turned feline and excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach. What she wouldn't give to spar with you, to have your legs wound around her and that tense gaze splitting her in half. From the whisperings of Prythian, it was very clear that you had done some rather diabolical things in order to obtain certain artifacts that had been locked away in your most prized and personal collection. So prized that its location was unknown. She could only imagine what trinkets you possessed, and the things you had witnessed.

"What about Azriel?!"

The Shadowsinger shrugged, his hand resting on your thigh and squeezing the flesh there, "I've only ever been entranced by my mate, Cassian," Azriel drawled, sipping the amber liquid swirling in his rocks glass like molten bronze, "It's you and Rhys who are afraid of her."

"If it's any consolation, I don't blame you."

Cassian frowned, turning to Nesta and asking, "Are you scared of her?"

"No," she answered a little too quickly, so quickly that you had quirked your brow at the sound, "I find y/n to be quite exciting."

"Exciting?" Cassian moved to Feyre and asked the same question, his manhood decaying when she too said that you didn't scare her, "Mor?"

The blonde who could not rival your beauty had always watched you from afar, and had always enjoyed how you made males squirm. Mor rose her glass to the stars and stated, "Bring every man you meet to their motherfucking knees, y/n."

"Amen to that," Amren tipped her glass in response, downing the rest of the thick red sap and finally feeling at home in the presence of her family thanks to you, and she eternally thanked the male sat beside you for being able to breathe some light into the storm cloud that was your mind.

"Mother above," Rhys grumbled, the women in his life uniting and itching to wreck havoc. The action of Rhys swiping his hand down his face, dragging the skin slightly toward in frustration, made a deep chuckle float from your lips, so serene that Nesta likened the sound to a siren call and found herself drawn to it. "Did I just make you laugh?" Rolling your eyes, you nodded at the High Lord who turned toward his mate, "This is the best day of my life," then back to you, "Does this mean that we're friends?"

Rhys waited expectantly, childlike orbs pleading to you with their innocence. You had no friends bar Amren and you were content with that. It meant that you only had one thing to lose. But as Azriel laid his hand on the small of your back, gaining your attention and giving you an expression of promise, the resolve of your solitude cracked, "Why not?"

The door to the River House flew open, a sudden shrill chill soaring through the air from the wild winds battering against the city, no doubt spurred on by your fury.

Many months had passed, and in that time you had truly blossomed, sure you still wore the mask of the devil on your features in public, but when you were with the Inner Circle, a group of people you now proudly belonged to, that mask drifted away like ash in the autumn breeze; and when Azriel was beside you, it felt as though warmth and happiness was all that you ever knew.

Much to Elain's upset, you and Azriel had officially accepted the bond and had locked yourselves away for four weeks to make the most out of every single moment together, and Rhys had been understanding enough of the bond between you both to not drag your mate away on another mission. The bond between you and Azriel was something that Rhys had never seen before, not even between him and Feyre.

"She tastes like every dark thought I've ever had."

The ceremony itself had been astonishing.

The women of the Inner Circle had spent the better part of two days dressing your apartment for the occasion and Feyre had made it quite clear that the upcoming ceremony was going to make theirs look ridiculous in comparison. Rhys was split between jealousy and awe when he saw it.

No one had ever stepped into the apartment beside Amren and Azriel, he had decided to move into the apartment after your return from the four-week sabbatical at the cabin, it was as though you were gifting them with the last part of you, allowing them to see what they could never fathom.

Faelights were strewn across the ceiling, curling around the arched windows that displayed the golden valley of the city in a way Rhys had never been able to appreciate before; tucked between the vines of the lights was fresh foliage, an array of green hue ferns caressing fully blossomed white roses and pale blue peonies. Sprigs of cedar and rosemary had been wove between the foliage and flowers alongside splinters of sandalwood, filling the room with the physical aspects of your scents.

Only the Inner Circle had been invited, and as you were dressing in your room with Amren, you could hear Nesta whining of her foolish jealousy of having to watch Azriel marry you. Amren had simply raised a brow and smirked at you through the mirror as she finished securing your veil to the back of your head.

There was no one you would want to share the moment with other than her.

Amren had blindfolded you, leading you through the home so that the gift wouldn't be ruined just so that you could get ready together, for the most important and deserving night of your life.

The dress that you had meticulously chosen was the most incredible garment Amren had ever seen, so much so that the first time you had tried it on in front of her, she had nearly cried at the beauty of it; and there you now stood, twisting in the mirror and running your hands down the hem of your veil and then your hips. The dress was made entirely of white lace that you had imported from the Day Court, an off-the-shoulder neckline and sleeves that kissed your wrists, it was elegant and graceful, and made the freckles of your trauma glow like shooting stars.

A gentle knock had sounded at the door and Rhys stepped in, taking one look at you and finding his breath catching in his throat. "You look amazing," he breathed, approaching you with his hands deep within his pockets.

The High Lord had been honoured when you had sheepishly asked him to walk you down the aisle; Rhys had found himself consumed with the need to protect you, after seeing your guard disappear, he saw who you truly were, a woman who just wanted to be loved and protected, and ready to allow other people to do it for her after spending so long doing it herself.

"Are you ready?" Inhaling deeply, you nodded and turned to him, noting the outstretched hand before you and feeling your usual anxiety bubbling in your gut. Rhys, realising that he shouldn't have done something so bold, went to retreat but halted when you took a small step toward him, reaching your fingers out to his palm and sliding them into his grasp.

Azriel was right, your skin was a smooth as honey.

A gentle smile of triumph later, you spoke, "I'm ready."

It was that moment that Rhys was begging you to remember as you barrelled through his house, no doubt heading straight for him in the confinements of his office.

He could feel your anger slam through the walls, your footsteps sounding up the staircase and stopping at the top of the hall, a pause to remember just how much you liked him before stalking down the hall and bursting into his office. Rhys cringed, knowing what was coming as you strode to his desk and slapped your palms flat against the wood.

"If you ever," you pointed your perfectly manicured finger in his face, "Send my mate back to me in that state again. I. Will. Destroy. You."

The snarl of your words sent a shiver coursing down his spine, and in that moment you were the y/n he had met one-hundred years ago. Cold. Distant. Almost demonic.

In his defence, he hadn't sent Azriel on an overly dangerous mission, it wasn't his fault that his Spymaster was ambushed in The Middle. Azriel's spilled blood was entirely his own fault in Rhys' eyes, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt, y/n."

The rushed footsteps of another sounded in the hall, and when Rhys looked past your deeply heaving form, he was relieved beyond compare when he saw a bruised Azriel approaching, "Angel, it wasn't his fault. I was distracted," his voice grew louder as he paced closer to the pair of you, appearing at your side and turning your head in his fingers to face him, "I was thinking about you and I didn't hear them coming."

Watching your shoulders drop, Rhys sighed and wiped away an invisible bead of sweat from his brow, sitting back down and continuing his viewing just as you tilted your head to the side and popped out your bottom lip.

"You were?" Azriel's eyes softened and he dipped his gaze to meet yours, "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done. You were attacked because you were thinking about me, you actually bled because you were thinking about me?"

Rhys could only watch on perplexed at your words, you threw yourself into Azriel's arms, muttering small apologies for brushing against the bruises littering his abdomen, "She's crazy."

The Shadowsinger could only huff, too entrapped by you to really reprimand him, "Yeah," his eyes opened lazily, brimming with exhaustion, "But she's my crazy."

Azriel's shadows curled over your shoulders and shuddered, crying to be as close to you as possible, like they were trying to entwine with your soul so that you one day may carry them with you wherever you walked. In whatever world.

A bond like yours was made to topple temples and shatter worlds, it was made to transcend time and space; and as you wrapped an arm around your mate and led him from the office, not without sending one more warning glare to the male you had come to love as a brother, Rhys knew that no matter where either of you went, there would be no place that you could travel to where the other would not follow.

Author’s Note

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[cleopheanne]

Random astrology observations (very shallow but fun ig)

- Mercury conjunct sun in a chart gives very logical/mathematical intelligence you will find that the best student in the classroom always have this conjunction, the closest is the orb, the more pronounced are these qualities.

- Venus in exaltation gives deep thinking abilities and it is perfect for philosophy, think about philosophers like Kant, Plato (allegedly), Karl Marx. Or even scientists like Albert Einstein ( Venus in revati),all influenced our modern world in an unthinkable way.

-Jupiterians remind me of the perfect rennaissance man who is all-rounded excelling in every sphere of intelligence: you will find that they really have a deep love for education: absorbing information and utilizing it in everyday of their lives.

- Ketu people are so funny, the funniest imo like they are kind of lost and dgaf about people so they are really blunt and random it's just very comical

- Mars men are popular or rather notorious: they just have an effect on girls from what I observed: Chitra and Dhanista men most of the time. I know a Chitra sun guy that winks at you everytime you cross eyes with him lol, a dhanista sun and ascendant boy that I know had girls writing their snapchats all over his backpack in high-school also he would get purchased by them like they would form circles around him it was pretty funny to see

- Purva bhadrapada men are SASSY

- Rohini women are really sensitive about their appearance and love when people are jealous of them

- Venusians have a keen eye for aesthetics

- When it comes to writing poetry: Virgo people are simply the best : Uttara phalguni, Hasta and Chitra

- Ketu women are able to see through the illusions of life: especially ketu on the ascendant, their intuition is simply always right

- Having your sun in the 11th house makes you very likable, if it is not afflicted you will have a large circle of friends, be well known in your area.

- A lot of energy in the 12th house add an air of mystery on an individual it can really scare some people off: they can be excluded from their community, can be deemed as scary or weird

- If you want a venusian to like you : be pleasant, smell good, be funny, make them eat well, give out thoughtful gifts. Venus loves sensorial stimulation

- If you want to know what life direction you should be taking, look at your d9 and d60 charts

- Pisces women are in tune with their sexualities: they can loose their virginity at a really young age and are curious about this side of life

- Ashlesha people need to be careful about what they say: they grow up in really harsh environments so they internalize this harshness and sometimes they can really projects on others and hurt with their words for nothing kind of like a snake

Anyways I think that's all I will comeback with more astrology observations on more specific subjects.

Also be mindful, you can not analyze a chart without looking at it completely so these are not to be taken at the letter close, it can always differ depending on the chart: it is simply for entertainment.

[numberonetrashwitch]

Some observations about Baldurs Gate 3 that hit too close to home.

After another few runs i will probably just make an in-Depth Character Analysis for every character simply because they are good reflections of actual trauma-manifestations and how abuse can manifest in people. They are also so well written that it serves a narrative purpose to explore all the material that is out there about them. I am also personally cursed with actual medically-relevant levels of Empathy and Hyperfixation; so writing this helps me put a pin in it and move on.

But so far here are my highlights

(SPOILERS and obviously content warning bc these are deep)

before you ask; i have almost 300h in this game.

You have to convince Shadowheart to eat the Noblestalk. She actually stells you she rather get her memories back from Shar but when you hit the persuasion or intimidation (what the fuck) check to get her to eat it she'll tell you about her childhood friend. Not her name, not her parents but her best firend. Possibly because she has had a closer bond to that person after being abducted and indoctrinated. With her believing herself to be an orphan, she would've looked elsewhere for comfort and sought out her own family, this is why she falls hard and heavy for Shar and builds the backbone of her indoctrination. She is literally ripped out of her home & given a new identity to server her from all she has known. Religious indoctrination, Gaslighting, Abduction, being forced to let go of your personality are her main themes.

There is a scene out there floating around in which you see Astarions pespective of the night when he bites Tav for the first time, in his meditations he is confronted with the rules Cazador put on him, including that he can't eat intelligent creatures, can't be away from Cazador unless allowed to, has to obey every command and that they are should know that they are property. Which in turn means that Astarion literally didn't just have any autonomy, he was objectified (and not just through seductive/sexual measures) and that is really the crux to understanding why he doesn't believe in kindness, but rather shows self-serving behavior in most cases. Since we know that Astarion was extremely young for an elf before he died and became immortal (literally stopping the aging /maturing process) it is also very telling that Cazador constantly calls him brat, boy or other very juvanile names, refering to them as a family... well it is also the story of a very controlling parent. Themes of (Bodily) autonomy, infantilization ( & puer aeternus, forever-child), slavery, depersonalisation, corruption of life and torture to break someone.

Gale isn't just a guy hung up on his Ex, but also a victim of abuse. In this case a power imbalance none of us can fathom; She is described as being a jealous goddess and rules over the domain of mysteries and magic. So with Gale being a Wizard, she is literally his boss. He admits that he was foolish enough to aspire to be an equal to her, but she is so jealous that she tells him he can't really be worthy as long as he takes breath. She could just take his powers away and be done with it, that would be more than enough punishment for a guy who literally made Mystra and her domain his life's purpose, but she rather makes him do it himself. Add to that, that she literally only tells him this after years of self-isolation (after he put down so many wards that he could've blown up a whole army as he says if you click the right dialogue) to really fuck him up well. He also talks about death pretty much constantly, not surprising giving your situation, but he will tell you that he will kill himself at several points in the game, for instance after he comes clear about his nethrese orb. Themes of romantic abuse, power-imbalance, toxic work enviorment, self-isolating behavior, suicidal ideation

Wyll ... well from the looks of it he is the most well adjusted of all the companions (my opinion) but he has something that i'd describe as the "eldest daughter"-syndrome, more commonly known as parentification. This pattern usually occurs within single-household parents and is commonly described as a parent looking to their child for emotional or practical support, rather than providing it to their kid. We meet Ulder and see that he talks over Wyll a lot, not listening but expecting him to follow the standard he sets for him. That is also why Wyll repeats his fathers words like gospel (because this is what, in his mind, fullfills the expectations bestowed upon him) and why he loves fairytales / bard tales so much (because they are an ecapist view of the job he set out to do) Ulder literally exiled his teenage son because Wyll did the only thing he could to save an entire city, by sacrificing himself. Thats a lot to expect from a 17 year old - even more so, he doesn't stop with the heroics. He expects himself, as a human who hasn't even reached the age of 30 to hold up to mystical creatures such as Astarion or Karlach, or even Gale who is a accomplished Wizard. Themes of parentification, escapism, self-harming through putting himself in danger, chronic-self-sacrifice

In plain words; Gortash, Karlach's Idol sold her to a Devil. But add to that that she must have been pretty young when she was sold (late teens to early twenties possibly) and being that if you play as a Tiefling, you face a lot of predjudice she was likely forced into that position as well. Starstruck she was, with a juvenile naitivy that Gortash used. Appropriately, as he is the chosen of Bane the god of "tyrannical oppression, terror, and hate, known across Faerûn as the face of pure evil through malevolent despotism" (Source: Forgotten-Realms Wiki / Bane) So she pretty much was raised in a toxic enviorment, which forced her to become a killing-machine, first figuretively, then with the extraction of her heart, literally. Themes of slavery, oppression, misuse of trust, being taken advantage by a more powerful/older(?) person, being drafted.

Jaheira - to be honest, you need to know the lore of the previous baldurs gate games or just listen to her dialouge, ask her all the questions. She is a war-veteran against Bhaal, the good of ritual murder, and has a long history of fighting to achieve some sort of balance of power. She lost her husband and several close people all to this, or any other war, but due to her wisdom and strength people look to her for guidance. Themes of: Survivors Guilt.

Halsin - he is really closed off at first but then just casually hits you with "i was captured in the underdark and spent 3 years chained to a bedroom wall by a pair of drows who used me as they pleased". He is reprimanded by some of his druids for leaving the grove as soon as opportunity struck, just to get back and leave the next day, and if you talk to him about his position in the grove he is actually very forthcomming. He actively holds himself back; indulging in simple hobbies because he knows what lies within his heart. He is afraid of himself and his potential (canonnically he can't control his wildshape, which is very weird for an ARCH-druid) Themes of: impostor syndrome, avoidant-based self-harm, sexual opression, loss of control, emotional regulation.

Lae'zel is a very tragic case, and one that closely resembles the stories of Shadowheart and Karlach. Her entire existence is based upon a matriachial war society allowing her to live if she proves she can be of use and that in a culture which only values brutality, dominance & service. All of that culimating in her finding out that her oh-so-beloved Queen is actually just an imposter, and that everything she has lived for up to that point is merely political propaganda created to make her, and the rest of her entire species, willing pawns in a war that has no longer bearing on their survival alone, but is fought to justify Vlaakith's (the reigning monarchs) personal ambitions. Not only is she forced to reconcile that she is turned into the thing that controlled her kind for hundreds of years, that the only cure she knows of would kill her and then on top of that, that her hopes and dreams were lies and that she is now the Nr 1 enemy of the person she has served with all her being. themes of: oppression, propaganda, casual violence, objectification, child-warfare, eternal warfare

Minthara in short, her story is about being shamed for growing up in the same scenario that Lae'zel grew up in. Lolth, the god of the Lolth-sworn drows is a crazy queen who values scheming & backstabbing so much and is so volatile that you can't know what to expect of your deeds (and i mean it; there were people who were appraised by her for scheming against her, but also those who were killed. It's almost random.) She considers Lolth to be cruel and abandoned her for the Absolute, only to then be used and abused the same way Lae'zel has. Not with promises, but erasing her memory and exposing her perceived weakness. Themes of: casual violence, violent culture, her own ambition colliding with her desire to be safe, being a pawn in a larger game.

[itoshiexx]

can i dance with your s/o?

how the blue lock boys react when someone asks to dance with you.

pairings: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, mikage reo x fem!reader (separate) | warnings: jealousy, slight possessiveness, overall fluff, teeny bit suggestive on sae's

notes: hi guys! i wasn't planing on posting anything since i haven't been able to write (studying for the bar and all), but since i reached 300 followers, i thought maybe i could post this lil thing that was in my drafts for a long time lol it's quite different from what i usually do but i hope y'all like it! and tysm for 300!! <3

ITOSHI RIN

the lights of the room flickered around the sparkles in your long dress and practically made you glow. the piece of clothing was beautiful — an italian design rin bought for you specially for that night, where you would accompany him to a charity event. there were hundreds of football players like him in the venue, but rin’s sight could only focus on you. 

a song was playing softly in the background, and he admired you from afar, sitting in the bar along with some of his teammates while you chatted with their girlfriends, who became your friends pretty quickly. that was just how you were, always easy going and approachable, very unlike him. it was easy to be drawn to you like you were the sun, and rin was more than happy to be in your orbit.

then, the song changed to a slow paced tune, and he saw your beautiful eyes turn to him and sparkle just as much as your dress — if not more. the girls you were chatting with came towards their respective boyfriends, but you remained there, just staring, as if knowing it was a lost cause. 

itoshi rin didn’t like to dance. 

and while he was distracted by your orbs, someone decided to talk.

“can i dance with your girlfriend?”

the voice sent chills down his spine, and rin turned to the owner with a harsh glare, scrutinizing the image of none other than itoshi sae. they still had a pretty fucked up relationship, even after rin went pro, and he was not happy to hear what he just heard.

“what the fuck did you say?” his tone came out slowly, a veiled threat.

sae didn’t even blink. “i asked to dance with your girlfriend. you are certainly not doing it, and since i didn’t come with anyone, it would be rude to leave her there. haven’t you learned shit, rin?”

a vein nearly popped in his forehead. it was already bad enough to hear the condescending tone in sae’s voice, but implying he could take better care of you than him? no, that wouldn’t do.

“fuck off, you shitty brother. don’t come near her.”

he stormed off to the dance floor, leaving his shitty brother and his knowing smirk behind, immediately going to your figure. he could tell you were confused, but gave you no time to ask, taking your soft hand in his and dragging you to where the other couples were dancing.

both of his hands found home in your waist, just like he always found home in you. your arms laced his neck by pure reflex, considering you were still very much confused with your boyfriend’s attitude. 

“what happened?”

rin played dumb. “hm? what do you mean? i’m just dancing with my girlfriend.” he shrugged like it was no big deal. 

it really wasn’t. not when you smiled at him like that.

sure, itoshi rin didn’t like to dance. but he loved you, and if dancing would make you happy and keep you away from his shitty brother, he would do it in a heartbeat.

ITOSHI SAE

parties were not really sae’s thing. he wasn’t one to socialize with his teammates, and he didn’t feel the need to talk to sponsors or to the media, considering he had a manager to do that. so how he got caught up in one was a true mystery. 

sure, playing for the U-20 national team could be a big deal for a lot of people, but not for sae. he hated japan and all its weak players, and the only reason he agreed to play in the first place was to see project Blue Lock firsthand. he definitely did not sign for a party.

though he supposed he could endure it if you were there. 

the dance floor was crowded, and a pop hit was blasting through the speakers. you were with sae on the bar just a minute ago, but your already tipsy self exclaimed to love this song and the need to dance it, so that’s what you were doing. and fuck, what a sight you were. 

your skimpy dress hugged your body in all the right places, marking the curve of your ass. every time you moved in sync with the beat, swaying your hips, he could feel his breath hitch in his throat, always eager for what was under the fabric. you were breathtaking, and his. 

“hey, genius boy!”

sae grunted when his eyes were forced to leave your frame, and he was not pleased to find oliver aiku by his side, portraying his signature toothy grin. his only acknowledgement was a hum, hoping oliver would take a hint and leave him the fuck alone. 

“nice night, huh?”

sae sighed. apparently, he can’t take a hint.

“sure,” was all he said, turning his eyes back to you. you were still having fun by dancing like there was no tomorrow, and for a moment, sae wanted to smile from the way you were so carefree. he didn’t, though. but maybe something in his stoic demeanor cracked by looking at you, because the guy next to him spoke up.

“whatcha looking at?” oliver followed his sight before sae could fool him, and he felt anger rising when spotting a glimpse of desire in the heterochromatic eyes of his teammate. “oh, wow. what a babe.”

sae narrowed his eyes with an impossibly harsh glare that could make anyone cower. oliver didn’t. “she’s my girlfriend, so back the fuck off.”

“oh! can i dance with your girlfriend? she seems lonely.” the player smirked, seemingly enjoying to tease sae.

“look,” the older itoshi started, unamused. “you should probably know by now that i don’t tolerate bullshit. especially when it comes to her.”

oliver cocked his brow. sae continued, “so if you wanna have a slight chance to win against Blue Lock and not lose your shitty spot in the U-20 team, don’t fucking test me.”

finally, the player raised his hands in surrender, leaving without saying another word. chugging down the rest of his drink, sae made his way towards you, gluing his body behind yours and securing you close with a hand on your waist.

“hey, baby,” he mumbled in your ear. “wanna get out of here?”

MIKAGE REO

being the heir of a billionaire corporation was no easy task. although there were some good parts in it, such as the money to do whatever one pleased, reo mostly dreaded everything related to his position. of course, this included the galas thrown by his family. 

these galas were always full of snobby CEO’s and their heirs, trying to secure their spot in the light by arranging a marriage with the Mikage’s son. this part, at least, was solved when reo finally got married to you, and of course enduring hours of these boring parties became a hundred times better with you by his side. 

however, he couldn’t say he was exactly pleased with the way all eyes were on you every time you put on some high couture outfit. you were stunning — reo knew that much, and he always boasted to anyone who could hear about it —, but he couldn’t help the spark of possessiveness that always ignited inside his chest whenever someone else stated this fact. 

such as the old man talking to him. 

“your wife is truly beautiful, mikage. a hidden gem.”

reo could feel his anger rising, jealousy and overprotectiveness becoming one. but he remained calm on the outside, a smiley façade that could effortlessly fool those around him. he couldn’t be rude, considering this geezer was one of the main investors of the mikage corporation. 

“indeed, she is,” he answered through his teeth. the man didn’t seem to notice his gleaming eyes that could very much be homicidal. 

“how long have you been married again?”

“two years.” he took a sip of the champagne glass in his hands. the liquid went down his throat with a burning sensation that made him momentarily forget about the searing rage in the pit of his stomach. 

“oh, to be young again. i wish i could go back and enjoy my youth a little more,” the investor laughed, and reo had to force himself to do the same. his eyes, however, didn’t leave your frame. 

you were graciously talking with three women of high society, distributing kind smiles as if they weren’t as precious as the diamonds in your neck, if not more. reo was well aware that none of the people on that gala deserved the goodness of your heart, but you couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards everyone. maybe that was why you were so adored. he knew for certain it was one of the reasons he loved you so much. 

“do you mind if i dance one song with her?”

fuck. that man was still there. 

“sure,” albeit hesitantly, reo agreed with a forced smile, watching as the investor walked up to you and bowed to ask for a dance. with your usual gentleness, you agreed, taking his hand and going to the middle of the ballroom for a waltz. the mikage could only watch your ethereal form glowing under the candelabrum, eyes softening with the way you were so carefree.

he was glad to have your purity in such a corrupted world.

when the song ended, reo wasted no time in coming to you and taking your hand from the man with a gentlemanly gesture that made you smile. you bid farewell to the investor with a small courtesy, your hand finding your husband’s easily. 

“hey, beautiful.”

“hey, handsome,” you whispered, eyes sparkling. “you were totally holding yourself back, weren’t you?”

you both laughed at the way you could read him so easily. though reo didn’t mind.

“hell, yes. i was dying to drag you back to my arms.”

it was where you belonged, anyway.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

if you like my writing and would like to support me, you can 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ! any amount is welcomed and very appreciated! ♥

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Tequila

Summary: Tequila has a lot to answer for when Y/N wakes up naked in Dean’s bed, but once the shock wears off, she realises that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, feelings, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Another December Drabble for you all to enjoy!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

The sun streams through the motel’s threadbare curtains, rudely awakening you from a deep, drunken sleep. Your head is pounding, and there’s a ringing in your ears that comes with the vague memory of the loud music playing at the bar last night.

It’d been a hard hunt to stomach: Lamia, a child-eating demon, had decided to take up residence in Grangeville, Idaho, and once you’d blasted her ass back to hell, you and Dean really, really needed to let off a lot of steam.

Luckily, there was a dive bar next door to the motel, so neither of you had to stay sober enough to drive home, and you’d both been well and truly shit-faced. You’d hustled a small fortune playing pool; he’d sung karaoke, and there were tequila shots… lots and lots of tequila shots.

A snore from behind you made you freeze. It sounded like Dean, but that couldn’t be right. Why would you and Dean be in the same bed? Whoever it was rolled over and slid their arm over your waist, pulling you into their body. You could feel something hard poke the back of your thigh… at least he’s packing, you thought before the mystery man spoke.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Suddenly, the whole night’s events come flooding back to you at once.

One tequila shot turned into two. Two turned to four. Four turned to six, and before you knew it, you were stumbling through the door to Dean’s room, lips attached to his, nails raking through his hair and over his scalp and neck, tongues dancing a passionate tango while your clothes flew in every direction.

Dean made love to you so deliciously good. He was sweet and gentle at times. Rough and hard when you needed it. In all the years you’d known him, this was the first time you’d ended up in his bed, yet he knew your body better than you did. 

The green-eyed hunter had known how to pleasure you better than anyone had before him. Touching places no one had ever touched before. Taking you higher than you’d ever been, making you scream his name so loud the occupant next door had banged the wall.

It’s overwhelming, and you can feel last night’s alcohol swirl dangerously in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance. You lifted the covers and glanced down. Yep, definitely naked.

Pulling the sheet tighter to your body, you cautiously turn around, your worst fear confirmed as Dean’s twinkling green orbs and cocky smirk greet you.

“Well, this changes things!” he grins, and you can’t decide if you want to punch his painfully beautiful face or kiss him.

“Oh, God!” you gasp, covering your face with your hands. “This can’t be happening.”

“Y/N?” Dean asks, concern evident in his voice. “You okay?”

“I can’t believe I did you—I mean that. I can’t believe I did that,” you mumble.

“Come on, don’t be like that! We had a great time. I got you off six times, sweetheart! That’s a personal record for me!”

Dean’s words are meant to be comforting, but they do the opposite and only embarrass you more. The urge to kiss him is gone, leaving you wanting to punch his painfully beautiful, smug face.

“Seriously, Y/N, are you okay? Did I hurt you in any way? Did you not want that to happen? Because I gotta say, you were all over me at the bar, and I get that we had a lot of tequila and were drunk, but I thought you wanted me, too?”

Now that Dean had put his cocky persona aside and the real Dean was in the room, you’d changed your mind again and wanted to kiss him.

“No, Dean. I wanted it to happen. I have for an embarrassingly long time. What I don’t want is to be just another notch on your bedpost. It’s why I’ve never given in to your very persuasive charms over the years. Because I want to be more than just one night to you. And I know that’s not what you want—”

“Woah, Y/N, slow down!” Dean shot up on the bed and turned you to face him. “Did you not hear me when I said this changes things? Do you honestly think I’d risk what we have for one night? I’ve wanted you since the day we met, and last night was the first time since we met that you’ve shown any interest in me. And sweetheart, I haven’t been shy in pulling out my best moves for you.” His words and body language are so expressive and genuine, and you know he’s not feeding you a line. He likes you and he’s wanted you for a long time. All of his flirting and come-ons were real.

“And I thought ‘this is it. I finally get to call her my girl’. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed through with it when we were drunk, but I don’t regret taking my chance with you. Please tell me you don’t regret what happened.” Dean cups your cheeks to keep your gaze on his. The pain crossing his features breaks your heart. You want to tell him you feel the same way, but it’s risky.

“Honestly, I don’t remember much from last night, just bits and pieces, but I know enough to know that if that happened, I wanted it to happen,” you say, trying to ignore the look of Dean’s disappointment at your lack of memory from the night before.

“Do you really want me?” you ask, terrified this was a tequila-induced dream.

“Since the day I met you. And if you’re interested, I’d like to see where we’d go. Together. As a couple.” For once, Dean looks incredibly shy and vulnerable, making your heart swell.

“I’d like that too, De,” you smile, giggling when he grins boyishly.

“Yeah?” he checks, and you nod.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Then, I think you should lay back and let me refresh your memory of last night,” Dean grins as he gently pushes you back down on the mattress and pulls your legs apart.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[quixoticrobotic]

who's a pair of atop the fourth wall characters you'd like to see get more screentime together?

literally all of them??????? which like i understand why we dont get that, obviously, thats a ridiculous demand. like logistically its not very doable i know this. i basically play with all the characters like dolls in my head i dont expect a ton casual slice of life character driven stuff from this show

but that being said...

off the top of my head

Mark and Linkara but like with them acting like friends and goofing around and mark actually getting to act like a teenager whos found family is a bunch of goofballs, rather than that weird dynamic where mark is just like the embodiment of patience and kindness and wisdom despite being a teenager talking to like, the first adult he ever felt safe around. like i wish the partnerfriends dynamic was a little more balanced??? like mark still has to have like thoughts and feelings and problems??? his best friend is right there!!!

Jaeris and LITERALLY EVERY REMEMBER OF THE COMICREW. like i guess its implied off-screen but like it really feels like they forgot the "to" in "enemies to mutual respect to friends" like. theres so much potential like i cant even type it all up but like.

ok so jaeris is bitter and cynical and frankly jealous that this comic book geek has ALL HIS LIL FRIENDS and ooooh cool wow thats so great you know what the power of friendship and kindness has done for jaeris? FUCKING NOTHING! and like Jaeris going from being like kinda disgusted by this group he kinda sees as like saccharine to the point of cringe like "goody two shoes and his bands of weird losers who like him" to having this big support system other other humans who he feels safe around LIKE PLEASE

nimue and eliza. like!!!! its canon nimue was the first member of the comicrew eliza really trusted that is canon! also like I know nimue just isn't very outwardly emotional and i love that for her! i think her characterization is really great! but like i'd like to see her when she's like. actually just kinda chillin, by nimue standards. and eliza is just always a really compelling and very funny character and just. i want them to hang out. also femslash

Mark and 90s Dude! smells like teen spirit and a literal teen spirit! they both have transmasc swag and i want them to goof off and be pals!

Joanna. just. any mention of joanna she has not been mentioned ONCE since her last appearance EVEN THOUGH YOU'D THINK JAERIS WOULD MENTION HIS WIFE, HIS WIFE WHO HE LOVES SO MUCH THATS WHAT POWERS HIS MAGIC GUN. HIS WIFE WHO HES MARRIED TO WHO IS PRESUMABLY WAITING FOR HIM BACK HOME WHENEVER HE SHOWS UP. IS SHE OK? IM STARTING TO WORRIED SHE'S LIKE DEAD, OR THEY GOT DIVORCED OFFSCREEN OR SHE JUST GOT RETCONNED OUT OF EXISTENCE OR SOME SHIT

tbh i wish the characters just mentioned each other more? it would help a to to make these characters feel like friends and allies who actually like each other. also it'd make it feel like the characters all have lives. like have linksano mention the romantic partners he canonically has like have him mention the fact that he went on a date, have linkara casually ask nimue if erin can still make it to bad movie night or if shes busy, have characters ask linkara how mark is doing since THE WHOLE COMICREW KNOWS MARK EXISTS, have harvey mention playing pokemon cards with linksano, LET JAERIS TALK ABOUT HIS WIFE, just like little offhanded comments that make it feel like they interact with each other

[whimsi-clown]

A New Form of Psychological Torture Discovered.

Part 2 of the Reverse Isekai Disney Villains x Modern Reader AU

(Or RIDV AU for short)

Warning: Still a whole lot of swearing and OOC

"So... What would you like to know first?"

You asked with your hands clamped together, gathering the energy of minimum wage customer service workers just for this moment.

Those people have the highest patience, and you so badly need that right now.

The rest of the villains remained silent, glancing at one another until Dr. Facilier spoke up.

"How about you start by telling us how we got here... Wherever here is..."

He spoke, leaning forward against the back of the couch, the rest of the villains nodding and muttering in agreement.

"Well, to borrow your words, Dr. Facilier... You're in my world now, not your world... And you guys are the friends on the other side that I seem to have... Accidentally summoned??"

Dr. Facilier raised a brow at that, wondering how you knew that phrase. The rest of the villains, however, either rolled their eyes or groaned in irritation.

"Yea, we know that, babes. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out. What we wanna know is how we got here."

You turned to Hades, whose flaming hair was now turning light orange at the tip, showing how quickly he was losing patience with you,

You nervously gulped at that. You're gonna have to speed this up if you want your mansion to remain intact, hoping that reason will save you from 3rd degree burns.

"Alright, alright. Look, I really don't know how you guys got here, but I can tell you what I've been doing before, and you can take away whatever from there. Is that fine with you all?"

Thankfully, most of the villains agreed with reason, turning to Maleficent, who had been silent for most of this entire exchange, for the final say.

"Very well, speak."

With the mistress of all evil's confirmation, you began summarizing the events before their unexpected arrival, from your employer's death, you moving into their mansion, the mysterious door you found, the random junk on pedestals, how you cleaned them, and then the wierd lightshow that happened after that which resulted in their arrival.

By the time you were done enumerating, you were already out of breath, panting as your mouth felt like it had just gone through a marathon.

Was this karma for all those times you didn't speak up during those group presentations?

The villains contemplated your words, processing every detail (including the ones they deemed useless and unnecessary) before Jafar finally decided to speak up.

"You mentioned having cleaned some... Random junk before our arrival, correct?"

He asked with a raised brow, the other villains turning to face you for confirmation and a silent order for you to fetch those items for them.

You nodded at that, wordlessly running back to the mysterious room to gather every item in your arms and rushing back to the living room, laying them on the coffee table.

Most of the villain's eyes lit up in recognition of some of the items, snatching them off the table and inspecting them closely.

Maleficent held onto her staff, watching as the crystal orb at the top glowed a soft green. (1st mistake, letting the tall dark fae hold onto what is the equivalent of a lethal magical weapon)

Grimhilde didn't seem too fond or attached to the mirror in her hand, but she appreciated still being able to admire herself in its fractured surface.

Hades didn't seem too attached to the item he held too, inspecting the lit torch with a raised brow.

Jafar on the other hand was all too eager with the lamp in his hold, aggressively rubbing its surface with the cloth of his wrist, only to let out an irritated huff when it did not yield the results he desired.

Captain Hook was carefully inspecting the silver hook and the iron hook he had on him with a critical eye, and after careful contemplation, he decided to trade his rusty iron hook for a clean silver one, disregarding it over his shoulder as he gleefully applied the new hook onto his arm. (2nd mistake, letting the fancy ass pirate attach a deadly weapon onto their person. At least you won't get infected with tetanus when he makes good on his promise to slice your throat)

Gaston was checking his hunting rifle for any marks or scratches on the surface, doing mock firing poses before letting out a hum of approval. (3rd mistake, does not need an explanation whatsoever. He is a big dumb man with a big gun) As he was about to set the hunting rifle down, he accidentally pulled on the trigger, causing everyone within the vicinity to flinch in surprise at the loud bang, looking up to see the large bullet hole that was made on the ceiling of your home, some debris falling off. (Case and point)

Shaking his head at Gaston's mishap, Dr. Facilier continued to shuffle the deck of tarot cards in his hands, effortlessly doing card tricks like it was second nature. (You may or may not have been momentarily entraced by the smooth and eye-catching movement)

Shan Yu, who had not said a word since the "summoning incident" stood at the far side of the room, leaning against a wall as he simply watched the scene before him, the sword now kept on a sheath that was strapped around him. (4th mistake, again, very self-explanatory. Big man who's literally and probably the only person in this room with the largest body count) Shan Yu's head turned to your direction when he felt your gaze on him, his gold eyes seeming to pierce through you, causing another unsettling chill to crawl down your spine.

You decided to quickly turn your gaze away from the ruthless hun leader and focus your sights back on the rest of the group.

Watching Scar boredly play with the lion skull like it was a sock puppet of some sorts, Ursula and Cruela already wearing the nautilus shell necklace and the exotic fur coat respectively, and finally Oogie Boogie rolling the pair of die around his pointy stub of sack he called a hand. (How the dices remained on his hand despite his lack of fingers is a mystery you will never learn the truth to)

"Great. Now that I've satiated your curiosity. I'm gonna go..."

You mumble aloud, not really caring if they heard you or not. You just wanted to escape to the kitchen right now. You were starving.

Before you could make your great escape, however, a gloved hand grabbed a hold of your shoulders.

"Now hold on just a moment darling, you haven't completely satiated our curiosities just yet..."

Cruela stated, her grip surprisingly strong for someone of her age and stature.

"She's right. We've still got one thing left to ask."

Says Ursula as she comes closer to you, a tentacle wrapping itself tightly around your leg, preventing you any chances to bail.

You begin to grow nervous as they all begin to crowd you once more.

"Uhm... And... What exactly... would that be?"

You hesitantly ask.

"You referred to us as... Disney Villains... Why?"

Grimhilde commanded, glaring down at you.

"And you best not deceive us, little one, because I'm starting to get quite... Hungry..."

Threatened Scar as he licked his tongue over his canines, eyeing you like you were gonna be his next meal.

...

Oh

...

O H

...

Oh shit.

Gods you and your big mouth, why did you have to say that before them? They obviously don't have any idea that they're works of fiction and entertainment like in Mickey's House of Mouse or Once upon a Studio.

Actually, how would they react to that?

It was never really shown how the characters coped with the idea of being created for the purpose of entertaining children.

So how would they respond to the realization that their lives had been depicted for them from the very start and that they had no actual say in the course of their stories?

...

A morbid curiosity begins to settle in your mind as a smile spreads across your cheeks, making the villains unconsciously flinch at the uneasy feeling that came with your wide and ecstatic grin as you look up at them.

"How likely are you all to suffer from an existential crisis?"

End of part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

[lostinwildflowers]

To Befriend A Dragon

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Summary: Shoto will always deny his father's wishes to find the rarest Mystery Class dragon out there. You're his long-time best friend, and you happen to have a dragon. Things grow intense as your dragon grows more and more hostile toward your friend.

Word Count: 7.3K (...oopsie)

Warnings: Best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, smidge of angst if you look, jealous dragon(think Maximus and Flynn Rider), erm... Enji Todoroki mentioned, like 2 cuss words, and a small cut/blood mention

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I have emerged from my cave to finish this Shoto x HTTYD fic! I have been super excited about this one for a long time(like, April of 2023), and I really do love the plot. Be sure to give me your feedback, and please, enjoy!-Birch<3

Useful Info:

Scauldron

Inspo for wet Shoto(This isn't graphic, this is just a wet Shoto XD)

Part i. Romantic Flight- Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Part ii. Dragon Island- Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

"Y/n!" the call came. It was light, not angry; soft, and yet still somehow loud enough to hear over the crashing of waves on the old wooden fishing docks.

"Y/n?" the call came again, less sure than the first time. It sounded like an ancient hymn, floating on the ocean's fine mist, disappearing just as soon as it arrived.

"Y/n, there you are," this time the voice was just behind you. It was the voice of someone you could spend your entire life listening to. Deep and rich at the same time, tranquil but firm in its timbre.

Your gaze was fixed on the moving waters in front of you, (colored) orbs scoping out every cresting wave, waiting. The gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder draws your attention away from the sea for a split second, long enough to see who was looking for your attention.

Unnaturally white hair. Unusually bright red hair. The locks were split down the center of his head, messy around his eyes, but delicate braids danced around the nape of his neck. One eye was a deep stormy grey, the other a piercing icy blue.

His smile was as warm as the summer rain that fell in the late morning. His posture was straight yet relaxed, just as he was trained. His presence and demeanor were kind, yet stoic.

Shoto Todoroki. Your long-time best friend.

-

It all started way back. Even further than the village could remember. Your cradles after birth were almost always next to each other growing up. The two of you spent almost every waking moment together as toddlers, mainly being raised by the village elders.

The pair of you spent hours playing on the light, sandy beach looking for unique shells or conches. Hiking through the woods to find interesting colored stones and lush mosses to build forts outside of your houses became an every-summer activity.

You even snuck out to watch the young vikings train their dragons in the middle of the night with the young Todoroki boy. When the flames stopped dancing in the sky, you both would gaze up at the stars, wondering what your lives would hold.

Yes, you had other friends as well, but none of them understood you as deeply as the two-tone-haired boy who you spent every day with. You were the finest of friends, no one could separate you two.

The one thing that could twist your whole relationship with the Todokori boy was the fact that he was the chieftain's son. The Todoroki Tribe was known for finding and taming the rarest mystery class dragons, the most dangerous of dragons.

Shoto's oldest brother had managed to find and tame a gnarly male Bone Knapper, while his sister gentled a Light Fury while traveling. Even Shoto's other brother trained a Changewing that had tried attacking the village.

But Shoto didn't have a dragon. He didn't want a dragon. He loathed his father for forcing such pressure on him, to find the rarest dragon yet and force it to respect him. Shoto didn't ask to be raised as the next leader of his village.

All he ever wanted was a normal life with you, his best friend.

But while Shoto didn't have his own dragon, which was an ongoing argument he had with his father, you did. Your family loved the sea, building a home on the water's edge so you could grow up right next to its murky depths. When you came of age, it was only fitting that a dragon of the water became your own.

When you were just eleven years old, a Scauldron drakaina laid her clutch of eggs on the beach just down the shoreline from your house. She was a gorgeous turquoise-scaled dragon, and her eggs reflected her light bluish-green colors.

You watched her tend to her eggs for several weeks, even going as far as to tend to her needs. You didn't mind making sure she had enough food, you were right next to the sea. You checked to make sure the eggs were warm enough and in a safe location where they wouldn't get crushed when she left to hunt.

When her clutch finally did hatch, one of them instantly chose you. Storm. He was born a deep, steel grey color when he hatched, and the color of his scales reminded you of a summer thunderstorm.

Over time, Storm grew into a large and strong Scauldron, with thick muscle that grew from his swimming in the ocean and eventual flights with you on his back.

As you grew older, so did Storm, the two of you forming a strong connection and bond as a dragon and rider. From the start, he was always a... well, opinionated dragon.

Yet, through it all, Shoto was nothing of supportive of you and your dragon, knowing that his father would never let him have a common dragon such as yours.

Years passed as you and Storm bonded and grew up, and Shoto continued to spend time with you. He would be there to watch you ride Storm, help you teach him a new trick, or even go fishing for the dragon.

Shoto would spend as much time with you as he could to escape his lessons, being the chieftain's son. Holding a bag of fish for you, helping you fit the saddle to his body, anything he could do to be near you. You and Storm were his escape.

-

"Y/n, there you are," the voice behind you rings out, and a slow glance over your right shoulder allows you to see Shoto standing still behind you, a small leather bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Sho," you say with a smile as you turn to face your best friend. "Did you bring lunch again?" you ask cheekily, trying to peak into the leather satchel on his shoulder.

Shoto's lip curls into what you can call a smirk. To the outside view, there was no change to the young man's face. A scoff falls from his lips as he moves to sit beside you on the edge of the wet docks, "You could call it that. What were you looking at? You seem kind of distracted, Y/n/n."

And distracted you were. You see, years of friendship with the youngest Todoroki boy did not leave you blind. He transformed from a boy into a teen into a man. His voice deepened, his shoulders broadened, and girls flocked to his door in hopes of catching his attention.

Shoto became evidently attractive, and while you tried to brush it off, he was a deadly combination. Sweet, maybe a little daft, and breathtakingly handsome.

A hand on your thigh catches your attention, and you jump at the warm touch, and you whip around to look Shoto in the eyes. There was concern on his angled features, a gentle furrow to his brow at the unusual scatter-brainedness of your actions.

"Are you alright?" he asks again, his low voice just barely more than a whisper as his bi-colored eyes bore deep into your own (colored) ones.

His grey eye reminded you of the scales on Storm's back. Dark, firm, unwavering. His blue eye reminded you of the sea. Piercing, knowing, deadly.

The intensity of his eyes paired with the concerned look on his face was enough for you to shake off your thoughts, placing your hand over his own. Your fingers graze his, and you take the push to thread them through his long digits.

"Just fine, Sho, I was thinking about Storm. I haven't seen him for a while since he went out hunting," is what you manage to croak out.

Shoto squints at you, uncertainty lacing his gaze. "You're lying," he states blankly as if it's a matter-of-fact statement. You huff at him in an almost-offended disbelief, turning to face the clouded blue water in front of you.

"No, I'm not," you grumble out, "I haven't seen Storm in almost two days, he usually comes back faster than that. I'm worried about him."

Shoto's grip on your thigh tightens a little bit as he squeezes the flesh there and replies, "I don't doubt that, Y/n. I think you're lying about being okay. You've been like this for a while now. What's going on with you?"

Deep down, Shoto was afraid you had found someone, or that your parents had found a nice young viking for you to get married to and you wouldn't see him anymore. You had been starting to pull away, and it scared him to death.

In reality, you were scared to death because you had just started to realize why your hands got shaky around Shoto. You had started to realize why his compliments made your cheeks burn and your voice weaken.

You liked him. But he was your best friend, you couldn't like him. He couldn't possibly like you like that... right?

You stay silent, so Shoto takes a moment to continue, "Y/n/n, I have spent every day of my life with you, I can tell when something is wrong." You regain eye contact with him, your lips parting as your thoughts raced through your head.

You could feel your heart pounding harder and harder with every second, the butterflies building and swelling in your stomach. The words were just on the tip of your tongue-

A roar splits and cracks the air open, an enormous wave of seawater heading directly for you and Shoto. You find the head of the dragon in an instant, and you let out a yell as the icy water coats you and the boy sitting next to you.

Storm lets out another roar, diving back into the water and splashing his tail in your direction, the water smacking an already drenched and shocked Shoto in the side furthest from you.

"What the hell, Storm!?" you screech as your dragon dove back into the depths of the water, peeking his head up above the surface once he swam far enough away he couldn't get scolded by you.

There's one important part about your dragon- he hates Shoto.

-

From the day Storm hatched, he disliked the two-toned head of the youngest Todoroki boy. Shoto never did anything to make the Scauldron hate him, but the steel-colored dragon always had a bone to pick with your best friend.

As a young hatchling, Storm had a tendency to nip at people who weren't you. It didn't matter if they had food or not, he was always a little tense around others. When you introduced Shoto to Storm, your dragon took it upon himself to launch at your best friend.

He had latched onto Shoto's boot, his razor-sharp teeth cutting through the new leather, and ripping it right off of his foot. Shoto had been knocked to the ground, the air pulled from his lungs.

You had immediately scolded Storm, putting him in a large cage in the corner of your room while you tended to Shoto. His sock had been shredded from Storm's teeth, but otherwise, he was left unharmed.

That first incident with Storm should have been Shoto's first clue that things wouldn't be smooth sailing anytime he tried to be with you.

When the two of you were older and allowed to roam freely, you often took hiking trips into the woods. You both still had the hearts of children, but were more competent and aware of your surroundings.

Plus, you had a dragon.

But, Storm still found a hatred for the Todoroki boy, tripping him when the paths in the woods got rocky. Shoto ended up with several rolled ankles, to which he would tell his father he was training and got hurt.

Your Scauldron would knock Shoto into the water when you would haul in the fishing nets at the end of the day. The air would have cooled off, leaving you chilled if you got wet.

Storm learned that you and Shoto hated it whenever Shoto got soaked. So he did it more and more often.

Shoto somehow put up with it. Ever patient, ever forgiving, Shoto never once tried to put up a fight against Storm or got truly angry with him. He had his moments where he wanted to get the dragon back, but he knew you would be angry with him.

Shoto had such a care for you that he couldn't take out his frustrations on your dragon, no matter how much torture he was put through.

It drove Shoto insane from the inside, but he could never show that to you. Storm was your dragon, and you loved him, and Storm loved you. Shoto knew there was no way he could get between you and your dragon, so he learned to live with it.

Shoto did try to befriend Storm, but he was unsuccessful every time. He would bring the large dragon an extra fish he caught when he dropped by your house. You showed the red and white-haired teen where to scratch the dragon's chin the way he liked.

The boy even went as far as to change Storm's bedding in his nesting stall. None of it worked. So, Shoto did his best to be kind to the dragon while not making it an apparent issue to you.

-

In an instant, your clothes were clinging to your frame, the iciness of the water chilling you to the bone. You were in shock, first at the surprise of being drenched in cold, salty seawater, but also at the fact that Storm went out of his way to be mean to Shoto.

Your mouth had dropped in surprise, the tang of salt clinging to your lips as you brushed a sopping piece of hair out of your eyes. You turned to look at Shoto, who was in a similar state as you.

His pink lips were parted open, water streaming down his face and dripping off at the edge of his sharp jaw. Shoto's hands clenched at his sides, instinctively trying to shy away from the dragon who sprayed the water in the first place.

"Sh-Shoto, are you alright?" you manage to stumble out, your teeth clacking together, out of your control. He turned to look at you, shock also evident on his features. He just shook his head once, water droplets spraying everywhere, much like a wet dog.

It took him a second to respond, but he managed to murmur, "Yeah, yeah, I think I'm good. I wasn't expecting that at all."

Once Shoto locked eyes on your drenched figure, he swallowed thickly. Every ounce of your clothing was clinging tightly to your body, outlining every curve and dip.

While you noticed the way Shoto grew up, he also noticed how you changed. He saw how maybe your height didn't change that much, but he saw your hips widen and chest fill out.

Shoto saw the way your hair grew longer and your cheeks became less round. He saw the way your lips would catch between your teeth when you were concentrated and the way your eyelashes fluttered when you laughed.

And now, a developed woman with clothes hugging your every curve, Shoto did his best to fight to pink that was rising to his cheeks at his unholy thoughts.

He had to stop those thoughts from swirling around in his mind. You are his best friend, for Odin's sake! He can't be thinking about you like a lover.

Shaking his head less aggressively again to clear his thoughts, he gently urges, "Let's get you warmed up." He pulls his hands from where they were clutching at his sides and offers one to you. You shudder as a chill washes over you, slowly grabbing his outreached hand.

As Shoto pulls the two of you into a standing position, you glance back into the water to see Storm's figure had disappeared. A lump forms in your throat at the cruelness of your dragon for no apparent reason.

Shoto releases your hand, instead, bringing it up to your shoulder. He lightly rubs at it, trying to get your attention, "Come on, grab your things." You turn back toward him and nod shakily, reaching down to grab your own small pack.

How could Storm do that? I know he and Shoto haven't always gotten along, but this is cruel, even for him.

While you got lost in your thoughts, walking up the length of the pier, you missed Shoto falling into step behind you. You didn't even notice him stalling, pulling his drenched shirt off to wring it out over the shore.

Your footstep creaking on a slippery wooden board makes you notice that it's quiet behind you, save for the crashing of waves. You look over your shoulder to see Shoto's back facing you.

Taut, lean muscle laced his back, the skin pale as porcelain, but intricate like a marble statue. Only then do your eyes catch a glimpse of his wet shirt in his hands, drops of water falling from it as his hands worked over the fabric.

Your eyes follow his back to his shoulders, pausing over the bulge in his bicep. He must have really started training hard, the thought races through your head.

Your (colored) gaze flicks up to find Shoto's piercing one already latched onto you.

Shit. He so just caught you staring.

"Sh-Shoto, what are you doing?!" you yelp out as you spin around as fast as you can. The slippery board under your foot gives way as heat rushes to your cheeks at the sight of your best friend undressing.

A million thoughts are racing through your mind as your knee slams into the wet dock, a cry falling from your lips. You don't hear his response as pain takes over as your main concern.

You hear a curse fall from Shoto's lips as he tosses his wet shirt over his shoulder, carefully making his way over to you. His hands, now cooled from the water, reach out to you as he replies innocently to your question, "My shirt was wet, I was trying to remove some of the water out of it."

He then offers you his hand, a kind look on his face. Ever the gentleman, you think to yourself as the pain in your knee radiates and then slowly dissipates away.

You scoffed internally as he pulled you to your feet, How many times have I seen him without a shirt on, and here I am making a big deal out of it?

A moment passes and the touch of his other hand on your shoulder makes you about jump out of your skin. Distracted (colored) eyes lock onto his own bi-colored ones, and you feel like a blubbering mess as your eyes dart between the grey and blue colors, and the toned, naked, chest in front of you.

Once again that day, Shoto has a look of concern on his face as he asks, "Are you alright, Y/n? This isn't all that strange, remember? Your dragon has hated me as long as I remember."

Just as you open your mouth to answer him, a large wave hits the dock again, and a split second later, you feel Shoto being ripped away from you and knocked into the water off the side of the pier. You catch sight of Storm emerging from the ocean, a scowl coming across your face as your lips part in anger.

A yell rips itself from your already opened mouth, and you lunge forward as Shoto is swept away in the current below the docks. His wet shirt landed on the pier next to your feet, thankfully, but that wasn't your main worry.

You were already nervous about it being so cool and then being drenched, but panic overtakes you as you realize what Shoto was headed straight for.

The fishing nets.

Storm flaps up and onto the shoreline a few yards away, looking proud of himself as water slides off of his deep grey scales. You turn toward the dragon, tears of anger pushing at the edges of your eyes as you scream, "Get out of here, Storm! Go away!"

The large Scauldron huffs out an angered roar, but with a few massive wingbeats, hauls himself into the air and flies toward the village. You don't wait to see him leave, instead turning your attention back to your best friend in the water.

Shoto had resurfaced and was coughing on seawater, his arms and legs caught in the holes of the netting. With his limbs tangled and airways full of water, this could be bad. You don't waste any time after that realization, and you dive into the water, aiming to stay away from the net.

Your limbs ache at the instant coolness of the water, and you gasp as you enter the icy sea. Forcing your arms and legs into motion, you aim toward Shoto as you feel your body slow down.

Limbs flailing to get closer, you call to him, "Shoto, hang out!" In a desperate grab, your fingers latch onto the edge of the fishing net, and you use all of your strength to start pulling it to a depth where you can stand.

You manage to take a deep, gasping breath when your feet feel sand underneath them, and you cry out as you tug on the net. "Are you okay?!" You manage as you pull the net through the shallows, still hearing Shoto coughing up water.

Shoto goes to answer you as you see him start to untangle himself, but all you hear is a "Ye-" before a wave crashes into Shoto's bare back. The force of the water knocks him face-first into the shallows, and you lunge toward him to try to help pull him up.

Fingers grasping for his arm, you tug him back up, hearing him spit out more water, exhausted from fighting the net, the salty water filling his lungs, and the effort of his body to keep him warm for so long.

Your fingers, now throbbing from the cold, fumble as you search your belt, the digits slow and uncoordinated. You grip the blade as tightly as you can once you find it, cutting at the tangled nets.

Shoto manages to sputter out, "Y/n, I- I'm o-okay," coughing and trying to regain his air. You finish tugging the final piece of net away from his feet, the two of you heaving yourselves out of the water.

Worry overtakes you as you regard your best friend, "Shoto, are you alright? Oh, my heavens..." Your eyes lock onto his paled face, white and red hair splattered across his forehead.

You lunge forward, catching his cheeks in your hands as your eyes detect pink water trailing down the side of his face. Shoto brings his hand up to push the hair off of his face, a small grunt leaving his mouth when he comes in contact with a scrape hidden on his forehead.

This scrape was the source of the pink water, and even more worry overcomes you, but not before the thought of how oddly handsome he looked at that moment.

Compared to his usual hair styling, the red and white locks were intertwined with each other. Pushed up off of his forehead into a messy comb-over, your breath was stolen for your lungs.

He looked devilishly handsome. It was a terrible thought to have when you should have been rushing him off to clean up his wound and put warm clothes on.

But he did. He looked so good, you couldn't help the way your mouth parted in shock as you gazed up at him.

Shoto, mistakenly thought your reaction was to the throbbing in his head, which he assumed to be a cut. "Is the cut that bad?" he asks daftly, the hand which had been running through his hair coming up to cover one of your own.

His other hand finds its place on your hip unknowingly, stabilizing his unsteady stance. You blink, your mind still reeling as you process his words, "N-no, it's not that bad. Just, uh, caught me off-guard."

Shoto's heterochromatic eyes fix on you, waiting for you to elaborate. It's quiet for a moment, with your hands on his cheeks, his hand covering your own.

He takes it upon himself to fill the silence, his hand moving to cup your own cheek, brushing a stray piece of wet hair away from your eyes. He takes a shivery breath and starts, "Y/n, I-" "Let's get warmed up," you state at the same time.

A flash of an unreadable emotion washes over Shoto's face, and you internally curse yourself for cutting him off. You open your mouth to ask him what he was going to say, but he beats you to it.

"I was going to say the same thing," he said slowly, dropping his hands from your face and side, taking a step back. You instantly retract your hands to your chest, nodding once as you glance at the ground.

Shoto doesn't say anything as he slightly limps back to the pier, grabbing his drenched satchel and his shirt, which is now soaked again. You bring your arms to wrap around yourself as you stiffly cross the beach, heading to the pier to grab your own small sack.

You move to pass Shoto, aiming for where you had been sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, but an outstretched arm stops you. You look up at him inquisitively until he rotates his palm to face you. His fingers open up, his large hand revealing your small leather sac.

"I figured it would save you the hassle," he murmurs lowly, setting it in your awaiting hands. You give him a small nod in thanks, clearing your throat to say, "We can go get warmed up at my house if you don't want your father to see you like this."

Now it's Shoto's turn to nod, gesturing with his chin, he asks, "Lead the way?" You offer a small smile before ducking your head down, trudging your way up the dock toward you home up the shoreline.

-

It was quiet at your house - it was only you who lived there, after all. You had moved out of your family home once you came of age, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave the shore.

There were still embers burning in the hearth when you pried your door open, Shoto not far behind. The two of you were quiet on the walk to your house, an unspoken tension thick in the air.

You couldn't deny it now. Your dragon was trying to drive a wedge in between you and your best friend.

A sigh falls from your lips as some weight leaves your shoulders upon entering your home. Shoto quietly closes the door behind you as you walk into the living room.

You make your way over to the hearth, trying to keep your teeth chattering to a minimum. Shoto, who was still shirtless, followed close behind.

Your hands wavering and numb from the cold, reached for small logs you had chopped a few days before. They were set off to the side so you could throw them on as needed.

Shivers start racing up and down your body as you fumble with the log, your teeth clacking together unceremoniously. "Let me," his deep voice sounds out, his hands coming into view.

He grabs the log from you, with much less shake than you, and gently tosses it on the fire. Shoto quietly grabs your shoulder, pulling you away from the fire. You willingly let him manhandle you, watching silently as he takes your place, throwing more kindling on the growing smoke, softly blowing to ignite a flame.

"Sh-Sho, y-your head," you stutter out as you catch sight of red leaking down his forehead. With the hair still pushed up out of his eyes, you could see the gash still oozing.

He turns to you, cocking one eyebrow as if to say, What about it? You shift on your feet as you motion shakily to his head, "It's s-still bleeding. We need to get it-t cleaned up. N-no sense in getting dry clothes d-dirty."

You offer him a crooked smile, clenching down on your teeth to stop them from chattering. He stands up and walks over to you, his height looming over you.

"You're cold," he states blankly, noting the blue tint to your lips and the short, shallow breaths you were trying to calm down. But he also knows you won't rest until he's cared for, watching your eyes flit between his and the cut.

Shoto sighs through his nose before whispering, "Alright, work your magic." With a slight roll of his eyes, you drag him toward your table, where you sit him down on a tall stool.

You struggle to take off your vest, which is drenched, but Shoto sits still and watches, his cheeks once again heating up at the way your clothes cling to your body.

You roam around for a few minutes, lighting a lantern to set next to Shoto, gathering a clean bucket of water, some clean towels, and a soft bandage that you could wrap his head with.

The moving around seemed to help warm you up a little, but you were still feeling chills run up and down your spine as you stopped in front of Shoto.

"This may sting a little," you mumble softly, "The seawater probably got dirt in there." It's a bit of an obvious statement, but you didn't know how else to face the tension of Shoto. As long as you've known him, he's been intense.

But he's never been intense like this.

His gaze is sharp and almost narrowed. There is a furrow in his brow that makes you almost nervous, but you know you have no reason to be.

Your own brows knit close together as you regard him, softly urging, "Shoto, is that alright?" His eyes seem to focus on you a little more at that, and he gives you a nod, straightening up a bit on the stool.

You quietly set to work, delicately pushing the hair off of his forehead and dipping a clean towel in the water. As you bring the towel up to his face, you can suddenly hear blood pounding in your ears.

A wave of butterflies washes over you when you realize how intimately close you are to Shoto's face. If he notices your pause, he doesn't say anything.

The towel makes wobbly contact with the edge of the cut, and Shoto draws back with a sharp hiss of pain, his hand reflexively coming up to pull your wrist away from his face.

A startled look comes across your face and you take a step back, trying to pry yourself away from him. Shoto realizes his mistake instantly and rushes, "Y/n/n, I didn't mean to-" "It's fine," you cut him off with a squeak.

Shoto can see the look of hurt on your face, and a part of his heart crumples at the sight. He releases your wrist, but he doesn't let you get away from him. Instead, he grabs you by both hips and parts his legs, allowing you to stand in between his thighs.

"I'm sorry for pulling away, I- I wasn't ready," he says lowly, looking up at you with a sincere look on his face. If you thought your blood was rushing before, now it is roaring in your ears.

You just bite your tongue and give him a small nod of your head, slowly bringing the rag up to clean the edge of his cut again. You feel Shoto tense beneath you with a fast breath, but he transforms his pain from pulling away to a tightened grip on your hip.

His jaw clenches as you work as quick as you can, cleaning his wound before reaching for the soft bandage you had found. Just as you finish securing it around his head, Shoto stops you.

"Do you know why Storm hates me so much?"

The question makes you halt, every part of your body going still. You stare at your best friend, your mind whirring as you wonder where this is coming from.

You shrug and start to dismiss his question, but he stands up, his presence regaining that oddly intense feel. His eyes darken and his voice lowers a notch as he repeats, "Do you know why Storm hates me so much?"

Your mouth falls slack and your mind goes blank as Shoto moves closer and closer to you. As you take one step back, he's already filling the space. Before you know it, he has you backed into a wall, his heterochromatic eyes never once leaving your (colored) ones.

"Sh-Shoto, I don't know what you're talking about," you stutter out, this time, not because of the cold. Your heart is racing, your cheeks are burning, and it's becoming harder and harder to breathe.

A dry laugh falls from Shoto's lips as he rests his arms on either side of your head, trapping you in. "You really don't know?" is all he asks, with no hint of emotion or degradation in his voice.

You shake your head left and then right, feeling an immense amount of pressure on your face. Shoto takes a deep breath to re-center himself before he asks, "Why doesn't Storm hate all of the other guys my age?"

A frown etches itself on your features as you ponder his question. Why didn't Storm hate all of the other guys in the village? Your lips fall open in thought, and you look down as you try to come up with a suitable answer.

Shoto's right hand moves from its place on the wall to cup your jaw, his thumb tucking itself under your chin. He pulls your head up slowly so that you meet his gaze again.

"Why doesn't Storm hate all of the other guys my age? What makes me so different?" he repeats, this time a little more emotion, a little more urgency.

You look at him again, and only one thought comes to mind. I can't. I can't say it's that. I don't even know if that is the reason.

"I don't know, Shoto," you start to whisper, but he cuts you off, "You're lying to me," and this time his voice is thick. You scan his face for emotion, and you finally start to see his walls caving.

His grey and blue eyes are beginning to line with tears as he repeats again, "What makes me so terrible that he treats me this way? Why am I his only target?"

Shoto shuffles, caging you in closer and closer until you have no other option than to answer him. Your mouth parts, your skin burning where his large hand has cupped your jaw, lips loose from the way your best friend is falling apart in front of you.

But he's not really your best friend, is he?

You go to talk, but there is even more urgency when he almost growls, "What did I do to him?! What did I do to you?!" As he talks, his grip on you gets tighter and tighter, and you notice tears starting to fall from his eyes.

Your eyes snap shut as you burst out, "You made me fall in love with you!" A rush of butterflies floods your stomach and you feel like you're about to throw up.

A moment passes and you wait to feel Shoto pull away, you wait for him to pull his hand away from your face and ask you what the hell you were talking about.

But instead, you hear him whisper, "Open your eyes." You tighten them and shake your head once, "I- I can't." You feel him shuffle and his grip on your face loosens, repositioning his hand to brush that wet, stray piece of hair away from your face.

"Y/n, open your eyes, please," he requests, his touch softening and his presence becoming less intense, "Look at me when you tell me you love me, so that I can say it back."

His statement has your eyes opening from where they were scrunched shut, and they are wide as they gaze up at him. Shoto has a smile on his face, tearstains running down his cheeks.

"Shoto, you-" "You made me fall in love with you, too," he murmurs, a soft huff of a laugh accompanying his words. A smile breaks out on your face as you lean into him, your hands coming up gently to brush the tears off of his delicate cheekbones.

Shoto leans into your touch as he explains, "From the moment Storm saw me, he has seen me as a threat. Dragons are much more emotionally intelligent than they let on. He always has known that I-"

And then his voice catches in his throat. Your heart swells at the emotion you hear in his voice, but you don't stop him. Shoto clears his throat as his hand works its way into your hair, "Storm has always known that I love you."

"Shoto, I am so deeply in love with you," you rush out as you lean into him, "I just never thought you would-" "I always have," he cuts you off, his voice rough and meaningful.

Shoto is looking at you like you hung the moon and stars, but as his gaze locks onto your (colored) one, it dips a little lower. Before you know it, your nose is brushing his, Shoto's breath hot on your face.

Butterflies rekindle in your stomach as you lean into him even more. Shoto is no better, his mind is only focused on you, and how badly he wants to kiss you.

Just as your lips start to graze his, there's a knock at the door. Shoto pulls back a few inches and you hear him whisper under his breath, "Fuck."

The curse word coming from your best friend, no, lover, draws a laugh from you, but you can't blame him. You had been dreaming of this moment for years. Then, a pang of nervousness washes over you as you realize - it's probably Enji Todoroki at the door.

"Fuck indeed," you whisper back as you look up at Shoto. Shoto, who is still very much shirtless and in wet clothes. You, who is still dressed in your drenched clothes, pinned against the wall.

You swallow deeply and say, "It's alright, I'll go check the door. I can say you're getting changed in my room. I'm pretty sure there's a spare set of clothes in there."

Shoto nods and begins to pull away, but something changes in his gaze, and he leans back in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. It's not what you had been expecting or wanting, but nonetheless, it makes your heart rate skyrocket again.

Shoto chuckles at the way your brain stalls, and he backs away into your room as you sway against the wall. Another knock sounds out from the front door and you call, "C-coming!"

You can hear another laugh come from Shoto at the waver in your voice. Damn Shoto, now he knows the effect he has on me. Your legs are wobbly as you walk up to your door, and you have to give yourself false confidence as you prepare to face Shoto's father.

You swing the door open and are met with silence. Confusion floods over you as you look to the left and right of your door, and there is no one present.

A frown etches its way onto your features as you call out, "Hello? Anyone there?" A moment later, loud scuffling sounds ring out from your roof, and then, Storm jumps onto the ground outside of your front door.

The large grey Scauldron holds his head low, a solemn look on his face. You let a sigh out of your nose as you look at your dragon, who was bearing the look of a kicked dog.

"Alright, Storm. I get it now. You were jealous because I didn't have eyes just for you. Come here, big boy," you say, opening your arms to his head. Storm swings his long neck and head over to you, cuddling into your frame in apology for his actions.

You hear footsteps behind you, and when you pull away from Storm, you are met with a freshly dressed Shoto. The red and white-haired man looks between you and the dragon, initially with distrust on his porcelain features, but then he gets a good look at your face.

You nod your head toward Storm as if to say, See? It's over now. Shoto slowly walks up behind you, offering his hand out to Storm in a friendly manner. Storm pulls away from you, looking at Shoto in a similar distrust.

I'm not letting this happen again, you think to yourself as you cut in, "Storm, stop it." The dragon turns to look at you, and you take a step closer to Shoto, taking his hand in your own.

"Storm, you are my only dragon," you tell him, and then you glance at Shoto with a smile and say, "But Shoto is my only person. You have to accept that he will be in my life."

Storm stares at you for a second before letting a low roar and breath out. He lowers his head to the ground again, pressing his large skull against Shoto's outstretched hand.

Both you and Shoto can't stop the electric smiles on your faces as Storm pulls away, kindly. The dragon turns to walk away, his wings spreading out on either side. In a couple of large, dramatic flaps, Storm heads back toward the village.

Shoto watches your gaze follow Storm until he disappears, tightening his grip on your hand. "Y/n/n, I think it's time you get changed. I don't want you to get sick because of me."

You turn to look at Shoto, and with a sly grin, you mumble, "But at least I'll have you if I get sick, right?" Shoto shakes his head with a smile but replies, "You'll have me regardless if you get sick."

He then gets shy for a moment as he says quieter, "That is, if you'll have me." You squeeze his hand before letting it go, and you see a moment of panic flash across Shoto's face.

But you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the drying locks at the base of his head, finding the damp braids on his nape. You smile up at him gently as you lean into him slowly, "You made me fall in love with you, Shoto. I will have you in whatever ways you give me."

And that was enough incentive for him. One of Shoto's hands finds its place on your jaw, while the other grabs at your waist. The clothes are damp under his touch, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Shoto tilts your head back, moving quickly at first, his mouth chasing yours. But just as his lips go to brush over yours, he slows down. His nose brushes against yours, and a shaky breath falls from your mouth as you await his kiss.

Shoto lets out a sigh, "I will have you in every way, but you need to get in dry clothes first. I have waited my whole life to kiss you, I can wait a few more moments."

A groan builds up in your throat, but you comply, pulling away from him slowly and starting toward your house. You turn and look over your shoulder, calling out, "Shoto Todoroki, you will be the death of me."

Shoto smirks and faces you, calling back, "And befriending your dragon will be the death of me."

-The End-

[geovanag]

🪐 Astrology Observations 5 🪐

Capricorn Moon signs start to look more attractive to other people when they reach middle age (after 40).

You may know that the Moon is at its lowest position in Capricorn. So how did I make such an observation despite this position? By middle age, many turning points in a person's life are completed. The moon is one of them. Now the mature (Capricorn) emotions (moon) begin to show themselves.

Then these people, who maximize their emotional maturity, improve the problems in their relationships with their mothers and sometimes succeed in camouflaging their feelings and sometimes in sharing their feelings with people they feel close to.

(This was the position I observed in men).

~

I think the Sun Ascendant square aspect is really challenging for a man. He has a problem with the authority figure, the father from an early age. It may not be completely confrontational (unless Mars, saturn, uranus and pluto are in hard influence)

Being in the same environment together can make them feel like they are being restricted. Maybe they feel that something is wrong. But is it really what they think it is? Yes. With the other person, (the Sun) it is very difficult for them to forget everything and get back together with them. (Orb should be maximum 6)

~

Although they say that Juno is only a marriage indicator and other asteroids can show ceremonies like weddings, I don't go into that much detail. I think even Juno can show the wedding process. For example; I had a friend with Juno in Virgo. Maybe she didn't scrutinize the person she was going to marry down to the most meticulous detail, but the wedding process was exactly like that. She had prepared details down to what the guests would wear. Ugh I think it is very tiring, even though I have Virgo juno, lol

Juno in Virgo may have met the man she will marry at work.

~

Chiron - Moon square aspect, this aspect allows you to feel the healing and wounded spirit of Chiron deep down. Let's not discuss whether it's good or bad, but it's certainly very palpable. Your emotions are shaped by "compassion". For example, you see a homeless man and a little child a little further away. You feel infinite compassion for these two people and a desire to give them a home. You take into account the situation and circumstances and just think that they are in need of help. Independently of this, I find it interesting that people with this aspect do not get enough support from the women around them. Maybe this is how the "lacking" aspect of chiron works. I would like to write a more detailed article about Chiron.

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Having a Venus-Neptune-Jupiter T-square. The signs and houses where the planets are located will play a serious role. I know someone who has this T-square in 2nd-4th-10th houses. I realized that he is not where he is supposed to be because of his family's pressures. He doesn't want to talk about it but I can observe it. Sometimes his mother and sometimes his father try to shape his future position, how he will earn money without asking him. This will hurt him a lot but he has a very strong character and he will get what he wants at the end of this path.

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Having Pluto aspects in synastry is known to be quite difficult. But you should know that it is difficult for the planetary person. Because they are both deeply attracted to Pluto's mysterious aura and very annoyed by it. Both of these feelings are exhausting for them. I am not saying that Pluto benefits from this, but things are much simpler for Pluto. It's the other one who gets exhausted.

In the next post I will write about the ascendants in the Composite chart. New post will be coming very soon, please get in touch if you have any observations you would like to share.

TAKE CARE,,, 🌬

[altocat]

FIRST SOLDIER EPISODE 2 CHAPTER 2

Ready for tonight's recap? I gotcha covered! I'm VERY excited to see where the plot goes from here! Let's goooo!

So when we last left off, Seph, Angeal, and cameraman Bachman were in some Wutai ruins (Robio), where they met the mysterious swordsman Masamune and the even MORE mysterious Alissa Goldie. Miniroth has mommy issues. Angeal can't make friends with him because he's being edgy. Bachman wants a paycheck. Let's see how this unfolds...

We open on the gang in their camp. There's some other allied soldiers there as well. Guess everyone regrouped. Alissa (SUS) immediately wants to continue her investigation into Robio. Bachman remarks that Alissa seems to have immediately won Sephiroth over...WONDER WHY 💀

Sephiroth is trying out replacements for his damaged sword. Alissa approaches him and Sephiroth is rather nonchalant about having standard Shinra-issued swords. He just...had a feeling about Masamune though.

Alissa keeps praising Sephiroth as a legend and a hero. She's acting all upbeat about everything. It's coming off as genuinely unsettling. She keeps fawning over him.

The group catches eye of a PURPLE SUS orb and Angeal and Seph handle a monster. Alissa can't help because her arm is supposedly hurt. She says that Angeal must have a sixth sense for sensing fiends. EXCEPT NOT THE ONE THAT'S CLEARLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

Angeal and Seph are alone. Angeal asks why Sephiroth is acting differently around Alissa. Sephiroth is silent. When Angeal presses more, Sephiroth claims he's trying out the allies thing. Sorta. They take out another monster together as a team.

Bachman praises their efforts. Angeal still insists that he and Seph will come together in time. He's being his usual friendly self, but Seph STILL blows him off and walks off, noticeably when Bachman attempts to film him.

Bachman says that Alissa is more of an "Angeal type" because of her friendliness. He says that Sephiroth just ignores everyone and is solely focused on becoming a killing machine (OUCH).

Alissa gets attacked by another monster and Sephiroth protectively rushes over to help. I SEE WHERE YOU'RE GOING WITH THIS SQUARE ASDFGHGFDS

Bachman asks Alissa if she thinks a soldier should be a lone wolf like Seph or more friendly like Angeal. Alissa just shrugs. She says that she's here to provide support.

We finally set out again to investigate Robio. Entering the Igara Forbidden Zone. Angeal wants to take a break but Seph insists he doesn't need one. He takes the lead, albeit at a slower pace when he sees Alissa struggling.

They come across a weird rock formation. Powerful fire magic was used in the area. Alissa talks about how two thousand years ago, the Ancients arrived and named this area Igara. SUS SUS SUS. Igara was a paradise until a fearsome beast invaded the region. VERY SUSSSSSSSS. The land got scorched because a bunch of heroes showed up to defeat the foe, using fire magic to destroy it. Supposedly.

The survivors of the fire were the ones who went on to form the country of Wutai! Really cool lore shit!!!!

The group comes across a spooky trail with a LOT of fog. Alissa claims to have left markers on the ground. Sephiroth clears the fog with his sword.

Alissa asks Angeal about the sword on his back. Oh boy here we go...Angeal says it's his good luck charm but doesn't elaborate. Alissa tells Seph that HE needs an impressive sword too! After all, he's a hero! He needs something exceptional! Sephiroth remembers the Masamune and shows interest in claiming it for himself.

There's a bunch of weird purple shit on the ground. More fog too. Really digging the spooky background music. Sets the mood.

Sephiroth asks Alissa if she's an active model soldier. Alissa says that yes, she's modified with special cells! Bachman says that the cells were grown from something they scraped off a meteorite. Alissa says that's only a stupid rumor. Jenova bullet dodged for Seph.

We fight some weird owl-looking monsters native to the area. They've finally entered Robio in full. They start up the investigation. More lore dump time!

500 years ago, after the warriors killed the beast, Robio was a ghost town until settlers came to try their luck. They were also Ancients. Their numbers were smaller by then but they tried to revive the area like the did with Igara. It became a village, Robio. Alissa wants to know why someplace that was revived died again. They're going to inspect the ruins of the major buildings.

Big stones in the road. The people of Wutai placed them around Igara as a sort of barrier...to keep something from getting OUT.

PURPLE LIGHTS SUDDENLY! We see the ghosts of villagers. Illusions of the past. They disappear quickly. The group has no idea what to think about it. They just have to keep exploring.

Burn marks cover the whole village. Angeal wonders if something erupted nearby. More bright purple flashes. Most ghosts and ghost-flames. They see the figure of Masamune cutting villagers down! Sephiroth doesn't know why they sealed this place away. Are they trying to conceal an uncomfortable truth by erasing the past? He says he'd never let that happen to him (irony).

Bachman's camera has footage of the ghosts, where they see Masamune. They have to unravel this mystery.

A statue now. But they can't see what it is. Sephiroth remarks that there has to be an incredible power lurking here. More ghosts. Masamune cutting more villagers down, being called a fiend. Sephiroth says that this has to be the source of the destruction. Wutai sealed this village off because it was fucked and harboring a monster. But they were fucked up in turn for abandoning the villagers to their fate.

Sephiroth doing some more projecting. "Anything different isn't human". Which includes Soldiers. He's de-humanizing himself again. Angeal privately swears that the world isn't bad, people aren't bad. Someday, he'll make Sephiroth see that.

They enter the center of Robio where the villagers would gather to share stories and celebrations. More ghosts. Masamune again. Robio's tools and weapons were the responsibility of a single smith. One day, as if possessed, he took up his hammer and dumped everything into crafting a remarkable blade. AKA the Masamune sword. The villagers started fighting to claim the sword as their own, even trying to steal it. Masamune slaughtered them as a result and set the area aflame. He slayed every villager one by one. The villagers' greed prevented them from working together to take the sword from him. And thus, they each perished individually. And started killing even each other until there was nothing left.

Angeal wonders how the hell Alissa knows all this. Suddenly Masamune jumps down right in front of them! Another fight with the old man! He's got to be at least be hundreds of years old by now. He's very clearly some sort of cursed demon or something.

Alissa tells them that she gathered all that info because the scenes just CAME to her. Like they were her own memories...

Sephiroth says that the Masamune is calling to him. It yearns to become his own. A loud bell chimes somewhere and they race over to investigate.

The sound is coming from a biiiig ruined monument. It feels like something is calling to them. Sephiroth can sense the power. He insists that the sword is meant to be in his hands. Angeal thinks he's acting strange and says that they should leave--this is getting too fucking spooky. Sephiroth is going in. He WANTS that blade "back". Angeal doesn't know what he means by "back".

Angeal manages to talk him into camping out for the night and explore the building tomorrow.

CHAPTER FINISHED! But wait! There's some extra content like last time!

Back at camp, Angeal tells Bachman to rest. Early day tomorrow. But Bachman wants to check his footage. He recaps all the lore for us. He says that Sephiroth seems to have some kinship to the people who once lived here. The sword seems to have given him a new sense of purpose.

Next segment. Oh fuck. Sephiroth is dreaming about his mother again. He's with her in a flowery field. Lucrecia (still labeled "Jenova" is being all sugary sweet and loving towards her son. Lucrecia remarks about the sun and flowers. They've been travelling together in this dream. Sephiroth can't believe it. He rarely leaves headquarters. Lucrecia tells him they go on trips together all the time! Sephiroth wants so bad to spend more time with her. Lucrecia tells him he's a hero. He DESERVES this reward. She's so proud of him. I'M GONNA CRY AGAIN. Him having her by his side gives him strength. Another hug. FUCK.

Obviously I know what they're doing here. These "dreams" are officially a Jenova/other evil entity manipulation. Or SOME sort of shit designed to fuck with Sephiroth's head. This could explain his attachment to Alissa and why he's starting to act strange. These dreams are somehow playing with his mind and grooming him to come to some sort of conclusion, maybe directly tied to him wanting Masamune so much.

Angeal segment to cap us off! So I was wrong before. The last one wasn't a flashback. These are idealized dream sequences. My apologies! Angeal is dreaming about when he left his village for Midgar. Everyone is celebrating and supporting him before sending him off. Sephiroth desired his mother. Angeal desired a happy life where he's appreciated and respected. The entire dream is everyone fawning over him. He gets his uniform and the Buster Sword. His dad gives him the dreams and honor speech. So we know on some level that his oath came from his dad! That's neat! Angeal vows to fight for his parents and for people who are struggling.

And that's it! This was a BIG chapter lore-wise!