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jsluvtzu · 1 year ago

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mind games

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

summary: when her actions don't match up with her feelings, and you're caught in the middle

cw: college!au, angsty, edgy, emo, MEAN!!!!sana, (sana is very very mean), smut, cursing, degradation, mentions of bullying/humiliation, again mean!sana!! men dni

wc: 3.3k

a/n: this is inspired by the recent fanmeeting pics w sana and that damn choker

the walk to your usual 9 am intro to psychology class was colder than usual. the sun was out, but inside, you felt as if it hadn't shined in years. only one thing was clouding your mind. minatozaki fucking sana. mean girl. bully. bitch. you hated her guts from the inside out. everything about her made you physically recoil in disgust. just the mention of her alone was enough to make you clench your fist.

the hatred you had for her may seem unreasonable for someone who doesn't know what you have to deal with on a daily basis. any normal person would call you crazy, or dramatic. but you had every right to feel this way about her.

"hey there pretty thing," you heard her disgustingly familiar voice a couple steps behind you. "who let you walk out the house like that? needa have a talk with them.." you squeezed your lips shut, ignoring sana's words and just kept walking. you could hear her friends, nayeon and chaeyoung, giggling like a pack of hyenas and saying something along the lines of "fuckin' slut" and "she's just asking for it wearing that short ass skirt".

you forcefully tugged the ends of your skirt down and walked through your classroom door, not even bothering to look back at them.

as you took your usual seat towards the front row, you heard them enter the lecture hall and the stench of weed immediately filled your nose, making you furrow your eyebrows and hold your breath. sana throws her stuff down right next to you, plopping down into the seat with her minions right by her side. "hi y/nnn," her arm was propped up on the desk, hand resting under her chin, facing you, batting her eyelashes with the widest smile on her pretty ugly face.

you looked straight ahead, ignoring her and just got your laptop ready for the day's lecture. sana attempted to move into your line of sight, getting uncomfortably close to you in the process. you tried your hardest not to react, but it was especially difficult when she smelled this strong and looked this good. you would never admit the last part though. "you fuckin' deaf or something? i said hi, don't be rude." you side eyed her and went back to logging into your note taking app. sana scoffed annoyedly and backed away to lean in her seat, slightly manspreading. fuck she's so attractive when she sits like that. you quickly shook your head to clear those forbidden thoughts from your mind.

getting through the hour long lecture felt like three days with sana being beside you the whole time. she was wearing a short sleeve shirt and you could see how decorated her arms were with tattoos littered on every empty patch of skin. her silver rings around her slender fingers fit her perfectly and complimented her skin tone so well. her hair was the perfect shade of brown and the right amount of wavy. her f- wait. what are you doing? you're supposed to hate sana. if you really hate her so much, why do you notice the way her nose scrunches when she laughs? you shouldn't feel your heart beat this fast around somebody that you claim to hate. fuck.

finally, the lecture was over and you wasted no time gathering your things to leave. you rushed out the door and checked the time on your phone. “11:17 AM”. you had enough time before your next class to stop by the dining hall for a quick lunch.

as you sat down at a table by yourself, you accidentally dropped one of your items on the floor and bent down to pick it up. that's when you heard whistling and laughter approaching you.

"is this table taken?" sana laughed slightly, asking you rhetorically. nayeon was very obviously checking you out and basically eye fucked you in the middle of the dining hall. chaeyoung took a bite out of her apple and kept looking you up and down. before you could even answer, the three of them sat in the remaining empty seats at the table, leaving you one for yourself.

"so, y/n. i need a favor. the professor is letting me make up a project to bring my grade up, buttt i have no idea what the fuck i'm doing. care to help me out?" sana looked at you intently, placing her hand on your knee, bare skin exposed to her cold touch.

"why the fuck would i help you, sana?" you were completely furious at this point. not only did she ruin the one peaceful moment you had alone, she also had the audacity to come to you for help, when all she's ever done for you is make your life worse?

sana looked at you in disbelief, your aggressive tone shocking her. she cocked her head to the side with a clenched jaw. "because if you don't, i'll post that video of your bare ass for everyone, and i mean everyone to see. you wouldn't want that to happen, would you sweet thing?" her voice was infuriating you just as much as it was entrancing you. sana now had a confident smirk displayed across her face. she knows your weak spot.

you gulped and breathed out shakily, remembering that dumb fucking mistake you made in high school when you sent your ex girlfriend your nudes, thinking you could trust her. she ended up sending it to a big group chat and of course, sana got ahold of it. she's been using that video as blackmail against you ever since, making you obey her every command to keep your dignity.

"fuck you.", was your way of agreeing to another one of sana's orders. "aww, you wish you could." the three of them bursted out laughing and stood up to leave one by one. "meet me in my dorm around 7, yeah? fourth door on the second floor." sana ran her hand through your hair and twirled a couple strands between her fingers. "would hate for such a pretty girl to get publicly humiliated if she doesn't show up." she gave you one last devious smile before grabbing her bag and joining nayeon and chaeyoung.

you regretted every step you took as you neared sana’s dorm room door. your feet felt abnormally heavy and you were just dragging your body there out of obligation.

with a deep sigh, you knocked on her door and gripped your textbook tight. when sana opened the door, your heartbeat was beating so loud, you swore you could hear it pounding against your eardrums. her hair was up in a messy bun with loose strands and flyaways hanging out. she had on an oversized, faded and torn “misfits” shirt, with baggy boy shorts on to top it off.

sana chuckled and took in your obviously stressed demeanor, “you knew better than to not come huh?” she stepped back to let you in and you could hear the loud music she had playing.

her room lingered of a vanilla candle mixed with, you guessed it, weed. how she managed to not get caught by an RA was beyond you. her walls were filled with posters from various rock bands and vinyl cds that were aesthetically placed in color order. her bed was messy and clothes were all over the floor. her roommate’s side of the room was surprisingly tidy compared to hers.

as you stood in the middle of the room, awkwardly observing her decor, sana snapped you out of your trance. “you here to help me, or just look stupid?” you cleared your throat and shuffled over to sana’s desk, placing down your textbook and setting your backpack on the floor.

you shrunk under sana’s gaze. cautious of every move you made. you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie nervously as you felt her eyes piercing into you. “why are you acting like that? i don’t bite.” sana was genuinely confused, she doesn’t even realize how she treats you. “look, can we just get this over with?” you avoided eye contact with sana at all costs and stared at the ground, too nervous to look at her directly.

“alright, small talk over i guess.. ‘s what i get for tryna be nice to your loser ass.” sana climbed onto her bed with a sulky attitude, sitting near the edge with her legs crossed. you pulled out the chair from under the desk and sat down, flipping open your textbook to chapter 3.

“the project is about understanding human attraction, so we have to do a little experiment and record the results.” as you said it outloud, you realized what you just got yourself into. working on an attraction project with the girl you hated yourself for being attracted to.

“okay, list 5 things you find most appealing when you first look at your partner.”

“the fuck kinda project is this? i’m not doing this.”

“sana. don’t be dumb right now, you’re already failing the course.” sana was dumbfounded at your bluntness.

“i can’t list anything if there’s nothing i find appealing about you.”

“well then make something up.”

sana scoffed at the ridiculousness of the project and rolled her eyes, cursing herself for even asking for your help.

“i can’t even do that, honestly, i would throw up tryna say something nice about you.”

you were fed up with her at that point and stood up slamming your pen down, “then can you just shut the fuck up? for once? if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say shit at all. i’m always helping you out and all you do is fucking ruin it.” you talked with your hands flailing around everywhere in frustration. you didn’t mean to raise your voice like that, but the pent up anger you had built up finally released.

“ ‘fuck is your problem, y/n? i-“ sana gets down from her bed to stand face to face with you, “you’re the fucking problem, sana. it’s always been you. you’re always finding every way to ruin my life. make me feel bad about myself. why can’t you just leave me alone? what have i ever done to you to deserve being treated like this?” sana was close enough for you to stab your finger into her chest, emphasizing every sentence.

her taller figure towered over you as she looked down at you with a quirked eyebrow and her lips slightly parted. she had nothing to say back to that. your breathing was shallow and you felt relieved for telling her off to her face. something you’ve wanted to do for years.

but the tension in the room was growing and the both of you stared at each other in a loud silence.

you slowly started backing away from sana when you felt like the pressure in the atmosphere was crushing your lungs. sana stopped you with a grab to your wrist, pulling you, no, yanking you, towards her, crashing her lips onto yours hard enough to leave bruises.

that’s when everything in your world stopped. the time froze and things went quiet. you no longer heard the music that was playing in the background, just silence.

you peeled yourself away from sana’s intense grip, appalled at what just happened. “ what.. what are you doing, san-“

before you could even finish your sentence, she grabbed you again, this time squeezing your face with both of her hands. her big hands. you wondered how far they could go inside y-

you braced yourself and placed your hands on the sides of her hips to keep yourself stable. sana was controlling the pace of the kiss now, biting your bottom lip and swiping her tongue along it only to force herself inside of your mouth, tasting you.

sana pulled away with a ‘pop’ sound, your face still held in her hands.

“i’m in love with you.” her face was serious, an expression that was new to you since all you’ve ever seen her be is the total opposite.

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, comprehending what she just said and replaying it in your mind over and over.

“i’ve always been in love with you, y/n. i just suck at expressing that. and i get nervous around you so it makes it worse.” sana’s facial expression softened now, the stars in her eyes apparent.

“the only way i know how to show you i like you is by being an absolute bitch to you. i’m sorry. i’m just insecure and i thought you were too good for me. you’re right, okay, you don’t deserve to be treated like this. it’s okay if you d-“

this time you were the one to bruise sana’s lips. you cut her sentence midway, having heard enough to confirm what you suspected all this time. you knew she had something for you. it was always odd how she wanted you to do things for her that would specifically get you to be alone with her. like the time she made you clean out her car and she just watched you, or when she made you write her essay for her in the library and she just sat there. observing you.

you always had a gut feeling, but you pushed it so far down because you didn’t want to fall for her any more than you already did.

“stop talking. i know.” you pushed sana back until you both bumped into her bed, climbing up and straddling her lap.

sana hummed in confusion, trying to break away from the kiss to ask for clarification.

“fuck you mean- you- know?”

you smiled against her lips and only responded by crossing your arms over your torso, grabbing the hem of your hoodie and lifting it over your head, your hair falling over your shoulder.

sana let out a small gasp, looking over your figure. you were only wearing a sports bra underneath and the band of your panties was showing above your sweatpants, just below your belly button.

“you came over here just wearing that? you really are a slut.”

you laughed and shook your head, kissing her again to stop her from saying another overused insult.

“don’t ruin it.”

sana ran her hands along your body, rubbing the soft skin from the small of your back to the nape of your neck, her warm lips making contact with the base of your throat. she was bear hugging you against her at this point, afraid you would run out of her grasp at any moment.

you whimpered when sana sunk her teeth into your neck, you were sure it left a mark. sana cooed and soothed the bite, running her tongue around it and kissing it gently. she moved her kisses up along your jaw, watching the way you writhed under her touch through hooded, lustful eyes.

“fuck- just fuck me already.” you were begging at this point, already riled up the moment you walked through her door.

sana complied and wrapped her arms around your waist, flipping you onto your back so her front was flush against you.

she brought her lips back to yours, savoring it as she hooked her fingers onto the waistband of your pants taking everything off. she slid them down your legs, helping you kick your feet out and threw them somewhere on the floor.

you were exposed against her, the cold air hitting your core making you moan in anticipation. sana moved her lips down your body, tending to every single inch of you. you felt so hot watching her, the lust in her eyes intimidating and seductive.

sana made it close to where you needed her most, breathing out and kissing around your clit. her warm breath against your pussy made you impossibly wetter. sana was such a fucking tease.

she migrated over to your thighs, kissing and marking up the flesh with love bites. you just needed to feel her mouth on you so bad.

“fuck sana- stop teasing.” she could hear the desperation in your tone, letting out a low laugh.

“let me have my fun, y/n. it’s what you wanted right? for me to just touch you like this.” sana flicked her tongue over your clit once, making you whine.

“it’s why you came over here with nothing on under that hoodie right? you just wanted me to fuck you.”

you hated the way she was so entitled. of course you didn’t expect to get fucked by her. you just wore whatever was comfortable. but you definitely had thoughts about it..

you grinded your hips against nothing in hopes for some sort of relief. your mind was getting blurry at this point, the only thing clouding your mind now was cumming on sana’s tongue. ironic.

sana finally gave in and licked the flat of her tongue against your whole core. she took your swollen clit into her mouth, sucking it in pulses and making figure eight patterns with her tongue. you were already a moaning mess five seconds in, shocked at how good she was.

your hands flew to sana’s hair, grabbing the back of her head to push her face deeper into you. she moaned against your pussy when you pulled her hair, ruining her bun.

you felt yourself already getting close just from sana’s mouth. you attempted to squeeze your legs together, but sana pushed them down with her hands, forcing them apart.

“keep your fucking legs open, g’na make you cum all over my tongue.” her voice was husky and she was practically growling her words.

sana moved one of her hands from your thigh to fuck two fingers into you, wrapping her other arm around the top of your abdomen, pushing down on your pelvic.

“sana! fuck- fuck just like that- god.” you were screaming her name and your hand flew to your mouth to keep your moans suppressed. you felt the tightness in your stomach building up.

suddenly, sana paused her movements and you looked down at her confused and pissed that she just stopped when you were so, so close.

“i wanna hear you. if you do that shit again, i’ll make you leave with only the clothes you have on.” which was nothing except your sports bra.

you threw your head back in annoyance, nodding and squeezing your eyes shut. “mhm, whatever, just fucking get back to ruining me already.” your whiny voice mixed with your contradicting words ignited a fire in sana.

she began fucking you with her fingers again, relentlessly curling up against the sweet spot on your flesh everytime she thrusted into you. “oh now you want me to fucking ruin you huh? i thought it was wrong? hm? thought you wanted me to be nice? i was just a fucking bully, right? you liked it though. yeah, you wanted the attention. you wanted me to be mean to you. fuckin’ dumb bitch.”

her words hit you differently now. if it was any other situation you would have the urge to punch her in her smug face, but when she has you laid out like this, you can’t help but be turned on by her degrading words.

you couldn’t even form a comeback anymore, too fucked out to say anything except her name.

“fuck, fuck, sana, fuck- please don’t stop- ‘m gonna cum, fuck-“

sana sucked your clit back into her mouth and that threw you over the edge. you finished with a loud, long moan, gripping her hair tight enough to rip out a few strands, bucking your core flush against her face. your juices entirely coated her lips and she drank you up without wasting a single drop.

moaning against your clit, she helped you ride out your orgasm and slowly pumped her fingers until you calmed down enough for her to relax.

sana sat up and licked her lips, cleaning her fingers off with her mouth, humming in satisfaction, enjoying your sweet taste. you watched her with sleepy eyes, feeling an uncomfortable throb already building back up in your core from watching her erotic actions. she lowered back down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on her lips.

“so did we finish the experiment?”

#twice imagines #twice x reader #twice smut #kpop x reader #kpop gg #sana x reader #sana smut #minatozaki sana

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random-brushstrokes · 8 months ago

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Nicolas Sternberg - Ligeia (1929)

This drawing depicts Ligeia, the brilliant, mysterious character from the eponymous Edgar Allan Poe short story of 1838. Ligeia was the first wife of the narrator and died tragically young, only to be mysteriously resurrected when the narrator’s second wife, Rowena, dies. The dead body of the fair, blue-eyed Rowena comes back to life overnight, transformed into the dark beauty Ligeia. Sternberg has depicted Ligeia as an exotic femme fatale, closely adhering to Poe’s vivid description of her strangeness and beauty: tall and slender, with hair “blacker than the raven wings of midnight” and eyes like “divine orbs”—large, shining, “the most brilliant of black,”—beneath “jetty lashes of great length.” At right Sternberg depicted another large encircled eye, a likely reference to the Symbolist artist Odilon Redon, whose work was influential on the artist. (source)

#Nicolas Sternberg #hungarian art #1920s

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suguwu · 7 months ago

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MOON EATER I THREE

"But truly, Master Diluc—why am I here?"

"I would wed you," he says, flexing his hands in his lap. "If you are amenable to it."

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

masterlist

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

notes: i've been sitting on this chapter for a while, so i'm excited to send it out in the world!

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, jealousy, some jeanlisa if you squint.

wc: 4k

The winery is almost entirely empty when Diluc steps inside after you. Jean is corralling the few stragglers, giving quiet orders to the remaining knights, her blue eyes as gentle as the summer sky. She’s in ceremonial wear and it hones her; he thinks of a sheathed blade.

“Jean,” he says. “You don’t need to do that.”

She turns to face him, a soft smile curling up on her lips. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, the color of the pearly dawn. It’s the one she gains when she’s caught doing something she knows she shouldn’t.

(“Father,” Diluc said, innocent as a newborn fawn as Jean and Kaeya shifted at his side. “You wanted to see us?”

His father eyed them with a raised brow. “I don’t suppose the three of you know anything about the pie that went missing from the kitchen.”

Kaeya fidgeted with his sleeve, his slender fingers working at the cuff of it. Diluc elbowed him in the ribs subtly. “No, Father,” he said.

His father studied each of them carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, Diluc saw the blush rising to Jean’s cheeks, a soft pink that was slowly darkening.

“Jean?” his father asked.

“I’m sorry!” she cried out, and Diluc groaned.)

“I was just helping—”

“Jean. You don’t need to help.”

She bites at her lip and Diluc softens. He’d forgotten how much she needed to feel useful. But this close, he can see the bags under her eyes, the deep blue-gray of a stormcloud. “My staff has it under control,” he says. “And you’re a guest.”

“But—”

“Go home and rest.”

“I can still—”

“Jean.”

“Alright,” she says quietly. “I just need to give a few more orders, that’s all.”

He nods and starts to step away.

“Diluc?”

When he turns to face her, he takes a sharp breath. There’s something like sorrow shining through her expression, something bone-deep carved into the curve of her mouth.

“Is this really what you wanted?” she asks. Her voice is gentle, but she’s watching him carefully, her gaze a comet streaking through the sky, the blue of it cutting through the heavens’ tender underbelly. It cuts through him, too.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says after a moment.

Jean smiles, starshine at dawn, a slow fade of light. “I thought you might say that.”

Diluc stays quiet, meeting her gaze steadily.

“You’re as stubborn as ever,” she says, shaking her head, but her voice is fond.

“Master Diluc? Stubborn? Perish the thought,” Lisa says as she joins them, wrapping her shawl around her pale shoulders.

Jean heaves out a beleaguered sigh, but she can’t quite hide the twitch of her lips.

Lisa laughs, light and tinkling, looping her arm through Jean’s. “Come on, darling,” she says. “Let’s let the newlyweds have their night, yes?” She throws Diluc a bold wink.

Heat scorches across his cheeks, a supernova burn. He’s able to disguise his choke as a cough at the last second, though from the glimmer in Lisa’s jade eyes, he hasn’t hidden it well enough.

“Lisa!” Jean scolds.

The mage laughs again. She’s every inch the cat who got the canary, her lips curling into a delighted little smile.

“Goodnight, Diluc,” Jean says, all but dragging Lisa away. Lisa lets herself be led, snuggling in close to the blonde as they leave. It smushes some of the roses in her hair, but she doesn’t seem to care that she’s leaving a trail of petals behind. Diluc sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry about her,” you say as you join him. “She’s a handful.”

“I’m aware.”

You laugh, picking a cecilia out of your hair and rolling the short stem between your palms. The bloom whirls with it, a ballerina’s tulle skirt, a light dusting of pollen floating down from it to tint your fingers gold. It catches the light as you raise your hand to cover your yawn.

Diluc frowns. “You should go to bed,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”

You hum. “It has been,” you say. “I don’t suppose you intend to sleep soon?”

“I need to speak with Adelinde.”

“Alright,” you say. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

He watches you go upstairs, the hem of your dress flowing behind you, a silken spill of moonlight.

You don’t look back.

He turns on his heel. Finding Adelinde is easy; she’s in the midst of giving orders to some of the staff. She hands off a mostly-empty platter of tiny, delicate golden-brown pastries to Hillie when she sees him.

“Master Diluc.”

“Adelinde,” he says. “How is the clean up going?”

“We’ll be done with the food soon. The rest can wait until morning, I believe.”

“Good.”

Adelinde pauses. She looks at him for a moment; her jade eyes have a knife’s edge to them, her gaze an autopsy cut. Her lips draw tight, a wound of a mouth. “You mean to go out tonight.”

“Yes.”

“If I may, Master Diluc,” she says, “you now have a wife.”

“That has no bearing in this. The Knights will be lax tonight, lulled into complacency by the celebration. I heard a few mention continuing at Angel’s Share after they return to the city. I cannot leave Mond unprotected.”

Adelinde does not frown. Instead, her face smooths out into an impenetrable mask, porcelain breathed to life. “Very well,” she says. “At least wait until she’s asleep.”

“The sooner I leave—”

“At least wait until she’s asleep,” she says, voice sharp. “It is your wedding night.”

“When she’s asleep,” he allows.

Adelinde nods. “Goodnight, Master Diluc.”

“Goodnight, Adelinde.”

He goes upstairs quietly. There’s a soft light filtering from under the door to your room. He sighs and heads into the master bedroom, settling at the small desk in front of the windows. He lights the candles with a flick of his wrist; the flames devour the wick, leaping high before settling into a low, sweet glow. He’s just beginning to shuffle through a few papers when one of the hallway floorboards groans, a warning song.

“Diluc,” you say from the doorway. The candlelight barely reaches you there; it casts you into shadows, a new moon’s outline against the velvet of the sky. “May I come in?”

He stands. “Yes,” he says. “What is it?”

You step inside. The cecilias are gone from your hair, but you’re still wearing your dress. Your smile is a bit sheepish, but there’s a secret tucked up in the corner of it. “My dress,” you say. “The maids are all so busy. Can you undo the top few buttons for me?”

“I—what?”

“It’s hard to undo them from this angle,” you say. “Please?”

He takes a breath. “Alright.”

You turn as he steps closer, the delicate train of the dress swirling at your feet, a whirlpool of silk. It exposes the line of buttons marching down the back of your dress, rigid against the soft flow of the fabric.

The buttons are tiny things, pearls that shine like little moons even in the low light. He bites back a curse as they slip against the leather of his gloves. He tries again, gently tugging on a button, but it refuses to come out of the loop holding it tight. He changes the angle, but it’s no use; he runs afoul of the slick surface again and again. He huffs in annoyance and bites at the tip of his index finger to peel off his glove, letting it drop to the ground.

He tries again and finally, the button slips free of the little loop. The fabric separates. His fingertips—rough, heavy with scars from burns and blades alike—brush against the cool slope of your back, skin against skin. He goes still.

You glance at him over your shoulder. You’re still shadow-kissed, but your eyes gleam in the dim.

(“Forgive my forwardness,” you said. “But there is the small matter of lovers.”

Diluc coughed. He glanced at you and saw no hint of a joke. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lovers,” you said, that rosebud smile rising to your lips, petals yet unfolded. “If you should take one, I only ask that you be discreet. I would do the same, of course.”

Something in Diluc’s chest went cold. It was bone-deep, as if the Dragonspine winds were cutting through him. “You would take a lover?”

“I do not know the future,” you said. “But if I should, I would be discreet, as I said. Is that alright?”

Diluc took a deep breath. “If you wish it, I would hardly stop you.”

You inclined your head to him with a little smile. You moved on to another topic like a river current, slow but inexorable. Diluc barely heard any of it, your voice muffled, as if you were speaking underwater. He only came back to himself as you gathered your things and bid him farewell.

“Master Diluc,” you said at the door. He glanced up at you, your features softened in the light streaming in through the windows. “I should mention that I would not mind you in my bed instead of a lover.”

Diluc choked.

By the time he recovered enough to speak, you were already gone.)

He undoes another button. Then a third, and a fourth, each little pearl slipping from its loop with ease. His thumb traces over the salt of your skin until it slips just beneath the fabric. He pulls just enough for the gap between the fabric to widen. He drags his thumb along the crescent moon sliver of revealed skin; a callus catches against you. You take in a sharp breath.

Diluc pulls back as if burned.

“There,” he says, clearing his throat, his cheeks hot. He knows they’ve gone scarlet, that there’s a deep flush painted over his whole face. “They’re undone.”

“Thanks,” you say, glancing over your shoulder once more. Your lashes catch the shadows like a spider’s web. It only serves to better illuminate your eyes. He swallows.

“You’re welcome.”

You study him for a moment before you smile, as soft as the breaking dawn. “Goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight.”

The door clicks shut behind you. Diluc listens as your quiet footsteps fade away; there’s a distant thud as the door to your room closes too. He sighs, leaning down to pick his glove up off the floor. He slides it back on as he crosses to his closet. The night is still young and he knows what he must do.

When he’s dressed, he opens the secret compartment to his desk. He stares down at the owl mask that’s ensconced there. It gleams in the low light, the severe point of its beak a wicked hook. Diluc tucks it away under his cloak before he opens the window.

With the lush vines clinging to the winery walls, it’s an easy climb down. He looks up when he reaches the bottom. There’s still a light glowing faintly in your window. His chest aches, as if a ribbon is tightening around it, but he ignores it and slips on the mask.

He has work to do.

—

Morning comes far too soon.

Diluc’s room is still steeped in blue, but the promise of morning is apparent on the horizon where golden fingers of light are reaching into the sky, scraping their way through the darkness. The birds are just beginning to stir, their chirps still subdued, a few plucked notes before the melody.

It feels like Diluc has just only collapsed into bed, but the stars that had been watching over him when he stole back into his room have gone out, fading beneath the dawn. He sits up and scrubs a hand over his face, wincing as it pulls at the fresh set of lilac bruises blooming on his right side. He prods at them carefully.

The ache sinks its teeth in as he brushes his fingertips along the biggest of them. It’s still darkening, a galaxy caught under his skin. It remains tender as he gets ready for the day; it takes effort to not compensate for it in his movement.

By the time Diluc heads downstairs, the winery is already stirring to life. A few maids scurry past him; he can hear the vineyard workers starting to make their way through the vines, checking them after the harvest. But most of the activity is centered in the heart of the winery, where the remnants of your wedding reception are. He watches as two of the servants unhook a floral garland from the rafters, petals raining down beneath them. The petals whirl through the air like snowflakes, thick and white, and Diluc brushes one off when it lands on his shoulder. He’s in the middle of plucking another out of his mass of crimson hair when the floorboards whisper your arrival.

“Oh,” you say. “They’re taking them down already? A shame.”

He glances at you. “I am sure Adelinde would be open to keeping them up, should you wish it.”

“It’s fine. I just thought they might keep them up a little longer while they’re fresh.”

“I see.”

You reach out and let a petal drift into your hand. It’s a little bruised at the edges from being shaken loose, but you don’t seem to mind.

“Do you think I could have a few for my room?” you ask.

“A few—”

“Flowers,” you say. “I’m sure many of them are still intact even after the garlands are taken down.”

“Of course. Any that you would like.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed,” he says, adjusting his cuff. “It’s—this is your home too, now.”

You pause. When you look at him, he can’t quite make sense of your expression. “Yes,” you say quietly. “I suppose it is.”

“I hope you will be comfortable here.”

You smile, the slow rise of a crescent moon. “I’m sure I will be. Though I intend to return to Liyue soon.”

“Of course. Do you know when?”

“I expect that I’ll return within the week.”

“Oh? That’s later than I expected.”

“So eager to be rid of me?”

Diluc flushes, the heat of it spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “No, I—”

“I’m only teasing,” you say. “I haven’t been back to Mond in a while. There are some things I should handle in person.”

“I see.”

You examine him for a moment. Whatever you see must satisfy you, for you glance back at the workers, still diligently undoing the reception decor, autumn come indoors, the flowers stripped away to reveal bare wood. A petal flutters down into your hair; Diluc thinks of the gentle fall of snow. He starts to raise his hand to pluck it out but you shift and the petal drifts to the ground. He halts before tugging at his glove instead.

“Now,” you say, turning back to him, “I need something to eat. Will you be joining me for breakfast?”

Diluc shakes his head. “The vintners asked for me today,” he says. “The earlier I can speak with them the better.”

You hum. “Okay. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

You flash a small smile before inclining your head to him. “Husband,” you say. You dart off before he can respond. He watches you disappear, the moon dipping below the horizon.

Husband, he thinks.

He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

—

The days roll by. Diluc buckles down to work, caught up in the hubbub of the end of the harvest season. He oversees the grape crushing, the little fruits popping beneath the press until they’re must, all pulp and juice. A few small buckets of grapes are set aside for the children of the workers; they’ll stomp them to their hearts’ content, their chiming laughter drifting through the vines as they cling to each other for balance, their little feet dyed dark.

(“C’mon, Luc!” Kaeya cried, already scrambling towards the tub filled with ruby-red grapes. His eye was shining, starlight bright, a grin spread wide across his face, his usual reticence washed away. Diluc knew it was his favorite time of year; the other boy loved every moment of the harvest season and all that came with it.

“Hurry up!” Kaeya called. He had already rolled up his pant legs and stepped into the tub, his face lit with joy, a summer sun in the autumn chill.

Diluc huffed but climbed in after him. The grapes popped beneath his weight, squishing up between his toes, a pulpy mess of skin and seeds. He stomped once, twice, and felt more of them burst.

Kaeya reached for his hand; Diluc twined their fingers together and held on tight as the scrawny boy started to jump in place. Kaeya laughed wildly, the sound picked up by the wind and carried away like seeds. He jumped again and almost slipped. Diluc caught him at the last minute, hauling him up with a giggle. They joined hands again and began to twirl in a circle, stomping away as they went.

They laughed as they spun around together, holding on tight to each other as juice started to gather beneath their feet. Their skin went purple with it, a galaxy splashed up to their calves. The golden afternoon sun shone down on them; sweat gathered on their brows. But they kept going and going, unrelenting until the last of the grapes had burst beneath their feet.

They panted as they climbed to the side of the tub. Kaeya sat on the edge of it, swinging his feet as the maids went to gather towels for them. He was incandescent with delight, a shooting star streaking across the night sky, and Diluc grinned.

“Good work, boys,” his father said, coming down the path. He’d clearly met the maids halfway; there were towels slung over his broad shoulder.

Diluc puffed up with pride; next to him, Kaeya smiled, shy but pleased. His father handed them the towels and watched as they wiped their feet clean.

“Ready for the next step?” his father asked.

Kaeya nodded eagerly, but Diluc balked.

“Can’t we stomp more grapes?” he asked.

His father laughed, as warm as the sun. “Maybe later,” he said. “But now you need to learn what happens next.”

Diluc sighed.

“C’mon, Luc,” Kaeya said, bumping his shoulder against Diluc’s. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Diluc said. “There is.”)

Diluc sighs, nodding to Connor as he takes his leave. He heads back to the winery; a few of the workers call out greetings, but no one tries to stop him.

Adelinde appears as soon as he steps inside the winery. She inclines her head to him, her hands clasped in front of her. “Master Diluc,” she says.

“Adelinde,” he greets.

“Is everything in order?”

“Yes,” he says. “Everything is ready for processing. It was a good harvest.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’ll take some of Elzer’s work with the Wine Guild so he can concentrate on processing. If you see him, please let him know.”

Adelinde purses her lips. “Master Diluc, Elzer is perfectly capable of handling both. You have enough on your plate.”

“My decision is final, Adelinde.”

She examines him for a moment, her jade eyes sharp, a flaying gaze. “You don’t need to make amends for your absence,” she says. “That is the past.”

Diluc flinches. Adeline watches him steadily, her face impassive, but her eyes have softened, have crinkled around the edges, sweetly fond. He flexes his hand, searching for words, but his tongue is leaden in his mouth.

Adelinde takes pity on him. “The vineyard workers are starting the fertilization process today and tomorrow,” she says. “Is there anything you wish to let them know?”

“No. I trust them.”

“Good.”

Diluc adjusts his cuff. “Is that all?”

She smooths her hands over her uniform skirt, as if erasing wrinkles that aren’t there. “Your wife’s travel arrangements are complete. She means to leave tomorrow.”

He nods. “Where is she now?”

“She went to the Dandelion Sea, I believe.”

“By herself?”

“She has an escort. One of the knights. Though it is my understanding that the knight would not be able to return with her due to a patrol.”

Diluc rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen the broad line of them. “When did they leave?”

The corners of Adelinde’s lips creep upwards, an ivy tendril curve, barely noticeable. “A few hours ago.”

He nods curtly. “Thank you, Adelinde.”

“Of course, Master Diluc.” She disappears, light on her feet despite her heels, barely a whisper of sound to accompany her.

Diluc leaves the winery to head to the stables.

—

The Dandelion Sea stretches vast, the flowers rippling in the breeze like waves lap at the shore. The sun is high in the sapphire sky, a halo burning bright, the dandelions stark white under its kiss. There are seeds floating through the air, faintly glowing, scattered like falling stars.

Diluc ties his horse to a tree, leaving her to graze on some long grass, and begins to make his way into the Sea. More seeds come loose, dancing around him like snowflakes; they settle into his mane of hair, the crimson of it bleeding to something darker against the soft white of them. They catch on his jacket, too, dotting the ebony cloth until it’s a glittering night sky.

It doesn’t take him long to find you. He can see faint figures at the edge of the Sea, where the trees cast shadows, a sweet pool of shade. He heads towards you as the breeze picks up. It carries a peal of laughter to him, bright as the sun, swirling around him.

“Oh,” you say as he draws close, standing up before he can stop you.

The knight you’re with comes to attention—far too late. “M—Master Diluc,” he stammers.

Diluc clicks his tongue. The knight goes shame-faced, glancing away from his thunderous visage.

You smile, a glaze lily unfolding under the moon’s tender touch. You touch the knight’s vambrace lightly before turning to Diluc. His gaze stays on where you’re touching the knight still, your fingertips lingering against the metal of his armor.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” you say. “Is something wrong?”

Diluc blinks, vermilion eyes flickering back to you. “No.”

You pause, as if waiting for something. Diluc blinks again. Your smile flickers, a guttering candle. The knight shifts in place.

Diluc turns his attention to him. “You can go,” he says curtly.

“But—”

“You have patrol soon, don’t you, Anselm?” you ask. “You should head out.”

Anselm glances at you. “Oh. Of course.”

“Thank you for accompanying me today,” you say. “It’s appreciated.”

The knight nods, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. He gives you the Ordo’s salute. “Let the wind lead,” he says before turning to leave.

Diluc doesn’t bother to watch him go; he keeps his gaze on you. That rosebud smile blooms on your lips again, as inevitable as the sun’s rise. “Poor Anselm,” you say. “You have quite the scowl, Master Diluc.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. “Was he going to leave you here alone?”

You sigh. “It’s perfectly safe here.”

“So he was.”

“You’re here now,” you say. “So it hardly matters.”

Diluc bristles. “It matters to me. The Knights have their duties—”

“They cannot attend to every single civilian. The roads to the Sea have been clear for weeks, anyway. Or did you see something on your way?”

He furrows his brow and sets his jaw. “No.”

“The Knights aren’t as incapable as you think,” you say softly. You peer at him through the fan of your eyelashes, the shadow cast by them soft against your cheeks. “And besides, as I said, you’re here now. I know you’ll keep me safe.”

Diluc takes in a sharp breath. He tugs at his glove and glances away.

You don’t seem to notice. Your attention has returned to the Dandelion Sea. The meadow sways gently in the wind, a honey-slow shiver. You trace a finger over a dandelion; it stays whole despite your touch, the Anemo energy holding it together brightening for a breath before it fades again, a firefly glow.

But when you flop into them, the dandelions puff up, the seeds scattering like starfall. They yield to you like a blessing, giving you everything they have. The seeds catch in your hair, your clothing, your eyelashes. You turn your face up to the sky, the sun bathing you golden.

It strikes Diluc that you are pretty.

(Burnished by the light, you were lost amid the golden leaves of the sandbearer tree. You climbed and climbed until you were shining bright in the cerulean sky, a sun all your own. Diluc watched from the ground, mouth agape.

When you glanced down, the shadows crossed your face in bold strokes. It softened you, blurred the edges of you. Except for your smile. Your smile cut through the shadows like a single stark slash of a sun-bright knife.

Diluc looked up at you, at that smile, and suddenly, he knew what pretty meant.

It meant you.)

It’s not the first time he’s realized it, but it feels new. It’s in the curve of your back, a cathedral nave of muscle and bone; it’s in the way the sun filters through the leaves to touch you like a lover, a stained-glass kiss. The dandelion seeds catch on your eyelashes like moonlight, and it hits him again: you’re pretty.

And you’re his.

He pushes the thought away. You might be his, but it’s in name only. He knows better than to assign meaning to it. There’s nothing between the two of you aside from a certificate with your signatures upon it.

But that’s fine.

That’s all he needs it to be.

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #bee writes genshin #fic: moon eater

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avonne-writes · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! For the Situations ask game, could I request 59 - forced to lie about something for Buck and Bucky please?

I would prefer it to be gen but if you don't fancy that then don't worry :)

Thank you for the prompt! 💖 I kept it gen. 😊 It might not be what you expected, but I hope you still like it!

Edit: uploaded to AO3 too

59. Lying curse/forced to lie about something

Gale pads across the space between two barracks on light, quick feet. He's on the prowl, his senses alert and mind happy and clear. Sweet summer smells tickle his nose and make his lips twitch. The waning moon shines bright tonight, casting long shadows over the grass that brushes his slender legs in the most pleasing way. He marvels at his own dark silhouette, stopping to admire it fully.

That's his mistake. He rarely allows himself a moment of vanity, but, apparently, one moment is enough to earn its due punishment - he’s noticed.

"Hey." The slightly slurred, cajoling voice sounds familiar. The hair stands up on the back of Gale's neck at the prospect of being caught in the state he's in by none other than his best friend. He’s frozen in place, staring with wide blue eyes as Bucky walks closer with slow steps, his arms outstretched in a way that's supposed to look welcoming.

"Hi there, beautiful." Bucky coos. "Where did you come from, huh?"

"From the pub, where you left me." Gale hisses, because he’s still a little pissed about that. He isn’t too fond of wrangling drunk, rowdy soldiers while Bucky is outside, chasing skirt in an alleyway. So, Gale came back to base, then snuck out to do some chasing of his own.

Bucky, of course, doesn’t understand.

"It’s okay. Don’t be scared." A few feet away from Gale, he crouches, almost falling over in his drunken state. With his sharp sight, Gale can see the cheerful twinkle in his eyes. "Come here. Kitty, kitty, kitty."

"I ought'a scratch you." Gale growls, irritated that his midnight fun has been interrupted. He can hear all the fucking whiny mice scurrying around the base. He could have had a veritable feast!

"I know, I know." Bucky soothes him quietly, inching closer. "I promise I'm very respectful. No tail pulling, no tummy touching. Just wanna pet you, princess."

"Jesus, John." Gale drawls. He could bolt, make a run for it. Wouldn’t be much of an effort, but then, he’d leave Bucky dejected. He doesn’t have the heart to do it, not after the last missions they had. So many lives lost, so little comfort to be had. He, too, only has the cradle of the moonlight and his best friend.

The friend whose face splits into his disarming, squinty-eyed smile as his palm comes into contact with Gale's back. "Good girl."

"I'm not a goddamn girl." Gale protests in a long meow as he’s picked up, his fluffy tail lashing back and forth. Nevertheless, Bucky's hold feels comfortable, clearly familiar with the feline form as he tucks Gale to his chest. The solid warmth of his body feels like a balm to a wound on Gale’s soul that he didn’t even realize he had. Oh, how he missed to be cared for.

"There." Bucky murmurs, holding him with one arm and using his other hand to stroke Gale's cream-coloured fur gently. Over his head, down his back and side, then scratching gently behind his ear. "What a pretty kitty."

Gale can’t help it, he closes his eyes and leans into the touch. It has been so long since he felt physical affection beyond a pat on the back or a careless arm around his shoulders, and even longer since anyone touched him in this form. He missed it, he realizes. Feeling warm and safe like this again might be even better than catching annoying pests. Within two seconds, he’s purring with the joy of it, boneless in Bucky's hold. His legs dangle over Bucky's arm. He thinks about kneading him, either to satisfy his instinct to reciprocate or to sink his claws into his skin in retaliation for being left in the pub, but it's too much effort.

"Aren't you sweet?" Bucky chuckles and sways in place as if Gale was a baby. Or, perhaps he’s just too drunk to stand upright for more than a minute. He’s silent for a long moment, just thumbing at Gale’s silky shoulder, then opens his mouth again. "Oh, Curt would've loved you."

Gale stops purring and looks up at him. Tears glisten in Bucky's dark eyes. Bucky sniffs, then chuckles wetly and goes back to massaging Gale's ear, to get him to purr again, Gale assumes. Overcome with sadness and sympathy, he obliges. Lets the rhythmic rumbling in his chest comfort them both as they grieve together in silence. In and out goes the air in his lungs in soft purrs. Back and forth swipes Bucky's gentle thumb. All around them, the night is quiet and still warm with summer, but a cold breeze sweeps over the airfield.

"Will you bring me good luck, girl?" Bucky talks to him in drunken whispers. "Gotta go back up there soon. Watch my friends get blown up." He sighs, long and hard. "'m glad I caught you. Miserable fucking night and all."

He sighs and pulls Gale higher to press his face to Gale's fur. "Had to leave the pub to clear my head. Felt fucking awful so I went back for another shot." He exhales in a long blow. "Where the hell did he go?"

Gale's heart clenches, but he refuses to acknowledge it as guilt. How could he have known it wasn’t some pretty girl John went after? John never said a word about feeling unwell.

Gale rubs his head against John's neck in apology, deciding he deserves that kneading after all, but before he could get any further than extending his claws, another man passes by and notices them both.

"Is that a cat?"

Hell no, Gale’s instincts scream, and his claws scratch at Bucky’s uniform, flailing to get away. Bucky yelps and his arms loosen enough for Gale to jump free, landing on his four feet practically running. He flees the scene without looking back, sharp ears flicked back to listen to pursuing footsteps, but all he hears is a disappointed huff.

"Great job, private, you scared her away."

Relieved, Gale runs and runs until he’s almost back where he's supposed to be, behind the Officers' Quarters. There, in the sanctuary of darkness, he concentrates and lets his limbs grow, his fur disappear, claws turn into nails, until he’s back in his human form with the clothes he transformed in when he left on his hunt. He smooths his hands over his uniform, takes a deep breath to control his rapid panting, then walks back inside.

He’s pretending to read in his bed when Bucky enters to stumble over to his own. He's uncharacteristically subdued as he makes quick work of his outer layers, and Gale doesn’t know why, but he feels he needs to snap him out of it.

"Had a good night?" He asks quietly. He hates how easy it is to sound casual and unaffected about it.

"Fantastic." Bucky says, bitter at first before he puts on a smile. "Know that redhead, down the street from the baker?" He clicks his tongue as if to say, what a fine broad. "She likes my singing."

It's a lie, Gale knows, but he can’t tell Bucky that. He can’t reveal himself, nor does he want to draw light to something Bucky wants to hide from him. "I bet."

Bucky snorts, amused. What an ironic turn of phrase. "Hey, Buck."

"Hm."

Bucky pauses, brushing a hand over his discarded uniform. When Gale squints at it, he notices the layer of white fur on it in horror. Oblivious to Gale's pounding heart, Bucky smiles. "Have you seen a white cat around? Big one, long fur."

Yeah, I've looked into a mirror, Gale thinks. He can’t say that though. No one is supposed to know. "No."

Bucky nods, running his hands over his clothes again. "I caught it, but some stupid private scared it away."

Gale swallows. "It will come back eventually."

Bucky lies down in his cot, his back to Gale. "Yeah. Maybe." For a moment, he’s silent, then he adds, "But I might not be here."

Gale has nothing to say. The night feels too fragile to hold the weight of another lie. He can’t promise something he can’t control.

"Good night, Buck." Bucky mumbles after a few minutes.

"Night, John." Gale says. His skin itches.

He wishes he could curl up and purr.

It would make the world feel like a better place.

---

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #my writing #tumblr prompt #kitty gale

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fourstarsoutofnine · 1 year ago

Text

To get away.

Chapter one; out of the woods.

(Player is farore reincarnate au)

Part 2, part 3, part 3.5, part 4

A/n:(in the fashion Of that old disney blue-Ray commercial)here we goooooo! Please lmk what you think. Reader uses she/her pronouns per the poll winnings.

Warnings:feelings of dread. Talk of anxiety.

12:22 am. Swapping through the same four apps, you felt stuck in the dreaded reality you lived in. Sure, your life wasn’t bad by most means, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a looming, general sense of malaise and doom that hung over you like an ugly tapestry of unease. You hated this feeling with everything in you. It made you want to scream and run, despite not knowing what exactly it was you were running from. You supposed that was that old “fight or flight” reaction everyone talked about. You always figured that was reserved for extreme situations like a kidnapping or mugging or that sort of thing, not your usual run of the mill anxiety. Yet, here you sit with your thoughts and music playing in your ears to try to drown them out. And though the effort was valiant, it was no match for the ever-trumping anxiety and need to leave. You went to sleep that night figuring it was just another normal bad night. You prayed to who or whatever would hear for a way out. You had no idea you’d be answered.

You woke to the sun shining in your face and birds chirping awfully loud. It was odd, considering the sun was never this bright in your room and you could never hear the morning birds so clearly before. Then, something blocked the sun from reaching your face. When you opened your eyes and put your hand up to block the remainder of blinding sun from your vision, a boy faded into view. Bright blonde hair, blue shirt with a lobster, and a confused grin.

“You alright, lady???”

“What?” You respond, confused. You knew who this was. You figured it to be a dream.

“I asked if You’re Alright! We found you just laying here!” Who you knew to be the hero of the winds said and helped you sit up.

“No noticeable wounds, so that’s good.” A man knelt by you. His hair was roughly the same color, but a bit lighter. He had strange markings on his face, which you knew to be from the fierce deity mask. This was the hero of time. “Do you remember how you got here?”

“Anything you could tell us will help. Anything at all.” Another said. Pretty boy, tall in stature, slender, and what you thought to be the textbook definition of devilishly handsome. The hero of warriors, no doubt.

“I—uhm—“ you stuttered out dumbfoundedly, trying to process everything. You felt shellshocked and didn’t know what to do.

“Let’s back up away from her, she’s clearly overwhelmed…” a soft voice said, which was all too needed to your anxious ears. The hero of the skies pulled them back and you sighed, resting your elbows on your knees as the ends of your palms dug into your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself from this wild dream. This was crazy. Of course it was a welcome escape, these men were your heroes—a title they knew all too well and some carried like a burden—but they’d helped you in ways they could never know, and ways you could never tell because they weren’t real….so why are they standing in front of you, looking worried? You sighed deeply and opened your eyes. “I don’t know how I wound up here. At all… the last thing I remember is going to bed, and—then I woke up here… that’s it…”

“Strange… but oddly enough, not the strangest we’ve been through.” The hero of time helped you to your feet. “Well; looks like you’re along for the ride, stranger. What’s your name?”

“Y/n…”

“Y/n. Well, you’ll be safe with us. We’ve got ground to cover, so we should get back on track.” He led you back to the path. You were met with the sight of the other heroes of hyrule. They, however, were met with a sight that looked more like doe-eyed fear. Innocent and frightened.

The hero of twilight offered kind a kind and welcomed you into the group; as did the hero of wild, and hyrule. The hero of warriors looked at you with a smile, but it was easy to tell he was more trying to gauge your character. He was a captain, and knew all too well from the hero of the wild that often traitors to the crown disguise themselves as innocent travelers down on their luck. When he saw no sign of that he was quick to welcome you and check to see if you were alright. This, of course, left only the veteran and smith. The smith was kind, but a bit cautious of you. The veteran was cautious and indifferent. According to your story, it seemed like someone just picked you up at night and dropped you off here, which was a little sketchy if you asked him. Also filed under odd and sketchy was the marking over your hand. The triforce.

“Old man.” The veteran called. “I gotta talk to you.”

The old man looked at you, a silent ask if you were alright. Upon your offer of a nervous smile, he nodded and smiled back, walking over. You turned back to your quiet conversation between yourself, the traveler and the champion. They were asking you plenty questions on how you wound up asleep in the forest, each of which gave you no room to answer before another one arose.

“The mark on her hand.” The veteran pointed out.

“I noticed it too.”

“Is she a Zelda? She’s clearly not a Link. Not to mention, the mark is on her right and not her left hand.”

“Precisely. I don’t think she’s a Zelda, but there is something odd about this.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for anything off about it. It’d be good to tell the captain, too. He’s observant.”

“Right. I suppose we’ll talk again once we make camp tonight.” He nodded and went to the head of the group, saying something to the captain that you couldn’t hear, and waving a hand in the air that signaled the group to continue moving. This would be an interesting adventure, you determined. You couldn’t wait to see where it leads.

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year ago

Text

Day 11-

BES Mizu x Reader - Winter Proposal

Summary: Mizu has to ask you something before leaving for London.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, sad, rushed/short, spoilers, takes place days after the last episode, grammar

Yesterday's events still played fresh in your mind. The sounds of gunfire, screaming, and metal clanging rang in your ears like a broken record. You'd sustained some injuries, thankfully not from any man-made weapon. You'd been trapped in a collapsing building and pinned under a burning beam. Luckily, Ringo found you and dragged you to safety, before hauling you back to where Master Eiji lived.

The night was spent with Ringo tending to your wounds and delivering news of Mizu's death to her father, who pretended not to be phased. You were unprofessionally diagnosed with a shattered ankle and varying degrees of burning on your legs and waist. Nothing fatal, thank God.

In your short time with Ringo and Eiji, you'd taken to being placed out in the nearby forest. Close enough to yell for help, but far enough to get away from the noise and heat of the forge. Of course, you still had to contribute in some way, so every morning, Ringo would set you outside with a task, usually washing clothes or dishes in a rudimentary tub, and let you watch the woods for anyone looking for trouble. In the evenings, he'd come back and hang the clothes on the line if needed, as you were in no shape to walk.

-----

On the third day, you sat in your chair on the edge of the forest, humming and mending clothes when you finally did spot trouble. A slender figure came hobbling through the woods, peaking out from behind trees when it heard a twig snap. You eyed the shadow cautiously, ready to scream out for the men to protect you at a moment's notice.

"Leave us be, stranger," you warned, brandishing a kitchen knife you kept to cut stray scraps of fabric for patches. "I may be vulnerable, but I'm deadly with a blade even still."

"I know you are," a tired, hoarse voice croaked. "I taught you that."

Your heart skipped a beat at the possibility before you shook the hope away. "You haven't taught me anything, stranger," you rebuked. "The one who trained me is dead."

Just then, the knife plummetted to the snow, let go of by your trembling hands. The stranger finally had inched close enough for their face to be unobscured by the light shining through the trees. Glacier eyes peered down at you from under shaggy chocolate fringe as she leaned against the nearest tree, waiting for you to react.

Without another thought, you left out of your chair, forgetting entirely about the searing pain in your brutalized body, but crumbled at her feet, clinging to her pants.

"My darling," she gasped softly, falling to her knees with you to hold you in her arms. "You're hurt, I'm so sorry, I didn't even know-"

"Where were you?!" you sobbed into her shoulder, making her fall silent. "I thought you were dead- we all thought you were dead!"

"I am," she corrected, bringing your hands from her shoulders to cradle them in hers. "For now, at least. You can't tell anyone I came to you."

"I-I don't understand..." you sniffled, (e/c) gems boring into her very soul. "You only came to see me?"

Her face softened and she smiled. "Yes, my love, I did. I couldn't leave without telling you where I was going."

"You..." you froze in her grasp. "You're leaving again? B-But-"

"But nothing," she corrected, sternly but with love. "I'm going to London to continue my mission." she confessed.

"London..." you repeated. "W-What's that? Where is that? Why can't we go with you?" Your head was spinning, you were so hurt and overjoyed and confused all at the same time.

"It's very far away, in another country. But I promise I'll be back." Mizu swore, pressing a kiss to your forehead with her palms on either temple. "I'm gonna finish my mission and I'll be back before you know it, and we're gonna live a normal life."

"We can't, you know that!" you argued but melted at her soothing touch. "Women can't be wed with one another, women can't buy property, women can't have kids together..." you trailed. "Besides, I know you'll never be done with this endless path of vengence..."

"I hate when you say things like that, my love," Mizu cooed. "Lips as lovely as yours have no place uttering words so violent. You leave all that talk to me." A moment of silence passed between the two of you before she mushed you away enough to hold you at arm's length. "I promise you that I'll be back, and when I am, I'm going to marry you, (Y/N)."

"But how..." you sighed, immense sadness for the death of a dream making your chest hurt.

"I'm a man in the eyes of the law." she smirked. "I can travel unaccompanied, own land and property, and marry who I damn well choose. And...I choose to marry you. If you'll have me?"

You'd never seen Mizu so enthusiastically sure of anything, short of destroying her bloodline. It made you feel incredibly special, the amount of passion she seemed to carry for this. "I'll have you, but I have a few conditions."

"Which are?" she cocked a brow.

You reached up and cupped her cheeks with both hands. "Come back to me in one piece, promise me you will."

Mizu smiled, studying your face lovingly. "I promise I will."

"And I want a farm near Osaka so I can see my family, and I want children to chase around the yard." you dreamed.

"A farm in Osaka, got it," she snickered. "Though knocking you up may be a different story."

"We'll adopt some!" you chirped.

"I think I can do that," Mizu sighed happily, nuzzling into your throat. "I promise a thousand times, my love."

Almost as quickly as she appeared, she was leaving again, begrudgingly tearing herself away from you. "Promise to write me," you sniffled, getting ready to cry again as she helped you back into your chair.

"I will, but it'll be under an alias." she agreed, brushing the hair out of your face and gathering your things to put within your reach. "But you gotta promise me something too."

"Anything."

"Darling, wait for me."

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #mizu fluff #mizu angst #blue eye samurai angst #blue eye samurai spoilers #lemons 25 days of christmas #christmas event

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amaranthine-enihtnarama · 2 years ago

Text

Les Petits Morts (Marquis de Gramont x Assassin! F! Reader)

(Cat and mouse, do-they-want-to-kill-each-other-or-fuck-each-other, enemies to lovers, two psychotic mfers flirt)

taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose

warnings: freaky behavior, blood k!nk, knife play, violence, what y’all came for (🤨), reader is lowkey a brat hehe, marquis doms ofc bless up, mentions and brief moments of violence, build-up, more story than necessary probably. Romance⁉️

Part Two is here!

Vincent de Gramont had made a grave miscalculation when it came to her. He knew the moment he’d laid eyes on her that he was in danger: her wide, brown eyes shining golden in the rising sun, her fragrant hair swooping over one shoulder, letting the skin of her neck catch the light, and, as she’d finally stepped before him, that haunting scent of jasmine and gardenias, the radiance and bohemian ease she exuded; he was immediately disarmed from the knowledge that she was a killer. She was a slippery figure, shrouded in mystery, in fear. No one knew where she came from, but everybody knew of the story of how she earned her freedom. A young girl, bloodthirsty, filled with fire, tearing open the throat of the Marquis to whom she had been promised, her bloody mouth pulled back to bare a glimmering smile in the face of her freedom. Still, she remained in her former line of work, even more dangerous with her years of being outside of The Table’s shadow.

La Belladonna is what they called her, and she gave no name. She smiled at him, gaze twinkling something wicked. He maintained composure, of course, but he couldn’t break away from that haunting, doe-eyed gaze of hers. He’d expected a woman, but not one like this. He’d imagined a savage before him based on the story that had always been told. Not someone so beautiful, so graceful…so enchanting.

“Bonjour, Marquis,” she greeted, “I do hope you didn’t mind the early morning.”

“I did.”

She laughed, turning away and taking a seat against the wall.

“Well, that’s just too bad.”

She checked her nails; a crimson manicure. Her eyes flitted from it to him. He was confused by the expectation in her gaze. He’d never once seen that look in anyone’s eyes before (except, perhaps, from one of The Table).

“Won’t you have a seat,” she questioned.

He cleared his throat, glancing over to one of his men then slowly moving over to the barrel next to her. She admired the horses with a small subdued smile, then turned to him with a sigh. He surveyed her, unsure what to make of this so-called dangerous killer. He was quite sure he’d met worse. He moved to speak, but she cut him off.

“So, Marquis, why exactly do you require my services?”

“They say you’re the best,” he responded cooly.

Her lips curved into a bemused smile. “They say we’re all the best. Why me specifically?”

He gave a slight smile. “You are able to go unnoticed. Become invisible. I want someone invisible.”

“And why is that? Don’t you have Caine? He’s the best.”

His smile fell. Her eyes widened slightly with the thrill of his upset.

“What? That’s practically public information.”

“In that case, I suppose you already know the answer to your own question.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” she corrected, tapping his nose with a slender cigarette holder and a bright smile, “I know you want John Wick dead, I know you want those aligned with him dead. But I know you not only have Caine, but the entirety of The Table’s resources at your disposal. You don’t need someone like me; you don’t require someone so subtle, it’s certainly not your style. You are fortunate enough to have to ability of using sheer force to achieve your goals.”

She took out a cigarette, placed it in the holder, then put in between her lips. Despite himself, he stole a glance at her mouth, taking in the slight purse of her lips as she lit her cigarette. He watched smoke puff from between them.

“So…what is it you want with me?”

He met her eyes, sitting back. “You’re very observant. Good job.”

Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance, creating a tiny crack in her mask. She gave a slight smile, blowing some of her cigarette smoke at his face.

“Hm.”

He stood, brushing his nose off. “You’re right. If we were looking at this in the short term, I don’t need someone like you. But I am not thinking of the short term.”

Her eyebrows rose in interest. “I’m not a kept puppy, Monsieur de Gramont. I’m sure you recall my exit from the Table. I wouldn’t recommend becoming my boss.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“For my price, I think you are.”

She held his gaze for a moment, finishing her cigarette. She tossed the butt onto the barrel, then gave a light chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.”

She stood, raking her fingers through her hair.

“I apologize, but I’m afraid I’ve wasted our time. I suggest getting some extra sleep while you can.”

Vincent watched her turn away with unease, swallowing as she started to leave. He shot a look to the men at the door, then walked after her. He moved to place a hand on her shoulder but she turned swiftly, pressing her cigarette holder into his chest, pushing him backward.

“Do not grab me, Monsieur. I cannot be bought. Only hired. I do not make deals, especially not with men like you. There is not a price you can name that would change my mind.”

“I’m quite sure the prices I can name are beyond anything you’ve heard before.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re quite arrogant, Gramont. It’s endearing, but not enough to hold my attention. Goodbye.”

Vincent watched as she turned to leave, but soon slowed down, then halted to a stop. A pressure lifted on his chest. She tilted her head, twirling the cigarette holder between her fingers.

“Do you really want to offer up two perfectly fine men for the slaughter? Just for a silly little price?”

“I would prefer to avoid bloodshed altogether, mademoiselle.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Whoever told you I am a patient woman was misled you, Gramont.”

He smiled. “Whoever told you I am a relenting man did the same.”

***

Milan, Italy.

Belladonna sat back in her chair, taking a long drag from her cigarette in its holder, crossing her legs with a smile. After several months of hide-and-seek with that pesky Marquis, she’d finally shaken off some the men he had tracking her, and killed the rest. Now, she finally felt like she could just breathe, sit back, relax, enjoy her espressos and afternoons by the sea, and then, when she fancied, a night at the opera. As luck would have it, they were performing her favorite; Madama Butterfly.

She poured herself a glass of champagne as the lights dimmed, and as she took a sip her phone buzzed. Her eyebrows drew together in annoyance; she made it clear to her team not to contact her, lest they risk her being tracked again by one of the…

She frowned, reading the text. It was in french, from a sender with no number.

The Italian sun has treated you well, Mademoiselle.

Her shoulders tensed, but she kept her cool. How did he find her? And why the hell did he follow her here? She was quite sure she’d made herself clear with the last two men she got rid of: do not bother me again, or you’ll end up looking just an mangled as them.

Darkness swallowed the theater as the curtains rose, and Belladonna felt a pit form in her stomach. She’d never felt so troubled by anyone as much as she had by this man. He was bull-headed and inescapable—with all of the ability in the world to keep her in his sights. Discretely, she glanced around the balconies in her view, but only saw strangers. Where was he? Where was the son of a bitch this time?

She put out her cigarette harshly, trying to keep her composure. After finishing her glass of champagne, she sent a message in response.

You’re toying with your life, Gramont.

I could say the same for you.

She rose an unimpressed eyebrow, twirling her cigarette holder between her fingers. She set her phone down with a heavy sigh. He just had to ruin everything, didn’t he? Bothering her during her jobs, and now during her time off. Her phone buzzed again. With a clench of her fist, she ignored it.

As she paid more attention to the opera, her mind wandered. Her six-foot-four shadow quickly evaporated into a tiny shadow in the back of her thoughts, and she admired the gorgeous costumes of the singers, the swelling and rhythm of the orchestra, and rested her cheek on her fist in awe as the soprano playing Madama Butterfly began her aria Un Bel di Vedremo.

She could remember the first time she’d heard it; she’d gotten it as a gift from a lover in a period of innocent youth that had become alien to her. The lover she lost as a sacrifice of that innocence. Despite herself, her eyes grew misty from the memory. She watched the soprano’s wistful gaze, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and as she reached the peak of the aria and the orchestra swelled, Belladonna could’ve sworn she could see the singer’s eye’s glistening along with hers.

The music of the aria faded out, and she quickly wiped her eyes as the lights of the house rose. She rose to her feet, glancing around again. Her heart jumped at the sight of a tall, brown haired man in a three-piece suit leaving one of the booths. She hesitated to get worked up—every man she’d laid her eyes on had a three-piece suit on, it didn’t have to be him. Maybe she was just in denial. Although she’d never want to say it, the Marquis was successfully beginning to wear her down.

She dialed a number on her phone. The call was answered before it could ring.

“Yes?”

“The Marquis is here in Milan. There may be some of his men at the opera house. Kill them, would you? Be thorough with it. Wherever they may be crawling about. And leave me a change.”

“Of course, right away, ma’am.”

She hung up, scanning the audience again before leaving her booth. She slipped into a women’s restroom, entering an out-of-service handicapped stall and quickly removing her dress and opening the duffel bag tucked between the toilet and the wall. It was a pity she wouldn’t get the pleasure of enjoying it, it was a lovely piece. She admired it on the hanger with a sigh, tugging on a bulletproof jumpsuit and zipping it up, adding elbow and knee pads. She laced up her black military boots, then unzipped the duffel bag, placed the dress and heels inside, and pulled out the pair of pistols under the false bottom, placing the magazines in the sides of her boots. She slid a pair of blade into hidden pockets in the lower back of the jumpsuit, then tugged on a beanie and a black face mask.

She pushed the duffel bag back in its spot, then stepped onto the toilet, opened the air vent, and with a hop, grabbed onto the ceiling and pulled her way up inside. Her knee and foot made dull impacts with the metallic interior of the vents as she pulled the door up.

She pulled out her phone, going through her messages to find the blueprints one of her navigators had sent. She stalled on a message from that numberless contact, the one she’d ignored before.

You look beautiful in that dress, Bella.

A frown formed on her face at the message. It wasn’t the first of these messages she’d read in these days. Messages occasionally complimented her ways of eluding him, how a pair of earrings complimented her honey brown complexion, how bloody a mess she’d left behind. Still, none were as direct as this one.

Beautiful, she thought. It conjured up an odd feeling, imagining him saying such a compliment. Perhaps if he wasn’t such a foolish nuisance, it might’ve even excited her a touch. She quickly went to the blueprint of the vents and started to crawl towards her escape.

After a sweaty fifteen minute excursion through the vents, Belladonna finally jumped down from a window and landed on a cushy pile of discarded wood. She didn’t allow even a grunt as she got to her feet and rounded the corner, finding a grey-suited body lying in a pool of her own blood a few feet away from her bike. Her cushy hotel was no longer an option, so she had to relent for the secondary location she’d had set up. The only bother would be the chilly night ride.

///

Montemarciano

She’d made it the country house by dawn, and the sun was preparing to break through the horizon. Exhaustion pulled on her limbs, demanding she collapse directly into the earth as she made her way to the door. She let her shoulders slump as she rested a hand on the door. This place was quite literally in the middle of nowhere. She’d made sure it was no registry or map. Yanking her beanie and mask off and taking a deep inhale of fresh, crisp air, she went for her key behind the false brick when a creak sounded inside the house. Belladonna froze, gripping the brick in her hand.

It couldn’t have been the Marquis, but it could’ve been someone else even more dangerous. She stayed in a crouch, crawling towards the back door and seeing it ajar. Her eyes widened, and she pulled out a pistol. Gently, she pushed the door open and slid inside, crouching against the wall like a statue, eyes scanning the living room. There weren’t many places for an intruder to hide.

In the blue light against the curtains, she watched a large figure pass through the room and right by her. The figure entered the bedroom, and Belladonna placed the brick down silently, getting onto her feet.

She slid through the door, watching the figure in the darkness. They sat at her desk, staring out of the modestly sized window as more blue light filtered through the linen curtains of the dark room. She flicked on the lamp. The figure turned and she fired without hesitation, watching as they tumbled to the floor. She leapt over the bed, planting a foot by the stranger’s head and placing her weight into the knee that she dug into their shoulder. The figure had covered their face with their arm and swiped it blindly at her, but she easily knocked it to the ground and trapped their wrist under the heel of her boot.

Cooly, she held the gun to their face, pressing harder on their wrist. A familiar voice swore, letting out a grunt. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Gramont,” she remarked quietly, making out the face beneath her.

He was breathing heavily, eyes darting between the gun and her face. She turned off the safety.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now,” she said.

“Many will come after you. Worse than me,” he said breathlessly.

She smirked, shaking her head. “I said a good reason, Monsieur. Don’t waste your breath.”

He looked at the gun, then to her surprise, smiled a bit. He rose his eyebrows.

“Come now, Bella. Haven’t we had fun these past months?”

“I thought you’d be better at bargaining.”

“If you really intended to kill me, I would be dead by now.”

She paused and tilted her head.

He made a good point.

With a grin, she added. “I really intended to kill you, Monsieur, I would’ve killed you the morning we met.”

She moved the gun away from his face.

“You came here alone.”

“I came to deliver something to you.”

He tried to sit up, but she doubled down her weight onto him.

“Certainly you don’t think I intend to harm you?”

She studied his face, then chuckled. “Not alone, no.”

He let out a breath as she rose to her feet, stepping away from him. He sat up, watching as she trained her gun onto him as he stood. Vincent fixed his hair and his suit, gesturing to the door.

“It’s in the living room.”

“Mhm. Ladies first.”

With his trained on her gun, he passed through the door and she followed silently, pointing it at his head. She flicked the light switch on as they rounded the corner, and lamps lit up, revealing a spare but cozy living room. He chuckled, turning to her.

“Very cute, Bella.”

She didn’t answer, only held the gun to his face. He turned back around, going to the coffee table. There was a large black box, along with two other boxes. One appeared to be a shoebox, the other a mystery. Caught off guard, by gifts, Belladonna’s grip loosened on the gun. She squinted in confusion, almost wanting to laugh.

“What…”

“Your gown tonight was lovely, but it can’t be worn again after you left it in that filthy bathroom. I thought I would replace it for you.”

“…the fuck…”

He stepped towards her, and her gun returned to its leveled aim reflexively.

“…Is wrong with you?”

He smiled, pleased at her bewilderment, although she seemed a bit amused as well.

“What is wrong with a gift?”

“Oh, when it comes from you, several things.”

He chuckled, placing his hands in his pockets.

“We’ve been playing this game for a little while now, and I must admit that I see no end to it. So why don’t we talk it over dinner?”

“It took fourteen bodies to get to dinner, huh?”

He looked away almost bashfully, if his eyes could express such an emotion.

“I thought you’d be easier to kill, I’ll admit that too. And I believe tonight makes twenty.”

His callousness uneased her, but not as much as the glimmer that formed in his eyes when he fixed his gaze on her.

“Come now, is dinner so bad compared to these last few months?”

She narrowed her eyes. He smiled again.

“Think of it as a celebration if you want. Perhaps for your birthday? It’s this weekend, isn’t it?”

In an immediate shift, her eyes darkened, and without warning she flung a knife at his face that he barely evaded being mortally wounded by. Blood poured down his cheek as she lunged at him, knocking him against the wall, but this time he had his footing. He grabbed the fabric of her jumpsuit and whirled around to slam her into the wall with a grunt, but she quickly drove her knee into his stomach once, twice, then kicked him back with both legs, sending him crashing against the kitchen counter. The photos on the wall shook on impact. Before he could even recover she had him on the floor, and his mind quickly went back to the position she’d had him in before and he shot into action, overpowering her just enough to have her beneath him. Still, she was fast, and limber. It seemed like only a moment had passed when she’d locked her thighs around his neck and held his arm at a seemingly impossible angle. He gasped and coughed, feeling the blood pumping in his head.

“You haven’t really gotten your hands dirty like this before, have you Marquis?”

He felt around desperately, and found a saving grace sheathed in her boot.

“You’ve never had your heart race like this, feeling your life threatening to slip through your fingers.”

She twisted his arm further, and he snatched whatever he’d found out of her boot. Her laugh rung in his ears like a funeral bell.

“It’s unfortunate your first real fight turned out to be your last.”

He stabbed her in the upper thigh, and she growled lowly, her hold weakening. He moved in a flash, snatching the blade out of her leg and trying to force her onto the ground, but she began to shimmy backwards despite her injury. He grunted, grabbing at her until he’d finally pinned her down, when he saw her arm go out of his line of sight and something hard slammed into the side of his head. Despite his delirium he grabbed her arm as she hit him again, and forced it to the ground, getting frustrated grunt out of her as she struggled, but he had her.

He caught his breath, his muscles straining to keep her in place. Adrenaline was coursing through his body faster than blood as his sight cleared, and his eyes fixed onto her searing gaze. Slowly, he pressed the blade—a small one, to his surprise—against her neck, watching her swallow. Their eyes locked onto each other. Their blood rushed violently as their chests heaved. Vincent pressed his hand into her chest harder, keeping her firmly on the ground. Her eyes scanned his face with a curious glint.

“I’m not afraid to cut,” he said through puffs of labored breath.

She grinned. “I’m not afraid of cuts, rich boy.”

He dug in the blade, dragging it slowly through her skin. Her fists clenched but she gave no reaction this time. Her eyes only bored into his as the living room filled with warm sunlight. Crimson trickled from the cut, and he smeared it with his thumb as they fell still. He could feel her blood humming through her thundering pulse. Her skin was hot, alive. She watched him, then grabbed his arm, pulling him down with sheer strength. He tensed, preparing for an attack but she just held him by the lapel, a smile dancing on her lips as she leaned up slightly.

“Tell me,” she said quietly, “Has this become business, or pleasure, Vincent?”

His eyes seemed distant as his name left her lips. They drifted to her curved, full mouth, and then fixed onto her eyes. Wordlessly, he took his thumb from her neck and placed it against his tongue, watching for her reaction. She gave none. A challenge.

“Are you pleased?”

To his surprise, she giggled. Her body relaxed under his and Vincent’s head swam with confusing desires. What was this, now that he thought about it, what the hell had gotten into him to chase this girl for months? He looked at her face for answers, finding that same smile he’d seen the first time they’d met. What did it mean?

“Come here,” she encouraged, watching his eyes scan over her in a daze.

He looked at her. Her smile widened, and she beckoned him closer. But with what, he wondered, how could she command him so swiftly without words? Her eyes trailed down to his lips with what part him hoped was the same mysterious hunger that was bubbling up inside him. He leaned closer, breath fanning against her face.

“That’s right,” she said softly, reclining.

He leaned down over her, and for a moment there was stillness between them, a pull that seemed to magnetize them closer. Belladonna’s eyes widened a fraction as the feeling of it came over her, and she quickly head butted him with all the force she could muster. He groaned, clutching his head, leaving him completely vulnerable to her attacks. She managed to twist her way from beneath him, hopping to her feet and grabbing the knife that had lodged into the wall. She sniffed harshly, grabbing his hair and tilting his head up, pressing the point of the blade just below his chin. He stared up at her, eyes half blazing with unspoken fury, the rest uncertainty of what to expect next.

“You surprise me, Marquis.”

He tried to move but her grip tightened onto his scalp painfully. “Ah-ah-ah. I don’t think so. Unless you want me to drain your neck.”

With an even more furious stare, he relented. She grinned at his expression.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect you to put up such a good fight. The last one I dealt with wasn’t half as good a match as you. I’m impressed.”

A strange swell of pride bloomed in Vincent’s chest despite his indignation. She hummed thoughtfully.

“Dinner does sound nice, doesn’t it?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, struggled to swallow in her hold.

“I haven’t been on a date in a while,” she remarked, “Maybe you’ll show me a good time, eh, chéri?”

She let him go, stepping back. Before he could respond, her knee collided with his head. The world went dark.

He came to in the afternoon with the sun beaming down on his face. The back door was wide open, leaving only the sound of birds and the breeze flowing through the golden-yellow grass. He popped his jaw and sat up with a groan. She was gone. If it weren’t for the blood and the dents in the wall he’d have thought it were nothing more than a dream. But he could smell gardenias, he could still taste her on his tongue. He could still feel her racing pulse beneath his thumb, hear her voice. He inhaled deeply, unsure what to think of the feeling passing through him. He couldn’t come to a conclusion, but he recalled something that caused him to smile.

She’d called it a date.

***

Paris, France. Two days later.

She was reclined on a park bench, eyes shut, taking in the sun while her black dress sparkled. He watched her a couple yards away, finding himself rather daunted. She’d told him over the phone he’d know where to find her, and it had taken barely twenty minutes for her to be tracked down. Despite their fight, she looked radiant. Completely unscathed. It was inhuman.

His phone buzzed, and he frowned as he answered. It was her. He glanced up curiously, seeing she had disappeared. He held the phone to his ear.

“Dragging our feet? I’m not a patient lady.”

His searched around for her, but she’d vanished into thin air.

“Go ahead, you can ask…how the hell did I do that?”

He listened to her soft chuckle through the phone with surprising pleasure.

“Come to me, and I won’t make you wait any longer.”

“Awe, listen to that. You’ve been so good at finding me, this shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“You are impossible,” he sighed, turning to scan the park.

“Impossible? This just part of the fun.”

The call ended, and he stared at the phone with slightly furrowed eyebrows. He looked to the bench, noticing something fluttering and went over to examine it. It was a note. He unfolded it, reading sweeping cursive. It was in french, but he knew she’d written it.

Come and get me, chéri. I am a ghost with many faces.

Vincent smiled, eyes crinkling. He pulled out his phone, making a call that was quickly answered.

“Where is she now,” he questioned.

There was a pause. “Well…sir…”

“Mm?”

“It seems like she’s at a cafe.”

“Alright—“

“She’s also at the Notre Dame.”

He hesitated to answer, but kept his cool. “I…see.”

“And the Louvre.”

He moved the phone away, smiling to himself. “A ghost with many faces.”

“Go get her,” he instructed, “Each one.”

Belladonna’s game led him across the entire city. Well, his men, but still. They called him reporting of notes that read ‘warmer’, ‘colder’, or ‘come on, you can do better than that’. Each of her clones proved to be as slippery as the original, and it gave him a thrill and a more subtle concern. He was aware what she was telling him, their game aside. She was showcasing her manpower—how perfectly coordinated her operation was. She wasn’t just a mere assassin, she had built her own network. He’d suspected help, although not to this scale of control. It was clear to him, though, why she’s wouldn’t accept any price. Leaders can’t be bought. She’d left The Table and had somehow managed to build one of her own.

When the evening had rolled in, he simply relented trying to track her down. It was impossible, he’d accepted it. Standing outside the restaurant he’d reserved, he called her.

“Alright, you win. I give up. Where are you, I’ll send a car.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “No need. Just come in.”

“Have you been inside this entire time?”

“God, no. How boring would that be?”

She hung up. He shook his head, going inside. “Mon dieu.”

When he’d entered, she was there waiting, smoking with her legs crossed. Her lips were crimson red like her nails and her hair was curled to a dazzling perfection. Still, as he approached from behind, he could see the bruises on her back and shoulders. He stopped next to her, brushing her hair away from her neck, revealing the bandage over his cut. She turned her head, met his eyes. They glittered as she looked over his face.

“You know, if a date was all you wanted, a whole lot more of your men would be alive right now,” she said.

“Hello to you too, Bella.”

He brushed the bandage with his finger, earning a stare from her. She was smiling at him.

“Why are you here?”

She looked away as if to think, then locked her gaze onto him. “Why are you?”

He smiled in return. “I imagine we’re here for the same reason.”

His fingertips brushed down her neck and over her shoulder as he moved to take the seat across from her. Her eyes followed him, smoke passing through her rouge mouth.

“Well, then.”

She leaned onto the table, eyeing him.

“Do we really need to have dinner, or should we just get out of here and get straight to it?”

A wicked grin spread across her mouth as she surveyed him. He cleared his throat, but smiled.

“I went through so much trouble to get you that dress, I’d hate to ruin it so soon.”

She laughed. “Oh, you’ll ruin it, will you?”

He pressed his stare onto her. “I’ll rip it right off of your body and devour you.”

Belladonna took in his words, absorbing his stare in her deep brown eyes. Her teeth bared in a wide, shimmering smile.

“Not if I eat you first.”

Her cigarette burned out as they were served the first course.

She ignored the food, her eyes fixed onto him. Something about being under her stare made him feel stiff in his bones. The closer he brought her, the more it felt like reaching into a fire. Her gaze was always so predatory. It gave him a thrill of familiarity, and the chill of it, too.

“Eat,” he told her, gesturing to her plate.

She glided her finger over her wine glass, then shook her head slowly, eyes daring him.

“I don’t think I will.”

He paused in annoyance, but couldn’t help how pleased the resistance made him feel. It was plain on her face, she was playing with him.

“Don’t be difficult, now. We’re just starting to get along.”

Her teeth gleamed again. “Or what?”

The response made him pause. He set down his fork, processing what the woman who’d nearly killed him two days ago had just said to him. He leaned towards her slightly, a smile playing on his lips.

“Is that what you want, yeah? You want to be in trouble?”

A soft laugh made her shoulders bounce as she sat back. The toe of her heel nudged his leg underneath the table.

“That depends. What happens when I’m in trouble, Monsieur?”

“You don’t want to be in trouble with me, Bella.”

The warning only spurred her further. “Oh, but I love a little trouble.”

“All you American girls love trouble, don’t you?”

“It’s our middle name,” she teased, “So you’d better be as bad as you say.”

Her eyes flitted from her eyes to his face, zeroing in on his cheek. He was surprised by the warmth that seemed to emerge in her eyes as she leaned forward, tracing the cut in his cheek with her cigarette holder. A soft smile spread across her face. She almost seemed gentle.

“Such a pretty cut,” she muttered, “don’t you like it? A pretty cut for a pretty face.”

“You think my face is pretty?”

She chuckled softly at him, leaning further and caressing the slice with her thumb.

“Of course it’s pretty, chéri,” she murmured, “That’s why I made it mine.”

Wordlessly, Vincent took her hand. He could feel the slight callouses on her knuckles and the bases of her fingers that had been softened by manicures. He turned her hand, pressing his lips against her fingers and kissing her knuckles.

“Si tu me fais tienne, je te ferai tenir.” If you make me yours, I’ll make you mine.”

She turned her hand, brushing her fingertips against his lips, trailing a finger down to his chest. Her fingers wrapped around his tie, and she tugged it out of his vest, carefully pulling him over the table and leaning in for a kiss. His breath caught in his chest and his eyes fell shut from the feeling of her lips against his. With a rotation of her hand she tightened her grip and pulled him closer. He kissed her deeper, tasting a hint of champagne in her mouth and feeling her shuddering breath against his when she broke the kiss for air. She took in his intense green eyes and caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“Alors fais-moi tienne, Vincent.” Then make me yours, Vincent.

“Ah, I thought you were not kept puppy,” he said, a grin threatening to form on his face.

She yanked him, raising a brow. “I am not.”

He gingerly held onto the table with a laugh. “Then what are you doing here?”

Belladonna loosened her hold, dropping the tie and considering him for a moment.

“You may not be able to make me your puppy, but you’re in danger of making me your woman.”

His eyes flashed, and a grin spread across his face. “It’s dangerous, is it?”

“There would be many who would start ringing a funeral bell for you if they heard the news.”

His gaze lowered to her lips. Vincent took her chin in his hand.

“Is that the price to make you mine? My life?”

“It would certainly be one I’d consider.”

“Then it’s the one I’m offering.”

She laughed, looking away. He turned her face to make her hold his burning stare. For a moment, her eyes softened. She seemed to hesitate despite how far she’d escalated the entire situation. But, soon after, she closed her eyes and placed another kiss on his lips.

“Then I’ll tell you again,” she whispered, “Fais-moi tienne, chéri.”

He kissed her firmly, letting out a sigh. “Come with me, Bella—now.”

The minute he’d gotten her in the back of his limousine he tore the slit in her dress up to her torso and pinned her to the ground, undoing his tie and holding her wrists together firmly.

“You’re not getting away this time,” his voice rumbled lowly, “I won’t let you get away.”

He bound her wrists together tightly, watching her skin chafe against its luxurious material. Her breath was trembling. Her skin was already hot for him.

His cock was already hard against her inner thigh—the string of desire had been tugging at him the moment he’d read that note. She let out a heavy sigh, pushing her hips up against him and lifting her arms over her head to drape them over his neck and pull him down to her. Their lips crashed together while her hips ground against him, and a soft moan spilled from her mouth into his as her body started to wrap around him. He kissed harshly down her neck, digging his fingers into her hips and pressing it back down onto the floor.

“Stay still—stay fucking still.”

A laugh bubbled in her chest. “Oh, you’re going to have to work much harder to keep me still, baby.”

He quickly removed his jacket and grabbed his butterfly knife from his waistband. He grazed her leg with the cool blade, admiring the flames of desire that sparked in her eyes from the mere contact. Delicately, he dragged the point down her inner thigh, stopping to watch how her chest rose and fell erratically. He guided the blade lower and lower over her hips, grinning at how they slightly bucked.

“Ah, you want it?”

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she gently pulled him back up to her lips. She opened her mouth against his with a moan, running her foot up the back of his leg.

“Just take me,” she whispered.

“Fuck, stop ordering me around,” he said, lips trembling against her collarbone as he laughed, “I might start to like it from you.”

“Then make me beg.”

He nicked the cut he’d made in her upper thigh, shuddering at the gasp she let out into his mouth. Without wasting even a millisecond he dragged his mouth down over her stomach—and ghosted over her cunt—to run his tongue along the weeping slice. He grabbed onto her as he made his way from the cut to between her legs. His lips brushed her clit and her body seemed to jump a little at the feeling. Vincent couldn’t control himself. He placed a kiss close to her aching core and relished in how her body seemed to quiver at the slightest touch.

“Look at you, so wet…”

He hesitated to leave her cunt alone, but planted a kiss on her hip and then sank his teeth into her, earning a yelp and a soft, lighter moan when he didn’t let up.

“Vincent,” she whispered.

He was close to getting what he wanted, he could tell.

“Yes, chérie?”

His fingers teased through the fabric of her lace underwear—she let out a soft mewl, making his eyes widen.

“You wear these lace panties for me, chérie? You were going to give it up to me that easy, like I already owned your little cunt?”

“Vincent…”

“Est-ce que c'est ça qui te fait mouiller, mon coeur, quand tu es en dessous de moi comme ci ? Quand tu sais que je peux faire ce que je veux de toi ?” Is that what makes you wet, my darling, when you’re beneath me like this? When you know I can do whatever I want to you?

She sounded almost anguished. “S’il te plaît, Vincent.”

“Ah, now I can get a please and a thank you? Is this why you’re so fucking disrespectful to me, Bella? You want to be punished like a filthy whore, then?”

“Oh,” she managed through weak laugh, “I’m definitely disrespectful because I’m a pompous bitch. Why do you think I’m the one that can’t be bought?”

“Mm, but you can be fucked, huh?”

She smiled widely, eyes falling shut.

“Only if they’re as pompous a bitch as me, monsieur.”

He moved away from her hip and went back to her cut, sucking on it hard enough to make a hickey. Her body arched at the sting of it and Vincent could feel her getting slick in her underwear.

“Beg,” he said, taking off the heels he’d bought for her, “Beg for me.”

The words left her mouth in a whisper. “Please, please, just fuck me.”

“Je ne t’entends pas, chérie.”

He closed his teeth around her waistband, pulling it taut and slicing the underwear open.

“C’mon, baby, please?”

“Don’t ask,” he instructed, “Beg.”

In his fervency he nearly pressed his mouth onto her as he tore the rest of the fabric off and laid eyes on her pussy. His teeth sank into his lower lip—this woman was going to be the death of him.

No. No. He had to take his time.

There was nothing guaranteed with La Belladonna, it was what they all said. He couldn’t waste the moment she was wide open and willing for him. He returned to her sweet lips, kissing her slowly, inhaling her scent. He kissed down her neck hungrily.

“Fuck, I need you,” she whispered, “Please, just fuck me. Please, please, Monsieur.”

“Mon dieu, you know exactly how to beg, too. How can one woman manage to push every single one of my buttons?”

“I’m not the only one with a type here, honey,” she said, smiling, “I get what I want, too.”

His hand snaked down to rub her clit—slowly, to take in her expression, her voice. She moaned, grabbing his hair, pressing her forehead against his cheek.

“Oh, god, Vincent. Please…please…”

His fingers slid inside her eagerly, curling and pulling back then thrusting deeper.

“Mm…Vincent…”

“Yes, baby, say it like that.”

His voice was soft against her ear. She melted into the floor of the limousine, her body easing against his hand, just they way he’d imagined it would.

“I knew you’d be a good girl, Bella, I just needed to give you a nudge—“

She gasped loudly at his fingers pumping harshly back inside of her.

“—In the right direction. Don’t you think?”

Her smile even shone in the feeble light the managed to get through the limousine’s tinted windows. She turned her head and kissed him. He returned it sloppily, his head pulsing with blood as his cock ached painfully. Her lips found his cheek, then his jaw, then her tongue grazed his neck, making him shiver. She closed her teeth around his earlobe and tugged harshly. He moaned into her hair, shutting his eyes. He needed her. He couldn’t even keep his head on fucking straight enough to tease her. Months he had to wait—months of clinging onto remnants of her scent, her red-stained cigarette butts and rivers of blood that trailed behind her—months that drove him fucking mad.

“God, you fucking woman.”

He tore his belt open, undid his pants and pulled his dick out, wetting it with her slick. He rubbed the head against her pussy, breath shuddering, mouth drying; he wasn’t sure if he’d survive making love with her, feeling the way his heart thundered out of his chest.

“Take me,” she whispered, “fuck me, Vincent.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid inside her gently, but once he felt her, he couldn’t be gentle anymore. His hips drew back and crashed into hers, making her groan loudly and move her hands back over her head. His thrusts were harsh, intense, but his hands slid into her hair affectionately. He kissed her skin like it was the first thing he’d ever tasted, her sweat tasted like sugar to him.

“Fuck, you taste like vanilla.”

Her hands returned to him unbound, and they slid under his shirt. She held onto him and wrapped her legs around his hips as her breath caught with each thrust. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hang on for him, to have this moment last as long as it could. His body felt perfect against his, his warmth, his scent, his taste. She’d only said words earlier—of course no one kept La Belladonna for long— but he seemed to be the man that just may have the ability—

“Put your hand on my neck,” she whispered, voice shaking.

His hand caressed her neck delicately. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. Yes, he just might be the one.

“Harder, please,” she whimpered.

“Anything, mon cœur.”

“Faster.”

Her voice was barely leaving her throat. Vincent’s hips moved quickly as he felt her tightening around him. He moaned again, sure his voice managed to reach outside of the windows.

“Fuck, you’re getting so tight, Bella, you’re going to kill me.”

Her nails dug into his back cruelly, pushing him even closer to the edge as the pain echoed throughout his entire back. He managed to reach down and rub her clit again, feeling how swollen it had gotten as her orgasm came closer.

“Come for me, Bella, come, baby,” he encouraged, his fingers working quickly.

She cried out, her voice breaking as she grabbed onto his shoulders. She was just at the edge, her mind was spinning wildly. Her words were unintelligible to him, he’d never caught onto Italian very well.

“Oh, mio caro, sì, sì, ah, cazzo, sì—“

Her legs tightened around him as he slammed his hips against her, watching how her mouth fell open, listening to her gasping breath.

“Sì—sì come questo, tesoro, oh…oh! Non fermarti, per favore, oh per favore—ngh—cazzo!”

He groaned as her pussy clenched around him and she let out a cry, her nails digging so hard into his skin they might’ve been drawing blood. He snapped his hips into her one last time and came—loudly—as he felt for her breasts and grabbed onto them, tried and failed to stay upright, then lowered, his body pressed up against hers.

They laid for an eternity, trying to catch their breath, trying to wait for their heads to clear. Vincent managed to move first and kissed her neck, inhaling the smell of her skin, feeling her pulse starting to slow down. She let out a heavy exhale, eyes opening.

“You are…”

She trailed off into silence for a moment.

“…Magnificent.”

Vincent chuckled, kissing her jaw softly, unable to speak just yet. She smiled.

“Ti terrò in giro per molto tempo, tesoro.”

“I don’t know Italian, Bella.”

She laughed. “I said I’m going to keep you around.”

They looked at each other, and he smiled.

“Oh, are you?”

“Oh yes, Monsieur…for a very long time.”

She lifted a finger, tapping his nose affectionately.

“You keep me, I keep you, Mademoiselle.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling softly. “That arrangement just might be acceptable.”

He smiled. “I’m glad we could finally settle on an agreement.”

Her laugh was weak, but her eyes shone with that sardonic humor that had charmed him so. He slowly pulled out of her, gently sitting her up.

“Come with me. I will take you home so you can rest. We’ll have dinner.”

#marquis de gramont #amaranthine_enihtnarama #my wriitng #ao3 writer #marquis de gramont x reader #fanfic authors #john wick fanfic #john wick fandom #Spotify

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tzuyubit · 1 year ago

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rest

an: hi. been awhile since i’ve written anything. im sorry if this isn’t really tzuyu, but im #trying. sorry if this is bad too. mistakes are mine!!!!!! half asleep posting this… sorry….

prompts: im worried about you” // “you don’t seem like yourself tonight

college au kinda sorta

tzuyu eyed you quietly, you seemed to be lost in thought about something and none of the other girls seemed to have noticed. that didn’t surprise tzuyu though, no one could read you better than her.

she bit the inside of her cheek, rummaging through her brain of any possible reason you could be so down. however, this was a failure because surely you would’ve come to her already if something was bothering you, right?

it wasn't long before you started to feel a set of eyes staring into the side of your head. tzuyu gave you a look of concern, but you brushed it off and laid your head atop nayeon’s shoulder, bringing your attention back to the movie that was on. this made tzuyu even more concerned than before, but she couldn’t do anything about it now.

instead she watched as you cuddled into nayeon, your body slowly turning away from her seemingly every 10 minutes. tzuyu couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by your actions. has she done something to upset you? did someone tell you something bad about her? did you hear a rumor around school and believe it to be true?

tzuyu spent the next 30 minutes waiting in what felt like agony for the movie to be over with. she knew you’d go to bed afterwards as you didn’t like staying up too late since classes started early.

you said your goodnights to the surrounding girls and made your way down the hall and into your room. you sighed knowing you couldn't avoid her from this point on. nonetheless, you peeled the sweatshirt off your body, leaving you in just a tank top and shorts, and buried yourself under the covers. maybe if you pretended like you were trying to sleep she wouldn’t question you?

wrong.

only a mere two or three minutes went by before you felt tzuyu’s slender body slide next to yours. she was hesitant at first, but decided to wrap her arm around you anyway. a few more silent minutes went by and you’d started to think she might actually not bring it up.

again, you were wrong.

“i’m worried about you…” tzuyu mumbled.

“don’t be.”

“you don’t seem like yourself tonight.” she countered, hoping to get somewhere.

“I’m just tired.”

a hum could be heard, “maybe. but i doubt that’s the reason you’ve been avoiding me.”

there was another beat of silence before she spoke again. “have i done something?”

“no.” you answered calmly, which only confused tzuyu further. “then what is it?”

your body shifted beneath the covers, eyes now staring into hers with the help of the moonlight shining on her face.

“you’re good at everything, you know. it’s like you don’t even have to try. always getting a’s, never anything below, loved by so many people despite you keeping them at arm's length, i’ve never even seen you lose your temper. you’re perfect. i don’t now why you settled for me. i get b’s and c’s in class, i don’t really have a lot of friends, or people that remember me, i get annoyed and irritated too easily, even the way i dress is questionable. you’re just so put together and-”

“except i’m not.” your girlfriend interrupted. “you shouldn��t compare yourself to me.”

you exhaled. “well you sure make it look like you are.”

“exactly, which is why you shouldn’t compare yourself to me. i’m nowhere near put together all the time, i just know how to manage things and my emotions to the point where it looks like i am.”

the way she stared down at you, seriousness filling her eyes caused you to avert your gaze.

“i just think you could do better than me.” you mumbled softly.

“ah.” tzuyu brushed her finger against the line of your face. “well i don’t think so. i think you’re the one for me and that’s all that should matter. you’re important to me for many reasons, but the fact that i love you in the way that i do should be enough. nothing that you said negatively affects our relationship. im happy and that’s all that matters to me. i hope that you are as well?”

you met her eyes again and nodded. “i just want to be enough for you.”

“you are,” she promised. “now let's go to sleep. you need to rest well before classes.”

and so you did, face snuggled in the crook of her neck as she held you close.

#xi writes #tzuyu #tzuyu x reader #twice x reader #tzuyu imagine

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rippersz · 2 years ago

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𝔖𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔏𝔞𝔪𝔟, 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔗𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 ℌ𝔦𝔡𝔢

⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰

(A Lucifer Morningstar {The Sandman} x Fem!Reader One-shot) (TW: Kind of Smutty)

⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰

You could feel them.

You could feel them in the room, existing in the shadows, pouring into the crevices.

Like black ooze… like a snake, able to fill any space at all… like something untouchable. Priceless.

Your brother had always said that in order to know God, one had to know The Devil. One had to seek them out, understand them, hold them close, and only then could one find the beauty in purity. In innocence. In humankind.

‘But where do you find The Devil?’ You had asked, young and wide-eyed and impressionable.

‘Everywhere,’ his soft boyish voice responded, ‘You find Satan everywhere.’

It was hogwash.

Bullshit.

Indoctrination.

The Devil never existed - you came to that conclusion however many years ago.

The Devil didn’t exist and your fear was pointless.

And yet?

And yet.

You still returned every day, purging your sins at the altar and kneeling among the pews. Staring at the cross like it was your savior - a direct line to whatever part of Heaven you wished you could end up in once everything was said and done. And it was there, in the middle of prayer, when you felt them. When the air changed in the middle of the afternoon and suddenly you blinked and the sky was dark. With the street lamps lit and the stars darting the evening. There was no moon to accompany them - there was no moon to accompany you.

And, in the same sense, there was no one to witness your death. Which would certainly happen, if the change in atmosphere said anything at all. And it did - it said a lot. It said that something was lurking and something was nearby and something was very very hungry. So hungry, in fact, that you could feel the dread drip down your spine in the form of a cold drop of sweat.

There were eyes on you as you kneeled, observing the curve in your body and looking at the way your legs folded beneath you. Hands out, hands clasped, head bowed beneath the gaze of the Heavens. Of a ruler you’d never meet. Of the very antithesis to whatever was behind you, sitting in one of the rows, lounging like nothing mattered at all. And you supposed it didn’t. The line of prayer that spilled from your lips had stopped immediately, and things fell silent, and nothing- nothing- could have mattered. You felt stuck. You felt scared. You felt… compelled.

‘Turn’ something distinct and evil whispered, ‘turn around and look. Look at them. Look look look. Peer upon divinity lost; peer upon God’s favorite; kneel in their shadow and admit that the Almighty was wrong. Look look look and see what humans have always wanted to see. Be the lucky one. Be the one to know. Be greedy. Look.’

And you hadn’t realized you were turning until it was too late and your eyes sprang open and there, some rows away, lit up by a soft ray of light that seemed to shine from nowhere at all, was The Fallen One.

All black leather and pale skin and cherubic features and all blonde hair and large dark wings and one long leg crossed over the other and all strong shoulders and slender fingers locked together into a calm grip on a strong-thighed lap and all neutral expression if not for the tiniest tiniest smile quirking up at the corners of pale soft lips and all blue eyes blue eyes blue eyes. Icy. Never-ending. Unbelievably bright in the beam of the sun’s random ray. Not looking at you - but looking at the cross.

Staring at the big large mocking symbol hung up at the church’s zenith.

You swallowed.

‘Demons and sinners burst into flames when they come into contact with anything holy, okay? So don’t be a sinner.’ Your brother’s words rang in your head.

You’d never seen anyone burst into flames before.

Was The Devil untouchable because Hell was so hot? Or did God not care?

Or maybe… perhaps… they belonged there.

“You are thinking awfully loud, little lamb.”

You jumped.

The Lightbringer’s voice was so soft… angelic… glorious. With a gentle accent and a minor hush. Naturally quiet. Naturally lovely. It made you shiver.

You didn’t know how to respond. What could you possibly say to The Devil? What did they want to hear? Your eyes darted to the church’s double doors. If you wanted to leave, would they let you?

“You wish to go so soon?”

You couldn’t help but glance at them, noticing with a start that they were definitely closer than they had been before. A few rows closer, actually. So close that you could smell the scents of burning wood, rot, and damp stone. It made you swallow - and you quickly had to hold in a grimace when you felt the way the bouquet lavished your tongue. Like you were tasting it. Them.

Oh what a sinful thought…

A whisper so near you almost yelped had you gasping and falling backwards onto your palms.

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer.” The flowery softness from before was gone - and the scent was stronger, nearly hovering as your focus came back to you.

Again, they were closer. You could blink- you could glance away for a millisecond- you could disappear into your head with your eyes open- and somehow they still managed to close the distance. Less rows between you. Less pews. Less worship to be had - or more, if your heart’s fluttering was as loud as your ears made it out to be. And there was a burn in your cheeks likewise. As if you had had too much red wine, or like the sun decided to cast you as its new victim, or like The Devil had entered the room and… oh wait.

“S-sorry, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, immediately speaking without much thought because Lucifer’s attention was on you.

You.

Those brilliant icy blue eyes that put the stained glass to shame were on you. And that glorious head of glowing blonde curls was turned toward you. And their body- that body- could easily stand up and round those two rows in a split second and be by you. Looming over you…. Holding you…. Prying your mouth open and placing two long slender fingers on your tongue…

“Hm.” It was a small sound, accompanied by the most graceful head tilt you’d ever seen, and for some reason it had you straightening up and trying to pull yourself together.

The stupid position you were in was embarrassing. On your ass, leaning back on your hands, legs nearly spread - how unladylike. How… sinful. You quickly sat up onto your knees and dusted off your palms, trying not to take your eyes off of The Devil for too long just so they didn’t sneak up on you again. As it was, they were observing in silence. Watching as you pulled down the hem of your skirt and used the nearest pew to help you get to your feet. Once your legs stopped wobbling and you got yourself standing, you realized the extent of your predicament.

Lucifer Morningstar was tall.

Tall enough to be at eye level once you straightened your back. Tall enough to watch with the smallest of smug smirks as your eyes widened. As you realized that they were both tall and large. And muscular beneath that intimidating leather and heel get-up. You weren’t even sure where to look.

Those hands… long fingers indeed. And those legs… you had to try as hard as you could not to imagine the way those thighs would feel wrapping around your waist. And that neck… drool pooled into your mouth and glistened on your tongue and oh god you wanted to kiss that soft skin until The Devil turned red and started burning up. Until you started burning up. Until Hell became a distant memory, and the church began to look like Heaven. And those wings, oh you wanted them in your mouth. Beneath your fingertips. Between your lips, cradling your body, shielding your pleasure from the world. You wanted them. You yearned for them.

You stared at them, lost in utter thought.

And The Devil noticed.

Of course The Devil noticed.

The Devil noticed everything. The Devil saw everything.

“Curiouser and curiouser…,” The Lightbringer whispered, forcing your eyes away from those wings and onto their face.

That face. That porcelain face. Glorious, handsome, blurred beauty kind of face. Soft around the edges, hard where it counted. You wanted to run the pad of your finger along the bridge of their nose and kiss them until they panted for breath. You wanted to bring color to that pale complexion.

You wanted to. You really did.

But then your eyes slid over to the doors and you blinked.

Lead me not into temptation…

“I think I have to go.”

…but deliver me from Evil.

Your body began moving before your brain could catch up. Soon enough, you were one step- two steps- five steps- 12 steps- so close to getting the Hell out- so close to feeling normal again- so close to retaining purity!- only to get stopped by a strong thick wing being thrown up in front of your face. It unfurled with a whoosh and the very tip of your nose brushed against the soft membranous texture of The Devil’s glory. The wing wasn’t white, it wasn’t feathered, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t like an angel’s. It didn’t bring light the way the name suggested. No, it just brought darkness. And fear. Fear that bubbled up like poison, slowly spreading through your veins, slowly dragging on your mind. Forcing it down. Making you take a step back because The Devil wasn’t keen on you leaving and the sin that bombarded your thoughts was beginning to worry you.

“Please,” came your desperate whisper; your voice so soft it didn’t even echo.

“Please?” Lucifer responded, slow and gentle, drawing your eyes to their face. They were observing you again, perpetually amused. “What are you pleading for, little lamb?” And when your gazes met, you found that you didn’t know.

What were you pleading for? What was there to want? What could The Devil possibly give you that wouldn’t cause you to sell your soul? What could you gain from speaking to them?

What could you lose?

“I have to go.” You sounded like a broken record - a very unconvincing one because you didn’t move.

In fact, you didn’t do anything. Your purse was slipping off of your shoulder and your feet were hurting in your heels and perhaps going to the church right after getting off of work was not a good idea because you were starting to feel antsy in your proper clothing. Everything just felt too tight. Everything just felt too wrong. But you didn’t move. Their eyes were just so… you had no real words for it. Were they captivating? Most certainly. Were they entrancing? Without a doubt. Were they real? Yes, they looked pretty damn real staring into your soul like that from their little pewed perch. Yes, very real - very real and very attractive. You felt the urge to plead again, but before you could open your mouth, The Devil was standing.

Sliding off of the wood, slow and easy… like a snake… never taking their eyes off of you… stalking…

You were helpless as you watched The Devil’s lips part- soft and unhurried- glorious and plush.

“You already said that,” and a smirk spread like bubbling lava, dragging across their sculpted features like a chisel with marble, “Would you like me to believe it?” Their teasing brought a flush to your cheeks that you couldn’t shake - even when you took a stunned step back.

And again, you did not know the answer.

Not even when the dark shield of their wing was lowered and the church’s doors were revealed. Not even when the chance to run- to escape- to go- was right there. So close, but so far. Pulled back by your uncertainty. Pulled back by your curiosity.

It wasn’t everyday that The Devil walked into a church. And it wasn’t everyday that you were there to see it.

The sudden sound of shuffling had you making your decision… and your eyes were drawn to the ocean once more.

There was such clarity there - such brilliance. You wanted to drown in it. You wanted to shove your head into their hands and drown in whatever they had to say. You wanted to fall back down to your knees and slick your tongue along the rounded edge of their boot. You wanted them to defile you upon the cross, using powers you weren’t ever sure existed. You wanted to kiss them and you wanted them to kiss you. You wanted them to want you. Was that so terrible? Was that so wrong? Was it terrible to yearn for such things? In the moment, staring over the blonde hairs of their eyebrows and the platinum color of their lashes, you weren’t sure. How could something depicted as hideously demonous be so… so… full of divinity? How could they glow in the way that they did, lit by a stray gleam that didn’t seem to exist anywhere else? The rest of the church, after all, was lit by overhead lights that made your skin seem pale and sallow. But Satan looked radiant. You wanted to tell them that. You wanted to tell them everything.

“Shall I take that as a ‘no’, little lamb?” They whispered, their voice strangely feminine - soft and placating. You liked it. You swallowed.

“I… I don’t know what you want,” your voice shook.

“That wasn’t my question.”

Well. It seemed it was already too late. You had made your choice.

“Yes.”

And you watched in awe as the prettiest of smiles, the most holy of grins, stretched over those pink lips…

…and started burning you alive.

⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰

I do so love The Lightbringer. I hope you liked this, small as it was. - Ripley x

⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰⊱꒦꒷꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦⊰

#fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #rippersz #wlw fanfic #lucifer morningstar #the sandman #the sandman lucifer #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer sandman x reader #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie lucifer #they/them lucifer morningstar

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demonbarberofbeepbeep · 9 months ago

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I saw Sweeney with Aaron Tveit and Sutton Foster on Sunday :3 BRAIN DUMP WITH SPECIFIC PRODUCTION DETAILS AHEAD. DONT READ IF YOU DONT WANT TO SPOILED ON CERTAIN ACTING CHOICES THEY MAKE

First, Sutton, my surprise fav:

Now, I had heard the Worst Pies leak from her, and I was worried. But I actually ended up loving her Nellie Lovett.

The former cast had a younger, pretty blonde soprano style Mrs Lovett. Sutton was a little bit of a return to the classic Mrs. Lovett dynamic - an older, scatterbrained woman. Not as openly seductive and feminine as Annaleigh, but very funny and affable. She was less sensuous, older, more desperate. Kind of a Katherine Hepburn physicality, long and slender flailing limbs. Goofy but an intense undercurrent of loneliness. She had a very gangly and bumbling physicality to her. She was taller than Sweeney (in her heels) and that affected their dynamic in interesting ways - when she was coming on to him, it almost felt like she was trying to grapple him sometimes. She did some very funny new bits. In her entrance to Worst Pies In London, she had a carrot and she was biting pieces off it and spitting it out into the pie crust. It was a hilarious gag. People were surprised at how wobbly her delivery was on the first night - well, it was like that on the third night too! It was pretty funny. She was obviously doing it on purpose.

She slid off his lap in By The Sea and put her feet in his face and then started rubbing his chest and taking off his suspenders with her toes. She got a lot of mileage out of flailing her limbs in a humorous fashion. I think her comedic chops really shined here and in Little Priest.

I think her darkness was more on view here too - she had a truly evil look when she embraced Toby at the end of Not While I’m Around. And she had an interesting moment of cruelty with the Beggar Woman - when they had their confrontation, she seemed to grasp her chin or pull her hair or something in a way that caused her pain. It seemed like she was right on the edge, and totally desperate, with claws at the ready.

I have really mixed feelings about Aaron’s Sweeney. There were some things I liked about him. He does a good scowl, and when he burst onto the scene, lit from above, his eyes cast into shadow - I felt like we were in for a convincingly demented and dark take. But unfortunately, he did not keep the intensity up the whole time. Part of this is, I think, out of his control - he’s just a very handsome and small-framed man, and he didn’t look either intimidating and beefy, like Nicholas Christopher, nor convincingly beaten down and sad eyed, like Josh Groban. I think he tried to play a more open-to-Lovett Sweeney, but once he let up the scowling and hate, I just felt like there wasn’t enough negative affect to him left. Beard or no beard, his look just screams “handsome prince“ or “elf” or something.

The real thing I struggled with was his voice. Now, he’s obviously an amazing talent and an incredible singer, and I did enjoy seeing him. How could I not? It’s Enjolras from the Les Mis movie! So cool! But having a tenor in this role is just kinda wrong. There were moments where we needed Sweeney’s baleful booming voice to really resonate and he just didn’t deliver - in the ominous duet with Turpin, or in the crowd scene where he’s heckling Pirelli - he sounded high, weak, and reedy. There wasn’t enough power. And I know he has a beautiful voice, but having him as Sweeney didn’t really let him use it to its full advantage. Sure, he can soar into high octaves, but what good does that do us when he’s just hitting the lower notes in a nothing-special register rather than a deep rich boom? It didn’t really portray Sweeney’s madness or darkness. It’s just wasn’t right for the character.

He did make some interesting and unique choices for the character. Some things I noticed and liked: he often grabbed his chest or heart, as if in pain. He was very nimble and scrambled and leaped around the stage. This is a “quick and quiet and clean ‘e was” style Sweeney. So, to make up for the lack of deep ominous voice, I expect him to really amp up the madness. And he gave some good crazy acting for Epiphany. What he really is good at is scowling, barking laughter, scampering around. But his acting job was uneven. His Benjamin Barker reveal, rather than being brutal, was a little bit strange - he was across the room and then ran at the judge to slash his throat. I felt very let down by the final sequence. I expected some chewing-the-scenery style screaming and moaning. He didn’t scream or cry, just kind of grimaced. “Oh no… Lucy…” Honestly, it wasn’t as sad and melodramatic from anyone as I wanted it to be. He laughed when Toby came to kill him, which was kind of cool, but also contributed to the weird lightness of his take.

Their chemistry - they were playing it to be more fond of each other. They had moments of chemistry and acknowledging each other right out of the gate. He was surprisingly game about eating the pie, almost trying to make her feel better about it or something. Later, when he grasped her arms and asked about his wife, it seemed like there was already a spark of mutual feeling or something. This is a nicer Todd than I’ve seen. He was also pretty indulgent to her in By The Sea, grasping her knee reassuringly when he said he loved her. They did not have the crazy ass chemistry that Josh and Annaleigh had by the end of their run, which is perhaps to be expected. Again, I liked how friendly they were with each other. It worked well for Sutton’s take on Mrs. Lovett. We got to see how she jumped hungrily at any scrap of kindness he tossed her. But along with his light voice and handsome tiny man vibe, it served to make him even less menacing and foreboding, which he already didn’t have enough of IMO. So, mixed bag.

Other notes from the night:

Delaney was on as Johanna! She was awesome, a very fleshed out version. You could tell she had done it before. She had a lot of funny intonations in Green Finch and Linnet Bird, really pausing to consider what the birds might be doing. “Are you discussing? 😑 Or fussing? 😩Or merely dreaming? 🙂 Are you crowing? 😧 Are you SCREAMING?? 😰”

One interesting live theater moment: In the scene where she’s trying to escape Sweeney’s parlor, I think she smashed her face getting out of the box. Her hat was off and she was holding a cloth in front of her face for some reason until she left the shop. It looked like she was bloodied, but she played it off well. I hope she’s okay!

Joe Locke as Toby - he had a beautiful voice, very sweet sweet younger style Toby. Much like Aaron, IMO, he did not get crazy enough with it at the end. But beautiful voice and heartbreakingly vulnerable. There were a few new cast members who were good, didn’t get their names, but I liked ‘em!

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whumpsoda · 1 year ago

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The box

A continuation of my A Weak Mind piece :))) Which can be found here: Part 1

I definitely am not as big a fan as I am of the first one but I like the idea I went for!

Tagging @villainsandheroes since you requested in the previous part to be tagged if a part two were ever made :D

cw: dehumanization, brainwashing

———————————————————————

The sight made Hero’s insides churn.

It was just an abnormally large box. Wooden and smooth, a shining, vibrant blue bow carefully placed on top. Several round, thumb sized holes littered the surface.

But the box was familiar. That was the most unsettling part.

Hero was well aware of what it contained.

A heavy boot took a hesitant step toward the box. They didn’t feel like his shoes, like his legs. It could have almost been as if he was viewing someone else's body, someone else’s fate. His scarred hands caressed the polished box, and swiftly ripped it from it’s secured spot, despite the nails.

Even if he was well aware of what he would find, he couldn’t help but be unprepared to be faced with it. Hero hoped, hoped desperately that he was wrong. He prayed to anyone that would listen, that his prediction would be false.

It was not.

Curled and twisted inside the box lay Villain, his limbs contorted by the box unfit for a grown man. As expected, his eyes were droopy, glassy, and unfocused. He barely registered the man standing over him, the man he had last fought viciously against only several weak prior.

The man in the box looked like Villain, yet also not. He had Villain’s face, his eyes, his nose, but such a distant expression was one that Villain had never worn. Contrary to how Hero had always seen him, Villain’s hair usually kept carefully pristine and styled, it was now shaggy and greasy. Villain now also wore a pair of loose shorts and tank top, contrasting his usual tight fitting, glamorous suit.

He looked just like the rest of them.

“Hey bud.” Hearing the sound of his own sugar coated, condescending voice made Hero sick.

His voice though, it caused something to awaken inside of Villain. His gaze shifted to meet with Hero, the lids of his eyes opening from their prior droopy state. Hero crouched down slightly, leaning his hands on his knees.

“It’s me, buddy, Hero.” Villain sluggishly unfurled himself from the heap on the floor of the container, adjusting to an eager sitting position. His slender hands were placed together on the surface of the box, his legs bent apart. He lazily rested his chin on the crate.

Begrudgingly, Hero set a gentle hand to Villain’s head, scratching tenderly through Villain’s stringy locks.

Hero was petting him. Even worse, it was obvious that Villain liked it. His dull eyed smile was a telltale sign.

Just as it was for the rest.

“Good boy.” Hero wanted to vomit. He could feel the heat rising in his throat, and him forcing his body to shove it back down. Contrary to Hero, Villain beamed at the praise. He nuzzled his cheek to Hero’s hand, yearning for the soft touch.

As Villain cuddled his head to Hero’s rough hand, Hero noticed an noise. The crinkling of paper did not come as a surprise, the slightly crumpled letter attached to Villain’s collar swinging with the movement of his head. Hero reached for the letter, carelessly ripping it from the fabric on Villain’s neck.

Hero’s name was written in a delicate, familiar handwriting on the front. The writing on the back came with no surprise as well.

From,

Superhero

Hero aggressively crumpled the paper, shoving it into his back pocket. He was already well aware of what it said, having read the same words over and over again.

He turned his attention back to Villain. He was the focus, the one in need, not Hero. It was Hero’s fault that Villain had even been roped into the mess in the first place.

“Hey, buddy, do you wanna come inside? Get out of this uncomfy box?” As hard as it was, Hero strained a comforting smile for the man nuzzled into his fingers. Villain made no attempt at recognizing the words.

Just like the others.

Hero groaned, pushing himself back to his normal height. He turned his body, motioning toward the front door. “Buddy, come on inside.”

Villain instantly crawled out from the box, positioning himself on all fours. Hero’s eyes trailed after the man crawling into his home.

Hero shut the door behind the two as they slowly made their way inside the home. It was not large, but definitely bigger than one would imagine a man living alone would own. Except, as most people were unaware, Hero definitely did not live alone, hence the reason he had been forced to move from his prior apartment several years past.

As Hero turned to show Villain to the rest of the home, his eyes caught their new visitor.

Supervillain peered at Hero, making a slow crawl toward Villain.

…

As much as he didn’t want to believe it, Supervillain’s fate had been his fault. The rest of the lives that were ruined definitely were.

Supervillain was his arch nemesis, years and years piled upon the two’s fierce battles. Superhero was far less fit for field work, pushing Hero into that role soon after her step from the spotlight.

Even if their fights constantly ended in a tiresome tie, Hero may have enjoyed it. The bickering, the adrenaline, Supervillain’s charm was shamefully endearing as well. For years they feuded, fought meaningless fights, the Civilians constantly on the edge of their seats to see one man finally walk out victorious.

Even if it had appeared to many that the champion reigned Hero, in the end, it was neither.

At first it was days. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, currently years. Supervillain had disappeared. The Civilians had soon given up their fear of Supervillain’s return, worshiping Hero as their long due savior.

The Hero agency had announced Supervillain dead, so why wouldn’t they consider him the winner?

Even if his body was still technically breathing, Supervillain was long dead.

Superhero had made sure of it. And she made plenty sure to bring more Villains down along with him.

After being gifted Supervillain, Hero was in shambles. He had found whatever Superhero had done to the man was perfectly legal. Hero, keeping a brainwashed man as a pet, was perfectly fine by the law. As much as Hero hated the entire situation, he could not give Supervillain back to his captor.

And after the years, Hero got used to it. He eventually got familiar with the rest of the “gifts” as well.

Supervillain’s fall had reluctantly opened the spot for Hero’s newest foe. As of now, there had been four to rise to the top since then.

Despite Hero’s pleads, his begs, for whatever Villain he had fought at the time to escape while they had the chance, it was evident that none had listened. It seemed now that the simple act of speaking to Hero could land you in Supervillain’s position. Villain had only been fighting Hero for three months!

All four of them, which included Hero’s newest companion, had all met the same solemn fate as Supervillain. Spending the rest of their days in mindless bliss, residing with their past enemy.

And if Hero so much as thought about escaping Superhero’s clutches, she could use her ridiculous power to pluck the former Villain’s from his care.

And only God knows what would happen to them then.

…

The unopened letter called for Hero’s attention. “Hey there, Supervillain. Meet your new roommate.” He watched as the two crept toward one another, staring blank eyed and baren.

It finally dawned upon Hero that he had led another troubled, innocent person into Superhero’s clutches. He really was going to be sick. His stomach flipped, sending him over the edge.

Hero turned to the living room, swiftly surveying the pile of sleeping bodies on the floor. The group huddled together as usual, wrapped in a mountain of fuzzy blankets and pillows. “There's, um, there's the rest of them. Make yourself at home, please. I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.” As the two figures on the floor crawled to the rest in a heap, Hero strode to his own room.

As soon as he was out of sight, the letter tore from his pocket. He furiously ripped the crinkled letter from its envelope, causing rips and tears to litter the paper. He furiously studied it, anger bubbling in his throat.

Dear my beloved Hero,

I’ve noticed you made a new friend recently! He really reminded me of Supervillain, I bet you noticed it too. So eager to appeal to you, so eager to get close to the savior of the people. I just couldn’t resist making another gift! He’s a great one, as I expected. And trust me, he loves you. You can tell me at work how much you love the present.

Sincerely,

Superhero

#whump #whumpblr #brainwashing #mind control whump #pet whump #villain whumpee #hero x villain #hero caretaker #superhero whumper #my writing #writing drabble

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