#that's the way i would think it in my head. and rose justice feels so much realer to me for it than augustus waters ever has | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fan-goddess · 2 months

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A Rose by Any Other Name…

Original Request: Is tagged here if ya wanna read :)

Authors Note: I'm so mixed with this i love some parts yet hate others it's 50/50. Other than that though I adore this au request and hope i did it justice. Just a headsup they're ngl both toxic stupid younglings.

Word count: 9k words (wow...)

Taglist: @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Pain, chronic pain, pain flare ups due to chronic pain, soulmates, fluff, angst, actually loving parents, not really a mention of her features only eyes, called a woman and referred to as she/her pronouns, self ableism, a more darker!aemond, implied abuse of royal power, Aemond ngl being lowkey toxic so they both stupid af (if I miss any let me know)

When first learning about soulmates and the fates which follow them, you had prayed to all the seven gods that you would never be misfortune enough to have one. That you should never feel the pain your soulmate felt with flowers marking your skin.

Your mother did not have one, nor did your father or any of your relatives before them, as according to them the whole thing was actually quite rare among the whole of the seven kingdoms.

Though you suppose you never had been very lucky. It was probably what praying to the stranger did to you.

Your first encounter with those damn deep blue flowers that stung while they branded you was on your legs and your abdomen. According to your septas and the lone maester who was permitted to treat your marks, they looked like marks given to a boy beginning his training in combat.

To them, this was seen as an honor, as it meant if you ever got the opportunity to meet him he could protect you. But to you, this merely meant that you were going to need to get used to that incessant stinging. They never knew what it felt like to feel those damn flowers plaguing your body, but not even you knew how to fully describe what it was like. The only way you could even dare think about it if you were truly forced too, was that it was a death sentence.

You never thought through the few years that passed after making the discovery of possessing a soulmate that the pain could get quite worse. But it appears like always, the idea of luck was not on your side.

It was a strange feeling to wake to a flower blooming on the skin of your left eye. The pain was what you focused on most however, as to be awoken to what you could only describe as being fire scorching your skin was something you could never truly describe but know for the rest of your life. Compared to your earlier marks and the pains that came with them, those were merely like when the septas would swiftly hit the ruler over your knuckles.

While you screamed and writhed in pain in your childhood bed, the maester took quick work in forcing milk of the poppy down your aching throat while the small group of septas held back your worrying mother and father who stood scared in the doorway. The medicines effects soon took its place though to yours and everyone's relief, and you were taken in some sort of daze like sleep.

When you awoke a few hours later with your head still fuzzy and a cooling salve slathered patch over your eye, your father was sitting on a chair propped to the edge of the bed tightly holding your hand while your mother slept beside you above the covers.

"Oh my darling, we were so worried!" Your father said, pulling you into a close embrace that woke your mother up from her sleep. By the way the skin underneath her eyes was darkened and how she yawned as soon as she sat up, you could tell she had been trying to stay up all night for you, and the very idea of it made you smile with gratitude you knew other children did not possess. "You gave us such a fright when we heard you screaming so late at night! What happened?"

"I... I do not know father," You said truthfully, your hand unconsciously going to remove the patch from your eye, but stopping when your father grabs your hand and gives you a stern glare that reminds you of your youth, specifically whenever you would steal an extra lemon bar after dinner. "All I remember is falling asleep and then waking to this horrendous pain in my eye and all around it..."

You have a faraway look in your eye as you find yourself unable to look at your mother and fathers lingering questioning gaze. They may not have ever said it, but you can tell that they pity you greatly for the path the gods have pushed you on. You thought this soulmate of yours was some training knight-to-be. But what knight-to-be experienced battle as harsh as having damage to his eye as horrific as you felt it to be? It did possibly occur to you that your soulmate may actually be a hardened knight with years of experience on the battlefield. But after bringing up the concern with your maester, he assured you that the marks you bore would be a lot worse if he was truly some older knight, a kingsguard or even a goldcloak.

Later that day after being ordered to eat lots to restore your energy, your maester came by that evening to visit and check on your mark. His words were kind as he assured you it would've most likely gone down in its intensity since you barely felt anything now except some throbbing from your socket. According to him, while you lay screaming from the pain, a deep blue flower had taken over your entire socket where the pain had bloomed from, in a strange fascinating way making your eye its center.

His touch was gentle as he slowly peeled back the fabric. Yet his face which once held a supportive smile turns to shock and pure horror once you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Maester, what is the matter?” You ask, biting your lip in pure anxiety as he says nothing but stares at your eye. He does not even look away as he grabs a mirror by your bedside table and hands it too you.

When you look into it though, you do not realize what is so wrong except for some small petal edges that leak from around your eye. But then you look more closely and realize with a loud gasp how your once green eye is now a deep blue, and when you close it you gasp again as you comprehend how now a flower has bloomed on your eyelid.

“What… what has happened, maester?!” You yell, unable to look away from your newly changed face.

“I do not know exactly my lady,” The maester begins, forcibly snatching the mirror from your hands so you’re forced to look at him and listen. “The whole written topic of soulmates to my knowledge is so little given at how rare they are, so there is truly not much advice to give you. The basic idea though as I told you when your condition first developed, is that when he is in pain, you are to have a flower bloom on your skin where the pain originates. There is no record I’m afraid of this condition affecting the physical body except from the blooming flowers and the pain that comes with it.”

You stay quiet as you listen to the maester, tears build up as you realize your life shall not be the same. While the idea of having two different coloured eyes is a condition seen around the seven kingdoms, it is still a noticeable thing that would draw attention of the people.

And honestly, you were not sure if you wanted to meet your soulmate. This latest development in your condition is so new and so frightening. Though you must say you cannot help but feel sorry for the soul the gods have promised you too. While what you felt was agony, you have no idea how much it must’ve hurt for your soulmate at that moment.

Over the next few days, you were closely monitored by the maester, the septa’s and your parents who all were anxious to see if the flower on your eye would slowly go down like the other flowers did when the pain disappeared or if it would remain. And much to yours and everyone around you's annoyance, it very much stayed bright and clear on your skin no matter what ointment or potion was used to clear it.

On the fourth day after the incident, as your father called it, a maid who was one of the few with knowledge of your condition came into your chambers with your morning meal, and some important news.

“My lady,” she began, practically sweating as she placed the tray in front of you. “There has been a recent development in regard to your soulmate's identity.”

Since the pain you felt was the most extreme you had ever felt, your father had felt the need to hire some men to investigate to see if this new information would reveal your soulmate's identity, even though the chance of finding an answer was slim to none. Though you suppose there was never a zero percent chance, as proven by the fact there was according to the maid, a recent development.

“What is it?” You ask, biting into the lemon cake first and savoring the sweet yet sour taste on your tongue. “What has my father discovered that he does not feel the need to come tell me himself?”

“Well…” She stumbles, even stepping back a small step as she instinctively looks to the ground. “It turns out that the same day you had that incident my lady, the prince Aemond Targaryen had his eye taken by his young nephew Lucerys, and it was reported to your father that the damage was so bad the eye had to be removed and the socket sewn up.”

The cake that once laid in your hand falls back onto the plate. Your mouth like the cake falls open in the same undignified manner as you cannot believe the words you are hearing.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You find yourself asking in a breathless tone, silent as the maid nods her head.

“May I be dismissed now, my lady?” She asks, knocking you out of a daze you hadn’t even realized you had fallen into. You nod in answer and watch as she leaves, leaving you in silence and your own thoughts that begin to run rampant.

You were soulmates with the Prince! A Targaryen Prince! You heard that out of his three siblings he was the only one with no dragon, but you honestly did not care if he did or did not as either way he was still a man of honor. When thinking of the injuries you received over the years, you cannot help but think of how it made sense.

You knew princes received special training similarly to that of young knights, so when the maester said that the injuries matched up with them made sense. Yet to hear of the Prince's injury that perfectly synced with your own, that was what finally made it all make sense.

You lay backwards in your bed, and allowed the anxiety to wash over your body. The food lay to waste against the covers as you thought only of what your future could hold as a wife of royalty. Of how you would never be a true lady of the court and in the end would no doubt bring about disgrace to your husband's name. Of how in the end compared to your soulmate, the Targaryen warrior, you are just a woman from a lower house who could not bring anything into the marriage but your empty womb.

The next few years after the realization of your soulmate, you spent your time attempting to convince your father not to pursue a marriage between yourself and the Prince. But to your surprise and happiness, your father agreed to not pursue anything marriage related to you without so much of a fuss, even when you, your father and even your mother knew how much a marriage between you and the Prince would help your house bloom in both social standing and resources.

You felt selfish in your insistence of your future, but your father was adamant in telling you that he was not angry in your decision and if anything he was proud to see you so passionate about your decisions.

Your mother much to your delight seemed to agree with you, which probably the main if not the only reason was why your father acted so calmly. According to her you were too young for marriage, which to most people seeing as your mother and father were married quite young it may be seen as hypocritical. But those people were not there to witness all the times your mother gripped her stomach and dreamed of the brothers and sisters you lost on the birthing bed and before.

You were sure not to injure yourself too greatly in fear of that, like how you found out Prince Aemond, he would discover your true identity and come to your doors to claim you in the same way his elder brother Prince Aegon supposedly claimed the ladies of the red keep.

Yet like all those years ago the night when you realized your eye hard turned blue. The gods were not on your side.

You scream as the pain quickly makes itself known in your arm forcing you to forget anything you’ve ever known other than that overwhelming seering sensation. The tears mask your ability to see the blood pooling up from your skin, and you can hear muffled running in the distance as well as the sound of panicked shouting from the familiar voices of the septas you made such close acquaintances with all those years ago.

You can feel their hands grabbing you, but nothing beats the pain that you cannot even begin to put into words. The maester is by your side as soon as you’re brought to the healing room, and his old wrinkled touch is distinct on your skin as he tries to find the blue flowers he has become so familiar with. Only he does not find blue. Only red. Which is the color of your blood that dyes his fingernails and the tips of his cloak crimson.

Like all those years ago, milk of the poppy is brought to your lips and you are forced to swallow hard and quick. The familiar daze returns as you quickly become numb to the feeling of the sharp needle piercing your skin as the maester attempts to fix you.

You stayed in that bed for at least a day or two before you came too again, but at this point you are used to being there within those familiar walls.

According to the maester, at the height at which you fell from the tree you were climbing in, the tree you were in fact always forbidden to climb but ignored thinking you were safe, you broke your arm clean in two. Apparently the bone had managed to pierce your skin, which is why there had been so much blood. So in order to allow it to heal properly he formed a special layer of hardened protection to stop the arm from any unnecessary movements that could cause further damage to the arm.

As he tells you this, you cannot help but think of how the Prince is thinking right now. Did he get that same piercing pain in his arm too? Did the flowers bloom the same way yours did whenever he managed to harm himself? Were his flowers even the same color as your own? You felt so deep in thought you barely even heard your mother come in to visit.

“My love?” She says, taking your hand in hers and drawing you out from your thoughts. “How are you faring?”

“I am alright mother. The pain is gone, all thanks to the maester.” You say, simply reassuring her as she looks at you carefully to assess whether you lie or not. Yet as she does this you cannot help but notice a distinct figure missing right now. “Where is father?” You cannot help but ask, curious in his whereabouts.

“He went to Kingslanding my love. Do you not remember?” She asks, lips pursed in a sad smile. “You were all set to go with him this morning but since your fall, he was forced to go alone. He sends his best though and wishes that you find a fast recovery, which is seems you have managed to accomplish my strong girl.”

“Oh yes…” You say, remembering she was in fact right. “I suppose I forgot. I did hit my head when I fell.” As soon as you say the words you instantly wince with regret. As before you can even try and defend yourself your mother calls the maester back in and demands a series of further assessments to be done. You sigh as you fall back and your head hits the pillow. This is going to be a long day.

Your father, as he traveled along the road into kingslanding, felt guilt gnawing at his chest for leaving you behind whilst you laid in that healing bed. When he left, you had been in a deep sleep so he had been unable to say goodbye. So he kissed your forehead and squeezed the hand on your unbroken arm and left you to sleep. The guilt remains, but he knows that whilst you lay in that bed you are surrounded and are safer in the presence of your mother and the maester and septas, who overtime have managed to gain much more insight than the majority of people into the topic of soulmates.

As they are so rare, they are viewed as freaks, even though he personally believes that they should be celebrated for being looked upon so greatly by the gods that they have been given a person cut from the same cloth.

When he looks at his own wife, who has given him such light from the darkness of his own life, he likes to think she is his soulmate with or without the flowers blooming on her skin. To him, she is just as beautiful as a fresh bloomed flower after all.

When he exits his carriage down the steps, the queen awaits him with only two of her children standing beside her, and he notices immediately that it is Aemond who is currently absent.

“Will the Prince Aemond not be joining us?” He finds himself asking, eyes widening slightly as he remembers that he is in the presence of royalty. Not some fellow lord whose son is out sleeping away his hangover after fucking a dozen whores.

“No, I'm afraid not Lord Fletcher. My son awoke this morn with a dreadful headache as the maester and he has told me, so he will be staying in his chambers for the duration of the meeting. Probably even for long after you’ve left I’m afraid.” The queen Alicent says, a smile on her face that he immediately knows is forced and strained. After all, he has had to make similar lies when people at the gatherings expect to see you and don’t.

“Ahh, I understand my queen. My own daughter has the same issue with her own health. Some days she wakes as healthy as can be then the next she’s laying in her bed writhing from the worst of pains.” He says, not entirely lying as he remembers those exact moments happening to you as you grew up.

“Ah yes well still we thank you for your understanding.” She smiles again, motioning for him to come and follow her into the castle. “Shall we get down to business?”

The next few hours are spent with him, the queen, and a few other notable house lords debating in the council room. At times the table becomes heated as words are thrown without proper caution, but the Queen always lets a small yet loud cough to remind the men of their place. So to his amusement whenever this happens, the men immediately even when their voices before could shake a mountain, quieten down like freshly stuck dogs denied a newly cut piece of prime steak.

Just as though another annoyingly arrogant man from House Lannister demands to know why his house is in need of paying more of its gold to a lord from House Tarly, the doors burst open, and the second born son of the king walks through as though he was born to strut. As the prince he sits down in the end chair of the council table with all eyes on him, Lord Fletcher cannot help but think about how as soon as he gets home he cannot wait to tell you of how this was the first time he met your soulmate.

“Are you feeling alright my Prince?” He finds himself asking, raising a brow as he turns to the Queen, whose own face holds embarrassment and shock to see her son sitting there before her. “The Queen had told me when I arrived that you were not going to attend today's meeting due to a headache?”

The Prince looks at his mother with what could only be called disdain, and it appears to make her slouch back into her seat while she takes her hand in her own and begins to pick at the nail. It honestly reminds him of how you bite your lips half bloody in your own strange anxiety relieving way.

“I am afraid my mother is mistaken my Lord Fletcher,” The prince simply says. “I merely overdid myself when training with the sword yesterday. I was waiting for the maester to visit so he could give me something to relieve the pain. I do apologize for my tardiness.”

“Oh there is no issue at all my prince.” Lord Fletcher says, an attempt of a smile on his lips. Though he soon becomes distracted when he sees Aemonds eye wander around all those in the room, as if to take some sort of strange attendance record.

“Is your daughter not with you today?” Aemond finally speaks, meeting his eye with Lord Fletcher's own two while he stares him down. “I went to visit my sister before this meeting thinking she would be there so I could greet her and welcome her to kingslanding. But my sister tells me she has never met your daughter. Why is that?”

The Queen Alicent perks from her seat as she remembers now finally remembers the information that had been picking at her all day. “Oh yes my lord pray tell, where is she? I had been so looking forward to introducing her to my only daughter. I had thought the two would get along quite well.”

Lord Fletcher attempts to laugh to ease the sudden tension in the room, but it appears to if anything makes it worse as no faces change from their stoney exterior.

“I’m afraid the day before our departure, my dear daughter had an accident that quite badly injured her arm, the same arm in fact you say to have harmed during your training my prince!” Again he laughs, but that does not stop him from seeing the look the prince and queen share with each other.

It appears the prince is more aware than he thought with the motion of soulmates, though it does make sense when thinking of all the things he’d heard of the one-eyed prince. He is a scholarly boy, so it’d make sense for him to research and look in depth into all the possible books about soulmates the royal library or even the citadel have to offer. He even has the Grand Maester at his beck and call, who no doubt has more information on the topic than anyone else.

“Tell me my lord, how did your daughter have such an accident?” The prince asks as he leans forward so far in anticipation he looks to be at the edge of his seat. “It must’ve been from quite a great height for her to have received such injuries. I do hope she has a quick recovery.”

“Thank you my prince, it means a lot to hear from you. As for how she fell, I believe she was climbing in a tree somewhere on our land when she fell and broke a bone in her arm, the end of which pierced her skin just between her elbow and arm socket, or so our maester told me before I left. I worry about her recovery yes, but I know she is in the hands of a capable maester so I do not doubt she will be feeling much better soon.”

The Prince appears to squint slightly at Lord Fletcher before looking back to his mother. It almost looks like there is a silent conversation between the two, and it’s only interrupted by small tilts of heads by the both of them. It was strange yet interesting to watch.

The Prince hums his final response to the once silent conversation before looking back at Lord Fletcher. “Well as she was unable to make the journey with you to Kingslanding, I suppose I shall have to make the journey to your own home and in a way being Kingslanding to her.”

The silence rings throughout the council room again, with even the queen looking at her son in shock. The councilmen who’d been long forgotten don’t dare attempt to speak a single word since the prince's declaration, which only further proves Lord Fletcher's idea that they’re all idiots in their own rights.

“Are you sure my Prince?” He asks, “Tis I’m sure a tedious journey for you and your dragon-“

“Tis no issue!” Aemond interrupts sharply, his tone firm and assertive. “You are set to travel back home the next morn by carriage I hear. So I shall travel by Vhagar tonight so I may spend the night and meet your daughter in the morn. Is that sufficient enough for you my lord?”

The Prince does not leave room for an answer, as before Lord Fletcher can even open his mouth the Prince already has left the room leaving all councilman members and his mother in shock at the turn of events. And while he feels that same shock, he also cannot help but feel fearful as he knows it’s with his words alone what drove the Prince to commit such quick actions.

He can only dread to think about how the introduction between you and the prince will turn out.

When you awoke the morning after your father had left for Kingslanding, the thing that struck most odd with you were the maids. They looked more fearful than you had ever seen them, and they even avoided eye contact with you, which was odd as by now they had all gotten used to your eye.

“What is the matter with all of you?” You spit, glaring at all the ladies who even after you confronting them refuse to look you in the eyes.

They stay silent as they continue to stare at the stone floor, until finally one of the more recent of the lot breaks the silence.

“The Prince is here, my lady.”

Any anger you felt before this moment disappears soon as it brews and instead is replaced by only stone cold fear.

“He cannot see me…” You murmur, seeing the ladies agree and nod out the corner of your eye. “The Prince cannot see me!”

“He specifically spoke of you when he arrived, my lady,” The maid continues, slowly looking up to stare pitifully at your practically trembling form. You can feel yourself begin to chew at the skin of your inner lip, and yet if anything it encourages you to continue when you start to taste the familiar tang of copper smear on your tongue. “Claims that whenever you wake he wishes for you to join him to break fast together as soon as possible.”

The more this lady speaks the more your gut turns and twists within your body. By now the taste of copper gushes down your throat yet you welcome it gladly, even refusing the goblet one of the other more meeker maids offered you to wash the taste away when they saw red begin to stain your outer lip.

“I have to hide it.” You find yourself firmly saying as you look at one of the older ladies. “Tell me, do we keep any veils that are out of use?”

When the prince awoke within the unfamiliar comfort of the bed with a tired groan building within the back of his throat, it is the memory of the council meeting from the day before that floods his mind, forcing the once tired and sore body into being now quick and alert with excitement and anxiety.

When Aemond was but a young boy, he remembers during one of his lessons on the reign of Maegor feeling a sharp stinging in his knuckles. When he looked down, much to his shock and horror, he saw that light blue flowers were blooming across the pale skin. As much as the initial sight had shocked him dreadfully at first, Aemond could not help but think of that day during later years fondly. As that was the day he realized that maybe after the gods had given him, he was not truly alone.

The Grand Maester had told him everything he himself knew about the topic, and even sent a raven to the citadel to request books speaking of the tales written in the texts. According to him, Aemond was the first in a long time to come forward about possessing one.

Aemond prayed to the gods to meet them soon, but no matter how much he got on his knees no matter how many times he held his hands together in the grand sept with his mother next to him, no girl ever came forward to claim him.

And by the next year, Aemond felt more alone than ever before.

His flowers were never to be allowed to be seen in the eyes of anyone other than his family, a select few maids and the grand maester of course. This was because according to his grandsire, fathers from all across the realm would put their daughters forward claiming to be his soulmate. Also, if it was discovered he had a soulmate, those same fathers may not deem him suitable for marriage if he will abandon his wife for another woman. It was better to hide, so a marriage could be insured and an heir to his name.

Though any thought of a good tempered wife or even a marriage that could soon turn to affection was gone the moment Lucerys stole his eye. He does not remember much other than the pain, but what comes to mind is the thought in the back of his head hoping his soulmate would be alright. Praying that she would not hate him and would still love him even after now being turned into a cripple.

That day he may have lost an eye, but he gained a dragon. He gained the strength to protect his soulmate, and that to him was all that mattered, other than the protection of his mother. Somehow at that moment as she stood there before him, she looked more vulnerable than he did.

While Aemond lay in his bed healing, his mind turned to his soulmate as he remembered the reasoning behind the flowers. The flowers bloom where pain on the other person blooms, in an assurance that they are not alone in this world. Aemond could not help but think it all as a cruel sort of joke, especially as the pain in his eye begins to slowly throb. Yet a part of him is still thrilled to know that even though the Gods have cruelly broken him and built him back up again, there is a person given to him who will share his pain and see him for what he is.

He became even more desperate to discover you as soon as he was fully healed. He called the Grand Maester as soon as he spotted the familiar blue coloring on his skin, and together they looked over each inch of petal extensively until they day turned to night and the oil in the lamps burned out.

According to him, they were marks like that of a piece of wood struck on the knuckles. Which makes sense as Aemond remembers all the times Aegon would fall asleep soon as lessons started, and halfway through a particularly menacing Maester would strike him with a sort of smooth wooden object directly on the knuckles to wake him. It would be a sight that made Aemond smugly smile while he completed all the necessary work and chuckle at later, but thinking of that same treatment happening to his lady made his heart clench in his chest.

Nowadays, whenever he found himself getting injured, whether that is simply a bruise from training with Ser Cole or a sudden onslaught of inner pain in his eye socket, in his mind he always found himself apologizing at the back of his mind for causing pain for his lady. He finds himself wishing he was better in lessons so he could have avoided the swords, wishing he had fought better in the caves against his nephews and cousins so he wasn’t missing his eye. Whatever the situation, Aemond always craved that he was better. And found at the center of it all it was all for her.

He remembers his three and ten name day much too clearly. It lingers in the back of his mind like a plague. The salty stench of the air. The taste of the cheap alcohol Aegon had forced him to consume as according to him, the act was better when a person is left in a daze. The feeling of that woman’s too warm skin. The sound of her supposedly seductive voice that instead of arousing him only managed to make him further horrified. All of it stayed with him for years sticking to his skin.

Though the part which struck out most for him were the thoughts he could not help but think as that woman sunk down on him and robbed him of any free will. The realization that he would not be able to stay chaste for his soulmate. The idea that maybe she would not want to be with him once she found that her soulmate had laid with filthy whores paid by the go to fuck all sorts of men.

He ran out of that place as soon as the weight on his limp body was lifted, and as soon as he reached the comforts of his own bed with the covers lifted well over him like a cocoon, he cried. He cried for the loss of his body. He cried for the loss of his ability to think without remembering what that woman was doing to him while dribbles of tears streaked down his cheek. He cried for not being faithful to you.

He cried for his future with a soulmate who hated him for actions beyond his own control.

Though as Aemond dressed in appropriate clothes he brought with him for the special moment, his mind cannot help but think back to his earlier worries. Yet now, he is a man.

Aemond possesses the largest dragon in the world. Which to him even now was worthy of the trade of his eye. He is a scholar of history and philosophy whose work has even been submitted to the citadel to be placed in books that’ll be read by many accomplished people. He is even a greatly talented swordsman as said so by all those who have watched him train in the yard. He has become a man worthy of your love and your future.

Yet his hands still fumble about with the other whilst he follows a plain looking maid to the dining hall. He requested a meeting with you in private specifically in a place you were familiar with so you could be comfortable when meeting him. He may be a dragon, but he likes to imagine that he is no monster.

He sits there for what feels like hours. Picking at the skin above his nail until he can feel the blood pooling. He’s about to do it again to his final nail on his left hand, but then you walk in and everything stops. Only not for the reason he would’ve hoped it to have.

As he does not meet the eyes of his soulmate. Instead he meets nothing. He merely stares blankly at the veil that covers your whole face.

“What are you wearing?” He asks, glaring at the damned piece of fabric in his way.

“Clothes, my Prince.” You simply say, the sarcasm not annoying him like how Aegons does. Though Aegon was always just a twat. You appear to make it interesting and actually entertaining to take part in.

“Trust me, my lady, I can see just fine with one eye.” He smirks, silently seething at the prospect of being unable to see your face. He already knows you to be beautiful, it just irks him that he is unable to confirm it. “Why do you hide yourself?”

“What do you mean my Prince?”

“Why do you hide your face? Is there a chance you are afraid of me? Or of what you think I will see?” As soon as the words leave his lips he sees the way your body freezes up. “Do you wish to sit down my dear lady? I am sure it was never a part of your etiquette lessons to break fast while standing.”

You do not say anything as you move to sit in a seat near the middle of the table, and Aemond already in his mind is thinking that’s much too far away from him as he continues to sit at the end seat.

The two of you though stay silent as you both begin to eat the spread of food in front. From the corner of his eye he watches you, and it’s strange how he finds himself suddenly so jealous of the fruit you begin to eat. Jealous of the way those grapes get to go under your ridiculous veil and be touched by your lips, which Aemond already knows to be soft and oh so kissable. He has never seen them, but he just knows.

“Would you not be more comfortable without the veil my lady?” Aemond asks, watching carefully as you stop eating and turn your head to look at him.

“No, I am fine with my current predicament. Is it not more comfortable for you to not wear the eyepatch?” You quip back, with no doubt a smile on your face.

“I suppose you are right my lady,” Aemond drawls, watching the way your head tilts and the fabric concealing you from him lightly pressed against the curves of your face. “How about I propose this. I take off my patch, and you take off your veil?”

“I do not accept it!” You practically yell, your hands clenching so hard that Aemond could see even from where he sat the knuckles turning white.

“Besides…” You continue in a much softer tone like that of a burdened lady, which Aemond knows for sure is not true at all from what he has heard of your life story. “I am hideous to look at. This veil more protects you than it protects me my Prince I am sure of it.”

Aemond hums a response, but his eye says all as it trails over your covered body.

“So those who have told me in person how you are easily one of the prettiest maidens they have seen are lying then, are they my lady?” He reveals, watching you carefully so he can attempt to decipher your movements.

“They must be my Prince. As far as I have been told, I am the ugliest lady they have ever seen and how I shall die a spinster locked away in a tower!”

It’s strange, how when Aemond thinks of that actually happening his fists clenched tightly by his sides, and how he gets the overwhelming urge to maim those people claiming you to be so hideous. To make them so ugly and deformed and force them to sit all day everyday in front of a mirror so they can see the true meaning of being grotesque.

“You lie.” Aemond simply growls, his brow harshly furrowed from the mixture of anger from the idea of those insulting you and frustration from you still hiding your true identity from him.

He closes his eye and takes a minute to simply breathe past his anger. His body slowly tingly as he swears he feels your eyes piercing his soul.

“What if I strike a bargain with you, my sweet maiden?” Aemond says, the nickname oozing off his tongue with arrogance and self assurance.

“And why should I even think about striking a deal with you, my Prince?”

“Because I believe it shall benefit the both of us my lady. Now, do you wish to hear what I have in mind?”

“If you insist on telling me then I suppose I shall be obliged to hear words from the Prince of the realm.” You sigh, leaning your body to one side so your head is laying on the palm of your hand and Aemond gets another glimpse at how you look without truly seeing you.

“I suppose you are…” He says, leaning forward so his arms are fully lying on the table and his spine is slightly curved. “Still, the bargain I wish for you to partake in is this. I shall take off my eye patch so you can see what true grotesque is, and you my sweet maiden shall take off your good for nothing veil. Then I suppose we can see out of the two of us who is the most ugly, as you so bluntly put it.”

Aemond barely has a chance to blink before you're yelling a distinctive and firm “No” that manages to echo somehow in the room.

“Now now my sweet don’t be so resistant…” Aemond grins, tilting his head to one side as he finds himself delighted with how riled he’s made you. “You did not even consider it for a second.”

“Because I did not need to!” You bite back, slamming your hands against the wooden table so hard it manages to shake your plate still possessing some food and even your goblet too. “If I do not wish to show you you have no right to force me!”

“Oh, but I’m afraid I do my sweet maiden…” He says, getting up from his chair so he can oh so slowly make his way over to where you appear to sit frozen in your own chair. “As a prince, I have power where you do not. Now, I do not wish to abuse such power for situations like this one. I do not like to abuse my power in general in any situation. But I may find myself very willing to show you what it is I am capable of. Do you understand me maiden?”

Aemond pauses for a moment as he watches the way the veil moves with every shallow breath you take before he does something that leaves his own heart beating frantically in his chest from every emotion possible to feel.

Aemond slowly peels off his eyepatch to reveal to you a shining blue sapphire surrounded by deep scarred flesh before chucking the piece of dark brown leather onto the table in front of you.

“I have completed my end of our bargain my sweet lady. Now complete yours, before I get impatient.”

You sigh deeply and Aemond cannot help but feel his heartbeat thrice as hard in his chest from anticipation alone. He yearns to see your eyes, your lips, your nose, your everything If only you should allow him too.

So when your hands slowly move to entangle themselves in where the veil begins from within your hair, his heart feels as though he fully stops when the veil is slowly pulled away and the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life stares back at him.

“Gevie” He cannot help but murmur as his eye moves over your whole face and his body is forced to sit down in the chair next to you so he can focus on looking solely at you.

“What does it mean?” You ask, though Aemond barely registers it as he’s entranced with how your lips move with each syllable.

“Beautiful.”

There is a rare silence between the two as they each take time now looking at each other. You stare at the sapphire that glints when the sunlight beaming through the window hits it. While Aemond now looks properly at your eye, which he has discovered is a whole different color than the other. And when you blink and reveal the delicate flower imprinted on your eyelid, he cannot help but gape and gasp slightly.

“Did I do that?” He asks, pure horror in his tone and words.

“It was done a long time ago my Prince,” You simply say, smiling slightly in a strange way to comfort him. “And in a way, I suppose it was done by whoever took out your own eye. I do not expect you to suddenly reveal to me that you tore it out yourself. So therefore, you should have no more guilt than the person truly responsible.”

“I’ll kill the bastard!” Aemond growls, anger spilling from him in waves as he thinks of his nephew whose crime has gone on for too long.

“Careful my Prince. Those are dangerous words you are saying about children of the crown. You are lucky it is only me who is here.” You smile.

At first, you were so defensive and so sure the veil would hinder the Prince from prying about what was underneath it. You had thought of him like how you thought of all other men, and that when challenged with the prospect of an ugly woman he would not care and move on. Yet you suppose the gods do like to play tricks in the unlikeliest of places.

He had worn you down with the harshest of phrases and the most defensive body language, yet when you saw him at his most vulnerable with his sapphire shown bare to you you could not help but allow the overwhelming feeling of awe take over you while you stared at him.

As you unmasked yourself before him however and saw his own look of awe while he stared at all your features that had once been so carefully hidden from him, you could not deny the way your heart beat loud in your chest.

Even the way he murmured in his unique Valyrian tongue made you feel a strange feeling of specialness. As if no other woman had been seduced by those same words.

As you spoke to each other, your tongue slowly loosed as it felt for some reason so right to do so. You joking with the Prince felt so natural and yet so foreign at the same time.

“I suppose I am lucky my lady that it is you who sits there.” He says in response to your dangerous quip about his nephews, whose mother if she had heard yours or Prince Aemonds words would’ve surely sharply questioned you for them with no thought of mercy. “Though I suppose I am even more lucky that it is no ordinary woman who sits before me.”

He waits for a moment to see if you will guess his next words. But to be honest he almost forgets them himself as he gets distracted staring at your bottom lip which you bite between your teeth.

“I am lucky as it is my soulmate who sits before me as beautiful as the maiden herself.”

You feel like all the air in your lungs has left and you're gasping for air. Yet it's not as painful as you thought. In fact, it's rather remarkable to feel yourself burn in the presence of a dragon.

Still, even with this miraculous feeling within you, you cannot help but think of how your soulmate treated you but moments before. Arrogant. Selfish. Coercive. Your soulmate forced you to show yourself to him when you were uncomfortable. Did you really want to be fated to be with that person for the rest of your life?

"What's wrong my love?" Aemond asks, seeing the anxious expression on your face.

"How is it you can be so kind to me, when not even what I can guess to be less than half of an hour ago you were treating me as if I were some sort of shit on your shoe?" You ask, looking him dead in the eye as his body appears to freeze up before you.

If you weren't so focused on forcing the truth from a prince of the realm, you would think that it was actually very thrilling and sort of empowering to force a prince into silence.

"I did not mean to treat you like that." He begins, his head tilted to the floor so you cannot see his eyes and his neatly kept hair falls forward like a sort of curtain either side of his face. "I am sorry I was harsh on you. I suppose... I suppose I was scared."

Oh?

"All of my life, since I was a child, I was praying for you. For my soulmate to come into my life. And I suppose after all that time passing without you turned me bitter and angry that the gods did not hear my pleas. My feelings only became more sour when finally in front of you, instead of immediately accepting me and welcoming me you denounced me and spurned me with your words."

"You really thought I would jump into your arms like some sort of innocent lovesick maiden?" You say, staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. Aemond for the first time since his confession looks up at you from his curtain of silver locks, disbelief in his own stare as he listens to your honest words.

"Aemond, the idea of being tied to someone for the rest of my life was challenging for me as a child. Before the loss of your eye, all I had felt was mere stings. Yet feeling the pain I felt that day, it frightened me. I was a child-"

"I WAS A CHILD TOO!" Aemond yells, standing up so suddenly and leaning over you that you shriek a little in fear. “I was the one experiencing it first hand! The one who had to be held down by maesters and stared at by all as milk of the poppy was forced down my throat so maesters could tear out my eye with no true concern for me! YOU DID NOT HAVE TO GO THROUGH THAT AS YOU LAID ABED WHINING LIKE SPOILT CHILD!”

“DO NOT YELL AT ME!” You find the courage to say, standing up and pushing him away so he stumbles a couple steps back in surprise. “I get that you are angry and believe the entire world hates you! But do not blame me because you cannot be angry at those truly deserving of it! Do not yell at me because you are forbidden from getting your revenge on your bastard nephew! Do you understand me?!”

Aemond, in the same manner as that of a kicked dog, nods a yes to your question. Though when you glare hard at him to tell him that answer is unacceptable he quickly fumbles for words that eventually make it out to be heard.

“Thank you.” You simply say, stepping forward to show him how he has earned that step. “I understand you were disappointed I was not there for you. But you need to understand I was scared about it all. Scared of my future, scared of what was to come. Do you even get how scared that must’ve been for me?”

“Yes I understand that.” Aemond says, stepping a single step closer and pausing to see if you allow it which you do. “I am sorry for not thinking of you when you yourself were obviously hurting yourself. I was selfish-“

“It is not selfish, Aemond, to act like how you did.” As you speak, you step that last final step towards your soulmate and place an admittedly cautious hand onto his cheek. Though you think what surprises you most is when he immediately closes his eye and pushes his cheek hard against your palm. “I forgive you Aemond, even when I don’t know if I ever should for how you treated me.”

“I do not truly expect you to.” Aemond murmurs, his eye still closed as he savors your warmth against his cheek. “Though I vow here before you as not just your soulmate but as a man, that I’ll make it my life’s mission to form myself as a man worthy for you. To form myself into what you deserve.”

“Though I suppose that’s the strangest thing about our whole meeting.” You whisper, placing your other hand on the part of Aemonds face where the dark brutal mark that is his scar takes most of its space. It forces a somehow now calm and content Aemond to all of a sudden open his eye and even gasp so silently you almost barely hear it when your thumb slowly traces the raised yet soft skin of the scar that has defined him for so long.

“I don’t find myself wishing you to change to be better. I find myself wishing for you to stay how you are, even if you may hurt me.”

And with that, without either of you knowing whose fault it truly is, your limbs find comfort with each other, and all feels right.

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shanieveh · 1 year

Text

“ forget me not... ”

synopsis: neuvillette, too late to confess his love to you, is drowning from the suffering and regret that came along with it, especially after knowing that you felt the same all along.

tags: gn!reader x neuvillette, depression and low self-esteem, bittersweet ending, mentions of freminet, lynette and melusines, heavily implied reader death and neuvillette also kinda wanting to die

a/n: people want this and i have came to deliver (hopefully) enjoy~ this is my first long fic that i published

How can this be….?

Neuvillette sat in the corner of his office, all your letters in his right hand. How can you say you loved him… how dare you describe the love, the passion, everything you felt for him when he can't even say it back.

How can you love someone so unlovable?

His silent cries can't match up to the violent outbursts of the skies outside. Days went by when he first found out, the melusines were scared to death about who would report it to him. The way you dissolved into water, not even seeing you for the last time—not having the privilege to have a proper funeral.

He failed you… the monsieur wasn't too sure on many things but this one was certain.

Reading your diaries, knowing your thoughts and hopes for the future. It was an invasion of privacy but also in a way… the last remnants of your existence. One such entry was that of three years ago where you first met.

Encountering this, a profuse blush colored his face. The adjectives being used "handsome", "tall" and "kind" for your first meetingwith the chief justice. Far from the truth really, although Neuvillette knew you meant every word.

You always did.

You always were an honest person.

The very first day his lavender eyes met yours, to the very last. There was never a trace of impurity or a hint of a liar. Of course, the verdict went in your favor, because to him a precious rose like you can never steal and the plaintiffs were wrong.

Reading it now, not even a slightly negative comment was made to those who wrongly accused you.

"Maybe they had their reasons, after all, I was also in need of money at that time." you wrote. Adding on that you defended the "Monsieur Neuvillette" when people called "such a man of honor and kindness" a "merciless and arrogant man".

A man of honor and kindness? Your words became running thoughts in the hydro dragon's head. That day was one of the only days he didn't cry after a trial. Neuvillette was just happy that such a person of integrity was cleared of their name.

He turned through the pages of the diary, how you taught him to socialize and even mend his relationship with the hydro archon.

"Monsieur Neuvillette was too adorable! Being with a person of lowly status and treating me with such respect and humility, he truly is the epitome of mercy and loveliness."

How can you be so blind? Anyone with eyes will know that it's a privilege to be with someone so beautiful, especially to be with someone like Neuvillette. A cold and repulsive soul. You make him sound like a good person, when in fact he isn't both good and human.

He was a monster… these words of humanity you always used to describe a monster. Why do they sound so genuine? Why do they look so real? Maybe only you can make him like that, you and only you.

A few pages later he finally saw the words…

Words that should've made him scream in euphoria… tore him to a million pieces. Because even before this he already loved you… because you had so much time to confess but never did… and never will.

"I think I'm in love with the chief Justice."

And after that, he couldn't even get himself to read, he couldn't. His eyes got so blurry to see, his heart became too heavy to feel. Why were you… why you? In a world filled with monsters, they chose an angel. They chose a soul that still wanted to live, love and give. Those demons… despicable.

Remembering his shortcomings, maybe in some way he could've avoided all of this. Neuvillette shouldn't have given you his blessing to investigate the serial disappearance case.

But that glint of adventure in your eyes… he was too soft to reject you.

It was all his fault.

Wiping his tears he looked at the last entry of the diary… Oh.

Oh.

"After this investigation, I'll finally confess to him… I surely hope Neuvillette feels the same way, I even planted some forget-me-nots to give him in the backyard so that he'll know when it rains and he weeps. I will always be here."

The chief justice didn't know what was coming to him but he started running… and only then can he see the state of Fontaine. Many flowers have wilted and only a few people were outside. What had he become..?

"What's up with this weather? It isn't even the rainy season yet?!" A shop owner complained.

"I know! My crops have been drowning these days, at this rate if it doesn't stop we'll have a famine!"

It was all his fault, his running turned to a slow walk taking in all that he had done. This was all because of him. The lonely streets, the lowered morale. This was all because—

"Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don't cry!"

He turned to the voice and saw a young boy in the distance. Neuvillette remembered now, his name was Freminet. That child on which you doted extremely, giving him sweets and hushing his tears. The chief justice quickly let go of his gaze and continued to walk.

"You see Freminet, it didn't work... let's go inside."

The response was that of a stoic young woman, but he just continued his legs even if they wanted to rest all to see the last thing you cared for… those flowers. And when he finally was at the destination he saw it immediately outside.

It was in the bushes, he couldn't miss it. Every corner of your house was haunted, every tiny thing was a memory. The chairs you painted, the drawings pinned in the cabinet of you and him with the melusines. It was precious. All of it. Just as you are.

He finally saw them, most were almost to bloom and some were wilted. Picking one he unconsciously kissed it, perhaps mistaking it for you. These flowers were made to remind him he was never alone, but now he is.

More alone than he can ever be in one lifetime. Your scent still filled every corner, a remembrance of the biggest "what if" in his life. Your will stated that every single thing of yours is his just as you were always his. Bittersweet was he when reading it.

Neuvillete forgot that too included your house, maybe he was too consumed with your thoughts to visit this place. He was twisting the poor flower that looked so tiny compared to his hand. Perhaps that's what it's like to be with him. It's a curse…

He continues to caress the flowers, to treat them as if they were you. You were wrong on one thing about this, even if there were no flowers he will never forget you. Never, no way! The love he has for you can destroy nations and can cause millions of sacrifices. Just to keep you, to see your smile again.

But he can't even do that, you didn't give him the privilege to do something for you. If only he knew, he would've… done everything for you. The love that can create the strongest of floods failed to protect the one person he was supposed to protect.

At that moment, he felt the waters, the ocean, his home… you. It made his crying bearable, somewhat. Grief that could surpass a lifetime, wasn't enough. Nothing he can do will ever be enough to have you again. Perhaps he should also leave this world to stop being a burden to the people… and maybe to see you again.

"Neuvillette…"

Now he was even imagining your voice, or was he? Maybe he was delusional but he still followed your voice even if it took him to an unknown path. But the end was in a small pond, where you used to keep the fish, all of which were alive and well.

"Neuvillette…?"

At this he didn't even care if was going insane, your voice sounded like a melody even if it uttered his name. It sounded like a rare jewel, a myth, a prophecy too good to be true.

"Darling?" He replied in a hopeful tone. He looked through his surroundings, no longer was he in a pond but a terrain of boundless water. In the middle was a flying Oceanid, a spirit. Was it—could it be?

"Even I could feel the heavy pouring of rain, monsieur… don't be sad."

It was indeed your spirit, a part of you that remained before that bastard—he'll make whoever did this pay. It wasn't for justice anymore, this one is for revenge.

"How can I not? When I have failed you over and over again, I couldn't even get to say…"

"That you love me?"

His eyes widened, looking at you. Even if it didn't look like you, he knew… he always did. A nod soon followed after that, it was barely noticeable even at this rate the chief justice was a bit shy saying it.

"I just don't know why you could ever say you love me, how you could even think of me so kindly. Why? How? How can you love me back?" He was clueless to what you mean.

"How can I not?"

The reply you uttered was one of a teary-eyed person. Even to this moment you still haven't accepted you had died, not when he was still alone needing you.

"Just as you said… how can I not? You out of all people my dear… know of the sacrifices we make for the person we love."

It was that moment where you took your normal form, you looked beautiful as the day he lost you. As beautiful as the day you met. And as you walked towards him, the clock ticking until your final goodbye, it was time.

"I love you Neuvillette, i always had and continue to do so." For the last time, you cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"I love you, darling from the very beginning and every single lifetime to come." He let go of the kiss and hugged you tight, closing his eyes, until you disappeared not knowing he was hugging his own.

Opening his eyes, the rain was long gone, and what remained were the flowers in the bushes, the ponds, the fish, and him. Maybe… just maybe he will bring you and the other victims to light.

Until then, this one last encounter and goodbye will make him content. He was sure… that finally his love will be at rest.

#neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette x gender neutral reader #neuvillette #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette angst #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette drabbles #genshin angst #genshin imagines

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year

Text

Parley? (opla!zoro x you)

summary: a stranger arrives to disturb your peace and you have no choice but to negotiate with him.

wc: 2.57k

cw/tags: first meeting, swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence including blood and swords, zoro doesn't know how to express his feelings

note: i'm so nervous posting this ngl because i really like zoro as a character but i'm scared that i'm not gonna do him justice since i don't know him as well as gojo or geto or bakugo etc etc etc. hopefully all yall zoro girlies like this because i've been itching to write for him since my explore page became nothing but mackenyu. enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

You hear the chimes first. The melody is soft, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear, but you sense it. After all, you were the one who tied the string under the walkway floorboards in such a way that the bells above your window would clink if something pressed down on the wood. Over time, you learned to identify where outside was being pushed based on more strings and bells. It made it easier to find the Lady, on the rare occasion she stepped into open air and you weren’t with her. However, whoever was now setting off your makeshift alarm system had footsteps unlike the usual occupants of the house. The quietness of the notes was unsettling, in a way, because it meant they were creeping around the house. Someone didn’t want to be heard.

It was the flowers next, the roses with uniquely reflective petals that were especially good at bouncing moonlight precisely through your window. The Lady commented one day in the market that she’d taken a liking to that particular flower, and you bought the vendor’s entire stock to plant around the house once you realized how it could be used. Not before you built a crow’s nest-like window, first. The glass structure jut out of the house in just the right way that you received colors from the left, right, and front of the house. Had an intruder approached from the back, your only blindspot, you would hear the more insistent clicks of the typewriter keys attached to the outside deck panels. The nearly noiseless bells and the ominous shadow sneaking across your wall were enough to snap you wide awake.

The soles of your feet meet cool stone as you slide from under the covers, wrapping the sheath of your saber around your waist and slipping out of your bedroom. Despite the darkness of the hallway, your legs move by memory to the Lady’s chambers only to find the door already ajar.

Shit. Were you too late?

Slinking into the room in one graceful stride, words leave your mouth without thinking when you see him standing over your Lady, holding two deadly-looking swords.

“Taking a life halfway gone is immoral no matter the bounty, pirate hunter.” His head snaps in your direction and you have your blade on him before he can blink, resting the point lightly but threateningly against his throat. His eyes narrow on you challengingly and you put ever so slightly more pressure into your hilt, forcing him to surrender and sheath both swords. The third, you note, remains undrawn on his hip. “No better targets to pursue than a retiree? I expected better from the demon of the East Blue.” His gaze remains unchanging while you step forward, inching him backward until his head hits the wall with a soft thud. You were thankful, for once, that the Lady was starting to lose her hearing and was always a deep sleeper.

“She’s wanted,” he says in a low tone.

“She’s withered,” you retort. “Killing her advances justice no more than leaving her alive.” His face is still unreadable, void of any emotions just as the rumors conveyed. Many tales circulated of the infamous pirate hunter, but you chose to believe the Lady to be far too irrelevant to pose any real threat to the Marines. As one of the last known powerhouses of the Gold Roger era, it was more likely her wanted poster would be drowned out amongst younger hotshot pirates than for her to become an actual target. And yet, here was the most feared bounty hunter in the seas, hunting down a myth that many assumed was already six feet under. And for what, fun?

“It doesn’t matter. Honor is a courtesy denied to killers.” He speaks in a way like you wouldn’t understand his ideas, and it sends a white-hot flash of anger racing through your veins.

“Ooh, yes. You’re being so honorable by julienning a defenseless old woman while she sleeps.” To your surprise, he flinches, unwillingly bringing your eyes to corded muscle and flexed biceps. It’s a bit of a struggle to refocus on the task at hand. “Enlighten me on how this makes you feel vindicated.”

“I kill pirates for a living,” he states simply, nodding over to the slumbering mass under the thick comforter. The tip of your sword follows every movement he makes, careful not to give him an opening to strike. Unexpectedly, he seems almost relaxed, like the weapon at his throat was the least of his worries. “That woman is a pirate.”

“That woman was a pirate. She is no longer the ‘Captain Indigo’ you seek.”

“Who is she now, then?”

“Lady Lavender, adored by her constituents and far removed from a life of piracy. If I weren’t on the verge of spilling your organs on the carpet, I’d say visit the farmer’s market on Tuesdays. You’ll see just how different her life is now.” His chin tilts in disagreement.

“The Marines say otherwise.”

“What do you say?” A minute tilt of your wrist angles your saber so that the point now resides under his sharply defined jawline. “Hmm, hunter? Any opinions in that thick skull of yours or are you just another mindless government weapon?”

“You understand nothing,” he mutters like an indignant teenager, looking off to the side woefully. It makes your blood boil.

“Try me,” you snarl at the green-haired stranger. In another life, you’d have thought him pretty handsome, if you weren’t so infuriated by his indifferent sense of justice. He knew nothing about you, or the Lady, or what either of you had to endure to create a sense of safety. Safety, you would add, that you weren’t going to give up easily.

“This woman you serve, what are you to her? A caretaker? A child?”

“A friend,” you answer cautiously. “Something your line of work would know nothing about.”

“The Marines know that your friend murdered the former governor and seized the island in an act of desperation,” he informs you with a note of condescension. “They’ve wanted her gone for ten years, and I am here to collect her head. It’s not personal; it’s business.” The incorrectness of his information is laughable, but what concerns you more is the ease with which he talks of taking lives.

“You don’t feel any sort of remorse for the targets you kill?” The anger in your stomach starts to rub against a different, unwanted influx of sorrow. After witnessing the change in a ruthless pirate empress, you refused to believe a human could be this heartless.

“I don’t dwell on them long enough to care. Most of the time, they do something stupid that makes it a little easier to dispose of them.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong about her,” you recover, pressing the blade against his skin on the brink of drawing blood. He winces, squirming against the wallpaper for some sort of relief. You don’t budge. “The former mayor was a half-brother whom she reconnected with after Gold Roger’s execution. His death was caused by a misdosage of medicine used to treat hemorrhoids he’d suffered with since he was twenty. On his deathbed, he made her promise to take care of this city...” You inhale, focusing on the man in front of you. His expression is soft, nothing like you would have expected from a feared killer-for-hire. He was actually listening to you.

“Go on.”

“And to take care of me. I have the great pirate hunter at the end of my blade, so she must not have done that bad of a job at either request.” He’s silent for a moment and you watch the cogs turn in his brain, hoping he’d find some humanity and realize that killing the Lady isn’t just pointless, it’s fundamentally wrong.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I need money.” Nevermind, then. Backup plan it is.

“I understand that,” you concede, and you remove your weapon from his neck. His hands are on the hilts of his swords instantly, but he doesn’t draw them. He could kill both you and the Lady in a single swing, but he doesn’t. Maybe you did reach a different side of him. “That's why I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with pirat–” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself off when you raise your eyebrows in expectation. Did you not learn anything from what I just told you? His face contorts in confusion, as if his mind was at odds with what his body was telling him to do. After carefully schooling his expression into blankness, he stands to his full height, rolling a broad shoulder. “What’s the deal?”

“You’re aware of the Blue Ringed crew, yes?”

“Famous for their poisons, I’ve heard,” he confirms and you nod. “They cover every inch of their ship in toxins and wear special clothing to prevent contact with their skin. Makes it hard to sneak up on them.”

“Exactly. See, you’re not as uneducated as you look,” you tease and you feel your face heat when he sticks his tongue out at you. It’s so boyish and immature, in stark contrast to the handsome, god-bodied man that faces you. “I happen to have a counteragent, enough for you to get on their ship and collect three times the amount if you killed us tonight.”

“And what would you get in return?”

“The sound of your boots walking off the property and never returning,” you whisper a little desperately, pleading with him to leave your perfect peace intact and forget this altercation ever happened. The quiet in the room as he ponders your offer is suffocating save for the gentle snores of Lady Lavender. Eventually, he takes your deal, inspecting the powder-filled vial when you bring it to him on the front porch.

“How do I use it if it’s powder?”

“Mix it with lotion to help soak it faster into your skin. When your skin is dry, you’ll have roughly an hour to navigate the boat completely immune to the poison. It’s sweat resistant but will wash off with seawater, so take care not to get thrown overboard,” you instruct him, crossing your arms across your chest against the chilly ocean air blowing in from the south. It was breezier than normal and you regret not grabbing a sweater. Unless you wanted to freeze your ass off, you needed to finish this debacle quickly. “Kill the pirates, get your bounty, and leave us the hell alone. Deal?”

“Fine by me.” He carefully places the vial in the pocket of his pants and begins his descent down the front walkway. Before you can turn back into the house, however, his voice reaches your ears so lightly you think you’d hallucinated it. “Stay warm.”

He doesn’t end up keeping his side of the deal. A few days after your initial altercation, he approaches the house again in broad daylight holding a box about the size of your hand. You stare at him in disbelief, reading in the nook of your window and he has the audacity to smirk at you when he spots you looking.

“I thought we had a deal, pirate hunter,” you remind him when you open the front door of the house. It was infuriating how good he looked for having just returned from a pursuit, dressed up in fine fabrics with his hair combed back nicely. The irony was palpable, the situation not unlike the stories the Lady told you about the numerous men who attempted to court her. They appeared at the same front door with flowers, rubies, and promises of devotion, but none of them actually wanted her heart. In contrast, you wanted to stab the heart of the idiot in front of you.

“Stop calling me that,” he frowns and you can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth. “My name is Roronoa Zoro–”

“Oh, sorry,” you interject and his eyebrows furrow at your lack of manners. “Am I just supposed to act like you’re my friend now? After you tried to kill my boss?”

“I thought we were past that,” he states bluntly.

“That was four days ago.”

“It’s enough time to move on.”

“You’re impossible.” You shake your head in disbelief, slightly puzzled at the giddy feeling in your chest when the faintest smile appears on his face. “What’s that?” You gesture to the rosewood box in his fingers.

“Consider it an apology,” he says, holding out the box for you to take, “for bothering you the other night.”

“How chivalrous.” You eye the box warily, still unsure about the enigmatic bounty hunter before you. “But we don’t need nor want your money.”

“It’s not money. Just open the damn box,” he grunts impatiently and you begrudgingly oblige, sliding back the top panel to reveal a bracelet. It wasn’t like any other bracelet you’d seen before, a gold chain garnished with a single deep green emerald barely the size of your pinky fingernail. It was delicate and elegant, subtle enough not to draw attention but luxurious enough to make you feel spoiled. “Do you like it?”

“I do, actually. The color is pretty,” you reply slowly, still slightly in shock. “Why green?”

“Take a wild guess.” He smirks again and your gaze flicks up to his hair. It was just as vibrant as the gemstone and he watched you carefully as the pieces clicked into place. With the bracelet, you’d be forced to think of him every time you looked at it or anything the color green. What kind of guy buys a momento for almost killing you, you had no idea.

“You didn’t need to bring me this. I thought the deal was–”

“I remember what the deal was, but I felt bad making you stand outside shivering while you explained how the counteragent functioned.” Your eyes widen slightly at his admission. He noticed you reacting to the wind, so how intensely was he watching you that night? If he sees your surprise, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to explain why he brought you the gift in the first place. “The powder worked, by the way. I snagged this from the captain’s chambers on my way out.”

“You stole this because you saw me get cold?” He merely shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“I mean, yeah. You looked miserable.”

“I was miserable.” He smiles slightly again, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. It makes your heart stutter against your wishes. “Does this mean we’re even now, pirate hunter?”

“Call me Zoro and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’ll consider it?”

“Holding a sword to someone’s throat is a major transgression that can’t be forgiven so easily,” he taunts and you roll your eyes. “Let me start over, meet you properly without the involvement of weapons.”

“You really want to see me again?” He scoffs at your question as if the answer wasn't crystal clear.

“What, bringing you a bracelet wasn’t obvious enough? I’ll have to bring the entire ship next time. Might take a little longer to get back to you.”

“Get off my porch, Roronoa Zoro,” you laugh, reaching out to push his shoulder away and feeling every inch of his skin against your fingers in the brief moment your bodies touch. “Don’t come back unless you have something important to say.”

“I think you’ll soon find out what I prioritize as important.”

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #opla x reader #opla x you #opla x y/n #opla!zoro x you #opla!zoro x reader

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mokulule · 10 months

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Almanac - Chapter 3

Been a while since I uploaded something. Had some real busy weeks, got sick on top, just all sorts of annoyances. Tbh this has been done for a while but I was contemplating where to split this chapter, and finally decided here, which means it was done.

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) First | Masterlist

Chapter 3 - 12th October, Full Hunter’s Moon

Danny was still angry and frustrated at what the Justice League had made him do, when they could have just asked Phantom, but now at least he was calm, centered.

He breathed in deep, tasting the ectoplasm, not with lungs or tastebuds but with his core. It was quite amazing what a week of intense meditation could do for the Realms. It made him feel a bit guilty that he’d prioritized living over his duties so much, but well, for the foreseeable future he would have plenty of time to play king.

The millennia of stagnation from Pariah’s imprisonment and the time before that of Pariah’s betrayal when the power had gone to his head, had not done great things for the health of the realms. Danny was slowly but steadily changing that.

It was certainly easier to focus on than the fact that he had been summoned as the freaking Ghost King to do something he’d been on the way to deal with, locking him into a deal. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them he’d already been on the way there.

If only they had been a little bit less desperate - a little slower in their setup, all this could have been avoided.

All this power - he breathed in - the Realms’ energy, his to command and shape, infinite, still heavy with Pariah’s madness, but getting better, more colorful, lighter the more he channeled it through his core. All this power and yet, or rather because of that, he was bound by rules.

There were laws governing creatures such as him, such as Clockwork and Pandora: Ancients. Danny chuckled, it was still ridiculous to think of himself as such, he was after all only seven years dead. But as Clockwork said it wasn’t so much a matter of time as it was a matter of power.

Danny had already been powerful. Halfas, because of their still living nature, were naturally inclined to change and gaining power at a rate full ghosts didn’t. Danny having died as a teen while going through puberty (a big change in itself) allowed for exceptional power growth. Coupled with the stressful environment where he fought for his half-life weekly if not daily he had been on the fast track to become an ancient before he hit fifty.

Becoming the de facto Ghost King on his eighteenth birthday stopped that in a way. After a bout of panicked confusion things had stabilized, especially after the coronation made things all official. Danny’s power growth had slowed. It would be quite some time before Danny would be considered an ancient on his own merits now, which was just fine by him. On the flip side becoming Ghost King had made him an ancient by job description.

“Hard at work I see.”

“Clockwork,” Danny greeted, blinking open his eyes. His mentor smiled back at him from an old face that rapidly morphed younger.

“Your Majesty,” Clockwork greeted in return with a flourishing bow in the air.

Danny grimaced. “Really, Clockwork?”

“But that is what you are for the foreseeable future, is it not?”

Danny looked away, biting his lip. Indecision warred inside him, but in the end he couldn’t help but look back up and ask, “will it work?”

Warm amusement shone in the red eyes. “As long as you’re careful, this is not an easy path you’ve decided on.”

Danny scoffed. “How could I not? It was the only thing I could think of.”

“You don’t have any obligation.”

“Clockwork, I took a man from his family, their grief is paying for my assistance. I never-“ his own grief and revulsion rose up in a wave, he felt as if he would drown.

“I didn’t ask for this.” The words were choked out and small.

Clockwork opened his arms and Danny rushed forward into the embrace. He held on desperately, as a sob wrenched through his chest. So much for his calm and meditation. A hand brushed through his hair beneath where the crown floated.

“Having a kind heart is not an easy thing for a king.”

“I wanted them to hurt too though, for putting me in that situation,” Danny admitted quietly.

“Mhmm, a very human emotion.”

Danny flinched, but Clockwork continued running his hand through his hair undeterred.

“And did you let this emotion affect your decision?”

“No, of course not. The world needed saving, that was the most important.”

“Then I don’t see what else you could have done, my King.” Danny sighed, letting it go and letting the steady tick tock of the seconds counted by Clockwork’s chest calm him down.

“In any case there’s no changing the past,” Danny announced with forced cheer as he pushed away.

Clockwork promptly bonked him on the head with his staff and he yelped.

“A hard earned lesson.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.” Danny grumbled rubbing at his head. It was barely a tap, but it still smarted. “I just can’t help but wonder, you know? They thought I was a city spirit, Clockwork! If I could just change that misconception.”

“How about you focus on the present instead, hmmm? Could there maybe be something you’ve forgotten?”

“Forgotten?” Danny felt a curl of worry in his gut.

“mmhmmm,” Clockwork hummed in agreement.

Danny wracked his brain, but simply couldn’t figure out what he’d forgotten.

“How is that new pet of yours?”

“Pet?! I don’t have- Wait, you don’t mean Jason? He’s a human, not a pet! Really, Clockwork.” Danny turned away, disgruntled at Clockwork, both for calling Jason a pet and also because thinking of Jason brought all that he’d done right back up to the surface.

“And how is the human?”

“I don’t know, okay,” Danny huffed. “I haven’t seen him. But I’m sure he’s fine, he’s a big boy and I gave him free rein of the castle.”

“The semi-sentient castle that responds to your mood?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Fuck.”

Oo o oO

“Jason!” A voice yelled frantically. There were hands on him shaking him. He blinked open his eyes, not quite focused and suddenly there were green eyes and cold gloved hands on his cheeks.

“Oh good, you’re alive.” There was a lot of relief in that voice.

Jason pushed away and the hands let him. He was normally faster to wake than this, but he must have really been woken up at the wrong time. He felt immensely tired. With a yawn he sat himself up. It took him a moment to comprehend the figure floating cross-legged inches off the bedspread; fluffy white hair and dark brows worried over green eyes, dark clothing, white gloves and a floating nebulous cape behind him that was like a rare view of the night sky. It was the burning crown that finally cut through the haze with a shot of fear through his system.

He moved back, away, until his back hit the headboard. His ears hurt in phantom pain and his eyes flickered searching for signs that the king was angry, but he seemed surprisingly solid, human except for the obvious glowing and floating. Also that was not anger, it was worry and pain and… sadness?

“It seems I have more things to apologize for than I realized.”

Jason met his eyes then and at that moment he just looked tired and sad. He reached a hand out to Jason.

“Will you join me for breakfast?”

Jason didn’t take the hand.

Eventually the king grimaced and looked away. “If you’d rather eat alone that’s also fine, but I think I owe you an explanation and an apology.”

“Okay,” Jason finally answered hesitantly.

“Okay?”

“Okay I’ll join you for breakfast.” Still, instead of taking the offered hand, Jason got out on his own on the other side of the bed. He felt a bit wobbly as he got to his feet but he refused to show any more weakness.

This time as they walked and floated respectively along the hallways there were windows. If the view was to be believed it was still night, clear and starry, with a full moon.

The king noticed him looking and floated over to a window looking out. His white starlight hair moved in a non existent wind and something in his expression softened.

“It is always a clear night sky here. The stars move with the seasons in the living realm matching the northern hemisphere. It is a way for me to tell time. It’s easy to loose track here otherwise.”

Jason would believe that, he’d already lost track of time.

“How long have I been here?”

The king hunched his shoulders. “It’s been thirteen days since the equinox. It is lucky you are as liminal as you are or you would be in a worse state.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you are to some degree feeding on the energy that make up the Realms, like a ghost would.” The king sighed and turned around.

“So first apology. I had thought I gave you freedom to explore but I forgot to take into account that the castle is semi-sentient and responds to my mood, and my mood haven’t been the best.” His face darkened and it was like the hallway itself got darker and more cramped. Jason’s heart beat fast in his chest, he couldn’t focus on that, he wanted to step backwards, but he couldn’t let fear control him. He had to focus on something else.

“You forgot your castle is magical?” Jason asked, putting as much disbelief into the tone as he could force through his tight throat.

The oppressiveness disappeared, but now the King just looked tired again. “I have been king for two years, Jason, of which I still spent most of the time haunting my hometown. But still I should have realized, so I’m sorry.”

He seemed truthful, but still-

“Two years?” Jason asked weakly, that was no time at all and it was so little compared to what Jason had imagined, compared to what he suspected anyone imagined.

“Yeah, which leads into the second apology. I am in many ways still getting used to the power that comes with the position. I get a bit hard on mortal senses if I’m not careful with my emotions, your liminality protects you some, but,” the King flew closer and hovered so they were at eye height, Jason stiffened. “I was upset and I hurt you. I should have controlled myself better and now you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Jason, I can taste your fear.”

A spike of fear shot through him and he gave in and stepped back. The king just gazed at him sadly.

“Again, I’m sorry.” He looked for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, but then his shoulders fell and he turned around. “The kitchen is this way.”

The drapes by the windows somehow seemed disappointed in Jason and when he stood still too long without following his section of the hallway tilted. He quickly stepped forward so he wouldn’t overbalance and followed the king - before the castle decided more drastic measures were needed.

Oo o oO

When Jason had imagined what it meant to join the king for breakfast, he wasn’t sure what he’d imagined. But it certainly wasn’t to be seated at a plain wooden table with benches in a medieval looking kitchen with what looked like a glowing, green skinned lunch lady complete with pink dress, hairnet and gloves.

“Thank you for coming with such short notice,” the king addressed the lunch lady from where he was seated across from Jason.

“Oh, it is no problem sweetie,” she replied in a kind voice as she set down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of each of them. “Growing boys needs lots of protein. And you are still much too skinny.”

Jason watched in fascination as the king rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. It was such a human gesture.

“Yeah I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for me to do more growing.”

“Not all growing is physical, dear. Cookie?”

The sudden subject change was enough to give Jason whiplash. But the king seemed to almost expect it from his fond smile.

“You’re right of course. And yes, if you’re willing, we’d love a cookie each.”

The old lady chuckled and procured two chocolate chip cookies seemingly from nowhere. She put them down on two separate plates.

“Kingship suits you, Phantom, you’ve gotten much more polite.” There was something there, a history Jason could only begin to guess at.

“You can thank Dora’s lessons for that.”

“The dragon princess? I will be sure to remember. But I must go now, you take care boys.”

Dragon princess? It was like Jason had walked into a storybook.

They ate for a while in silence as Jason contemplated the scene he’d just watched. The king, or Phantom, Jason remembered now he’d also called himself that, seemed very young. He looked to be around Jason’s age, but of course that didn’t necessarily mean anything since he was a ghost, but he had said he had only been king for two years.

“So you eat,” Jason said just to get a conversation going.

“I can eat, but I don’t have to. Especially not here in the Realms.”

“And me? You said I absorb some energy here because I’m liminal? What does that mean?”

“It means that your spirit, your soul, whatever you wanna call it, hasn’t entirely forgotten how to be dead. But you’re not a proper ghost, so you can’t entirely feed on just the energy here.”

“So if I had never died?”

“This wouldn’t even be an option. I would never take a fully living here for long, they would be driven mad.”

Jason looked down at his food and continued eating, it was delicious and doubly more so because he was starving.

It wasn’t long before Phantom stood up.

“Thank you for indulging me. I won’t force my company on you any longer. The castle shouldn’t give you as much trouble as before - it is not meant to be a prison for you.” He seemed to say the last more to the room than Jason, there was a stern almost admonishing edge.

He was starting to leave and Jason felt a sudden urgency in his chest. This was the first interaction he’d had with anyone in what was apparently nearly two weeks. The loneliness and inactivity loomed like a beast.

“No, wait!”

Phantom turned halfway back. “Did you need anything else?”

“You can’t just leave me with no purpose! I need stuff to do or I will grow mad,” Jason pleaded.

“I don’t-“ Phantom frowned, he made a resigned movement with his hands. “Well, what do you like to do?”

“I-“ And suddenly that line of questioning felt way too intimate and personal. Jason settled for “I like to fight.”

There was something almost disappointed in the king’s gaze that grated in Jason’s chest. He sighed.

“I should have figured. Fright Knight.” He raised his voice on the last two words and suddenly from one blink to the next, there was a figure in grey gladiator armor and a flaming purple cape kneeling in front of him.

“My liege, what can I do for you?”

“Our guest-” he indicated Jason, “wishes to spend his time mastering the art of combat and is in need of a worthy sparring partner.”

The fright knight rose and studied Jason, only now did Jason realize he could see nothing but darkness and a pair of eyes inside the helmet.

“He doesn’t look like much.”

“He’s still alive, make sure he stays that way,” the king said absolutely deadpan, before turning and flying off, cape flaring behind him.

- Yay! Jason got something to eat finally. And he's for sure not gonna be bored anymore, so that's something XD

Things are looking up, or?

Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Comments and tags are greatly appreciated. For continuations you can subscribe to the masterpost

#Almanac #dp x dc #dead on main #summonings have consequences

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celestialglow24 · 6 months

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••• Even Still •••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

Frank is upset with you when you put yourself in harms way

once again i was in my frank feels and got a little carried away with this one. enjoy xx

“Don’t.”

He cut you off before you could even finish saying his name. You bit your tongue hard as you watched him insert another stitch on your forearm.

The pounding in your head was relentless and you did your best to ignore the buzz emitting from the lights in the bathroom.

It felt as though it was right in your ears.

Your chest rose and fell slowly — each breath feeling like a knife was being jammed into your side. More than likely you had a few broken ribs.

It hurt to talk and smile but at least your split lip had finally stopped bleeding. The soreness around your eyes reminded you of the probable bruises that would be there to greet you tomorrow morning.

You hadn’t planned on getting hurt. You hadn’t really planned on any of the events of tonight.

But when the opportunity came up for you to go after the men who killed your brother, there was no way you could turn it down.

You didn’t think about the possible consequences.

You didn’t care.

All you could see was the vision of your brother’s mutilated body. All you could hear were the screams from your mother when the police had come to deliver the news.

So you sought your own justice— with help from a certain red vigilante that your boyfriend wasn’t particularly fond of.

The tension in the bathroom was palpable. You wanted so badly to say something sassy, but Frank was the one with a needle and thread in his hand.

While you knew he would never purposely inflict pain, you wouldn’t put it past him to fix you with a little more pressure and force than was probably necessary.

So instead you waited until he finished covering your stitched wound with a bandage and gauze.

You didn’t move from your seat as he started cleaning up the supplies and you refused to look at him. You kept your gaze off to the side, looking toward the bathroom window at the few cars that drove down the quiet midnight street.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry? I thought you would understand more than anyone why I did what I did.”

It was a low blow and you regretted it as soon as the words left your mouth. It wasn’t fair to throw that in his face but it also wasn’t fair that you got the cold shoulder when you weren’t all that different.

You couldn’t comprehend why it was okay for him to consistently put himself in dangerous situations but god forbid you do it one time.

He didn’t respond. He just continued to clean. For some reason that irritated you more than if he would’ve bit back with something even lower.

“Frank.” you prodded, this time finally turning to look at him. Again he ignored you, shoving the first aid kit back under the bathroom sink.

“Is this really what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna pretend like i’m not he-”

He grabbed your chin and jutted it up toward him. It didn’t hurt you, just startled you more than anything.

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

His voice was low, and while he tried to keep up his usual tough, stoic demeanor, you detected a hint of hurt in his voice.

You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Hm?” he squeezed your chin gently when you hadn’t responded.

You avoided his gaze now, uncomfortable with his searching eyes. He could always see right through you. No matter how much you tried to close him out, it never worked.

“Because I knew you would’ve said no.”

As the words left your mouth you could hear how dejected you sounded. You were tired and really didn’t want to get in a screaming match with Frank tonight. You were just happy to be home and alive.

“You’re damn right I would’ve.”, he quipped. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

You scoffed, finally pushing his hand off your chin and crossing your arms.

“I did what was necessary.”

“No, you got fucking lucky. I mean what the hell were you thinkin? You really thought you could take on a group of those guys by yourself and win? You were just a doe heading straight into a lion's den.” he said incredulously.

“That’s why I didn’t go by myself, Frank.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m stubborn, not naive.”

“Oh right. ‘Scuse me. You and Red. The dynamic fucking duo.”

He was definitely hurt. There was no denying that. From the outside you could understand how it looked. Turning to someone he couldn’t stand for help instead of coming to him.

You realize now he wasn’t asking why you didn’t ask for his permission.

He was wanting to know why you didn’t ask him to be the one to go with you. Why did you go to Matt Murdock of all people?

But if you had gone to Frank you know he would’ve stopped you. Those men would still be alive right now and on their way to hurt someone else. To destroy some other family. You couldn’t let that happen.

Matt tried to stop you too but you had a bit more leeway with getting him to go along with you than Frank.

You knew even if he objected to it, Matt would reluctantly follow alongside you.

Frank would’ve tied you to a chair and locked you in a room.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you by going to him for help but you said it yourself. There’s no way I could’ve done that on my own. I needed someone who could join me and handle a fight. Not someone who was just going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do like I was some incompetent child.”

Frank shook his head. “Yeah and i’ll deal with that motherfucker later. He’s an idiot for letting you put yourself in danger like that.”

“He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.” you shot back.

All he could do was run his hands down his face before turning to look at you. “Do you hear yourself? He ain’t some magic shield that would’ve kept you from getting shot or stabbed. What if there had been more men? What if he had gotten hurt and you were left to try and fight off those scum bags by yourself?”

“I think i handled myself pretty well when he was occupied.”

You knew you were being difficult. You also knew Frank was right. It was a bad idea all around, but at the time it didn’t matter. You just wanted to hurt them.

Sure there was a part of you that felt invincible having someone like Matt with you, but as you got more clarity you realized how lucky you had been to get away with the injuries you had. It really could’ve gone a different way.

Still, you hated the way Frank was making you feel right now. Like a child being scolded by a parent. You know it’s cause he loves you and you scared him, but it doesn’t make it any easier right now.

You figured he’d be a little upset but you also thought he would be proud of you.

The look he was giving you right now showed you anything but that.

“So do you feel better?” he asked, following you as you limped out of the bathroom. “Huh? You get what you wanted out of it?”

“Frank.” you sighed.

“No I wanna know.”

He grabbed your arm and spun you around. He loosened his hold when he saw you grimace from the contact, god you ached like a bitch, but he still held his intense stare.

“Was it worth it?”

You knew he was trying to rile you up. Get some sort of angry response from you. He was pissed now and was ready to let you have it but you weren’t giving in that easily.

“I don’t feel anything right now.”

Which was the truth. Besides the obvious physical pain, you didn’t feel anything about tonight. There was a rush of adrenaline as you fought, as you punched and kicked and dumped the last body into the river.

But now? As the high wore off and reality was sinking in? You just felt empty.

“You think about anyone else before you did what you did? You think about me or your friends?” he nodded toward the dog bowl for Rocco, the pitbull that you shared. “You think about him, how he’d search all around the apartment and wonder why you never came home?”

You turned your back to him and headed toward the bedroom. You just wanted to get out of these uncomfortable clothes and you wanted this conversation to stop.

“Enough, Frank.”

He didn’t listen, he just kept going. God is this how he felt when you nagged him for coming home close to death after a mission gone wrong?

“What about your mom, huh?”

That made you pause.

“You ever stop to think how she’d feel having two dead children?”

Your stomach dropped and the blood in your veins suddenly felt ice cold.

“How dare you.” you asked angrily, spinning around to face him. It took all the strength you had not to slap him.

“You don’t understand sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. I did what you did and it doesn’t stop the pain. It’s there like a gaping wound that won’t fucking close except now you’ve got something else on your conscience.”

“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now? The rush is gone and you’re left feeling like ‘what now’? He ain’t gonna call you up. He ain’t gonna walk through that door.”

You move to sit on the bed now, not even bothering to fight the tears as they rolled down your face.

“It doesn’t end there. No, because now you just took 3 men’s lives. Men with families. Men with people who are gonna want to know what happened to them. Men who work for people that don’t take well to being threatened and they’re gonna want to find whoever did this.”

“They ain’t gonna care that you were getting revenge for your brother. It’ll take them all but 2 seconds to put a bullet in your head and drive away like it never fucking happened.”

You hated that Frank was right but you didn’t understand the self righteous talk. Why does he do what he does if this is how he feels about it?

“How is this any different than what you do huh?” you spat angrily. “You think I don’t sit here worried about you when you disappear at night? Come in looking like you’re knocking on death’s door?”

“You’re not me!” he shouted. “I’ve already made the mistakes I made and I deal with it. I never wanted you anywhere near that world because it’s not for people like you. I already accepted my fate a long time ago.”

Frank knew he was being hard on you but he just couldn’t help it. He was so angry that you put yourself in that situation and he was angry that as much as he tried to protect you, there was nothing he could do for you now.

You were still processing everything but because of the kind of person you are, he knows tomorrow you’re gonna wake up feeling the guilt wash over you like an unrelenting wave.

It wasn’t that Frank was only trying to keep you safe physically—that was part of it— but he wanted to protect you from the emotional trauma that comes with taking a life. He’d buried that part of himself a long time ago.

But you? You were too sweet for this life. He was worried that it would break you. He knows better than anyone that it’s not a piece of you that comes back. You’re changed forever.

Your lip trembled and suddenly the sob you had been holding in came rushing out. The tears stung like hell as they fell down your face and this would no doubt make your headache a million times worse, but there was nothing you could do.

“Shit, baby.” Frank cursed, rushing over to you. He pulled you up into his arms, kissing your head and rubbing your neck. “Just let it out, I got you.”

Your whole body shook as the grief consumed you.

“I’m so sorry Frank.” you cried. “I’m sorry. I just wanted them to feel what he felt. What I feel. It’s not fair. It’s not-” you couldn’t even finish the words. You sounded like a blubbering mess.

“I know sweetheart. I know.” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back and lightly rocking you back and forth.

He wished he could take this away from you. It hurt to see you hurt.

“I’m sorry for the harsh things I said. I’m not the best with words.” Frank said, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathed together, slow and steady. You could feel yourself start to calm down, the edge of the panic attack starting to subside. You slumped against Frank’s chest as the energy had been zapped from you.

“I’m sorry too.” you replied, “I wasn’t exactly making it easy on you.”

“No, but that’s my girl.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear and tilted your chin up to look at him. For a moment neither one of you said anything and you couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

“You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes.” he said quietly, “Even still, I don’t think I could survive losing you too.”

It felt like a kick in the stomach to hear that. You really had been selfish. You didn’t think about anyone else in your life that would’ve been affected if something had gone wrong.

It made the tears come again and Frank pulled you into him. He tried to soothe you, telling you it was going to be okay. You were safe, nothing was going to harm you.

After a while he helped you get out of your clothes, changing you into one of his big t shirts. You really wanted to shower but at this point the exhaustion was overwhelming. You could barely stand up straight.

So the two of you laid in bed. You laid on his chest, the top of your head resting in the crook of his neck.

You played with the chain around his neck, twisting and twirling it around your fingers while he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down your back.

“Frank?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Those men, do you really think someone will come after me now? Or my mom? What if they try to hurt her-”

“Nobody’s gonna do a damn thing, sweetheart.”

You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him with tired eyes, you honestly weren’t sure if they were even open all the way.

“But what if-”

“Don’t do that.” he shushed you. “I promise nobody is gonna touch you or your family. I’ll take care of it.”

You decided to drop it for now. It’s not that you didn’t trust Frank. You know without a doubt he would die before letting anyone hurt you or the people close to you.

But you still couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen. You hated the thought of him having to fight a battle on your behalf. Especially one that wouldn’t have even happened if you had kept your emotions in check.

Still, you decided to believe Frank in the moment. Everything would be okay.

Besides, you never felt safer than you did in his arms.

As the breeze from the outside moved through the curtains and over your back, you finally agreed to let sleep overtake you.

You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heart beating. You felt a light kiss planted on top of your head along with a string of mumbled words,

“No one’s gonna lay a finger on my girl.”

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #the punisher #punisher x reader #jon bernthal #frank castle x you #frank castle

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hanrinz · 1 year

Text

STARRY EYES SPARKIN' UP MY DARKEST NIGHTS.

pairing. lyney x gn! reader ( word count. 1.1k ) genre. strangers to lovers

synopsis. wherein lyney falls for you literally and figuratively, and he doesn't mind it quite a bit. or just bits of pieces of him trying being a romantic.

content. fluff, reader is not the traveller, flirty lyney, he's ooc sowsaury everyone, lynette is tired with the two of you. minimal proofread.

notes. hihi this is for @sixosix da only real one this is for u!! *does that corny pointing in movies* dribble dribble shoots! i just rlly need to write for him, bc he's a silly.

lyney was never star-struck, if anything he was more used to people being enchanted when they saw him.

but he would never expect it to happen to him, after all only the most beautiful things can capture the eyes of a magician—with life full of unexpected encounters and lively colors of shows—to all of which he found on you.

you, who came to the lands of justice from the lands of freedom—never being tied down to the shackles of laws—with an ecstatic gaze, you're here as where the winds have brought you. truly he thinks the momentary sight of you just by walking in the streets of fontaine didn't give enough justice for him to memorize your face. the sunlight that just makes you shine more and the way your eyes reminds him of the stars, warm they were.

and your smile. archons, he adores it. the way it just never leaves your face, you're so pretty.

he never knew anything about love, only with the books he grew up with of a fairytale he reads to his siblings at night—a hopeless romantic he was.

love at first sight. he was falling, hard and fast. like he was tumbling down into the bottomless chasm of just you. he's liking it and it should take him aback, it should scare him, but he can't find himself to do so.

it was unbelievable and it was magical to be able to know a feeling that you can know so much, but was foreign altogether. he knew right then, he was star-struck with you.

and he doesn't know what compels him to move and make his way to you. excitement dancing around his nerves as he nears you, with a smile on his face and a newfound fascination.

and just before he reaches, an unexistent rock trips him all the way to you.

it's embarrassing, lynette thinks. watching his brother fall in love, that is—literally and figuratively.

he flashes a smile at you. and you crouch down, asking him if he's okay. you're worried and he tries not to grin so much, he only replies to you with,

"i'm fine, now that you're here." he winks.

he took it as a chance to take out a rainbow rose out from his sleeves handing out to you. and you laughed, probably another thing that he finds enchanting—it's unfair, for you to have him this entrance by you.

what a memorable first meeting he had with you.

lynette cringes—her brother's antics are an embarrassment to die for. it's not a crime as far as the laws said so, but she sure hopes it is.

because now, his brother is here head in the clouds with the thought of you. his face all, but with lovey-dovey eyes.

"isn't y/n so pretty?" he sighed dreamily.

lynette looks at him with a blank stare, "you've said that for the thirteenth time today. yes, y/n is pretty."

"should i prepare a magic trick? maybe a dove or a bunny. it can be onstage, or just in the seats? ah, i have so many things to prepare..." and so many more, if she was a stranger, she would've thought her own brother is outrageous for the ideas that come to his mind just to woo you. "come now, dear sister for i have to prepare for my special guest."

it's a feeble attempt, really.

his own brother faltering down, just from you standing in front of him and anyone might not see it, but she knows his own brother.

lovestruck he was. when he took you to him showing his trick of lighting up the night in a single snap, a flower on your head magically placed delicately and he thinks you're just pretty.

"do you like it?"

another rainbow rose.

"they're pretty.."

your mesmerization, it takes his breath away. if anything he wants you to look at him, how you look at everything you love. he wants you to love him too, like how the stars never leave the skies and how the sun reflects its light on the sea.

he wants you just like how his hands die in need to reach you, how can you be so cruel to him this way?

and he breathes out, "i know."

"do you like dancing?"

the both of you stand on the stage, where you sit in one of the carts that has all their props now kept for their next show.

"back in mondstadt, we had a festival that we celebrated...and we would dance at night till the flowers fall." you recount, fondness creeps up on you with the memory.

he knows this, windblume—if he's not mistaken, he shouldn't be. after all what are those books he read for night after night just to know the culture of mondstadt? just to know you. you didn't need to catch wind of that, he can only hope charlotte wouldn't slip up with this one on you.

he imagines, you dancing with a smile on your face that he loves so much. and he wants to see it, to be able to live that vision in his head, but having you in his arms instead.

"would you dance with me then?" he offers his hand, making a little bow to you.

and you giggle, yet again at his antics. "i would love to."

"may i?" and you take his hand, he feels warm, giddy from how your hand fits together with his.

with a smile he holds you and leads you to dance to a sound the two of you can only hear and maybe it's the heartbeats that plays in your mind, but lyney thinks everything just seems more beautiful now with you here.

he's used to everyone's eyes on him as a magician, it's a normal thing. but to have you this close to him and your eyes on him, he thinks the spotlight doesn't make him special now, just the way you do.

if this was the fairytale he's known all his life, he hopes now that it will always be like those ever afters. don't wake him up and drop the glass of his heart, because he has so many more dreams he'd like to come to life with you.

he's memorizing the story now, how your eyes shine and warms him wholly, your hair dancing around as he sways you and your lips that holds a sound that he would like to hear every day.

the song ends and your hearts sync. he let's go and step back to kiss your hand, delicately with him keeping eye contact and it means so much more.

and he pulls out yet another rainbow rose out of his coat, and his eyes glazed. "it's windblume this season in mondstadt, isn't it?"

passion and romantic encounters.

"...let this rose be my oath to you."

oh, how the magician can be much of a romantic all for you. he hopes he'll be the first and the last one to give you such a gift.

◞♡ likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! here's a lyney fic bc i have beef with him <3

#roses ‘r rosie #ooc lyney let's goooo #lyney x reader #lyney x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #queued !

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eevees-hobbies · 4 months

Text

Call me 'Kyojuro': Female Reader X Kyojuro Rengoku Smut

Author note: I didn’t expect my first story to be so tame! I wanted to make something dirty featuring my anime husband, but I think because this is my first, I held back. Raunchy, steamy, inappropriate shit will definitely be written in the future!

Content warning: smut, oral performed on female character, touching of breasts, mentions of bodily fluids (nothing extreme), you also are very forward in your relationship with Rengoku. I don’t really align with self-inserts that make you shy or soft-spoken (depends on the character)…it’s just not my thing!

Word count: 3.2k

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

Rengoku was by no means a prude, but his Hashira lifestyle—which consisted of demon-slaying and training on constant repeat—left little time for relationships.

But it was no surprise that he quickly became infatuated with you when you were introduced as the newest Hashira. Yes, you were cute, no, you were beautiful, but that wasn’t the only characteristic that drew him in. It was also the way you were so committed to improving your skills. You were clearly ambitious – working tirelessly day and night to be a better you than the version you were yesterday.

Rengoku recalled waking up early not long after you began your Hashira tenure, excited to start his usual training regime before the morning sun rose above the mountains and before the other Hashira started to stir. But when he approached the training grounds, he saw you practicing your movements with a sword in hand.

You were mouthing commands to yourself, “breathe, follow through, expect a parry.”

Rengoku watched you, quickly forgetting that he had his own training to begin. He was too engrossed by your commitment and passion to interrupt.

“I’m not one for an audience, ya know,” you shoot him a half-smile. You had noticed his presence but allowed the Flame Hashira to study you. As the newest Hashira, you hadn’t spoken up much. You simply observed during Hashira meetings, but you always found yourself interested in whatever Rengoku added to the conversation. Whenever he spoke up, his voice boomed over the others—and they listened. His points always centered on justice and protecting those who couldn’t defend themselves.

You were smitten on day one.

Rengoku’s body stiffened by your call out. He didn’t want you to feel like he was studying you, even if that was exactly what he was doing.

“Sorry! I was simply admiring your technique. And I must admit, I was surprised to find someone out here so early.”

You tilted your head to the side, the sweat that collected on your forehead from the exertion making its way down your cheek. “But you’re out here?”

Rengoku smiled softly as he acknowledged your quick rebuttal.

“Well, there’s more than enough space for us to both get our training in. Care to join me? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing what the Flame Hashira is capable of.” You palm the hilt of your blade nervously, hoping he would accept your offer not only because you were putting yourself out there but also because you wanted him to say yes.

Rengoku shoots you with a dazzling smile that makes your heart stutter.

“Let us get started then.”

In a matter of minutes, you and Kyojuro stared at each other from a respectful distance away, waiting for the other to make the first move—not wanting to be caught off guard, you strike first.

The Flame Hashira dodges you easily, but he doesn’t parry or clip you with his blunted weapon. In fact, many of his movements are a response to your attacks with no attempt at fighting back. You quickly grow frustrated. You had earned your place in the Hashira ranks. You slayed just as many demons as him and had plenty of the scars and trauma to prove it.

More of the same continues, with you stringing together elaborate attacks and him dodging.

You feel the vein in your temple begin to switch, your anger reaching a boiling point. “Demons go out of their way to target women, and you dare hold back against me?!” Your body goes slack as you turn your back towards him, sending a physical sign that you were concluding the training session.

Kyojuro flinches at your sudden emotional outburst, and because he hadn’t realized he was on the defensive with you—he certainly never held back with Shinobu or Mitsuri. For some reason, a reason deeper than he could comprehend at that moment, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Wait!” Kyojuro takes a step towards you. “You are right to be upset with me, but I assure you that I mean no disrespect.”

You barely turn your head to look over your shoulder, “then fight me, Rengoku! Give me the chance to kick your ass, and if you pull that shit again, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Kyojuro contemplates your words and gives a curt nod. He gets into a battle pose and shoots a dazzling smile at you, “Very well! But please, call me Kyojuro.”

Your heart skips a beat. The sun still hasn’t begun to rise but his smile provides you all the light and warmth you could ever need.

“S-sure thing, Kyojuro.”

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

It didn’t take long until you and Kyojuro had a consistent training ritual together. With the Flam Hashira’s approval of your presence and his bragging about your abilities, the other Hashira began to accept you, too. Your nights, previously spent in your room in alone, were now occupied around a large dinner table where you all shared your meals.

“So, I’m just going to come out and say it as it wouldn’t be very flashy of me to keep my mouth shut,” Uzui begins as he sets his cup down.

Your eyes narrow at him as he turns his hulking body to face you. You like Uzui, but everyone at the dinner table quiets and stares at you—you don’t appreciate the extra attention.

“You and Rengoku are a thing, right?” You shoot him a horrified look as he brings his two pointer fingers together and touches them tip-to-tip.

Sanemi chortles at the ridiculous gesture.

You look at Rengoku, hoping that he’ll interject, but he’s quiet, observing you as a shade of pink quickly rises from his neck to his cheeks.

Sensing the awkwardness between you and Kyojuro, Shinobu interjects—to your relief.

“Leave them be. Mitsuri, tell us more about that salmon dish you spoke about earlier.”

With that, Mitsuri launches into an animated story about the new restaurant she had discovered. The other Hashira quickly lose interest in you and divert their attention to the Love Hashira. You look up at Kyojuro, fully prepared to see him also engrossed in Mitsuri’s story. Instead, he’s looking down at his half-eaten meal with a pensive look on his face.

Your heart aches as you watch him eventually rise, excuse himself from the table, and exit the dining room.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you follow. And before you know it, you’re pushing his bedroom door open and closing it quietly behind you.

Kyojuro’s bright eyes look at you in surprise. “Oh, did I leave something at the table?”

You chew your bottom lip in frustration, your heart pounds in your ears, and anxiety begins to make your fingers twitch. You were uncharacteristically nervous being in front of him in his room. But you couldn’t help it because, in a matter of months, your feelings for Kyojuro had blossomed into intense feelings of wanting more from your friendship.

Kyojuro, sensing your inability to speak, rises slowly and approaches you. He takes your hands into his and stares into your own bright eyes.

“Please….say something. I know you were uncomfortable at dinner when Tengen spoke about our…friendship.” He paused slightly over the word friendship, letting it hang between you both as if it were heavy and wrong.

Fuck it

In a moment of bravery, you tilt your head up and press your lips against Kyojuro’s. You feel his muscles tense slightly at your unexpected advancement, but he doesn’t push you away, and for that, you are beyond thankful.

It isn’t long before he moves his hands up to cup your face, his lips, initially unmoving, now pressing firmly against your own. His longing for you is conveyed as his soft lips dance slowly with yours, his fingers gently stroking the soft skin of your cheek in small circles.

A moan escapes your lips. He’s such a fucking gentleman, you think to yourself.

When his lips part, you take the opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth. Your eagerness makes Kyojuro’s head swirl, and his pants tighten in the crotch area. The room fills with the lewd sounds of your wet tongues mingling together as both of your arousal grows. There’s no space between your bodies as you press against one another, his solid chest pressing against your soft breasts and crotches grinding into one another, desperately trying to feel the friction despite the clothes you’re wearing.

You eventually break away from the kiss, both of your lidded eyes staring hungrily at each other and chests heaving rapidly.

Kyojuro speaks first, “Wow. Have you always felt this way about me?”

You roll your eyes in amusement at the innocent inflection in his tone. Your hands roam over his chest, “what do you think?”

Kyojuro beams at you, “then it is official—we are a couple!”

And true to his word, Kyojuro began to court you. You assumed little would change, and in a way, you were right. You and Kyojuro still trained with each other and accompanied each other on missions, but there were other instances where your relationship was different. If Rengoku went on a mission without you, he’d bring something back that caught his eye and reminded him of you. Soon, you had to purchase a small jewelry box to hold all the beautiful adornments he had gifted you. When it was time for meals—Kyojuro would offer you his lunch and swoon when you ate from his utensils.

“Eat up, my love! We must maintain the fire in your soul; the best way to do that is with a quality meal!”

You appreciated the sentiment—even if your meals were far more flavorful than his. Your heart warmed at how much and how deeply he cared for you.

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

During a rare training break, Kyojuro perched under a large tree and watched you spar with Sanemi. He felt uneasy as Sanemi fought you aggressively and without holding himself back. You had requested him to give his all as you did with every Hashira, but it still made Kyojuro nervous about the possibility of you getting hurt.

“When were you planning on thanking me?”

Kyojuro looked up to find his colleague Tengen gloating—an arrogant smirk gracing his features. Kyojuro gave him a quizzical look, unsure how to respond to a question he didn’t quite understand.

Tengen let an exasperated—and characteristically dramatic—sigh escape his lips. He crouched and rested a hand on Kyojuro’s shoulder, “Tell me, my fiery friend. Have you both consummated the relationship?”

Kyojuro’s body stiffened at the question. He felt it to be intrusive—even by Tengen’s standards.

Sensing his friend's tight-lipped demeanor and tense body language, Tengen lowered his voice.

"Fair. I never took you as one to kiss and tell. But let me leave you with sage advice as someone with his fair share of experience with women.”

Kyojuro looked at his friend expectantly. He wanted to seem uninterested, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. You both had shared many nights cuddling and kissing had become increasingly more intense. It was becoming more challenging for Kyojuro to control himself as his hands explored your clothed body, his cock growing—almost painfully—in his pants. Some nights when you were away from each other, he’d imagine himself gingerly taking your clothes off, drinking in your body and curves like a man desperate for a taste. He’d imagine settling himself between your plush thighs and pushing his throbbing cock into your warm and welcoming mess of a cunt. On those lonely nights, Kyojuro would touch himself to the thought of you, his large hand sliding into his pants and stroking himself. His eyes would roll back as he tugged at himself with pitiful desperation at the idea of having you.

But while Kyojuro was satisfied with making love with you in the way that he knew how, he wasn’t sure if you’d be fully satisfied. So he looked at his friend, ready to accept his perverse advice.

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

Your muscles ached as you dragged yourself to Kyojuro’s room. You had almost fallen asleep during your bath—Sanemi’s training session with you was intense, and you had quite a bit of bruises to show for it. You were looking forward to attaching your body to Kyo’s and drifting off, but you soon forgot about any semblance of sleep as you entered the room.

Kyojuro was sifting his hands through his barely dry hair as he had also recently returned from his bath. His bare, muscular chest still had a few droplets of water that would more than likely evaporate soon. A towel loosely hung around his waist, and a noticeable bulge strained against the white fabric in a way that made you blush. Kyojuro looked over his shoulder at you and beamed. “My love, you are right on time. There is something I wanted to speak to you about!”

Your eyes stay glued to the bulge now pointing, no, beckoning aggressively at you. Please let there be a sudden gust—give me a peak.

Kyojuro continues, “I want you to be satisfied with me, so I received advice today on how to—.” You interrupt Kyojuro with a sharp glance, your own intense eyes meeting his.

“Kyo, no offense, but we haven't even done anything yet. You don’t really need to worry about that right now, and honestly, I’m a bit scared to ask who you received advice from.”

Kyojuro approaches you, his previously tense shoulders now relaxed at the sound of your shorthand version of his name. He cups your cheeks and looks at you with soft eyes, “You’re right. I was getting ahead of myself.”

You smile sweetly up at him; one of your fingers finds the hem of his towel and pulls. Kyojuro gasps as he’s now fully unclothed in front of you. His cock bobs up and down at the lack of fabric holding it back. You purr and grasp him in your palm, feeling the taut muscle throb excitedly.

Kyojuro licks his lips as his half-lidded eyes look down at you—his breath noticeably harsher and quicker as you stroke him. “You sure?”

You snort—not very ladylike—but a response to an obvious question nonetheless.

Kyojuro peels your clothes off your freshly cleaned body. He groans as his eyes take in all of your curves—they’re somehow even better than what he imagined. He raises a hand to palm your breast in his hand, his fingers gently pinching and tugging at your hardening nipple. Your mouths find each other again, with an intense hunger, each of your tongues battling for dominance.

Kyojuro pulls away, “I must taste you.”

You give him a quick nod, wondering what he means as you both were doing just that, weren’t you? But you quickly understand what he meant when he picks you up, his strong arms lifting you on his shoulders.

You let out a slight squeal as you feel the floor beneath your feet disappear, and your thighs become Kyo’s new earmuffs. He takes a long sniff of your cunt, breathing in your distinct smell, his mouth watering with excitement. He licks your sensitive folds, a shiver shooting up and down your spine, as the Flame Hashira suckles at your southern lips.

“Mmm, she’s so pretty.” Slurp “so wet” Slurp “so tasty.” Slurp

Soon, the room fills with the sounds of his suckling and your gasps. You want to roll your hips against his mouth desperately, but the position he has you in has you pressed against the wall, and any attempt to buck your hips may result in your ass hitting the floor.

Kyojuro slides his tongue past your folds, his mouth now making out with your clit. Your juices and Kyojuro’s saliva drip down his chin. He moans into your pussy, the taste of you making him stroke his pulsing cock with one hand. Your thighs begin to squeeze around his head as you feel warmth spread in your lower stomach. “Baby, I’m going to cum,” your eyes roll back as you release your sweetness down his throat. Kyojuro shudders at how good you taste and how good he makes you feel.

“Put me down,” you order as you briefly regain your senses. Kyojuro obliges, eyeing you hungrily, his hand still stroking himself with his precum, lubricating the now sensitive skin.

“I want you to ruin me,” you say as you stumble to the middle of the room where the bed is. As you turn to face him, Kyojuro is already on you; he eagerly pushes you down and spreads your thighs. He grunts at the sign of your messy and hungry pussy, the sign of his worshipping tongue still evident on your moist folds.

You gasp as he’s pushing the fat head of his cock inside of you.

“Mmmm, she’s so hungry and eager, love.” Kyojuro pushes his full girth inside of you, letting out a groan and collapsing on top of you.

You moan and wrap your legs around his toned waist as he rolls his hips slowly into you. Kyojuro is sensual and careful with his movements despite you being able to tell that it’s taking quite a bit of self-control for him not to pound you mercilessly. As he dives into you, your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of your pussy squelching as his cock fills you up, the smell of your sex, and the sight of Kyojuro’s pleasure-filled expression gracing his features. He leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth, biting gently at your sensitive skin. It stings in a way that makes your pussy clench around his cock.

Kyojuro groans, “Please forgive me. You feel too good.”

You drag your hands through his hair as you buck your hips against his, trying to match his movements. You want every inch of him to touch every inch of you.

“Don’t be gentle, Kyo. I can handle it.”

Kyojuro shudders at your invitation to ruin you. His pace quickens, now hard, and loud slapping sounds fill every corner of the room, his heavy and full balls smacking against your ass. You desperately want to open up and close yourself all at once—everything you’re feeling intense and overstimulating.

Kyojuro is being vocal with his approval of you and how you’re taking him in, “O-oh my god, you’re pussy feels like it was m-made for me…!” He grips your thighs with his strong hands, the tips of his fingers turning white as he digs his nails into your flesh. In a quick movement, he pushes your legs further back until he’s squatting on top of you, your thighs pressed against his as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt.

You—no longer caring about how loud you are—let out deep guttural moans. You desperately reach for something to grab, and your hands find Kyojuro’s hair. You grip his thick mane at his scalp and pull. You’re not sure if the position is impeding your breathing or if it’s your moans not allowing you time to suck in adequate air; regardless, you feel as though you might pass out.

“You take my dick so well,” Kyojuro compliments as his hand finds your clit and rubs it in circular motions with his thumb.

Drool drips out of the corners of your mouth as Kyojuro’s thrusts only get harder and more animalistic.

Kyojuro grunts, feeling himself getting close as the intense fire in his abdomen burns more and more, “stick out your tongue, my flame!”

Your tongue lolls out your mouth for him, and your eyes roll back as he sucks your tongue into his mouth; you moan in adoration as he sucks and bites on your tongue, wanting to taste every bit of you.

Your pussy clenches and grasps at his cock as you release against him. The death grip of your cunt begging, pleading, and welcoming every drop of inevitable seed that he can give you.

Kyojuro groans loudly as he erupts, shooting hot seed inside of you, “A-ah, here it comes, ohhhhh.”

Kyojuro rests his forehead against your shoulder, the intense wave of your and his pleasure rolling through you both. You plant a kiss against his lips.

“Was that…good?” He mumbles against you.

“So good,” you whisper as you grip him tightly. You can feel his heart beating quickly against your chest. As his love oozes out of you and onto your sheets, you both drift off, gripping one another.

#rengoku kyojuro smut #demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro x reader

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chaosology · 1 year

Text

chills

— Sam Kerr x reader

based off this request. i hope i did you justice :)

“Bit cold this morning, are we Kerr!?”

Sam’s head rose as the voice reached her ears. Her favourite hoodie had been missing from its normal spot and she was left freezing in the middle of the field, the morning sun no use. How did this happen? Sam was a routine person - the same socks at every game, the same seat on every bus. She wore her hoodie every morning she trained, placing it atop her bag the night before as to not forget it.

She stood midfield, her Aussie accent loud and clear as she let out an exasperated “I don’t know where the fuck it isss” at the sky. The team just laughed at her antics, chucking a ball at her feet and mumbling something under their breath about how it “wasn’t even that cold.”

Though, it was an unusually frosty morning in Melbourne. The grass crunched under their feet as they walked across the field, leaving trails of green footprints in a sea of almost white. The Australian was racking her brain, where the actual fuck was it? The wind was beginning to bite, and she resorted to rubbing her hands up and down her arms just for some relief.

That morning’s training passed quick, and Sam eventually warmed up as she stretched with Kyra. She had formed a now loved routine: wake up, train, go for brunch with her girl. Y/N would swing by after training to pick her up, rolling down the window and smiling as she pulled up on the curb. She usually didn’t get out the car, instead choosing to admire from afar and pick the most raunchy, explicit song to blast when Sam got close.

It’s funny, you should see your face! A little bit of Megan Thee Stallion never hurt anyone...

She would pretend to be annoyed, but Sam knew Y/N loved the idea of the team’s stoic team captain climbing into a car blasting “real hot girl shit.” And Sam just loved seeing her happy.

As coach dismissed them, she wandered over to the changing rooms to grab her bag and meet Y/N at the car. However, she wasn’t expecting for Alanna to clap her on the shoulder with a giggly I think you’ve got your answer, Sammy.

Y/N stood by Sam’s locker, chatting with Katrina and twirling Harper’s hair absentmindedly. Something had made her laugh, and Sam just admired. The way her eyes lit up and she threw her head back, her hand coming to her chest to fiddle with the strings of her hoodie.

But it wasn’t Y/N’s hoodie.

The slight frustration that had built up over the morning had lifted. She looked so goddamn cute, and Sam couldn’t help but stare. She was walking over in an instant, her hands coming to rest on Y/N’d hips as she whispered a small “hey, you” from behind.

Y/N turned in an instant, excusing herself from her prior conversation to embrace Sam. She was warm and soft and adorable, and the star striker almost couldn’t let go. By now, it was just the two of them. Y/N looked up, her eyes almost glassy.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Mini told me this was your special one and I was just cold, I really didn’t know”

“Stop”

“No, you love your routines. What if you really needed it, or-”

“Stop,” she said, pulling Y/N to her chest. “To hell with that. Do have any idea how goddamn adorable it is to see you in my clothes?”

Sam’s hand came to Y/N’s chin, tilting her head upwards. Her finger ran delicately across her lip as she sighed,

“Don’t ever take it off. Wear it to my games, make that our routine now, hey?”

No words were shared as they kissed, Y/N’s arms coming to wrap around her love’s neck. In truth, Y/N had purposely seemed out this hoodie. She didn’t know it was special, but it was the one Sam wore the most. The collar smelled just like her, and when she slept that morning without her girlfriend by her side she’d feel less alone.

“So, if we’re trading now… does this mean you’ll wear my barbie hoodie?!”

#sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagines #sam kerr oneshot #sam kerr fanfiction #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfiction #fanfiction #requests #sam kerr imagine #sam kerr fanfic

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nellyofthevalley · 10 months

Text

wedding dress

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit content: wedding night, marriage/domestic living, sad and sweet, stupidly soft tailor astarion, smut but it's not the focus (cunnilingus, fingering, piv), death. summary: astarion makes tav's wedding dress and looks back on their life together. i don't want to say too much, just read it :)

Hand-making a wedding dress was hard work, but he loved it. He would lose himself in it and insisted that he be the one to craft it because he couldn’t trust anyone else with the task. No other dress could do his love’s beauty justice, but he’d spent years perfecting the arts of tailoring and studying her—he knew better than anyone what was worthy of being draped on her body.

based on this post by @spacebarbarianweird! i hope i did the concept justice. it was a joy and a challenge to write.

i really hated writing the vows lmao don't laugh

read it on ao3 or below the cut

i'll be here

Astarion spent months and months in his study sewing away at the white fabric. All day, all night; the hours passed without notice. Not until Tav would softly knock and enter and put her arms around his neck and shoulders and ask him to retire to their room with a heavy yawn, taking care to avert her eyes from his project.

Hand-making a wedding dress was hard work, but he loved it. He would lose himself in it and insisted that he must be the one to craft it because he couldn’t trust anyone else with the task. No other dress could do his love’s beauty justice, but he’d spent years perfecting the arts of tailoring and studying her—he knew better than anyone what was worthy of being draped on her body.

“Come to bed, love,” she’d say, and he thinks of it often. He remembers exactly how she said it; he remembers her tone, her voice, the way she’d kiss his ear and down his neck to entice him on the nights he was particularly engrossed in his work.

He remembers one evening he’d been in his study since the minute they woke and shared ‘good morning’s, so close to finishing the skirt; she entered quietly and startled him, trailing her hands from his neck down the front of his shirt, begging for him to come to bed with a whispered ‘please’ that he couldn’t say no to.

He finished the line of stitching he was on and set the dress aside, turning his head to look at her and steal a kiss from her plush lips, just as eager to kiss her as he was in the beginnings of their relationship. The passion and desire never faded in the slightest, not after so many decades, and not even when they fought and yelled and cried.

Astarion kissed her over and over again with haste, cupping her cheek; he could hear the blood course through her body and feel the warmth rush to her face, a lovely, irresistible display of her own desire. He rose to his feet and picked her up, her legs draped over his arm and hers around his neck as he carried her to their bedroom.

“Darling, you’ve interrupted my very important work,” he said as he laid her down to the bed and crawled on top of her, trapping her under his weight. “I have a deadline to meet, you know.”

It was only a few weeks until their wedding night. The whole thing was a formality really, they’d been living as if they were married for years—rings and all, but Tav insisted on it. She dreamt of walking down the aisle as a little girl, she said, and Astarion relented despite his protests. But after a few weeks, after he’d started working on the dress, he was just as hellbent on it as she was.

“You’ve been working so hard,” she replied, fingers impatiently tugging at the collar of his shirt.

“For you,” he reminded her. “But now, I’ve lost my focus.”

She managed to unbutton half his shirt before he bent forward to press his mouth to her neck, giving her tender kisses down to her collarbone. He lifted her nightdress, pulling it over her arms and head and continued kissing down her front, slow and damn near torturous, relishing in how her heart raced for him; true power, he thought, was the power to make her plead for more.

“My sweet love,” he purred, finally tugging at the sides of her underwear and guiding them over her legs. “I’m afraid I can’t return to my work until I’ve tasted all of you.”

Never had Astarion felt more alive than on their wedding night.

A very quaint, private affair in the woods with the friends that could make it: Shadowheart, Wyll, Halsin, and a few friends they’d made in the city attended. Gale, honored by Tav’s request, officiated and he’d never seen Astarion looking so… elated, and so regal; the nobility in him blossoming in his white and gold attire, a fine suit and eccentric jabot. Astarion certainly softened during their journey, but here, he was far more than that: he bore a beaming smile that not even a God could wipe from his face and when Tav finally came out with her dress, the dress that he worked on days and nights for months, he watched her, thoroughly enraptured by her, as if the world around them had simply dissipated.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as she approached.

All he saw was her. Gale, the guests, the arch blanketed in flowers and strands of magicked lights were little more than a blur in his peripherals. Astarion lifted a hand to her face and delicately ran his fingertips across her cheek—the touch of her warm glow never lost its appeal—and brushed her lips with his in a modest, affectionate kiss.

“Usually, we save that for the end,” Gale joked.

“No chance in the Hells I’m waiting that long,” Astarion retorted, blithely aware the ordeal would last a mere few minutes. “And where did you find such a perfect, magnificent, finely crafted dress, love?”

It was his best work, and he was sure he’d never set his eyes on anything sweeter than her wearing it.

The bodice top of the dress hugged her waist exquisitely and donned a sweetheart neckline covered in detailed floral embroidery. The skirt was long and composed of layers of netted fabric with more scattered, intricately sewn flowers; it had an almost ethereal, softened look about it as it flowed when she walked. He’d spent weeks alone searching for the finest material with a cost difficult to swallow, but worth every last coin.

She was the embodiment of grace and elegance in it—like royalty, a beauty beyond the imagination.

How they gazed at one another while Gale officiated went unnoticed by not a single person; the vibrancy of their love and devotion radiated off from them as it breathed life into the air, and captivated every guest—every friend.

Astarion hadn’t cried since he killed his master, but a tear gathered at the edge of his eyes as he recited his vows.

You’ve given me something to care for. I choose you. I give you my hand, my love, my soul, and with you, I live again. I’ll always be here, my love.

Tav didn’t share his same composure, she couldn’t stop crying; she wept as she made hers, and through every word, he held her face gently in his palms and wiped them away.

Where you go, I’ll go. Where you stay, I’ll stay. I give you all my love, my passion, my heart; it beats for you, belongs to you, for eternity.

“Careful not to let your makeup run onto that dress, dear,” he smirked.

She managed to hold her tears as they exchanged rings—old but new; not the ones they’d been wearing for years as she expected to see, but ones Astarion had saved ever since they found them in the shadow-cursed lands. Tav extended her fingers and looked at hers, a cute little cute little alexandrite gem on a simple golden band.

There was something enticingly dangerous and bittersweet about them with their magical warding bond and tragic tale of the couple who once possessed them.

Astarion insisted she wear the ring of embrace, reminding her of his enhanced healing abilities since being freed of the tadpole and arguing, “My life has flourished with you, now let me protect you with it.”

“You may kiss the bride,” announced Gale, taking a deep breath before continuing, “again.”

Astarion reeled her in with one arm behind her waist and his free palm took one of hers, intertwining their fingers; he brushed his lips against hers, remarkably subdued as he taunted her with a little peck and gentle nip on her bottom lip before sweeping her into a deeper, heated kiss.

When he pulled away and lowered the hand on her back, she heard a sniffle coming from Gale.

“Are you… crying?” Tav asked with a laugh, still resisting her own cry, but when Astarion was the one to walk up to Gale and wipe his tears away, she couldn’t keep from weeping any longer.

They rented a lavish room in the Upper City and joked about becoming part of the snobbish high society for a night on the walk there, drunk on their new life, her new name. It must’ve only been two seconds they were in their room before Astarion swept her into his embrace, taking her by the waist and gently pushing her to the closed door.

“Astarion, wait,” Tav said, giggling as he removed the space between them and pressed his body flush against hers.

“Darling, I’ve been so patient already,” he argued, his hands meticulously removing the ties and pins keeping her hair perfectly in place. “I’ve been waiting ever since I set my eyes on you in this dress.”

She turned her head and tried to shy away as Astarion kissed the tip of her nose, her cheek, and beside her ear; he continued, “It’s been utterly distracting.”

His cold kisses spread goose flesh through her arms and raised all the tiny hairs at the back of her neck. No matter how many times it’d been, he could always incite her fierce need for him, crumbling her into dust with his carefully crafted words and sweet touch…

“Don’t you know how hard it was for me to focus on reciting my vows for you, when all I could think of was tearing the dress from your body and making you cry for me?”

Astarion knelt and lifted the front of her dress, draping it over his back and disappearing beneath. He hummed with satisfaction in the way Tav’s breath caught when he slipped his fingers under her underwear and kissed her over the dampening fabric.

“Seems it was hard for you too, wasn’t it?” he teased as he slid the garment down her legs.

“Oh, shut—ah.”

She wished she could see him—his face on her cunt, wearing that devilish look he had when she glanced down at him, every time, well trained in picking up on every small thing that made her weak between the thighs—but he loved to toy with her and slapped her hands away when she tried to raise her dress with a tsk.

Tav‘s palms tightened against the wall and her legs quivered while Astarion lapped at her cunt like it was every bit as delectable as her blood. He worshiped her with his tongue, tasting every part of her he could reach—and when she started to truly unravel, legs shaking and weak and her mouth unable to keep its quiet, he gripped her hips firmly and swept the very tip of his tongue across her clit.

“Astarion, I’ll—”

Ah, her protests only encouraged him. Two fingers slowly pushed into her cunt, coated in her fluids; she pawed at the wall like she was trying to rip through it as Astarion licked and sucked and curved his fingers inward. His pace hurried, curling and nudging her inside between thrusts until at last, she threw her head back and cried his name, a sound that paralleled no other, a sound he’d remember for the rest of his life, even thousands of years from now if he survived that long; no one said his name like her, and she said it best when he was on his knees.

He withdrew his fingers as she clenched and writhed around him, but he refused to waver and set her free, absolutely not, liking to push her and drown himself loving her until she nearly went rabid trying to get him off. He kept his hands firm on her hips, lapping up every last fucking drop of her come and circling her clit until—

“Gods, Astarion, please!”

She hastily lifted her dress and dug her hands and nails into his hair and scalp, clawing at him and pulling him away.

Astarion just stared at her with a smirk and her come shining all over his face, thoroughly pleased. She was panting, recovering, and she looked like a mess with her hair tousled and her face red and sweaty and it was fucking beautiful.

“You, my love, my wife,” he started to speak, kindly kissing her thighs before he rose to his feet again, “are divine.”

Before Tav could respond, he cupped her face in both hands and pushed his lips to hers, sharing with her a little taste of the divinity she’d granted him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he broke the kiss, seizing the opportunity to tuck a limb under her knees and pick her up, into his arms.

Astarion carried her to the bed, laying her down carefully and climbing on top of her; she looked so lovely, so perfectly messy with her hair sprawled across the pillow after looking so pristine in its updo. She reached up to remove his jabot as he shrugged off the jacket and quickly worked at the buttons of his shirt, tossing it aside in a hurry; tasting her wasn’t enough, he had to have more, needed to love her in every way he could—it was their wedding night!

He could hardly believe that this day had come at last, that he was married, after centuries of serving his master and being taught how unworthy he was of any sort of kindness, let alone love, something he’d long lost belief in…

The wedding had been her idea from the start, but over time she started to think, though she’d never vocalize it, that he wanted it more than she ever had. It showed, in his excitement when they looked for places to host it, in the countless hours he spent perfecting her dress—he tailored his own attire as well of course, and it came out wonderfully, but he seemed to get through it far sooner and paid more attention to the dress, not a single stitch out of place.

Tav sat up and reached behind her to undo the clasps at the back of the dress, but Astarion grabbed the sides and pulled violently, ripping it at the back and guiding it down, down her stomach and legs and sending it to the floor with his shirt.

“Have you lost your mind? I love that dress! And you spent so much time on it!”

“Darling, every minute I spent working on that dress, I thought of how you’d look on it on this day and how much I’d love tearing it from your body. It suited you perfectly, my love,” he replied, lifting her leg over his shoulder. He showered her with featherlight pecks at her ankle, and continued down, ending with a bruising kiss on her inner thigh that made her squirm. “I could’ve died the moment I saw you in it and lived a happy, satisfied life—it served its purpose, I promise you.”

A few months into their life as newlyweds, after a couple nights tucked away in his study working on another project, Astarion found Tav brushing her hair at the vanity and set a neatly wrapped pink-and-white gift box in front of her.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“Just open it dear, you’ll see.”

He sat behind her on the stool, legs around hers and pressing his body to her back. As she tugged at the ribbon and unwrapped the box, he wrapped his arms around her and nestled his head into her shoulder, looking ahead to the mirror and attentively watching for her reaction. Tav opened it to find a nightgown, white with familiar embroidery around the edges, short and tight around the waist.

“Is this my wedding dress?”

“Of course it is.”

“You kept it all this time?”

Astarion saw her eyes light up as she held it and turned it over in her hands, admiring how perfectly he’d recreated every thread—the gown looked brand new, as if he’d gotten all new fabric and thread or spent a fortune at a luxury attire shop in the Upper City.

“Much as I enjoyed ripping it apart to unwrap you, I did put a lot of work into it,” he said.

“It’s beautiful, Astarion, just like the first time I saw it.”

Tav sounded like she had to hold back tears just from seeing it, like she’d expected it to be lost forever; he found delight in her surprise, as if he’d gotten away with a crime with how she somehow never noticed or suspected what he was working on in his study.

“Get changed,” he ordered quietly, lips to her ear. “I’ll tear it off you again and again, starting with tonight.”

His hands lingered on her body as she stood and stepped aside, then his gaze remained set on her as she undressed and pulled the gown over her head. He studied how it draped over her breasts and hugged her waist and fuck, he didn’t want to wait another fucking moment; he reached out and pulled her right back, into his lap and into hungry kisses on her neck.

“Astarion,” she murmured, already succumbing to his touch, “you didn’t even allow me a minute to see myself in it…”

“One minute then, love,” he said, and he meant it—one minute.

He lifted her by the waist, standing and pushing her forward until her palms rested on the vanity and she could see her reflection, unseen fingers raising the gown’s hem at her thighs. Tav rotated what little she could in his grasp, carefully pulling at it and observing how well it complemented her figure.

Astarion ran his hands softly along the sides of her hips, her waist, then leaned forward, pressing his hardening length to her backside. In the mirror, he saw how her face flushed, how the thin fabric appeared to magically rise from her body from his hand cupping her breast, how her head tilted back to where his would be as his other clenched around her throat.

“Look at you, I’ve hardly even touched you yet,” he teased, her swallow budging against his grip.

“I thought about this all day,” she choked out, an alluring confession that made it difficult for him to keep what little patience he had left.

“Did you?”

His hand to her neck loosened and let her free as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, his feet shuffling and then deftly slipping off his shoes and socks, too. Every sound and every movement, the rustling of fabric and his cock pushing into her all taunted her as arousal grew from within and yearned for what she’d been fantasizing of, now barely out of reach—

“I was waiting for you,” she said quietly, pushing her ass back into him, desperate to feel all his cock against her skin, bare, frustrated at the paltry pieces of fabric still separating them. “For you to be done in your study.”

“Did you see me between your legs?” Astarion whispered, nipping at her ear. “Or did you think of us like this—me bending you over this vanity, fucking you so well that you can’t walk tomorrow?”

Gods, she couldn’t fucking take it anymore, how he dragged it out until she could think of nothing else—then, he lowered the straps and kissed her from shoulder to shoulder before grabbing at the neckline and pulling, throwing the gown down to her feet in one violent motion; a demand, a fervent need to have her.

“Astarion! Be kinder to it this time,” she warned, but her threats carried little weight as he knew he held her in his hand, wound tightly around his slender fingers for him to contort.

“Absolutely not,” he argued. “My dear, you forget I’ve mastered this craft. I’ll fix it right up, every time.”

Tav whimpered, grieving the presence of his cock when he stepped back and began unfastening his pants. She turned to face him, guiding him backwards until he met the bed and sat, her following and hovering over him, easing him further back. She finished undressing him, fingers dipping under the waistband of his pants and underwear and sliding them over each limb before crawling forward and taking her seat in his lap.

“Good,” Astarion said as Tav ground her hips against his and slid her cunt along his aching cock, drowning it in the slick dripping between her thighs, and drawing a low growl from his mouth amid his words. “I want to see your face.”

Her palms on his shoulders tensed, nails prodding at his skin and threatening to break it as she adjusted, aligning her body with his and, in disciplined motions made to boil his blood with the rising heat of his impatience, taking in only the head of his cock. The tension among them almost caught flame—each provoking the other until someone broke.

Astarion slid his arms behind her back and covered her mouth with his in a ravenous, needy kiss, tongue laving over the outline of her upper lip—and when she finally lowered and sat, impaling herself on his terribly hard cock that throbbed for her attention, he groaned and bit at her lip just enough to draw blood and coax a hushed yelp from her throat.

“Ah, you—”

“I know,” he acknowledged, tongue swiping across her bloodied lip. “Mm. Saccharine, sweet like honey. Move, my love, let me watch your pretty face come undone for me.”

He kept his arms on her back, tenderly running up and down with a soothing touch that encouraged her as she gathered her strength and rose, hitting a steady rhythm; he kissed her lips, her cheek, the edges of her jaw, anywhere he could—little marks of encouragement, physical expressions of his love, how well she was doing, how good she was for him.

Tav’s thighs tensed as she fucked herself on him, bouncing on his cock with all she had to give while he watched it disappear inside her, transfixed by the sight. He kissed along her collarbone, down her breast, fangs grazing her supple skin. She gasped and braced herself for his bite, but it never came; he garnished her with harsher kisses, promises of bruises in the morning—little blemishes that marked her as his.

He was wholly enveloped by her, body and mind; her tight, wet heat consuming his cock, the view of her parted mouth and half-shut eyes even more ambrosian than he imagined, and he needed more of it, more of her—Gods, just holding back slightly and allowing her control was testing his limits, he wanted to take her and fucking ruin her.

When her movements slowed and breaths strained, stamina running dry, Astarion trailed his fingers down with a feathery touch down her back, along the curve of her ass, then settled on her hips. His languid movements that of admiration, like she admired the dress—the little dimples in her back, her hip bones poking out, a scar she’d earned from battle that he vividly remembers tending to.

“Give me all of you,” he said, holding tightly and guiding her up to hover at the tip of his cock, eager and beyond pleased to take the lead and fuck her until she couldn’t walk as he vowed earlier. “Your body, your mind—all mine.”

“Astarion, please…”

“Please,” he started, a moan escaping as he harshly brought her body down to his, the slap of her ass on his thighs ringing through his ears, “what, love? Use your words.”

But she threw her head and voiced filthy cries for him instead, incapable of using her words, reduced to a sweaty, whimpering mess from what he was giving her—just his hands on her hips wasn’t enough; he bent his knees for leverage and pushed into her with rough, starving thrusts chasing release. The heavy pants mixed with lascivious moans pouring from her mouth and the scent of their sex and sweat in the air antagonized him, made him thrust into her harder until he couldn’t go any faster or deeper and—

“Don’t—don’t stop,” Tav whined, wet walls of her cunt devouring his cock as she neared the precipice and pulled at his hair and finished, “please, take me, come with me.”

Astarion sank his teeth deep into her neck the instant she said it and drank—she yanked hard on his hair and dug into his skin, her other hand scratching desperately at his back. He was close, so fucking close, he could feel it in her too as her cunt swallowed his cock and he could almost taste it in them both, sucking at her wounds and drawing out more and more blood, rich and thick and rushing past his tongue, then hot and sweet down his famished, dry throat.

He had to force himself to pull away from her neck, exhaling heavily, mourning it; he thrusted up into her once, twice before he broke, release rippling through him—overwhelming every sense, wringing him tight as he held her hips to him and filled her past the brim with come. Tav took his face and tilted upward, smothering him with messy, feral kisses as she came, too, her body writhing over his and constricting around his cock, drawing out all he had until it overflowed and seeped from her slit, dampening the bed below.

“Shit,” she cursed, pushing Astarion—weak and light-headed, as if all the blood he’d taken had simply evaporated—back to the bed and lying on top of him, his spend trickling down her thighs as they uncoupled.

Pale arms wrapped around her and he ran his fingers through her hair with delicate, adoring strokes, kissing the tip of her nose.

As promised, he mended her nightgown the very next day.

After years of blissful domestic living, the pair packed light and set off to travel; see new sights, adventure, reminisce on the journey that brought them together in the first place. The intent was to spend a few years on the road, but outside of the rare trips back home for a short stay, they traveled for decades, caught up in beautiful scenery, mercenary work, and the hope that they might find a cure for the sun or Astarion’s vampirism altogether.

On one visit home, Tav saw herself in the mirror and decided to stay longer than their typical few days or week long breaks. Surrounded by their things and memories of their younger years, her reflection was a harsh confrontation with the reality of her own mortality.

“I miss home,” she said. “And I love seeing the world with you, I do, but I want to stay here for a while.”

Astarion agreed, and they decided to spend a few years in their home in the city before heading back on the road for a final trip. He returned to tailoring in the evenings and she picked up new hobbies: painting, sketching, gardening, whatever she could get her antsy hands on.

A few years turned into more years and then another decade, and Tav no longer craved adventure again, so they remained at home, back to blissful domestic living. Astarion and Tav both missed the thrills and the pretty views many people would never have the chance to behold, but that time had passed.

“I’m too old for that now,” she said.

She grew vegetables and fruit to cook and bake with and took pride in it, and Astarion wished he could sit with her at the table with a full plate of her handmade food in front of him, too. He started cooking more, asking for her help and seizing these small moments of time together that he’d lose one day.

Tav started to leave the house less and spent more time sitting in the living room sketching, or tucked away in a little corner of Astarion’s study she’d made her own with an easel and paints. She drew and painted his face so many times over that he stopped looking in mirrors hoping that would be the time he finally saw his face; he saw it already, and he saw it through her eyes—he couldn’t ask for more.

Mirrors aren’t much use, but being reflected in someone else’s eyes? Well, I could do worse.

No matter how hard he tried, Astarion couldn’t escape the truth of her mortality. He constantly attempted to push the signs, the symptoms away, and convinced himself they’d find a way.

It was easy to brush off, at first. They started following a more humanlike schedule, awake during the day and asleep during the night. He found himself surprisingly accepting of house confinement; by then, the idea of outings were long forgone—the decades they spent out were enough to satiate his own wanderlust, though if Tav were capable and interested in traveling again, he would’ve done it in an instant.

He would’ve done anything she wanted, without question.

At nights, she made herself tea before bed to help her sleep. When she started to retire to their room early without tea, citing exhaustion too fierce to want to stand at the stove beside the kettle for so long, Astarion started making it for her.

And he knew something was very, very wrong.

“Love, you’ve been in that bath for hours, I swear,” he said on one rainy evening after returning home and finding her right where he’d left her.

The dark clouds and early sunset permitted him safety beyond the curtains, and he took advantage, walking a few streets over to pick up a hot meal from her favorite restaurant. Tav turned over in the bath to look at him in the doorway; she smiled and lifted her hands from the water, observing her wrinkly, pruned fingers and giggling.

“I was feeling a bit sore, is all,” she answered. “Don’t you want to get in with me?”

He knelt beside the tub and folded his arms over the rim, meeting her eyes and taking in the sight of her. Tired eyes, tired body, an expression that tried to look happy but something was so clearly missing from it.

“I’m soaked enough from the rain, dear,” he answered. “I brought you dinner, so let’s get you up and dressed, alright? I can bring it to you in bed.”

Astarion helped her out, dressed her and led her to their bed and she looked at him with melancholic eyes that he had to pretend didn’t rend at his heart and soul. After that night, he spent every night helping her with her bath, cooking her dinner (on occasion, picking up dinner from her favorite place again), making her tea, and delivering it all to her in bed on a tray.

He waited on her hand and foot, in every way he knew how. Tav hated asking for help, always trying to do things on her own, and Astarion had to learn how to offer his aid without troubling her—observe silently and learn what she struggled with or what could grant her another stretch of relaxation.

What hurt most was how much she wanted to spend time in the garden on the sunniest days and he felt useless, unable to help. He took her out when possible, when the clouds covered the sun or sunset started and he could don a heavy, dark cloak, but he was never able to take her out on the brightest, happiest days. As an unspoken rule, Tav never went outside when he couldn’t, at least not farther than a few steps—the few that he could take, if need be.

As her condition worsened, Astarion looked for doctors, healers, anyone; he sought out Halsin and Shadowheart and wrote to Gale all for naught. Nothing helped, and she started to fight him on it.

“Please just stay home,” she requested one time, when he’d come to see her in the study with her journal, telling her he’d found yet another healer only a few days travel away that might be able to help. “I’m done with this. I’ve accepted it, and you should, too.”

Accept this? It was awful enough to accept that she wouldn’t live in immortality with him—but to accept that she’d be gone even earlier than he ever anticipated?

The first time Tav stayed in bed a full day was the most harrowing experience of them all. She hadn’t budged; the fatigue piled on more and more each passing day and those feelings of self-loathing and worthlessness bubbled up until she couldn’t feign the happiness anymore and felt like nothing more than a massive, life-sucking burden.

Astarion came to their room with her nightly tea and when she heard him walk in, she yelled at him to stay out.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she said.

“Don’t say that. Please,” he begged. “I can’t miss a single moment with you.”

He stayed home at her request; he stopped seeking out help and any hope of a cure, and the tradeoff for that was spending every possible fucking second beside her whether she liked it or not.

Tav said nothing, but her face said enough; she refused to look at him, lips quivering and eyes fluttering holding back tears, and it only made it hurt all the more how she despised him seeing her tired and weak.

Astarion knew this day would come, of course he did, but he didn’t expect it to happen so fast. It all happened so fast! They spent decades on the road and even through all the trials and discomforts of mercenary work and harsh nights sleeping in the cold in forests and fields, wherever they could find, she didn’t seem to age a day.

After they returned home for that short stay that turned into an indefinite stay, the years started to feel like days. He didn’t have to look in a mirror to see and feel how he’d not aged—he felt just as young and spry as he did when they met, but every single fucking day, he looked at her and saw how the time wore on her. She was still beautiful, perfect to him, but he saw the light slowly fade from her and it hurt.

Tav resented that it was her choice to come and remain at home. The shame ate at her, constantly creeping on the edge of her mind, telling her that it was her fault they were trapped here in this little house in the city, that maybe if they’d not come back things would be different, or they could have settled somewhere else, somewhere new, or perhaps, if nothing else, she could’ve died more valiantly.

Astarion laid down with her despite her protests, cradling her and brushing off the tears she finally cried until she had none left to cry, and he thought about how she wept as she read her vows on their wedding night.

“I love you,” he swore. “Now and forever.”

with you,

The little house in the city was always their home, even during the decades they spent abroad adventuring, but after she was gone, he couldn’t stand to live in it anymore. He wouldn’t sell it, either; he couldn’t imagine never again having the option to walk in and envision her cooking in the kitchen or painting in her corner of the study. He simply abandoned it and decided to travel the lands once more, alone.

He went to places they’d already been, remembering things they’d done at each stop—the days they spent huddled in inns or camp, the nights out exploring or heading to their next destination, the battles that almost incited a strange nostalgia for their tadpoled days. Tav adapted to life in the darkness; they still did what they could during the daytime, though options were limited. A cloak worked once sunset was near, but still too dangerous midday. They searched far and wide for remedies, temporary or permanent, and nothing proved fruitful. Even Gale researched when he could.

Astarion visited him first at his tower in Waterdeep.

Seeing him was a sharp punch in the gut. Of course Tav had aged, but it was gradual, it happened so slowly and yet so quickly; her sickness was the true brutal awakening. But Gale—he hadn’t seen Gale in decades and it was almost a shock, even though he knew better, to see the wizard so… old, so wrinkled.

“Gods, you’ve seen better days,” he said.

“And you’re still seeing your best ones,” Gale replied, but he had it wrong.

Astarion was seeing his worst days, and he questioned whether it was the right time to leave, whether he should’ve stayed behind and waited in their home until he’d worked through it all. But he wasn’t sure when that would be, and he couldn’t tolerate living there anymore with her things on the wall, on the shelves, in their room, all constant little reminders of how he’d never see her again.

It was an endless torment that trailed close behind him on his travels, because as much as Astarion hated seeing all these pieces of her, he didn’t want to let go, either. He left behind much of his own stuff, but carried around that nightgown he’d sewn from her wedding dress.

Gale kept him for a couple weeks until he was ready to move on. It was nice to see a familiar face. That first night, they sat at the table and reminisced of old times for hours and the sweet outweighed the bitter.

Gale didn’t ask about Tav, not until Astarion mentioned her. Perhaps he already knew.

“I buried her,” Astarion said unprompted. “A few weeks ago.”

“She was good for you.”

“Too good, in fact. I never deserved—”

“Stop right there,” Gale interrupted, raising his palm. “She loved you more than anything.”

There was a long pause, a heavy silence in the air as Astarion carefully considered what to say next, as images of their life together ran through his mind like a slideshow. Gods, would he ever escape them?

“I don’t know how to move on.”

“You’ll learn, I assure you. You must. For her sake and yours.”

Months later, he settled at an inn and when he unpacked and came across her nightgown again, he looked it over in his hands and something about it this time was different. Instead of the pain, he saw her wearing the dress at their wedding under the flowered arch and then splayed across their bed in the gown, watching him closely and waiting for him to join her.

He hardly tranced and spent sunrise to sunset tearing at the seams and separating the fabric. The next day, he drew up new patterns. For the next week, he spent the days in a chair by the fireplace sewing it back together. He pulled extra fabric and thread he saved from when he transformed it into a nightgown, having held on to every single piece of it from the start, and he used nothing new at all, yet the resulting clothing didn’t resemble the dress or the gown one bit, except in color.

Astarion held it up in the air once he’d finished stitching and to anyone else it must’ve looked like a simple, white shirt—albeit a bit eccentric—but when he held it close to his face, he swore he could smell her again.

For months, he’d searched far and wide for the perfect fabric for the dress, and for more months, he sat in his study and cut and sewed, dreaming of the day he’d finally see her wear it and Gods, when he saw her walk that aisle it was even more beautiful than he ever anticipated.

He was proud of it. More proud than he’d ever been of anything, possibly.

He thought of how he tore it off her body that night, literally tore it apart at the seams—and then, he remembered the time he pieced it back together into a nightgown and she chastised him for ripping it yet again, but he sewed it back together the next day; he tore it from her countless times and fixed it in the mornings every time, all because she loved it so much.

He wore the shirt everyday. He continued traveling with it and washed it far more carefully than he ever handled any other garment, and eventually, when he was no longer sure where he’d like to go next, he stopped by Gale’s again to stay a few weeks, knowing it might be the last time they met.

When he told Gale the history of the shirt and received a warm smile of understanding in return, Astarion thought he might be ready to go back home.

always.

Astarion finds their home how he left it, though with a thick layer of dust coating their furniture and possessions. He heads to their room first to unpack his bags. On her nightstand lies an old, dusty book; her journal. He avoided it for so long.

He wipes off the cover and turns the pages. Scribbles, notes, even quick sketches—of animals, of scenes from the city, of him. He flips through the book until his eyes settle on a page covered in her writing.

I’m scared. Any healer we speak to says it can’t be cured. That I’ll

He stops reading and skips to the end, the last page. Shaky, imperfect writing that’s a harsh contrast to the page he just read, but unmistakably hers. Written in her final days, when she became too weak to keep drawing and filling pages with her thoughts and spent the majority of her days in bed.

Love lasts forever, even if the body does not. I’ll always be here, my love.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #my fanfic #bg3 smut #astarion x f!tav

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warabidakihime · 3 months

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Rules and Roses Chapter 4

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic).

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n:

hello!

just want to hop on here and say thank you to everyone who has been giving their likes and reblogs. huge thank you to those who are taking the time and effort to read my story as well. i've been wanting to continue this story for so long but i'm just so busy with work, but i'm glad i am able to find the time to write and update as regularly as i can.

hopefully someday i can hear your thoughts through your comments though haha i would really love to hear what you think about Rules and Roses and the way i write the characters as it is my first time. tbh, i am extra curious to know if i'm giving muzan's character justice HAHA but yeah, it never hurts to leave comments so feel free to send them my way.

i also would like to give those people who have not read the manga a heads up, that in this chapter and in the succeeding ones, there will be minor to moderate manga spoilers, so ready with caution.

also, moving forward, things will steadily pick up, so get ready HAHA!

enjoy reading everyone!

The sun had barely risen over Areswood, its golden hues taking its time enveloping the sky, but Muzan and Douma were already up and busy at Obelisk Kibutsuji, going over their next course of action for their campaigns for the next few months.

Muzan stood at the center of his spacious office. A large map of Phario's electoral districts sprawled across the narra table in front of him, dotted with colorful pins representing key areas of support.

Douma, on the other hand, leaned over the map, his eyes narrowing as he assessed their next move.

"We need to double down our efforts in the southern districts," Douma said, twirling his fan languidly. "The latest polls show we're losing ground there, but it is the opposition's home turf, so I'm not surprised," he added with a hint of mirth.

Muzan nodded, rubbing his temple as he processed the information. He'd been up since dawn, reviewing speeches and strategies. The weight of the campaign was beginning to show in the faint lines on his face and the dark circles under his ruby eyes.

Unlike Douma, Muzan couldn't afford to make light of the situation. Keeping a straight and serious face, he continued to rack his brain for strategies. After a few minutes, Muzan finally spoke, catching everyone's attention.

"Let's schedule a town hall meeting in Azudellin. We need to connect with the voters there and show them we're listening to their concerns."

"Today?" Douma asked.

"Yes, why? Do we have other agendas for today?"

Douma quickly checked his calendar on his phone.

"We have an interview with the Areswood Times in an hour, then a fundraiser lunch at noon, followed by debate prep, and a gala dinner with key donors tonight."

Muzan sighed, his frustration evident in his voice. "We can't afford to delay this. Azudellin is slipping away from us."

Douma, feeling a bit depleted himself, shrugged. "The earliest we can fit it in is next week. It might be too late by then, but who knows? Maybe a miracle will happen."

In the midst of a very important meeting, a knock separated everyone from their own thoughts. One of Muzan's executive assistants, Nakime, walked in with a stack of freshly printed leaflets, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"Sir Kibutsuji, Sir Hashibira, these just came in. The design team finalized the new posters and pamphlets for the campaign trail."

Muzan barely glanced at the leaflets, his mind racing.

"Thank you; just leave them on the table."

Nakime quickly left after obeying his orders, clearly sensing the gravity of the moment.

With mindless eyes, Muzan continued to rack his brain for any backup plan or anything that could be of significant help to the predicament they currently have. Letting out a resigned sigh, Muzan finally opened his eyes and turned to everyone.

"We'll have to make do with what we have," he said, turning to Douma, who's listening intently. "At our interview with Areswood Times today, maybe we could give Azudellin a special shout-out—say something that can please their ears. This is your specialty, so I leave this to you."

Douma nodded, a peculiar smile present on his face. "I'll handle it. I'll make sure our message is loud and clear in the interview today."

Muzan merely nodded at his running mate before turning to the rest of his party.

"Let's deploy a few of you to Azudellin today; get some boots on the ground. We'll organize smaller meet-and-greets throughout the week to keep our presence felt until we can hold the town hall altogether. Take this chance to highlight your own platforms and campaigns as well, but don't oversell yourselves and turn off the locals. Understand? We can't afford any missteps."

A chorus of 'yes, sir.' and 'understood' rang in the room after listening to Muzan's orders. As usual, his commanding voice and his overall demeanor exuded charisma and extreme strictness, which made everybody in the room yield to him so easily.

Muzan scanned the room, making sure everyone's conviction matched his own. Technically, his party has been dominating almost all polls across the entire country, and it's safe to say that he is the number one candidate to win the elections, but he didn't want to remain complacent.

He doesn't want to attribute his victories to silly things like fate or destiny. He did that before and miserably paid the price; after learning his lesson, he vowed to never rely on foolish things ever again and will do everything in his power to ensure his indisputable victory.

Taking a deep breath, Muzan felt assured again.

"Alright. This meeting is adjourned. Thank you, everyone."

"Oh, really? That's good to hear, darling. I'm happy for you," Muzan said softly, followed by a fond chuckle as you continued to share what happened during your hair appointment.

You were at the salon, enjoying your usual 'pamper time.' While you were getting your hair done, an A-list celebrity approached you. Initially, she only intended to have a small chat, as you are technically an A-list celebrity yourself. However, as your conversation continued, Ume confided in you that she recently got engaged but hasn't announced it to the public yet.

She personally requested you to be her wedding planner, and of course, you gladly accepted.

"Ahh! I'm so excited. I'm still preoccupied with Ms. Rivera's wedding, but so many ideas for Ms. Ume's wedding are already flooding my mind," you told your husband gleefully.

Muzan chuckled again, his eyes turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his face, a total contrast to the serious expressions he had earlier.

Muzan prided himself on being level headed even in the most dire situations, but all that bravado would always melt away whenever he was with you. He couldn't help it. Your energy has always been contagious, and when it came to you, he was nothing but a man hopelessly in love with his wife.

Douma, seated in the backseat with Muzan, looked at his running mate with pure intrigue, watching him transform into a lovesick puppy while talking to you.

"Ah, yes, the meeting went great, my love. There were a few bumps here and there, but we managed," Muzan said to you. Knowing you, he anticipated your worry and was proven right when he heard the concern in your voice.

"I see... well, if there's anything I can do to help you guys, you know I'd be more than willing," you said from the other line.

Muzan smiled softly, clearly touched by your investment in his endeavors as much as he was in yours.

"Well, if you're free next week, you can tag along to our town hall at Azudellin," he proposed.

You smiled, having left the salon and decided to go to the mall for some much-needed retail therapy. Akaza wasn't with you today, as he had something to take care of, so Gyokko, one of your security guards, was accompanying you today.

"I don't have anything planned next week. I don't mind joining—wait, can I also do my own charity event there? I haven't done one in a while, and don't you think this is the perfect time? It could help your campaign."

Muzan immediately smiled at this. "You're more than welcome, darling. I'll have my people assist you with your preparations. Just let me know what help you need."

"Aww, you don't have to! But thank you. Let's talk more about this at home later. Maybe we could tailor this with your own community outreach initiatives. I believe you have a couple, right? We can make it a joint one, hitting two birds with one stone."

Muzan was listening intently when Douma reached out to let him know they had reached their destination. Muzan gave him a curt nod before returning to you.

"That's right. Alright, let's talk about it later, Y/N. I need to go; Douma and I are here at the studio already. Take care on your way home, okay? Call me if you need anything."

You nodded with a happy smile on your face. "Okay. See you later, my love. And good luck today. I love you," you said with passion.

Muzan replied just as passionately, "I love you too. Mhm, yes. Goodbye. See you later."

After ending the call, he turned to Douma; his whole demeanor had already changed. "Let's go."

Douma complied, climbing out of the car after him.

As they walked inside the building and toward their dressing room, escorted by a handful of media staff, the vice presidential candidate subtly nudged his running mate.

"It seems like that phone call improved your mood, Pres ."

Muzan smirked, his strides toward the TV studio exuding confidence and pride. "My first lady is quite the wonder woman."

Douma chuckled softly, amused by Muzan's demeanor. "It seems like she has quite an effect on you."

"She does," Muzan replied, his tone unapologetically confident. "She's not just my wife; she's a force to be reckoned with and my equal."

Douma raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Muzan's unabashed praise. "You sound almost unbeatable when she's on your side."

Muzan merely nodded, the cocky smile on his face still present. "Indomitable."

Douma chuckled softly. "You've really got it bad, haven't you?"

Muzan shot him a sidelong glance, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Do you not feel the same about Shinobu?"

Douma chuckled again. "Hey now, don't underestimate me. My wife is a force of nature herself."

The proud CEO of Obelisk Kibutsuji and Phario's leading presidential candidate simply offered his running mate a rather shallow chuckle as a response and a nod to convey that he agrees with him.

Finally, they reached the TV studio, and the two of them noticed that it was a full house.

"Are you ready?" Douma asked Muzan.

Muzan's gaze swept across the room, his presence commanding attention.

With a confident smirk, he declared,

"To make history? I was born ready.'"

He made his way to the stage, greeted by applause and camera flashes, projecting an aura of assured victory as he took his seat on the couch.

The day was finally coming to a close. After spending the entire day at the mall shopping, you were exhausted and hungry.

Initially considering Italian cuisine, it suddenly occurred to you that the downtown burger joint you and Akaza had visited a couple of days ago was nearby.

Opting for convenience and familiarity, you decided to head there and also decided to order takeout for both Akaza and Muzan, as well as Kokushibo and the maids and guards.

Surely, both had returned home by now or were on their way. Muzan's jam-packed schedule guaranteed he would appreciate indulging in fast food after such a long day, and Akaza would undoubtedly welcome the gesture.

And it wouldn't hurt to treat your house staff every now and then. It is something you do every now and then, as it's one of your ways of showing appreciation for the services they provide you.

For Muzan, you chose to order the same as yourself, knowing he preferred healthier options but trusting he would enjoy something you approved.

You already ordered Gyokko to prepare the car, so when your orders are ready, you can just hop in and make a beeline home. As you waited at the counter, you hummed to yourself, glancing around the familiar surroundings of the burger joint.

Once again, a sense of déjà vu struck you, from when you entered earlier and throughout your stay. It's honestly starting to worry you.

"It's nice to see you around here again, my dear."

You turned to the voice—a kindly old lady. "Excuse me?" you asked politely.

The old lady smiled warmly. "It's been quite a while since your last visit."

"Oh, I've been busy these past few days," you replied with a smile. "I really enjoyed my first time here last week."

Confusion crossed the old lady's face at your response.

"Aren't you one of our regulars?"

You frowned, puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand..."

"You've been coming here for years , haven't you? Or am I mistaken?"

Your unease grew visible. "I'm sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else."

Before you could finish, the old lady turned and retrieved a photo from the wall behind her, returning to you with a smile.

"This is you and your fiancé, right?"

She handed you the photo.

In it, Akaza had his arms around your waist, both of you beaming happily.

Your eyes widen in sheer shock.

"What..."

Turning the photo over, you saw a note scribbled on it:

Hakuji Soyama x L/N Y/N - Just got engaged! (03/03/2015)

taglist: @bffrrufr @unadulteratedhandsbanditdreamer @unlikelybananawerewolf

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nisuna · 8 months

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Hiii, Helloooo. I'm back :^)

I've made a separate post about how much this idea means to me, and I hope I did it justice. This is like my baby, one of the very first scenarios I've ever thought of. Something that motivated me to start writing in the first place and made me want to share my writing at all, so yeaaahh, please be gentle♡. I've made a detailed post about it, so feel free to check that one out here.

The gist of it is: It all happened one evening when your best friend came to pick you up from a party for the first time, being tipsy and sexually frustrated one thing led to another and you slept together and from then on it kind of became your guys' thing

You refuse to call him by his first name, but he'd really like you to. Even worse, you even add -san to his last name whenever you're tipsy

Oh, and no kissing, bcs that's too intimate am I right ha ha

What's the worst that could happen this time?

he miiiighhtt make you call him by his first name and maybe just maybe you do finally kiss???! who knows hahaaa

Without further ado Fwb!Suguru x f!reader, let's gooooo

<3masterlist<3

~2,4k words~ Strictly 18+ MDNI

TW: fwb!suguru x f!reader, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cream pie, marking, biting, hickeys, multiple positions, get fucked stupid, first times, teasing, dirty talk, tit sucking, nipple play, multiple rounds, leg humping, so much happening did I miss anything?? lmk xoxo

He never understood why you liked going out to the most shabby and stuffed clubs. It reeked of alcohol and smoke mixed with all kinds of bodily fluids. As he was making his way through the dancing crowd of sweaty people grinding against each other, he finally found you sitting at the bar while some guy was leaning in your direction way too close for comfort.

He had his usual fit, hair half up with a black over sized sweater and loose black joggers. Making him look so huge that if there were any guys bothering you, they would leave you alone as soon as they saw him.

"Yo~ y/n", he touched your exposed shoulder and gave you his signature eye smile, before staring down the guy next to you that was trying to get in your pants or in this context in ypur skimpy little dress. The guys' annoyed look turned into a worried one after seeing who he was up against.

"Aahhh Geto-saannn you're here early" you mused, leaning against his hard chest. That damn honorific, he cursed but still managed to squeeze out a smile.

"Haha "-san", so you aren't her boyfriend then." the stranger snarled but soon gave up as Suguru raised an eyebrow at him and snapped a "watch it". "Alright, alright, I give up", he put his hands up in defeat. "Maybe next time, sweetcheeks."

As soon as the guy left, Suguru took both of your hands in his and knelt down in front of you. "Y/n we've talked about this. If you don't want to call me Suguru, at least drop the honorific. We've known each other for years now, don't you think it's about time. Also, don't you think it's weird when you call the guy you fuck by his last name, hm?" He turned his head looking at you expectedly.

"But Geto-saaaan-"

"Ah ah, what did I just tell you"

"Okay, okay, Geto" you huffed, "You know I'm not comfortable with that", you whined, squeezing his hands.

"I just want to hear you say it at least once. Say it and I'll fuck you real good tonight.", he smirked.

You considered it, after a hard week you really needed a good fuck. "Sugu-", is all you could manage before snapping your head away, "Nope can't do it."

He let his head drop with a loud sigh. "It's alright, I was just pushing my luck. C'mon, let's get you out of here." And with that, he rose back to his full height, grabbed your hand, and pulled you from the bar stool. While making your way through the crowd and to his car, your thoughts kept wandering.

Suguru... that's such a pretty name.

The car ride was mostly quiet, but as soon as you stepped inside his apartment, you were shoved against the closest wall and found yourself underneath him soon after.

"What's up with you today? If you keep squeezing me that hard, you might actually snap my dick off.", he chuckled. He's way too cocky. You have to do something about that.

"Have I ever told you how annoying you can be. If you don't stop talking, I think I might have to shut that mouth of yours up myself.", you whispered, putting your hands on his cheeks and pulling his face close so that it was right in front of yours.

His usually narrow eyes were blown wide open, his hips stopped moving and you became uncomfortably aware how close you two were right now. So, instead of the kiss he was so desperately awaiting, you opted for blowing on his lips and hugging him close.

"Just kidding.", you hid yourself deeper in the crook of his neck. However, when there was no remark coming from him, you pulled away to look at his blank face.

"Sorry I didn't-"

"You're really cruel, you know that", you felt goosebumps rise as he whispered against your neck. "It's payback time."

Before you could react, he pulled out, latched his mouth onto your neck and began sucking.

"Wait, ah- you're gonna leave a mark.", in a futile attempt, you raised your hands to try and push him away, only to have your hands pinned next to your head.

"If I can't have your lips, I'll take everything else.", he pulled away to take a look at you. "Tell me if you're uncomfortable."

Nod.

In between licks from your neck down to your breasts, he encouraged you to touch yourself. "Want you to cum from me playing with your nipples.", he smiled, oh so sweetly, while rolling the hardened nubs between his fingers.

Cheeky bastard, but you would lie if you said that he wasn't pushing all the right buttons right now. So your hand made its way down between your legs while you rubbed yourself in sync with his twisting and sucking.

"What happened? You're awfully quiet? Cat got your tongue?" and before you could snap back at him, he dared to smirk and pulled on your nipples making you moan.

"Fuck, stop teasing.", you whined.

"Say my name and I'll make you cum myself" he whispered after pulling himself off of you with an obnoxious pop. "What do you say? Good deal right?", he mused while kissing the skin between your breasts up your neck and to your ear. His hot breath kept hitting you as you arched your back off the bed, but to no surprise you remained silent.

"So stubborn for no reason", he shook his head in disappointment. "Then you better work for it yourself."

He really made you work for it. You always came so quickly when it was his fingers rubbing your clit, when it was his long and thick finger dipping into your dripping heat from time to time. Once you go Geto you never go back huh. Your fingers just didn't cut it anymore, so it took a lot of sucking and encouragement from him for you to tip over the edge with a silent scream of his last name.

He kissed your sensitive skin through it as you desperately clung onto him.

"Good job.", he grinned with a kiss to your cheek.

"Shut up.."

"Aww, don't be like that, c'mere", he mused, pulling you onto his lap. You let yourself fall forward against his sweaty chest as you tried to catch your breath. In your delirious state, you kept nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, giving him a few cheeky bites, smoothing the area over with your tongue afterwards.

When you deemed him marked up enough, you pressed your forehead against his. As you were staring into each other, you mumbled, "Now we're matching."

"How cute. You're so kind, thanks."

You basked in eachothers warm embraces, breathing in each other until your hips grew impatient and started to grind against him.

'Someone's in a hurry, huh?", he quirked an eyebrow at you. You shrugged and whispered into his ear. "Gotta take care of you, too."

He expected you to go slow, but to his surprise you took a hold of his cock and slammed your hips way down meeting him in an instant.

"Whoa slow down you're gonna hurt yourself ah-" he looked at you in disbelief, "Is it okay? Does it hurt?"

You took a few deep breaths before continuing with overflowing confidence, "No, it feels really good. I can feel you all the way up here", you smiled, leaning back and tracing your fingers from your pubic bone to just over your belly button.

"Fuck, you can't just say those things out of the blue" he mumbled sitting up, finally starting to pound into you from below.

"That's what did it, huh?" you chuckled, arching your back and clawing at his shoulders. "How naïve, men are so simple." you kept that thought to yourself, tho.

As he kept bouncing you up and down you felt yourself go stupid on his cock. Each thrust was hitting your sweet spot just right and the stretch was to die for. You couldn't keep your voice down.

It didn't help in the slightest that he was playing with your breasts all throughout his mean thrusts. You went especially crazy when he fondled the fat of your ass and spanked the reddening flesh in between thrusts. As he felt himself get close he snuck a hand between your bodies to rub your throbbing clit. Your mewls and loud moans, slowly but surely pushed him over the edge.

He had to hold down your squirming hips as your breath hitched with the intensity of your orgasm and with how deep you were feeling him right now. He pulled you off of him and hugged you close, trying to calm you down.

"Shh, I got you, calm down you did so good", with a kiss to the top of your hair, you felt yourself relax. But that relaxation didn't last long, as you started to desperately grind against his leg. With your ass rubbing against his cock so perfectly he just couldn't help himself.

"Fuck, I'm hard again.", he admitted matter-of-factly.

"Then keep going. Give it to me until I pass out."

"Shit, you little minx." he cursed in his head but eventually gave in.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?"

"Turn around for me."

You reluctantly got off his lap and got ready, face down ass up.

He really wanted to take you like this, but curiosity got the best of him.

"Fuck that" he thought as he flipped you and pulled your back flush against his chest, sitting down. After hooking his hands under your knees, he he picked up his pace as his hungry mouth ravaged your already sensitive neck.

"Feel good, yeah?", was the last thing you heard before he wrapped his huge hand around your neck.

Your mind went fuzzy as his hand was skillfully restricting your airflow from time to time. Which is exactly why you didn't register the next few words that tumbled from your mouth.

"Kiss me."

You made him stop dead in his tracks.

"What did you just say?", he had to make sure he heard you right.

Your hand was already at his nape, pulling him close.

"Kiss me..."

"Kiss me...", he gulped, "Who?", he was pushing his luck, and his heart rate picked up, afraid he might've pushed you too far. But the gamble paid off as he heard the words leave your mouth, that he had been waiting to hear from the moment he set his eyes on you.

"Kiss me, Suguru."

He wasted no time as he grabbed your jaw and smashed his lips against yours. It was so messy, so so nasty, teeth clashing against each other, but it was everything he could've ever wished for. He was on cloud nine. It was embarrassing how excited he got from just kissing you, but he couldn't care less at this moment. Your mouth fell open as you felt him spill inside of you. His tongue dipped into your awaiting mouth, while he fucked you through his second high.

He had to catch his breath while holding your limp form. He was sure you needed a break but when he tried to pull you off of his sensitive cock you stopped him. "Wait", you mumbled against his lips. "Don't pull out. Keep fucking me. Hurry up." How could he say no to you, even if he felt like he was about to die from overstimulation, he couldn't possibly deny you.

Which is how you ended up on your side, leg held up by his strong arm as he pounded into you from behind. Your sweet moans had him riled up impossibly more as his hips went to town on your pliable body. Even in this position, his eager mouth never left yours. The fat of your tummy and thighs kept jiggling so deliciously with each thrust that he just couldn't get enough of you. He soon felt you tighten around him and knew you were close, so he spurred you on.

"You feel so good like this, god you're so tight. Shit. About to cum?"

"Yeah, feels so good."

"Who makes you feel this good?"

"You do, Suguru. I love this so much. My god I'm gonna cum again."

"Yeah, yeah good, cum on my cock."

With a few delicate swipes of your fingers over your nub, your back arched as you came all over him. And he was there to swallow all of your moans with his greedy mouth.

When the heat of the moment subsided, you were a huffing and puffing mess. He held you close throughout and rubbed your lower back reassuringly.

After a while you were the first to break the silence.

"Holy shit, best sex we've had so far."

"Can't agree more.", he kissed your lips and continued. " Sooo, I assume you won't be calling me Geto anymore, right?"

You turned your head avoiding eye contact, but he stopped you, squishing your cheeks to look at him and raising an eyebrow. " Riiight, y/n? What's my name from now on? C'mon, don't break my heart."

"Suguruuuu....", you trailed off, but before he could celebrate, you quickly added, "-san.."

"Aah, so close", he chuckled, disappointment evident in his voice. "But it's a good start, so I'll take it.", he said truthfully, squeezing you tight. It was a huge step for your relationship. He was incredibly happy. He will make you drop the honorific no matter what. Now that he's got a taste, he will never let you go. Heck, he might even ask you out now that you're on a first name basis.

But he won't rush things. He's more than content with the current development of your relationship. You've come a long way, and only time will tell what it'll evolve into. The only thing he cares about right now is making you call his name over and over again, in one way or another. Life is good.

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I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this 🙆🏻‍♀️❤️ Please let me know your thoughts. See ya next time<3

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