#wish I could have cleaned it up a little but it was very fragile

[arachnophanatic]

I don’t think I’ve ever posted a dead specimen here before, but I found this one and I was mesmerized.

I think she (?) is a mud-dauber wasp in the genus Chalybion.

[jwanniie]

hiii i love your account!! can you please do gp stepsis hanni taking readers virginity?? 🥹

Aww thank you so much love!!🤭❤️

Pairings: G!p stepsis Hanni x fem reader!

Warnings: somno, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), babytrapping, reader bleeds a little, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, thigh fucking, tit job, p in v, not proofread, virgin reader, step cest and just filthy smut!!!

Word count: 1k ish

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She was the sweetest Step sister you could ever have, she was truly sent from heaven and the sweetest girl you’ve ever met.

She’d make you breakfast with little motivational notes, she’d do your laundry knowing how much you don’t like doing it, she’d spend hours to help you if you need help in your school work, she’d take you on little dates where she’d buy you lunch after a hard week of school to make it less stressful and she’d clean your room so you could have a better environment to work at.

She truly was one of the best people in your life that you adored a lot, your stepmom was as sweet as her, you were grateful for both and grateful that your dad found great people to bring into your lives.

You don’t know the twisted truth about this, the not so sweet or innocent reality why she’s doing all of this.

She has had her eyes on you from the very first time she laid her eyes on you. She found the sexiest fucking woman on this earth.

Something about your gorgeous body, that anyone would kill for and your mesmerizing features was something anyone would wish to have.

She wanted to fucking ruin you, because how dare someone be this perfect. Ruin and show you things you’d never think your own step sister would do to you.

Get you a dumb cockwhore for her dick and ruin that little virgin hole of yours, stuff you full of her babies and take your whole innocence away.

She brought you her fresh orange juice, that you didn’t take a lot of time to down. The sudden urge for your lids to shut and your brain to become all numb was something you couldn’t fight.

And suddenly you were softly breathing, chest inhaling and exhaling softly and peacefully while your eyes tightly shut, and body in a deep slumber.

She peeked her head from the little gap in the door, seeing you in the deep sleep you were in. She smirked to herself her plan working successfully.

She tip toed in, closing the door behind her and twisting the lock. She gave a wide grin at the sight in front of her, your tiny little fragile body laying there helplessly, your cute hello kitty shorts riding up your thighs, your white v-line top hugging your breast and waist perfectly, your soft mounds almost spilling out from the top.

See you begged her to do this! She undressed herself, dick finally getting freedom. Her aching tip that’s spilling precum and her length that is uncontrollably upward. She hissed in pain, her finger smearing the precum all over her cock.

She hovered over you, your plush thighs right below the head of her cock. She let her desires win, and thrusted her cock right between your pillowy thighs, a loud moan falling from her lips.

She continued the action, now grabbing the sides of your thighs to push them tighter against her aching dick. Lewd sounds coming from her lips, and the area of your inner thighs turning a pinkish color from her relentless thrust. She stopped quickly as soon as she felt her cum ready to spill from her tip. If she was going to cum, it will be inside your virgin cunt.

Your hello kitty shorts were now on the floor next to your white top. Your bare body under her mercy. Your nipples hardening at the sudden cold air, she swirled her tongue against one of them before moving to the other. Sucking you like a baby. She promised to herself that at the end of the night she will make sure that those plushy tits will be full of milk that she can suck.

Her angry red tip found its way to your swollen cunt, pushing its way past your folds. Your pussy swallowing her length and squeezing it. A groan left her lips, her head falling back at the sensation and her eyes giving a peek at her brain.

You let out a soft whimper that only made her dick twitch inside you, more precum gushing out. Even when you’re asleep you made the cutest sounds. Her tip pushed out of your cunt before slamming back in. She couldn’t contain herself and be gentle, the head of her cock meeting your opening with harsh thrust. She continued the abuse of her cock and the knot in her stomach started building up.

Her balls were slapping against your ass, begging to release. The idea of getting her sweet step-sissy pregnant with her child and forcing you to be stuck with her for the rest of your life, made her white thick liquid paint your walls full to the point that it spilled out with a mix of your blood.

She kissed the top of your head before whispering the dirtiest little things that she was going to do to you, her step sis that will be pregnant with her kid.🫣

[yaut-jaknowit]

Whirling Seas Lap At Soft Shores

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3132

Summary: After a gruesome battle with Dwainet, We'ar-ow deserves aftercare from her newly crowned mate.

Author Note: I may have put finishing this off on the back burner. I... I didn't want to finish it. I wanted to leave it open. I hate finishing stories. It's a chapter done in my story. But, I pulled myself up by my big girl breeches and completed it. There will be two other side parts to this.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

All the way back to her quarters, not a word was said between the two of you. Your heart drowned out any noises that may have filled the breezeways. Blood dripped from her fingers and lead a path to her front door. It followed inside the quarters. You led her towards her room and guided We’ar-ow into her bathroom.

It was clean and pristine in here. Until she entered. The neon blood created spots on the tiled floor. You motioned with your hands for her to wait there. Curious, the Yautja listened to your command and watched your form trot over to the bath. A small smile gracing her features. You began to fill up the bath, fingers touching the warm water. Once you deemed it the perfect temperature, you added some incense she never thought to use. They cluttered around the edge of the bath, collecting dust.

A soft aroma filled the humid air. We’ar-ow took a lungful in and let her eyes shut. The heat in her veins was disappearing. The walk back here helped ease down the excitement that filled her entire being. Hunting and killing Dwainet was more than relieving. There may be other dangers that could endanger you, but with the main problem out of the way. You had no reason to fear the outdoors again.

The problem was in her hands. His blood staining the tiles under her feet. It had cold down some but the warmth she could feel was delicious. She had made sure you had watched as she used her own strength to rip his head clean off. To show off. To ensure you knew how strong, how mighty, how skilled she was. We’ar-ow was easily able to defend you from any attackers. Including one she wished she had killed off long ago.

Your soft gaze landed on We’ar-ow. All thoughts of the past left. We’ar-ow dropped the head in the nearby sink before stepping up to your shorter frame. The position forced you to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to her. A vulnerable position she would be caught dead in. Yet, here you are, willingly giving such a fragile portion of your body to her. Not that the rest of you was vulnerable as well. She didn’t mind. It made you, you.

We’ar-ow’s chest no longer heaved for air. The battle left her veins. Now, it was time for you to step in.

The first thing you did was tap at her armor on the top portion of her torso. Her bright eyes observed you a little more. Then, her hands got to moving.

They easily unlatched each piece of metal and let them fall to the ground. We’ar-ow would later come around to cleaning them. Right now, she was more focused on you. There was something you were planning. She was willingly to wait it out and see what you come up with.

From her shoulders, she moved down. The pink Yautja exposed her entire frame to your scanning eyes. Despite the battle being unfair from the start, a three verses one – you didn’t find much for her injuries.

Most of the blood being her enemies. There were going to be plenty of bruises to see later. All you could see was where a few throwing knives were embedded into her skin and where her tresses had been pulled out. If only that darker red Yautja had still a little life left in him. You would’ve been more than happy to stomp on his face. Her beautiful tresses had been tug straight out of her skull. A very sensitive organ.

Once the last piece of clothing had been discarded to lie at her feet. You scanned over her, admiring the frame she’s crafted from meticulously. Then, you realized what you were doing. Right in front of her.

Heat flushed your cheeks to life. You squeaked before spinning around and facing towards the tub. “Um, you can… you can get in whenever you want,” you sputtered and strolled over to the faucet. The bath was close to being filled all the way. You distracted yourself with that and carefully watched her out of the corner of your vision.

We’ar-ow stepped up to the edge of the bath and look into the water. A relaxing aroma soaked into the air, causing the Yautja to let her muscles go lax. She glanced at your crouched position, not even looking at her. She chuckled deep with in her chest.

The water drew her further in past the first step. The bath easily fitted her towering form, designed specifically for someone of her size and stature. She sat down on a ledge, arms spread out on the edge. A position of relaxation.

One of her hands motioned for you to come closer. You gulped before listening to her silent command. The heat in your cheeks still prominent as ever. She looked beautiful like this. After a hard and demanding battle, she deserved this peace to recuperate. You stopped on the other side of her spread out arms and gazed down at her. We’ar-ow used a finger to get you to lean down. Confused, you still listened to her.

Something latched onto your wrist. A tug had you flailing and falling headfirst into the tub. Your body caused water to spill over the edge. You surge past the water’s surface and gasp for air. Adrenaline buzzed to life, trying to fight for your survival. Anger boiled in the pit of your stomach as you scrambled for the edge of the bath.

Hands grasped at your waist and pulled you into a figure. You fought against the hold but it was pointless. All you were able to do was spin around and pounded a fist on her chest.

“What the fuck was that for?!” you screamed at her then wiped off the excess water on your face. We’ar-ow rumbled a chuckle, shoulders rising and falling. You steamed worse than before and harshly huffed, arms crossed.

Now, all of your clothes were soaked and clung to you like a second skin. It felt terrible. We’ar-ow rested her hands on your waist. The tips of her fingers and thumbs nearly were able to touch each other. That just made you feel even smaller than before. You still in her lap and tilted your head up. She was watching you with an unknown emotion swirling in her eyes. You didn’t know what it was.

“I’m all wet because of you,” you pouted, brows lowered, features pulling a ‘resting bitch face’ well. “Do you know how uncomfort-“ We’ar-ow snatched a handful of fabric and easily tore it from your torso. “What are you doing?!” That didn’t deter her from ripping every single article of clothing straight off of your body.

You stayed sat in her lap, unable to stop her until you too were naked as the same as her. After so long, the nakedness wasn’t as much as an issue as before. She’s stripped down plenty of times in front of you. Plus, she’s forced you to bathe despite disagreeing with her. That included what she just did to you.

Her hands returned to your waist and rested. There was no twitching or tight holds on you. It felt like you could leave at any point you wanted. Instead, you stayed there and found her eyes again.

The female Yautja started to purr and gingerly leaned forward. Instinctively, your eyes softly shut on their own and let her rub her forehead against yours. It was just a gentle manner; you almost thought it was a dream. We’ar-ow wasn’t soft. Not unless she wanted to be.

It caused you to relax in her grasp. Your hands came up to touch at her chest, to hold yourself up. One of her palms shifted to drift over the skin on your back. A curse sounded in your head. You melted into a pool of goo in her grasp. She knew what she was doing. It wasn’t like you were going to stop her in the first place.

Then, you shook yourself free from the calming manner and pulled away. One of your hands reached up to cup her jaw, feeling the smoother scales. You sat up higher on your knees and cupped some water with your hands. She watched as you let the water carefully run over her mandibles. You used the water to wash off the blood flakes that stained her mandibles and pink scales. It easily came off with your help.

A silence overcame the two of you. At first, you felt tense, unable to find your voice. We’ar-ow wouldn’t stop look away from you somehow finding your face the best thing to peer at. The stare of a predator forced your muscles to tense up. You fought against it, long enough to clean up her face and call it good.

Next, you worked on her upper torso since the water covered the soft swell of her breasts and down. The steam in the air created precipitation to run down your face. A heat you still weren’t used to. One you may never get a hang of. You ignored her gaze for the betterment of cleaning her up. Green blood of her enemies still staining her scales.

When you reached for the back of her head where the tresses had been pulled out, We’ar-ow ensnarled your wrist. You jolted at the unsuspecting move and found her gaze again. She brings your hand to her breastbone and pushes the palm to the scales. You can feel her powerful heart thump under your touch. A reminder she survived through it all.

We’ar-ow scoots a little closer to the end of the ledge was sitting on then dunked her head under the water. When she came back up, she shook her head and flung water everywhere. You gasped and turned away from the assault. “We’ar-ow!” you scolded but couldn’t hide the slight hint of playfulness in your voice. She instantly started to rub her wet features over your drying skin.

When she deemed it enough, We’ar-ow pulled back and lifted up her top two mandibles. A smirk. You pursed your lip and crossed your arms. “I was trying to be nice and help you. This is how you pay me back?” you huffed. The Yautja started to purr again. Your weakness.

One she knew when and how to use against you. A sigh left your lips. Your shoulders sagged. “You’re lucky I care so much about you.”

Her massive hands cupped your cheeks, easily dwarfing your features. “I am very lucky to have you at my side. Very much so,” she cooed and leaned again to nuzzle her forehead to yours. You let your arms wrap around her neck and stayed there in her arms, enjoying the moment of peace. One you knew would be far and few between.

Both of you clambered out of the bath. We’ar-ow using her brute strength to simply lift you out and set you down on the wet tiles. The heat of the ship and room kept you from feeling a chill. You were happy for once about how hot the mothership is kept at. We’ar-ow steps out and lets the water creates pools underneath each step she made.

After all the times in here, you find the blow dryer and stood on top of the grate. A warm gust of air helped fling off any drops of water that clung to your skin. You moved your way into her room and let the towering Yautja dry off as well. She followed after you.

Before she could stop you, you were quick to throw on some clothing. You knew if she had an opportunity, We’ar-ow would’ve denied you clothing. There was something about you being naked she enjoyed seeing. Especially in the safety of her quarters. All of your features exposed for her eyes only. She deepened her purr and crowded behind you.

Yet, you spun around and poked a finger into her stomach. “Hold up, go sit on the bed,” you demanded then pointed towards her bed. It would decrease her height and make it easier for you to care for her injuries. Her bright eyes narrowed down on your form. She snorted then stroll over to the low bed. You watched her for a few seconds afterwards before trotting back into the bathroom.

A first aid like kit was snatched from a cabinet before you were back at her side. We’ar-ow peered over her shoulder and observed what you were doing.

The kit was opened and laid out off to the side, on the bed. You found a serum and used it to rub across her side where the throwing knives were once embedded in her skin. It was rubbed into her scales and left it exposed. The wounds weren’t severe enough to warrant any bandages. You peered at the pull tresses and cringed at the painful sight.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything for your scalp?” you asked and moved to stand between her open legs. In this position, she was eyelevel with you. You cupped her cheek again and rubbed a thumb along the ridge of her upper mandible.

We’ar-ow shook her head softly. “No, there’s nothing to be done. The wounds will close but the tresses may never grow back. It all depends on if they do or don’t,” she explained and pinched your jaw between two fingers.

Being this close to her, you weren’t disturbed by the face she was still naked. A sight you’ve seen plenty of times, nearly every day. Some Yautjas liked to sleep naked. You kept your eyes strictly on her face, trying to respect her. The sight of her naked was beautiful though. A goddess carved into the most beautiful, most powerful creature to walk this universe.

“Okay,” you timidly responded. In response, We’ar-ow ensnared an arm around your waist and tugged you flush to her. A yelp surged past your lips. Your free hand was then pinned to between the two of you. She laid down on the bed and brought you down with her. Her other arm wrapped around your back, effectively pinning you to her.

You just let it happen. Your eyes slowly shut, letting the calm setting wash over you like the most soothing bath ever. Her arms were a comforting weight on your back and kept you pinned to her. One of the most safest places to be.

An unknown amount of time passed before she was shifting from underneath you. A groggily noise escaped your throat when you felt her warmth leave you. Your eyes blinked open to find We’ar-ow pulling on a simple pair of shorts. The Yautja strolled into the bathroom before heading into the main area of her quarters.

Curiosity got the best of you. You slipped out of bed and lumbered after her retreating form. She stepped into her trophy room. A place you kept a wide berth from. There were human skulls inside. It was natural to fear the fact one of those could be you. This time, you only hesitated before taking the plunge and going inside.

The room was considerably large. A work desk was built into the wall. Random gadgets and smaller bones laid about the wooden table. We’ar-ow set down Dwainet’s skull into a vat full of what had to be acid. It was angry looking and smelled like it was burning. You timidly stepped up to her side and motioned towards the vat. “What are you doing?” you asked and turned your head towards her.

We’ar-ow was watching as the acid bubbled with the added food. “Cleaning your courting gift,” she answered then plucked it from the vat. The sky-blue liquid dripped off of the now skinless skull.

White bones were all that were left in its wake. The other pieces part of the jaw and mandibles had to be scooped out as well. She brought all of them over to the desk and set the pieces down with the skull.

A stool was pulled up for you perch upon. You thanked We’ar-ow and watched. She carefully used a clear string like fishing line to reconnect the mandibles and jaw back to the main part of the skull. The way her large hands were delicate and still with the process shocked you. You didn’t doubt her. Far from it. But, for such a brute creature, We’ar-ow knew when and how to use that strength when the time calls. Including coming to your aid when you needed someone most. She became that someone.

The Yautja worked swiftly with practice. You zoned in on her work and ignored what the rest of the room held. It was best not to think about it. Or else, you’ll freak out. That would look terrible in front of her.

It didn’t take long before she stepped back from the standing desk. Despite the knowledge of who that skull is, you weren’t weirded out. Actually, it offered a sense of peace of mind. Dwainet couldn’t do anything to hurt you anymore. Now, it was just We’ar-ow and yourself to face what else the universe may throw at you. The two of you could defeat them all.

She took the skull into her hands before kneeling in front of you again. Inside the swirling emotions in her eyes, you saw the love that sparkled in them. Your name soft left her mandibles as her gaze pierced your very soul. “I wish to present this skull to you in a show of my skills and triumph of today’s battle. I show my skill and prowess to protect you. I show there is no reason to doubt me or what I can do to protect what’s mine,” she declared and lifted the skull closer to you.

Your hand rested on the dome section of the skull and smiled at her. “We’ar-ow, thank you. You don’t understand how much this means to me.” Your shoulders slightly sagged. “I don’t mean to seem like I’m doubting you but it’s human nature. I know you are strong and mighty. I don’t doubt that. I trust you, We’ar-ow, with all of my heart,” you stated, gaze softening at We’ar-ow.

The air between the two of you grew tense. You felt it squeeze at your chest.

We’ar-ow was the first to break eye contact by clearing her throat and looking away. “Do you have somewhere this should be hung up?” She stood back up to tower over you. You softly huffed through your nose with a shake of your head.

“Anywhere is good.”

The skull ended up above the bed. It’s final resting place of the male who betrayed you.

[suguru-getos]

//fractures// geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 2

🔗-> part one

warnings: hurt-comfort, mentions of wounds, mentions of stitches, guilt, complex emotions from suguru, panic attacks, reader is in a dark headspace, fluff too!! 🙂‍↔️💅🏻

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: suguru tends to you after the whole ordeal caused by him, still conflicted & somehow tortured with the way his heart pangs at your condition. 🩷

a/n: please comment down below if you want to be tagged in the taglist <3 thank you ‼️ it's so evident that i'm just writing this for my own silly liddul heart TT_TT

an hour, at maximum. an hour had passed from when geto left your bleeding, tattered body on the bed. the mark of 'MONKEY' with deep, gashing cuts and the way your blood oozed out of your injured, broken skin was haunting his very core. he did it majorly for himself, just to remind himself that you're one. you're nothing but a monkey and monkeys shouldn't have the freedom of life. monkeys are filthy- monkeys breed curses- monkeys are disgusting and vile- monkeys-

his own feet betrayed him quickly when he found himself running for your room. the cream colored satin bedsheet stained with blood. your foot prints stained with blood directing towards the bathroom. his can feel his heart sink at the sheer amount of blood loss. jaw clenching and a soft wave of anxiety which ripens with every passing moment hugging him. did you… die? no, no its just been an hour-

he rushes to the bathroom door, watching you lay limp, holding a piece of gauze in your bloodied hands. you must have passed out by trying to give yourself first aid. he falls to his knees, tears in his eyes seeping through at the sight of usual color in your lip faded to discoloration. you look so peaceful when you sleep. he finally notices the wound inflicted by him on you, it was looking lethal. a striking reminder that you were a monkey and he was, well, a monster.

he doesn't understand what's happening, he was pretty clear that he needs to irradicate the whole human race, he has to. only those with superior selves, who can withstand not creating a curse should be allowed to live. how will he achieve this milestone when his heart weeps at the sight of one pathetic little human half his size losing consciousness.

his bulky and sturdy arms wrap around your body, hugging you closer to him and taking you to his room. your room was a blood bath anyway, he needs to ask the servants to clean it up. gently placing your body atop the plush mattress of his room, he took out his first aid kit, good thing you had been passed out. your wounds are deep and require stitches. he can't bear any more of your screams now without breaking like glass. his mind has already decided to punish him with repeated rings and episodes of your cries and wails when suguru did this to you. he wishes they could stop - he wishes they never stop. he needs to be punished.

bringing your wrist close to him, he decides to stitch those gashes up, watching your face every few seconds. you were knocked out cold, not an expression on your pretty face. he feels like it’s a win, when you'll be awake, at least you wouldn't see the word 'MONKEY' engraved on you… then again, it will scar, and it will scar bad. "you're pathetic" he hums at your sleeping form. "fragile, useless, powerless, pathetic." he adds on, the sentence more a reminder to his own self rather than for you. you're not listening to this anyway. "I could snap your neck like a twig and you wouldn't be able to defend yourself. anyone I call my family could." he sighs, fuck - he's tearing up again. you almost look dead over just an anger tantrum of his. he really needs to be very careful. you're like a little bunny who could die at the slightest bit of carelessness.

a few hours pass with suguru holding your hand, observing the crests and troughs of your sleeping face, how your chest barely heaves but still reminds him that you're alive. he couldn't be more glad that you're alive. he hates that. he hates that it brings him joy that your heart is still beating. he hates that you are bringing him joy and copious amounts of guilt.

"geto sama!" nanako gleams from outside his bedroom door. he wipes his tears at the sound of his adopted daughter's voice. "yes? what is it?" he hums from inside. "the monkey isn't in her room!" she pouts from outside, and suguru gets up to open his door. the teenager watching you lie down on geto's bed with a face of confusion. why were you laying down on 'their' geto sama's room? you- a monkey- the look of disgust in her face is inevitable.

"relax, nanako." he hums, "we need to return her to her parents after 9 days." he responds with his usual close-eyed feline smile. "yeah, but why is she here?" she pouts, "she's too pretty for a monkey though-" a frown envelopes her face. "I agree." suguru looks at you momentarily, a moment of longing and guilt erupting from the depths of his heart before quickly snapping out of it. "I got angry at her, and punished her." he continues, while nanako could see with the way the gauze bandage on your forearm was inflicted with dark reds of blood, that you indeed, were punished. "what did she do?" she asks instinctively and suguru gnaws at his lower lip.

nothing. you did absolutely nothing.

"well, she is a monkey after all." nanako adds, shrugging. "her purpose is as our 'money collecting monkey', isn't it?" she asks him, and he faintly nods. "well, if she really made you angry, geto sama. I suggest you can kill her after getting the money!" she chirps as if it was the most normal thing to say. suguru, on the other hand, feel sickened to his stomach at the thought. "hmm. I need some time alone, nanako" he declares, watching the teen leave his room and locking his door.

he's quick to grace himself in the sanctuary of your presence though, hand back holding yours. "just nine more days of you here, monkey." he reminds both of you. "then your parents will come and get you and this wouldn't exist." he smiles, a sadness spreading across his face.

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you don't wake up for one and a half days. the exhaustion on your body, the lack of nutrition and the loss of blood demands rest. AND, geto suguru is absolutely tweaking!

he sat next to you, watching you gently, leaning beside you against the headboard. you didn't wake up. he hasn't showered, hasn't gone out of his bed. his family thinks its weird, but they don't push him. suguru is a tantrum king after all, and a pissed off suguru chan is best avoided. the next morning, you're awake before noon. suguru hasn't budged, he has declined all his meetings, all his catch-ups, everything. why? he doesn't know that now, his mind doesn't give him the time to reason for any of it right now. the hollow pit of anxiety that was created was now a bottomless one. he wanted relief from it, he wanted to see you awake! shoko- maybe he needs to talk to shoko-

you shifted a little and his attention is immediately diverted to you, looking at you with the biggest sigh of relief possible. "ah-" a pained whimper escaped you, it hurts everywhere. your ribs hurt, you can barely breathe, tears sting your eyes as you groan, trying to get up. the lack of iron in your body making you dizzy. "good morning, it's afternoon now." suguru hums, just 7 days with you. why is he counting days like a mad man in prison?! before you could process anything, your eyes widened when you heard his voice, heart fluttering out of your very chest and breathless pants echoing in the room. you gripped your chest, it burns, your lungs burn from the lack of air your body can't get due to the whole panic of it all. what will he do? will he hurt you again? fuck- your head hurts, everything hurts- "plea- please" you gasp out, the veins in your forehead strained and popping as you began wailing again. shrieks and cries of pain and panic.

suguru doesn't know what to do about it, he needs to hug you close and tell you it's going to be okay. he wouldn't hurt you. he feels sorry- you don't have to break apart like this- does he even deserve to say that?

instinct… he is just acting on his instinct now.

"breathe with me, ssh~ listen, listen, little one. look at me, breathe with me. deep breath in- come on- follow me-" his voice is soft, but you're inconsolable. you have your very own instinct, the instinct to flee from him. the instinct to run away from him. you struggle against his hold and choke on sobs, leaning away. suguru is quick to pull you back to him, your head against his chest, soft head pats coming after. "ssh ssh ssh~ nothing's happening, no one's going to hurt you." he echoes it repeatedly. "that's it, that's it…" his own rapid heartbeats turning calmer and calmer as your shoulders slump back in exhaustion. you stop resisting after a few minutes, letting him hold you softly.

"just seven more days, and you'll be home." suguru hums to comfort you.

"I hope you die." you mumbled with equal hatred to his comfort. may as well be killed instead of spending seven whole days with him… "I hope everyone you ever knew dies, and they die in front of you." you spit out in your venom laced tone after calming down, trying to lean away from suguru's hug.

"and? who will kill them? you?" he is almost amused, but nothing you say with outweigh his guilt right now. "let’s get you cleaned up and get you to a doctor." he announces. he still has 7 ol' days with you after all.

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 4

Remember Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle? Well, that’s you this chapter :]

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, wholesome, lots of cleaning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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“You IDIOTS!” A crash resounded in the room as Stockman knocked over a table full of metal tools. “How could you let go the ONE MUTANT that survived all the testing phases!” Another crash as beakers and chemicals were knocked off a table. “I never should have left you FOOLS in charge of guarding the lab. This could set us back months of progress. If we don’t find that girl, Karai will have my head!”

With an angry huff Stockman fell into his dusty office chair and spun over to his computer. He was working on updating all the computer systems there in the old Sacks building. He had joined the Foot in taking up residence there since you had compromised their position at the warehouse laboratory by the docks. They couldn’t risk a raid from the turtles and losing all his research. This location wasn’t the most inconspicuous considering its history, but since the Shredder’s initial defeat at the hands of the turtles and April, the building had been deemed unstable and labeled condemned. Since it was difficult to dismantle such a large skyscraper in the middle of the city, it had been mostly left unoccupied for the past several years. Making it the ideal base for Foot activity.

As he was sorting through old records on the computer, he came across an interesting clip in the archived surveillance videos. 

“Hmm…. interesting…. Yes, if I do that- yes…. YES! This will work nicely.” Stockman chuckled darkly to himself as he got up from his chair. Bebop and Rocksteady shared a confused look and shrugged, not understanding the sudden change in the scientist’s mood.

“Uuuuuh, hey boss, so what are we going to do about them?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. …. yet.” Baxter’s dark chuckle echoed as he disappeared down the hallway.

It has been 2 weeks since you met the turtles. 

Initially, April had brought you a duffle bag full of comfy clothes a little bit too big for you, and some essential toiletries. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot shower with conditioner and soft sweatpants to put on after. Leo’s bed was warm and clean, Michelangelo cooked you delicious comfort food, and Donatello downloaded all of your favorite movies and shows you had missed. Raph one night had even knit you a cozy cardigan. The boys were all making an effort to make you feel more comfortable. But you couldn’t help but notice the reason. 

You were still scared. 

Every night you woke to terrible nightmares. And every day you felt like you were still walking on broken glass. Startling at any sudden sound or slightest touch. You noticed how Leo looked at you with pity, and Mikey wore a faltering smile. Donnie kept busy working on tracking the Foot, aside from regularly changing your bandages, and Raph- Raph just tried to keep his distance. 

You didn’t blame them. You were a stranger in their home. You were finally in a safe place, but it was like your body was still in survival mode. High strung and anxious. You wanted to do something for them. Anything, to repay them and make yourself feel useful. A distraction.

Master Splinter had on many occasions noticed your stressed and mousy demeanor. He felt the unease in their home and the distance his sons kept with their new ward. Like neither party knew how to find common ground. 

One night, he requested you join him in his meditation room for tea. You obliged.

“I sense your unease.” He stated casually.

You hesitated, then nodded. You didn’t know how to respond.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. For so long, you lived every day, not knowing if it would be your last. You lost your autonomy, your freedom. And yet you escaped all on your own. You are very brave.”

 “….Thank you. I just wish I could feel that way. I feel so… scared. Like I’ll wake up back in that lab again and all of this would have been a dream. I… I don’t know what to do with myself.” You fussed with the teacup in your hands. 

Splinter reached across the table and offered you his hand as a comfort. You took it gently and sighed. 

“It will take time before you begin to feel like yourself again. My boys can be a little… reserved at times. It is not often we get to interact with friendly humans. Trust me when I say, they also wish for your comfort and safety. It just may take some time for them to get used to another presence in our home. In the meantime, perhaps there is something you can do that will make you feel more at home?”

You were surprised by his suggestion. They had already offered their home up to you, you wouldn’t dare ask anything more of them. But maybe…

“….a-actually… there might be something. If I could have your permission of course.” 

Splinter smiled at you.

Once your injuries had fully healed, Splinter had called upon April and Casey’s help to assist you. There was some materials you needed of course, and Mikey was let in on the big secret. You felt guilty roping in so many people just to help you feel more comfortable, but there was something you wanted to do for them, as a thank you for taking you in. April seemed ecstatic at the proposition and was eager to bring you the supplies. Casey just seemed confused that this was something you wanted to do of your own free will. And Mikey- well, he was just excited to share a hobby with you.

The cooking part, that is. Not the cleaning.

Ever since you had been brought down to the lair for safe keeping, you had noticed one glaringly obvious thing. This was a man cave in every sense of the word. The lair was terribly dirty. Dust and grime everywhere. The only clean places you noticed were the dojo, Leo’s room, and Master Splinter’s quarters. You understood that they were all living in a sewer, and they had clearly made a bit of an effort to keep it clean. But you were through avoiding sticky spots on the floor and sitting on a dirty couch. 

First things first: Donnie’s dirty coffee mug hoard. The purple turtle was currently napping in his room after an all nighter doing surveillance in coordination with the police, so now was the perfect time to clean up his station. You were extremely grateful to April for including a pair of rubber gloves in the bags of cleaning supplies she brought for you. Mikey helped you collect all the mugs and bring them to the sink, where he was in charge of washing them while you cleaned off all of Donnie’s work tables where he tinkered. You were careful not to move any projects, but wiped it clean of all its dust and stains. Then carefully sanitized all his keyboards and mouse, cleaned all of the monitors (yes all of them), and swept away the crumbs on the floor around his chair. 

Once that was complete, you moved on to the living room. Leo was currently preoccupied meditating with Master Splinter in the dojo, so no one was around to notice you swoop in and descend on the couch. Thankfully the boys no longer had a couch made of empty pizza boxes, and had upgraded to a large sectional that Casey had found them used for cheap up top. You were certain that the couch covers had never been washed since it was brought down to the sewers. You were doubly certain that the boys probably didn’t even know the cushion covers could be removed and washed. You threw the covers into the washing machine on hot water with a healthy amount of soap. Mikey then helped you move the couch so you could clean the floor underneath, and smashed the cockroach that had scrambled out from underneath. The coffee table was wiped down, the rug was taken to a railing to be hung and the dust beat out by Mikey with his nunchucks, and the floor mopped clean. 

Next was the workout room. Raph had just finished his exercise and left for the bathroom to take a shower, so you rushed in and started cleaning off every dusty and grimy sweat covered surface you could find. There was a musky scent of dirt and sweat permeating the room. All the dumbbells had a build up of grime from their sweaty hands using them for so many years. You also made sure to sanitize all of the mats and floors as well. By the time you were finished, Raph was leaving the shower and went to his room. You hid so he wouldn’t notice you as he passed by, unassuming. Then you were left with the big task.

The bathroom.

You were certain if there was a soundtrack playing in the background, dramatic horror music would be playing. You rolled up your sleeves and went in. Toilets, showers, sinks, and the massive bathtub, all scrubbed down with an unholy amount of bleach until every tiled surface shined. By the time you were finished, Mikey had come in to tell you he was ready to start on the kitchen. That was Mikey’s domain.

You were grateful that all the dishes were already clean by the time you entered the kitchen. But Mikey needed your help when it came to the cupboards and fridge.

“Mikey? ….Why do you have 3 year old expired sour cream in the fridge?”

“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘sour’? It still looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mikey there is black mold growing in it.” 

“Oh, so…. That’s not pepper then.”

By the time you had finished clearing out the fridge and cupboards of everything expired or moldy, you had filled 3 trash bags full of garbage. Mikey helpfully took out the trash while you cleaned and organized the fridge and cupboards, and wiped down all the surfaces. By the time Mikey returned, you were rifling through the brown paper bag April got you full of ingredients and spices you had requested. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Mikey cheerfully greeted you as he rejoined you in the now clean kitchen. 

“Well… if I remember the recipe correctly, I want to make the dish my mom always made for me…”

Mikey looked at you surprised for a moment, then excitement overtook him. “Cool! Can I help?” 

You perked up at the suggestion. “Will you? I’d,… I’d love that, thank you!” Your expression melted into a warm smile, and Mikey felt his heart skip a beat. 

You looked so pretty when you smiled, he thought to himself. 

He wanted to see you smile more, just like that.

You both washed your hands and got to work. On the freshly clean kitchen counter, you had Mikey kneed cold butter into flour to make a dough, while you cut vegetables and cooked chicken on the stove. By the time Mikey was ready with the dough, there were 6 pie tins lined up to add the crust. The oven dinged and the base crust went in to brown while you stirred a large pot on the stove. Then you took out the pies and added the filling, and covered the tops with more dough. You were surprised at how large their oven was, but they were 4 giant mutant turtles and a rat. You had no doubt that each of the boys would eat a whole pie themself. The extra 2 were for Splinter, you, April, and Casey, who would be joining everyone later.

Once the oven door closed, Mikey turned up the radio that had been quietly humming tunes in the background as a fun song you hadn’t heard before played through the speakers. (‘Bad idea right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing.) Mikey’s head started bobbing and he grabbed the wooden spoon you had been stirring with and began mouthing the words into it like a microphone. You giggled at his antics as he pointed a green finger at you and beckoned you out into the open of the room. You felt drawn to join him as the pop song got your head bobbing to the beat. You felt a feeling well up in your chest as the chorus started building up. Excitement bubbling until the chorus peaked and your head bobbing turned into jumping around. Before you knew it, you were dancing around the living room with Mikey holding your hands and spinning you around. You lost yourself in the freeing feeling of the stress and anxiety getting washed away by the music. All the cleaning you had done was so stress relieving you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Little did you know, the music had drawn the attention of the other brothers. Leo and Master Splinter came out from their meditation to watch in the doorway, Leo smiled and crossed his arms as he looked at you. Raph came out freshly dressed and looked surprised but shared a look with Leo that made them smirk at you and their little brother’s antics. Then Donnie trudged out and leaned against his door frame and fixed his glasses to make sure he was in fact seeing you correctly. 

You were smiling, laughing, and dancing.

“It seems as though we are seeing Miss (y/n) for the first time today.” Mused Splinter, the old rat brushing his beard.

Just then April and Casey walked in, carrying boxes they had brought down from up top.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” April asked putting down her box.

You were happily giggling as Mikey spun you around at the end of the song. April grinned, happily surprised at the scene. Casey walked in behind her and started looking around the lair like he was seeing it for the first time, setting his box down next to April’s. This prompted Leo, Raph, and Donnie to also take a better look around their home. They slowly all walked out into the living space, looking in all directions. 

“.... Where did all my coffee cups go…?”

“Hm? Oh! They’re washed and in the cupboard!” You answered cheerily.

“.... Does…. Does the gym smell like oranges?” Raph said, baffled.

“.... Where did all the dust go? ….Does the couch look clean to you?” Leo nudged Donnie to bring his attention to the freshly washed couch covers.

There was a beat of heavy silence as the boys took in the new state of their home, then the timer above the oven dinged and you ran over to put on your oven mitts.

“The food’s ready!” You called out cheerfully.

In the next few minutes, everyone was sitting around the small kitchen table. Each turtle with a full pie in front of them, and large slices cut for Splinter, April, and Casey, and a smaller cut for yourself.

“Damn, what’s this? Smells great!” Casey exclaimed. 

“My mom showed me how to make this, it’s chicken pot pie. I hope you like it!” You said a bit shyly now that you had calmed down a bit. 

You watched as all the boys and April picked up a spoon and dug in, taking their first bite. There was a chorus of groans of approval as the boys hummed approvingly around their bite.

“Oh my god my mouth is singing!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to shovel the pie into his mouth. 

“How did you manage to get this level of flakiness into the crust? Was there any special preparation when kneading the dough?” Donnie questioned. Then Mikey mumbled out around a full mouth, ‘cold butter, dude’ which Donnie had to ask him to repeat when his mouth wasn’t full.

“Wow… I’ve never had anything like this before. Did you make this?” Leo asked. Raph was grunting in approval with each new bite he took, absorbed in his food from across the table.

You blushed and nodded. It didn’t take long for everyone to clean their plates. Casey, Mikey, and Raph all fought for seconds. Master Splinter and April were sharing very pleased looks on their faces, like they were conspiring all along. Once everyone was finished, you stood up and started to collect plates from the table.

“Oooooh no, you did enough cleaning today, let someone else take a turn, shortie.” Raph stood up to stop you.

“I don’t mind, really!” You urged, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into Mikey who was taking his own plate to the sink. 

The plate dropped from his hand in surprise, and faster than anyone could react, your freehand shot out and grabbed the plate. There was a cracking sound and everyone froze to look at you. There you were, balancing 5 large heavy ceramic plates stacked in one hand, while your other hand was holding onto Mikey’s plate that had cracked and fractured in your grip. You were stunned.

“Woah… what just happened?” Mikey broke the silence.

Part 5

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[heartilywrites]

is it alright if i can request some wholesome gyomei content? regardless of it being nsfw or not

،، 𝓛over of Mine ; G. Himejima

request guide | masterlist

resume: a late night talk with Gyomei.

content warning: fluff ; Gyomei x gn!reader ; established relationship ; r is not from the corps ; suggestive at the very end ; no use of y/n

wc: 0.9k

a/n: HEIYA!! im so sorry it's too short:( i rewrote it so many times and tried to made it longer, but i felt like i was just writing nonsense at some point so i decided to keep it short but sweet as they say. thank you for requesting, love !!! hope you enjoy <3

“ At the end of the road I see you with me.

The night surrounding the estate was quiet, a beautiful moon in full display at the very top of the sky dancing along with stars scattered all around her that just made her stand out more. Gyomei found himself sitting outside of your shared room enjoying the cold air and calm, in his lap a purr demanded his attention, one of the little cats you’ve adopted had followed the man.

The sound of your steps made him straighten his back, feeling your arms hug his neck almost made him melt against you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are you okay, darling?” hoarsely, the question came from you meaning you had just woken up from your sleep, a bit worried about why he would be outside at such hours when you realized his warmth missing from beside you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I am, I'm sorry if I woke you up, my love.” he answered, a small kiss was felt on his cheek now. “I couldn't sleep, Yuki and I came here to breath fresh air.”

You let go of him for a second to sit beside him and take his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Is something bothering you?”

The hashira thought his answer a bit too long. Is there? A lot of things bother him; demons, his memories, irresponsible people, people who hated cats, demons again... But that night, what was bothering him exactly? He should be at ease, he had a house to go back to, he had his friends, the now five cats you two adopted in wishes to give them a good life, he was alive and healthy, and most important: he had you by his side.

You were like the air floating around him, Gyomei needed you to keep going, he felt like he didn't deserve you, like you were totally out of his league, but there you were; by his side despite it all.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Gyomei...” his name sounded in a whisper by you, your unoccupied hand cleaning away the tears his eyes were letting roll free in his face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's nothing, I was just thinking of you.” he confessed finally, your face feeling warmer at such comment. “Of how lucky I am to have you and how I will fight harder to keep you safe.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, you took the cat in your hands after letting go of the one you were holding. A tiny kiss were left on Yuki's head before leaving her to run back inside and now you took her place in your partner's lap, both hands cupped his face with such caution as if you were handling the most fragile of things and your thumbs were caressing his skin.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm the lucky one to be with you.” you started, his head tilted a bit to one of your hands. “You already do so much for me that I feel like I owe you this life and my next ones, Gyomei.”

His tears didn't stop at any moment, one of his hands rested on top of yours and he moved it a bit so he could leave a small kiss on your palm.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You have such a beautiful heart that I feel like I should be the one taking care of you.” a small giggle left your mouth before sighing. “I love you, so much and with all my strength.”

Your lips met his in such a sweet kiss filled with love and care. He burned those words in his memory, he had no idea how he got so lucky to land on you.

After pulling away, the hashira wrapped his arms around your waist while yours were on his neck, making you feel secure; it didn’t matter how tall you were, you always felt small when you were with him, always feeling protected. He had become your safe place, you always looked for him when things get tough and you need comfort or when you're feeling down, seeing him could turn a bad day into the perfect one, because he had this unique way of making everything better.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We should try to sleep, darling,” you whispered on his ear, he had his face hiding in the crook of your neck. “You have to start training the demon slayers early tomorrow.”

He made a sound that vibrated in his throat, making you shiver a little bit. “I'm not sleepy.” was answered, then his lips started to attend your skin leaving warm kisses on their way.

A sigh was heard from you, fingers tangling on his hair and your head tilted to the side so he would have more access. Gyomei tasted and smelled you like he had always loved to do smiling a little over you at the sounds you so gladly let him hear, your free hand found its way under his shirt to feel him, the sudden cold hand meddling made him let out a low moan that blended in your skin.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I think we should go inside,” you called his attention hardly putting the words together. “We'll catch a cold, we can continue there.” you nodded desperate to your own words.

The man didn’t answer, he took action by standing up with you in his arms so effortlessly that made you gasp surprised, almost like he hadn't done the same before, and made you two get back in the house to resume what had been started, he was so determined to make you feel how much he loved and worshipped you.

[heartofmortis]

✶ Lionheart

Prologue

Robb Stark x (Baratheon/Lannister!) Reader

warnings: none!

note: so this is also an oc fic on wp, but i wanted to try out something new! in rewriting to second person, some edits have been made. there will be no y/n, and there are other ocs in this fic (since that’s what i usually write) and reader does have some physical descriptions. // there is minor canon divergence regarding hotd/f&b here, which links to my other asoiaf fics and there are a couple of ocs mentioned in the chapter (hopefully that won’t be annoying lol).

word count: 2k

tag list: @houseofamidala @madeofstaardust @tojisrealwifey @justmymindandstuff (lmk if you want to be added of removed!)

You were four when blood first touched your innocent skin. Your skin was no longer pure, neither was your heart. All children learn the fragility of life in time, you learned of it through the sacrifice of a tiny bird.

The creatures always circled King’s Landing as vultures searched for the dead. “The little birds are always looking for trouble,” came Cersei Lannister’s warning in the castle gardens with you nestled close in your mother’s arms. “Watch your step or they’ll be waiting in your shadows all your life.”

When you were set down, your feet steady on the ground, you raced on ahead. Your long skirts clung to your little legs, blonde curls bounding behind you. The air was thick with sweet pollen and fruit, signs of a happy summer. Moss grew between the bricks on the cobbled ground, pushing the stone in uneven directions — you skipped over them easily, pausing to gaze at the bumblebees nestling inside tight flowerheads and the ladybirds crawling across bright green leaves. You wished it could be only you and your mother in the gardens forever. You slipped out of your mother’s line of sight to steal berries and press as many as possible into your mouth, licking sweet juice from your fingers to keep your dainty snack a secret.

Then you came to a sudden halt, almost tripping forwards in your haste, when you found your path blocked by a tiny bird — a bundle of brown feathers dappled with grey and white and red. Its body was horribly twisted, but it was still moving. You took the bird in your hands, scarlet smeared across your fingers. You did not want the poor creature to be damaged further. The bird squeaked desperately and tried to flap its broken wings.

You brought the bird against your chest, cupped with both of your delicate hands, and ran back across the path you had come down. You took the bird to your mother, who was quick to scold you for touching a dying animal. “But can’t the maesters help?” Your eyes were wide and glassy, mouth warped into a mournful frown. (Your mother always had the right answers — she was the smartest person in King’s Landing.)

Cersei laughed. It was not a cold sound, more of a marvel at her daughter’s naivety. “The Maesters can only help us, sweet girl. They cannot help a little bird.” They always look for trouble.

You huffed, deeming your mother’s response to be an unacceptable response. “Why?”

The Queen motioned for one of their guards to come over and take the bird’s frail body from your hands, which became a struggle with your reluctance. “We’re all built very differently. A dove is not a wolf, and a stag is not a lion.”

“But it will die!”

“All things do, eventually.” Cersei ushered forth two handmaidens that walked behind the two of you. “Now you have blood all over you — go and get cleaned up. There is no use in helping the dying while the living are still here.”

You walked with heavy steps back to the Red Keep, muttering about the unfairness of the bird’s fate — it was a baby, why could it not be saved? If all things die, why is life not more precious? Any day could be the last.

“Where are you scurrying away to, little doe?” Your father’s voice was a formidable boom when he caught you in the corridors, flanked by handmaidens, wandering towards your rooms.

You showed your father the specs of blood across your dress. “Mother says I have to clean up.”

Robert Baratheon laughed. He shooed away your company and picked his daughter up with one strong arm. “A little blood never hurts anyone. You’re a Baratheon, my stormbird. You’ll get used to blood in no time”

The King took you to the throne room. You liked it here: the tall ceiling, the ivy-strewn pillars, the warm glow of sunlight, and the Iron Throne. Robert took his seat and rested you on his knee. You stared around the room, you had never seen it from this angle before. Between the tower of swords from the first Dragon King, still sharp enough to tear you in half, it felt powerful to sit here. You could imagine hundreds of people knelt before them and understood why men spent their lives chasing power. (You felt like a true Princess.)

“This would have been your’s one day if your mother had not had that damn brother of yours.”

Your father’s voice was rough with bitterness. His words pulled you out of her daydream. Only a year younger than you, your brother, Joffrey, was a terror. Your mother doted on her children equally, but you knew your father had his favourite. You were secretly happy with it — the less time you spent with Joffrey pulling heads off flowers and doing worse, vicious things, the better.

“One day,” your King father continued, “you will marry a great lord, a good lord. But you should always have a place here, my daughter.”

/✿✿✿/

Robb Stark was eight when he learned what real summer felt like. In the aftermath of a rebellion in the Iron Islands led by his father and the King, Robb and his twin sister, Alys, travelled to King’s Landing with their father to attend Robert Baratheon’s Name Day celebration. Spring had passed and the snows around Winterfell were low. Robb spent half the journey complaining about how he wanted to ride his horse next to his father while their septa told him to pay attention to their lessons. Watching the country change shape along the Kingsroad did keep Robb moderately interested — glimpsing the lands outside of the North was rather novel. Alys shared Robb’s adventurous instinct and they ran amok, hiding between trees and tents of their father’s company every time they stopped for a meal. But there were only so many games two eight year olds could play.

For all Ned Stark had told his children about King’s Landing and the Red Keep, Robb found it all rather underwhelming. There was no grand welcome for the Starks when they arrived. The city streets were too busy and the air was too hot.

Robb and Alys were brought before the Iron Throne — the hideous, towering King’s Seat made with a thousand melted swords — to be presented to King Robert Baratheon, their father’s oldest friend. Robb was aware he had been named after the King (just as his half-brother Jon had been named after Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King). Perhaps Robb’s father saw greatness in his son’s future, a boy worth naming after a king. Robert Baratheon was not the formidable giant Robb had expected to meet. Robb could imagine the warrior king that had won the throne and broke the Greyjoy Rebellion and hoped he would never fight in a war.

The Starks were escorted to their guest rooms for the duration of their stay. Alys and Robb’s rooms lay next to each other. Before Robb could finish unpacking his chest, Alys snuck into her brother’s room. She laid back on his bed, Robb made a fuss when his sister got her boots on the sheets.

“I want to explore. Will you come with me?”

Robb did not hesitate before he nodded, a grin spread across his face. Unpacking was boring anyway.

The twins barrelled through red corridors, ducking under maids and Kingsguards. The castle was theirs for the taking.

The Red Keep was bigger than any of the Northern castles the twins had visited before, full of labyrinthine corridors. A maze without a centre for Robb — but Alys seemed to know where she wanted to be.

Robb and Alys were stopped in their tracks when Robb almost tumbled into a girl. She was their age, if younger by a few moons, dressed in pink and gold with dark blonde curls. A huge black cat with a grumpy expression was clasped in her arms. Alys recognised the girl first. Robb felt a winter chill blow through him, tethering him frozen in place. The girl was pretty like a colourful bloom in the snow. She looked at the twins, wide-eyed and curious. She held the kind of warmth the North only felt during fleeting spring days. Alys punched her twin brother in the stomach and Robb mimicked her bow.

You smiled, a pink glow on her freckle-dappled cheeks. “You must be the Stark twins. Father told me about you.”

“Can you take us to see the dragons?” Alys asked quickly, eagerly rocking on the balls of her feet. “I thought I knew the way but…”

You paused, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. The cat in your arms jumped free — he rounded the twins, giving judgemental looks, and brushed against Alys’s legs before darting away. “They’re all underground now,” you explained. “We aren’t supposed to visit them, but I know the way.”

It was evening by the time you and the Stark twins entered the cellar room beneath the castle. Golden hour light faded, leaving the underground room in growing shadows. Robb had not been as enthusiastic as Alys and Jon about House Targaryen in all their lessons, but his heart thundered in his chest, mouth agape when he saw the nineteen dragon skulls.

The smallest dragon skulls were even smaller than direwolves, tiny dog-sized creatures but their teeth were still dagger-sharp. As the three children ventured down the room, the dragons grew bigger. You explained that many of them were unknown. Robb wondered how magical it must have been to live centuries ago and see dragons patrolling the sky. The largest dragon skulls were those of Meraxes, ridden by Queen Rhaenys, Vhagar, ridden by Queen Visenya, and Balerion the Black Dread, ridden by Aegon the Conqueror. Most dragons have more than one rider, but later riders paled in comparison to the conquerors.

“This one is Vermax,” you told Robb, pointing to another dragon skull halfway down the room. “Ridden by King Jacaerys, First of his Name. He married a Stark. An Arya, I think.”

Robb turned to his sister to tell her that one of their ancestors had married a dragonrider, but Alys had stepped away. She was distracted by another dragon.

“That’s Syrax,” you said quietly to Robb. “She was ridden by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Alys touched Syrax’s skull and smiled wistfully. “She was yellow.”

You tensed. “I don’t think we’re allowed to touch them. I’m not supposed to come down here after dark.”

Robb approached his sister, whose stormy eyes still gazed wistfully at the dragons, and touched her arm. “Let’s go to the kitchens. See if they have lemon cakes.”

Finally, Alys looked away and nodded. She cracked a smile. “But don’t tell Sansa — she would be upset if we had cake without her.”

Together, the children left the cellar room. Robb stared at the dragon skulls for as long as possible as you closed the door. To see a dragon fly over Winterfell… He sighed sadly and wished there was more magic left in the world.

You showed them to the kitchens. Alys skipped on ahead, wondering out loud about how wonderful it must be to live in the Red Keep and you were happy to fuel her daydreams. The three of you scurried up a spiral staircase, for once Robb did not challenge his sister to a race. Which was probably a good thing as Alys was ahead and she did not see him trip up the stairs. Robb threw his hands out, scraping his skin against the rough stone to catch himself. You looked at him and Robb turned red, embarrassed to make a fool of himself in front of the princess.

You helped him up. Blood from a small cut on Robb’s palm smeared onto your hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s only a little blood. Here–” You sat Robb down on the step and took the hem of your dress to dab away the blood.

Robb clenched his fist and moved away. “You’ll ruin your dress.”

You took his hand back, gently uncurling his fingers. “That doesn’t matter.”

You dabbed at the thin beads of blood, holding for a few seconds. You both waited as the blood stopped spilling. “I’ll ask one of the cooks to help you.” You stood and reached out to take Robb’s other hand. He took your hand gratefully and stood. “Don’t worry,” you added, “everything will be alright.”

[whetstonefires]

You know, I've been thinking about it, and it is absolutely essential to the narrative that Jiang Cheng is a dick and a trash fire. (Affectionate.)

Like, first of all, if he was a sainted little angel of a shidi the way Jiang Yanli is a shijie, Wei Wuxian's choices would become obvious, sort of impersonal, and boring.

Sure, lots of people wouldn't tear themselves apart for such a person in such a scenario, but they're not the protagonists of novels, are they; in a book you have to justify not doing that. So white lotus Jiang Cheng is off the table.

Jiang Cheng who isn't fragile-and-insecure but also stubborn-as-hell and violently reactive also won't wash.

If he wasn't the kind of person who sincerely tries to die under these circumstances, Wei Wuxian would have had the option of loyally supporting him in a less self-destructive way; if he was someone who could be trusted to handle the revelation without suffering a ruinous fracture of identity, Wei Wuxian wouldn't have been forced to distance himself after the war, because he could have come clean.

If Jiang Cheng wasn't the kind of person who centers on his own pride and hurt feelings and lashes out about it, it would be very hard to set up the lategame scenario where they're 'enemies' in a real, meaningful way, despite still loving each other and Wei Wuxian never wishing Jiang Cheng any ill. Even with Jiang Yanli's death.

And I mean, you could get most of the plot without doing this interesting thematic examination of the classic 'bond between martial brothers severed by one going to the dark side' trope, but I'd argue you'd lose an enormous chunk of the story.

And without Jiang Cheng's weaknesses, Wei Wuxian's motives don't cohere. His weaknesses form the foundation of at least two of the backstory's major turning points.

There's the tantalizing possibility that Wei Wuxian wouldn't have done it, if Jiang Cheng hadn't strangled him while blaming him for everything.

Probably he would have, all else being equal! But neither we nor Jiang Cheng can be sure.

Jiang Cheng sucking a lot, and knowing his own flaws perfectly well without that granting him the ability to do much about them, is heavily load-bearing. Which gives him such a fantastic implied point of view!

[mymegumi]

SEASONALLY YOURS ෆ KAMO CHOSO

⠀ warnings: potentially ooc!choso (i dont rlly write for him:()

choso doesn’t really enjoy the winter.

he hates wearing big clunky shoes, and his doc martins don’t have any sort of grip to resist the icy streets when he has to walk places. sometimes, snow gets in his shoes and then he has to deal with terminally wet feet—of which the wrinkly little toe pads sketch him out and make him feel like he has to dry off as soon as possible. the snow melts in his hair and that means any sort of hairstyle has to be de facto shoved underneath a beanie. plus his ears get cold and he hates when his ears get cold.

there’s a few perks, like driving around and looking at christmas lights, and the late night first snow walks he loves taking—everything is so serene and untouched by humanity it makes his chest ache with the peacefulness.

he feels as though the winter cold seeps into his bones, chilling him to his core until he can’t seem to get warm. he could be standing in front of a fire and still the winter’s winds would find a way to him. he hates it. he hates being cold.

he supposes winter isn’t so bad because he met you one wintery night.

he’d been taking a slow first snow walk when he happened upon you. you were in the middle of the street, splayed on your back and making snow angels. you had your eyes closed and you just seemed so at ease, so in tune with the falling snow that he thought he had imagined you. the sound of the snow crunching underneath his feet had made you open your eyes lethargically, as if there was anything else you’d rather be doing.

you had smiled at him, all teeth and gums and sugary sweet happiness that he had instinctively smiled back. motioning to the space beside you, he had laid down and made his very first snow angle. he hadn’t worried about his hair until after you pointed at it and giggled over the way it was skewing wildly. watching you laugh, he had blurted out that he wanted to see you again and the shy smile that spilled across your face was worth all the embarrassment in the world.

and, he thinks, maybe winter is so bad but, spring isn’t any better to him.

the wintery snows melt into warm soggy rains and he hates tracking mud through the house. it’s a pain to clean every day, and he just wishes the raining would stop because his hair is always soaked when he goes anywhere, perpetually cursed to have bad hair. the spring storms are more tame than the summer ones, but he dreads the feeling of ice cold rain stinging through his clothes. the pollen is getting worse, too, and his allergies act up in such a way that his nose is constantly stuffed and it feels as though he’ll never breathe normally again.

the budding cherry blossoms and tiny, fragile blooms of flowers make him feel hopeful. hopeful for the future and brighter days and sunnier skies.

he supposes that one shining day is better than the rest in spring, as a year after you’d been together with choso, you’d moved in together.

he’s never lived with anyone but his brothers, and itadori—but he was a brother for lack of a better word. so he’s scared that his unusual oddities are going to be jarring and spook you like a shy stray cat.

but the first night he splays out on the couch, legs sprawled over the back of the couch and head draped over the seating area, he is delightfully surprised when you copy his motions. you complain that you’re getting lightheaded and end up back in a normal seated position, but lean down and press a kiss to his lips and tell him to be careful. he blames the red cheeks on the blood rush to his head. in the morning, you tease him for his snoring and he blames the spring pollen.

choso supposes he has a good memory to hold onto spring.

the days turn longer, the night hours slowly slipping away to daylight and choso finds himself restless.

choso despises summer for taking away the lonely nights. he finds solace in the dark, shadowy places he can tuck himself into when he feels as if the world is looking at him too long.

he closes the curtains tight, and cuts out the sunlight when he can. he sweats through his shirts and there’s a level of frizz happening to his hair that he thinks is just innately criminal and wants to absolutely obliterate the sun and the humidity and the stupid warm summer rains that make him uncomfortable in his own skin. he showers daily, and still it feels like the grime of the day sits on his skin and he has to scrub and scrub and scrub just to feel even slightly clean. the first time you catch him rubbing his skin raw, you hold him in the shower as tears fall down his cheeks like the shower’s water down his back.

after his showers, you always press a kiss to his forehead and hold him close, gently braiding his hair so it’s out of his face and so it’s wavy by the time it dries. ‘you look so handsome when it’s this way,’ you had said once, and he’d never done his hair any other way since. occasionally he’ll style them in his usual two buns to keep his sweating hair from sticking to his neck, but sometimes he lets his hair down at home in the air conditioning and revels in the way you tease and curl it around your fingers.

choso wishes the summer nights were cooler, so he could press against you and fake complain that you’re sticking your cold feet in between his thighs. secretly, the feeling of being needed is more important than the split-second shock of cold.

and when the days begin to bleed into fall, he thinks those are his favorite days. he hates to be cliché or even close to mainstream, but fall is truly his favorite.

there’s a feeling of satisfaction in his chest when he can go out in just jeans and a hoodie, hand wrapped tightly around yours because your hands get so cold in the fall and you refuse to wear gloves. he loves the feeling of interlacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand, lips cool to the touch. choso is admittedly greedy for the feeling of you, the feeling of your skin against his and the cool breeze of your laugh against his neck and the smile you always, always have when you kiss him. choso has never known being greedy in this way.

the bright green summer leaves begin to brown and he curls into the reading nook with something new—a thriller, a murder mystery, a slightly above-averagely horny book, anything he can get his hands on.

fall is, objectively, his favorite.

the weather is ideal, somewhere between cold enough to pile on blanket after blanket at night and warm enough that he doesn’t feel as if he’ll turn into an ice sculpture in the foreseeable future. the landscape is so picturesque he feels as if looking at the mountains punches the air out of his lungs. he’s living in a painting and all he can do is awe and gawk and sputter about the unreal scenery he’s surrounded by.

he also loves fall because you love fall. it’s easy to love what you love because everything you enjoy is seamlessly a part of what makes you, you.

truthfully, he might like fall the most, but every season is good enough for him because he has you in all of them. as long as your by his side, he’d weather a million blizzards, sneeze as many times as he had to in spring pollen, and sweat through every shirt he owned. his love and devotion is soft and quiet but it’s always there. he will always be there for you.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment VIII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 4.4K (she’s also kind of long)

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

You laid on the cold, steel table of one of the styling rooms. They had stripped all the hair beneath your eyebrows, which was no longer very painful since you’d been “maintained” ever since you won 8 years ago. They had also taken care to clean you in scalding hot water and scrub your skin raw. They cut the dead ends of your hair off, keeping it long enough to reach mid back. You were sure Haymitch started fighting them as soon as he saw any kind of razor, tweezer, or wax.

Now you were just waiting for the doctors to come back with the results from your checkup. You had told them that they suspected you were pregnant and asked if there was any way that they’d be able to do a paternity test. They told you that if the father’s DNA was in their system they could tell you and that all tributes’ DNA was logged.

As the door slid open, you sat up eagerly. “Ms. L/N, you are in fact pregnant,” the nurse informed. “About six weeks along.”

“And the father?” you asked.

“Haymitch Abernathy,” she said plainly. You were sure Snow would be upset that you were pregnant with your husband’s baby but now that he was putting you in the games, you didn’t give a damn what he thought or wanted. You were also incredibly relieved it was Haymitch’s. You were never a kids person and had never wanted to have children but if you were going to have someone’s baby, it may as well be the man you love’s.

The nurse talked with you a little more about your labs, saying you were healthy and left. Next Cinna came in. “There’s my favorite mentor,” he smiled, greeting you with a hug.

“Cinna,” you replied with a smile. While you hand he weren’t nearly as close as Katniss and he were, you had very much come to appreciate his friendly face. “Good to see you.”

“You too, although I wish it was under different circumstances. Anyway here is your dress for the parade,” he turned to the door as the rest of the style team brought in your outfit. You were kind of amazed at how beautiful it was. It was a long, almost flowing, A-line, red dress. The bodice was covered in lace and featured a halter top neckline. They did your makeup dramatically with a dark red lip and a mix of reds and blacks for your eyes. As for your hair it was done in an intricate half-up, half down style. When they finally let you look in the mirror you thought you looked like an evil queen.

You were then brought to the chariots where about half the other victors were waiting. You looked around, observing your friends/future competition. Spotting red hair you realized it was Annie. You called over to her as you approached. She looked terrified until she spotted you.

“Y/N” she ran up to you as best she could in her mermaid-like outfit. She gave you a big hug which you returned.

“Where’s Finnick and Mags?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her scared look appeared again as she looked around frantically for probably the only two people in the world who brought her real comfort. You noticed she was still hugging you. You were probably a stand in for Finnick until he arrived.

“He’s probably still with the stylist. How are you two?”

“We’re good, or were until the games were announced,” she murmured sadly.

“Hey, don’t think about that right now,” you tried to soothe her. She wasn’t much younger than you but she was so small and fragile looking that you felt like you needed to protect her. “And I can guarantee you Finnick won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will I,” you promised. Assuming Haymitch was right about a plan you were telling the truth. You’d fight to get this poor girl out.

“Annie?” you head a familiar voice call from behind you.

Annie immediately pulled away, recognizing Finnick’s voice. You smiled as you watched the two lovers reunite. You were sure that Finnick, like you, didn’t care about Snow’s rules about availability anymore. He was sending you to your death, who cares if the Capitol’s desire to fuck you was still high?

Soon enough the rest of the Victors were at the chariots, all except one. Haymitch.

Cinna was getting Katniss and Peeta ready when he came to you, the very last chariot. He handed you a remote. “Press this when Katniss presses hers. You’ll know when she does.”

“Wait where’s Haymitch?” you asked.

“I don’t know, probably with Portia,” Cinna explained. “I have to go, he’ll be out soon. Just make sure you look straight ahead, no waving.”

The avoxes were all ushering you into the chariots and you were sure they were frantically trying to find your partner because they were all running around. You were starting to actually get scared when the elevator doors suddenly opened, revealing Haymitch and Portia. He rushed to the chariot, pecking you on the cheek as he got in.

“Where were you? You scared me.”

“Sorry, got held up. I need to talk to you after.”

“I need to talk to you too,” you replied just as the chariots started to pull out. You took your husband’s hand, putting on a blank expression as Haymitch did too. The runway was so loud, there were so many people above you cheering. It wasn’t hard to look disinterested, you were disgusted with them for cheering as you were paraded around before you had to fight to the death.

About halfway down the runway Katniss and Peeta burst into flames. You pressed the button on the remote and out of the corner of your eye you could see Haymitch erupt into flames as well. As you approached Snow, you didn’t even bother to look up at him as the chariot rounded the end of the runway, bringing you all the way back inside where you had started.

You finally took in Haymitch’s appearance. They had cleaned up his beard so it was more cleanly cut. His hair had also been trimmed and washed properly. He was in a suit with no sleeves, showing off muscled arms, identical to Peeta’s. Both eager to hear what the other had to say you grabbed Katniss and Peeta and went to the elevators.

Just as the door was closing Johanna Mason stepped into the elevators. “Well don’t you all look amazing,” she snarled. “My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber, so she dressed us as trees.” She let out a scoff as she started taking the cuffs of her costume off. “I’d like to put my axe in her face.” She stepped closer to Peeta. “Help me with the zipper?” she turned around, not allowing him to answer as he awkwardly unzipped her costume.

You and Haymitch were holding in your laughs as Katniss made a face you couldn’t even identify the emotion of.

She thanked him as she stripped off the costume, standing completely naked in the elevator. The doors opened as you reached floor 7. “Let’s do it again sometime,” as she walked out of the elevator, completely shameless.

“Thank you,” Haymitch said.

You slapped his arm playfully. “See you later,” you called after her.

“Johanna Mason, 7, if you hadn’t figured it out yet,” you informed.

“Is she always like that?” Peeta asked.

You shrugged. “I’ve never seen her strip naked before today but yeah, she hasn’t ever cared. When she was here the first time she was screaming profanities all the way down the chariot line.” The doors then opened into the penthouse, you and Haymitch immediately headed towards your bedroom to hear what the other had to say. You both stepped into the bathroom for privacy.

“You go first,” you said, hoping this was about Plutarch.

“I was late because Plutarch came to see me. Y/N I was right. About a fourth of the tributes are in on the plan to get Katniss out. We’re gonna have to carry on like a normal game at first but Beetee is going to shut down the arena and Plutarch will have us extracted.” You could cry you were so relieved. Haymitch was smiling eagerly. “We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna see a world without the games. Just make sure you stay by me so I can protect you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And that news makes what I’m about to tell you better.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

Haymitch’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I kind of suspected but didn’t want to say anything.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. The doctors tested and they were also able to tell me that you’re the father.”

His eyes widened impossibly more. He gingerly pressed his hand to your still flat stomach. “You’re gonna have my kid?” he looked hopeful, excitement fortunately creeping into his expression.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You felt a few tears of joy slip. “I had never wanted kids but the thought of having yours? I want to raise this baby with you, Haymitch.”

“I felt the same,” he agreed. “This world is too fucked up to have a baby so that’s why we have to change it. God, I didn’t know it was possible to love you more,” he kissed you, his hand still planted on your stomach. You deepened the kiss, your hand meeting his.

That night you laid in bed in comfortable silence, more in love than you had ever felt before. “What should we name it?” Haymitch asked.

You mused for a second. “If it’s a boy, I wanted to name him Asher, after my father. And for a girl I thought about Maysilee?”

Haymitch pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I like that.” He paused again. “Should we tell people?”

“The world expects at least one of us to die in about a week. No point in telling people. Besides I think Peeta would jump off that platform before the timer hit zero if he knew I was pregnant,” you explained monotonously.

“Okay, so we won’t tell anyone,” your husband agreed.

~

The next day at the training session was fairly intense. All of the victors (except those suffering from withdrawal, insanity, and/or age) were trying to show off how still in shape they were. You spent most of the time observing until you did the hand to hand combat station. There were real trainers who would fight you and fake weapons that could sense what wounds they’d inflict in order to simulate the arena as close as possible.

Feeling like being a little bit of a showoff you decided to do it despite your newfound condition. You had made sure Haymitch wasn’t anywhere nearby as you picked up the fake knife and stepped on the mat. The trainer gave you no warning as he suddenly attacked you, running at you with a sword. Fortunately you were still looking at him the entire time so you could easily dodge at the last second. As his momentum carried him forward, you swung your arm back, hitting him in the shoulder with your knife.

“Non fatal wound to left shoulder,” an automated voice announced.

He whirled around, swiping at you with the sword. As you were dodging you got closer and closer to the edge of the mat.

“Approaching boundary,” the voice informed. So you ducked under the sword, flailing your lugs until you caught his ankle, sending him to the ground. His sword fell which you kicked off the mat. He was up in a second though, lunging at you. Your eyes widened in surprise, trying to move out of the way but he managed to grab your arm, dragging you to the ground. You fell with a thud and before you could wrench your arm from his grip, he was on top of you, straddling your hips. He was grabbing at the knife in your hands which you were trying to keep away. You felt it scrape against both his and your arms, each time eliciting a “Non fatal wound to arm.” Eventually you managed to stab it through his hand as the simulator said, and bring it closer to you before you thrust it into his throat.

“Fatal wound to the neck. Simulation ended,” the voice announced. You looked over, noticing a few other tributes watching from their own training spots. Haymitch, however, was fuming over by the knife section.

“You’re awfully tough,” the trainer said, getting off of you. “Impressive, especially considering you won eight years ago,” he complimented.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking his hand to stand up. Now Haymitch was walking over. “I have to go,” you dismissed, meeting up with him. You felt like a kid again as you approached your fuming husband.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “You could’ve mis-”

“Shh,” you demanded. “And sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking!”

You were normally a very patient person, especially with Haymitch. You were sympathetic both when he was drunk and sober but you never took yelling, especially after you already apologized. You let out an indignant laugh. “I just apologized and you’re really gonna yell at me? Find me when you calm down,” you scoffed, walking off.

Haymitch was still angry as he watched you walk off. He had been chatting with Chaff when Chaff had told him to turn around. He was horrified to see you fighting with a man about twice your size. But he knew better than to interrupt so all he could do was stew in worry and anger until it was over. He nearly pulled the trainer off you when he got on top of you. Worried both about your safety and his fetus’. By the time it was done he was angry. Angry that you’d risk your pregnancy. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially in front of so many people but he was so worried. He was honestly a little scared of how much he wanted that baby.

You made; your way over to Finnick and Annie who were making fish hooks together. She had a soft smile on her face as she weaved the feathers onto the hook while Finnick had a soft smile while looking at her. You really hoped they’d both make it out.

Finnick looked up, having noticed you. “Where’s lover boy?”

“You’re one to talk,” you sneered.

“It have something to do with your little show off session?” he asked.

“I wasn’t showing off. I was training,” you scoffed. “Besides, once again, you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean? I've been doing this the whole time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t fully intend to get in there with a trident.”

He scoffed, a look of mocking offense painted on his face. “I would never.”

You laughed, taking a spot next to Annie, observing her work. You spent the next half hour learning how to make fish hooks, occasionally glancing up to watch Haymitch. He mostly stuck to the survival stuff but tried some combat and weapons training. It pained you to watch him fumble in those areas. He definitely wasn’t the most unathletic tribute but he was far from the most athletic. And while you had faith in Plutarch’s plan, not every victor was in on it and athleticism was still very much a part of the game.

Eventually Katniss wandered over, making fishhooks with Mags until she migrated to the archery station. As more tributes went over to watch the newest victor in action, you followed too. You had seen Katniss shoot last year but with so many simulated targets at once you were impressed by how good she was. Everyone else was too as Mags clapped for her when she had completed her round.

~

You eventually headed back upstairs, not really sure what to do. You had done lots of weapons training, especially knife throwing which had been a skill you utilized in your original games. Knives were always guaranteed to be in the Cornucopia and being able to put distance between yourself and others made the most sense. You worked with a few other weapons, Haymitch giving you worried and disapproving looks the entire time. You got so sick of his looks you moved onto survival but got bored of that quickly so you just went upstairs to lay down.

Haymitch appeared in the doorway sometime later. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Thank you,” you said sitting up. You knew he was coming from a place of love and concern so you were done being mad. Besides, you had been a couple for so long that your arguments could almost always be resolved in a couple sentences.

“Half the tributes want to be our allies. They of course assume we’ll be allies with Katniss. Peeta too but mostly Katniss.”

“Okay well who of the potential allies know about the plan?”

“Wiress and Beetee, Finnick, and by association Mags and Annie,” he answered. “Although Enobaria wants Katniss too but she and none of the other careers know. And a couple others from 5 through 10.”

“Did Katniss say anything?”

“She wants Wiress, Beetee, and Mags. But no Finnick. I told them she’s still considering.”

“What about Johanna, Blight, Chaff, and Seeder? I thought they knew.”

“They do, they just don’t necessarily want to get on Katniss’ crazy train,” he explained, taking a seat on the bed and throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That girl is a piece of work.”

You laughed a little. “She’s not that bad. Yes, a little volatile but so is Johanna and I like her. I like them both,” you added.

Haymitch hummed in agreement. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but fine. I think everything is fine,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I’m pretty sure fetuses can take a little knocking around. How would we have survived so long if they couldn’t?”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it easy. No getting punched in the gut,” he chided.

“Aw man, there go my dinner plans,” you jokingly whined.

“Shut up,” he chucked.

~

The next couple days were largely uneventful. You and Haymitch kept trying to convince Katniss to ally with Finnick or even Johanna but she refused, thinking that they’d stab her and Peeta in the back as soon as the biggest threats were taken out.

Eventually it was finally time for interviews the night before the games. With your permission Cinna tapped into the femme fatale look that had been part of your selling point your first games. It was a satin black dress with gold chains laid across the bodice and forming the straps. It had a high slit that came almost to your hip but your modesty was protected by delicate gold chains that held the top of the slit in place.

Your makeup was done dramatically again. Your red lips had been a part of your look the first games so Cinna had wanted to keep them this year. Your hair was done up in intricate braids with gold weaved through it so as to “not cover up too much of Cinna’s design,” one of the hair stylists told you.

You watched the other interviews as you got ready. You could see through all of them, whether they be extremely calculated or not, they were all a desperate cry to stop the games. Some were subtle like Cashmere and Gloss’ joint interview as “the family of the Capitol.” Johanna’s however, was not at all subtle as she screamed at the crowd and Snow for putting her back into the games. Some just made you outright feel bad for them. Like Annie and Finnick’s joint interview where she clung to his arm, hardly able to get out two words.

Eventually it was your turn. You stood in front of the stage entrance, trying to calm yourself down as Caesar introduced you. “Please welcome the winner of the 67th Hunger Games, Y/N L/N!”

You could hear the crowd erupt into cheers as the doors opened, blinding you. But you stepped out confidently nonetheless, eventually regaining partial sight. “Y/N, stunning as ever, wouldn’t you agree, folks?” Caesar began.

The crowd once again erupted into cheers. “You’re too kind Caesar.”

“I understand you have many sponsors who supported you in your original games and even after,” he explained. You hoped your face didn’t show it but you felt your heart stop. Was he really bringing up your torture in your very public interview? “Let’s hope they’re just as generous this year.”

“Oh I promise them I’ll make it worth their while,” you smirked into the microphone. You’ve been playing this game for a long time. What’s one more night?

“Now I have to ask as the mentor to the lovebirds of 12, is there anyone special in your life?” What kind of questions were these? You gave a polite laugh, shaking your head no. “Oh c’mon, really? With your looks? I find that hard to believe.”

“No not anyone,” you once again denied. “I’ve been on a few dates with some Capitol citizens but nothing serious. I guess eight years after the games still isn’t enough time to get over it.” You left the innocent look on your face.

It was sobering to the audience but Caesar quickly tried to bring the mood up again. “Well I just have a few more questions for you. We’re all very familiar with your protégée’s stylist. Tell me, are you working with Cinna too?”

“I am,” you agreed excitedly, giving them back the Capitol darling they had loved so dearly eight years ago. “No offense to my previous stylist but I think Cinna just gets me more.”

“I agree, this dress and the chariot parade dress suit you very well. And I have to say, you in flames? Breathtaking.”

“Aw thank you,” you smiled. “I’m sure Cinna appreciates it too.”

“Yes and we’re excited to see more of his work soon. Thank you Y/N, it’s been a pleasure. Give it up for Y/N L/N!” The crowd once again gave their cheers as you walked up the stairs, taking your place next to Chaff.

“Our next guest was the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Give it up for Haymitch Abernathy!” You watched as Haymitch approached, only able to see his back from your vantage point. “Haymitch, it’s been too long.”

“Not long enough in this context,” he laughed.

“Ah yes, but wouldn’t it be such an honor to win both Quarter Quells?” Caesar pressed. He probably already knew this would be a difficult interview for the Capitol.

“In theory I suppose. I’m mostly concerned about getting some of the younger victors out though.” The crowd let out cries of sympathy.

“How considerate,” Caesar said solemnly. “And tell us, what was it like to mentor our lovebirds coming up next?”

Haymitch pondered for a second, not quite sure how to answer. He has spent the whole night trying to decide if he’d tell the Capitol about your relationship. “Well I can tell you it wasn’t easy. Katniss can be a little headstrong.”

“Oh well we all know that,” Caesar laughed. “And Peeta?”

“He’s a very kind boy. They’re great together.”

Caesar laughed. “Yes well it’s nice to hear that from someone close to the couple. Now what about you? We’ve already heard from your original protégée about her love life, what about yours? We haven’t heard much from you in the past 25 years.”

Haymitch really thought about dropping a bomb like Peeta did last year but realizing how valuable your sponsors could be in the games, he thought better of it. “Not really. Y/N said that eight years isn’t enough time to get over being in the games. Twenty-five isn’t enough either.”

“Ah well I wish you the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, Haymitch Abernathy!”

He joined you up on the platform, squeezing your hand quickly before turning his attention to Katniss as she walked out on stage. Her dress was beautiful, a little over the top but Cinna had outdone himself. The crowd was losing their minds realizing that was Katniss’ unused wedding dress. The audience was completely captivated by her, especially when she revealed the Mockingjay dress that Cinna had weaved into the wedding dress that Snow no doubt made her wear. A daring display of defiance that you unfortunately knew someone would pay the price for.

Next came Peeta with his suave attitude from last year. They spoke for a moment until Caesar brought up the unfulfilled wedding.

“Actually we got married. In secret,” he revealed. You glanced at Katniss as inconspicuously as possible. Fortunately she kept her expression neutral. “We want our love to be eternal. Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if it weren’t…” Caesar pressed him. The entire Capitol was in the edge of their seats, hell you were too. “If it weren’t for the baby.”

The Capitol was shocked, you were shocked, the other victors were shocked, even Katniss was shocked. The audience was losing its mind, some even shouting to stop the games. You half wondered if Peeta knew you were pregnant. He made his way up to the stage, hugging Katniss. You still faced the audience when you felt Haymitch’s hand grab yours. Looking over you could see Katniss holding his other hands so you grabbed Chaff’s wrist. Once everyone was linked you all lifted your arms up. The Victors joined in solidarity against these games and the Capitol.

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

[hobbylobbyy]

Okay! How about a Lucifer x male (or gn if you’re more comfortable) reader in a platonic fic? Reader is like a servant who helps Lucifer through depresso days

A/N: This sounds like a really nice friendship dynamic, I’m rlly happy I get to write it!

Also btw you’re an imp for the sake of not knowing what a duck is

Coping Methods

Summary: It’s been a few months since Lilith left Lucifer and he’s been taking it about as well as you think he would. He can barely get out of bed until you manage to coax him into a fun activity to ease his mind.

Platonic Lucifer x Male!Reader

Nobody expected Lilith to leave. Maybe that’s what made it worse when she did.

She didn’t leave anything behind either, not her clothes, not her shoes, not even a single letter.

Every being in that castle fell into a deep depression, it just felt so gloomy without her there. Though, it hit the Morningstar’s the hardest.

Charlie had moved out nearly a month after Lilith’s disappearance, claiming she wanted to find herself and have her own independence rather than rely on her father for the rest of her life.

Lucifer, however, barely even left the castle, let alone his own room. Very few people were allowed near him at the time, only his personal servants, and you just happened to be one of them.

Today was one of those days where Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed, so you found yourself outside his door, hesitating to knock.

You couldn’t deny that you were terrified, but you had to make sure the king was okay, it was your duty as one of his personal servants.

You took a moment to collect yourself before knocking a few times.

It took a moment before he answered, “Who is it..?” The way he sounded so fragile almost broke apart of you, not once in your thousands of years of working for him have you heard him sound so vulnerable.

“It’s me, sir.” You replied, twiddling with your thumbs.

The door creaked open with a blur of golden magic, no doubt his own.

You stepped in and closed the door behind you, knowing that he’d prefer if nobody saw him in this state.

“Why are you here?” He asked, not looking at you as he curled into a ball on his humongous bed.

“Nobody has seen or heard from you all day, sir,” You started, making your way over to the edge of his bed but not daring to step any closer, both out of respect for him and fear for your safety, “We needed to know that you were still alive.”

“Alright, well, you’ve seen it now, haven’t you?” He asked rhetorically, “Just leave and take the day off for all I care, I-I just want to sit here for a little bit.”

“Sir..” You started, keeping your voice firm, “As your servant, I respect all your wishes, but as your friend… I will have to deny you this one.”

Before he could respond, you continued going, “In fact, I’m going to have to request that you stand up for me” you knew you were definitely going to get in trouble for this, whether by him or by one of your superiors.

“A-Are you trying to command the king of hell?” He asked, “You are nothing but my servant, I.. I don’t have many friends right now..”

You weren’t going to stop so soon though, your persistence was what got you this job in the first place, “Sir, I’m not trying to command you, I am just asking that you at least sit up and look at me”

It took him a second but he groaned in defeat as if he was a small child. He sat up, letting you see just how much he’d been crying. His hair which was usually neat was now a mess of curls and his face seemed redder than usual.

“I’ve done what you asked.. Is this all you wanted?” He asked.

“No, I actually wanted to request that you.. Uhm…” You had to think of an excuse for what you wanted to do first, “Could you accompany me to your workshop for a moment..? This is the only time I’ll ask you to do this, I just… N-Need to know where you’d like everything to go so I can clean!”

You commended yourself for being quick to think of an excuse, you knew how much the king liked his neatness.

“…There’s no need to clean it” Well, that stunned you.

“S-Sir?” You stuttered, “It definitely needs to be cleaned, just.. please?”

“I already know where everything is, just leave it be” Lucifer waved his hand dismissively before flopping back onto his bed, gripping a nearby pillow.

Well this won’t do. You needed him to get out of his bed. You needed him to actually do something.

“Sir, please, just accompany me to the workshop and I’ll leave you alone” You pleaded.

He sat still for a moment before shifting his head towards you, “…You’ll leave me alone for the rest of the week if I accompany you, do you hear me..?”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Yes sir! I-I can totally do that!” Not only did it give you an excuse to just do nothing for the rest of the week, your plan might actually work.

“Alright, just let me get ready first” He yawned as he sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

You quickly left the room for his privacy, as much as you loved your gracious king, you didn’t love him that much.

He left the room almost immediately, not having bothered to clean up his hair or the bags under his eyes. He knew that nobody in their right mind would point it out anyway.

“Just so you know.. I’m going to leave as soon as you’re done in there” Lucifer said.

“That’s alright with me, sir,” You flash a grin, “I’m just glad you got out of that messy room of yours”

“Watch it.” He rolls his eyes.

You chuckle softly as you approach his workshop, but you’re surprised once you open its doors.

The workshop that was usually a mess with his inventions and dreams and even dioramas of his theme park was now barren, only holding the pictures on the walls and his work bench.

“Wow, would you look at that..” Lucifer started, “Guess you don’t need me anymore, I mean, no mess to clean up!”

But you’re not gonna let him off the hook so easily.

“Uh, sir?” You smirked, “Could you at least spare me one request before I stop bothering you for the week?”

Lucifer groaned childishly, obviously not wanting to spend another moment out of the bed that he once shared with his love.

“Fine, fine, I guess it’s the least I could do since you so desperately wanted me over here” He conceded, walking with you to his workbench.

“So, what do you want?” He asked.

You grinned before pulling out some supplies from your pockets, “So, you know how made that thing on Earth before you fell? What was it called… Cuck..? I-I don’t know, but it made that quacking noise”

“A duck?” Lucifer cut you off.

“Ah, precisely!” You nodded.

“What.. What does that have anything to do with this?” He asked.

“Well, Mr. Lucifer, my request is that..” You paused for dramatic effect, “You recreate that! I wanna see what it looks like, and you seem to have pride in the fact that you made them, so maybe it’ll make you feel better!”

Lucifer paused for a moment before laughing. It might’ve been aimed at you rather than with you, but you’d gotten him to laugh at least.

“A-I’m sorry- Is that really all that you want me to do? Make a duck?” He said as the laughter died down.

“Yup! That’s what I want!” You nodded, making him chuckle once more.

“Alright, alright, fine” He sighed, “I’ll make you a duck, but then you let me wallow in self-pity, mkay?”

“Sounds fair!” You responded.

He didn’t say anything back to you as he started to work. You could see sparks flying as he melded metal together, shaping it into the form of a small creature.

“Pass me my yellow paint, would you?” He asked, pointing in the direction of his paints.

You hummed, grabbing his yellow paint for him and setting it down next to him on the table.

“Oh, and the black paint too” He said.

You huffed, “Couldn’t have told me that while I was getting the yellow?” But you got it for him regardless, wrapping your tail around it and ignoring the cold paint as it splashed on you when you brought it over.

He didn’t respond, too focused on painting it perfectly.

Then, the sparks and painting stopped, he smiled softly at his little creation.

“Here it is,” He said, picking it up with gentle hands, “This is what a duck looks like”

You looked at it in awe. It looked so.. cute. It looked so different from all the life in Hell, like it didn’t pose any threats at all.

You took a moment before nodding, “Alright, that’s uh… All I wanted” you smiled before standing up.

“I’ll lead you back to your room and you won’t have to worry about me for the rest of the week” You continued to speak before he cut you off.

“Actually…” He said, “Stay, I think I might need your help grabbing supplies for me while I make some more of these”

You took a moment to process what he said before your eyes lit up with excitement, “Really?!” You had actually been successful in getting the king to enjoy something!

“Really” He chuckled.

A/N: I hope this lived up to your expectations. I noticed too late that the reader doesn’t really have a gender specified but I guess that just means you can depict them however you want to!

Look at him :)

[sonder-paradise]

𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢

◊ genre. kitsune au

◊ characters. kitsune!osamu dazai, gn!reader

◊ wc. 1k

◊ part iv of Just One Wish

Evaporation can be defined as something abstract fading away and out of existence. For Dazai, he had seen the waves of time evaporate the lives of thousands of humans. They were so fragile, so short-lived. When you count the grains of an hourglass, you may find even yourself evaporating. 

And that was what Dazai thought in the brief moments when smoke filled his lungs, when the forest cried out for him. An echo rang out somewhere in the woods. A snap, a crackle pierced the snowy grounds.

Tumbling onto the mounds of snow and the hidden torii, Dazai watched as you evaded the shrill hordes of men at your feet. His heart pounding in his chest as his mind scrambled to recollect what may have led up to this future.

He darted through the branches of the trees, following your movements with a swiftness he had seemed to have forgotten to have. Piles of crushing snow collapsed onto the men below. Each time, slowing them down in their pursuit for you.

Dazai didn’t question, didn’t know, didn’t understand, but he acted accordingly.

He could hear your baited breath through the ears of the trees. Your feet sunk into the forest ground that connected to his chest. All the while, he watched you run to the sole place you deemed safe: His Shrine. 

“Dazai!” Chuuya’s voice echoed above him just as he leapt onto another branch. 

He grit his teeth, looking back at you before sending a wave of ice and snow through the winds of the trees to block your pursuers. The precocious tengu landed on the branch above him with a signature glare. 

“A little busy here, Birdy.”

“You should be. I told you to focus on your duties, asshole,” Chuuya spat, crossing his arms as a feather landed on Dazai’s face. The kitsune blew it off before matching his glare. 

“What are you talking about? What does this have to do with my duties?” he exclaimed, tossing a hand at the burning village beneath him. Your home, the archives you worked at, the people you spoke to, the garden you worked in. All of it was being destroyed, evaporated, in front of his very eyes. 

“If you had listened to me, you would know that the Gods are unhappy with your work,” he continued, “Dazai, whatever happened to my mountains… Well, they’re about to happen to your shitty forest.” 

Dazai’s heart plummeted in his chest. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched as he remembered the events of hundreds of years ago. When Chuuya dared to cross the Gods as he was doing now. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Dazai said, turning away from the tengu. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Dazai!” 

Dazai didn’t make mistakes. He was a kitsune. He was illustrious, all-knowing. He knew the forest and the humans he watched over. Dazai was… 

Dazai was about to lose you. 

The trees careening above his shrine creaked and ached as the pursuers approached. He could hear your breath from inside his shrine walls. You resided in the heart of the room and with that, he ensured your safety. Just as he landed above the rooftop, the trees fell to the ground with a thundering crash, completely blocking the assailants. 

Your name fell from his mouth as he dove into the shrine. It was dark inside. Blood reeked from the walls and he felt his mouth go dry. Another call of your name was what seemed to alert you. A movement from the shadows caught his eye and he darted towards it. 

“Dazai…?” 

You were laying on your side. He could hear your breath in the wind and his ears perked. His tail rose as he drew near. His arms enveloped you tightly, cradling your head with gentle hands.

This was the first time he was holding you like this. He prayed it wouldn’t be the last. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Silence creeping into the shrine you so lovingly cleaned and cherished. This was your meeting place. The shrine that had brought you together. And yet, only Dazai knew the truth. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly, reaching up to grasp his sleeve. 

“Don’t say anything. Just… You’re going to be fine.”

As he lifted you, a muffled scream escaped your lips. You clutched his kimono with white-knuckled fingers. Dazai’s eyes widened. He could feel blood--your blood--against his fingertips and it made the fur on his tail stand. 

“Where is it…?” he said, rummaging through your layers of clothing to search your skin, “What happened? Tell me!” 

“My back,” you groaned, letting out a hiss through your teeth as he moved you again. His eyes widened as he noticed the protruding arrow lodged into your back. Blood seeped from the wound and drenched his kimono. Trembling hands caressed the arrow before going back to cup your face. 

He could see it.

The evaporation that had struck the lives of humans he had met throughout the many years of his existence. 

The way the light faded from their eyes and was replaced with nothingness. 

He called your name with shaky lips. “Don’t leave. Don’t go,” he whispered, “Who will clean my shrine? Who will make me those crab legs?” He pulled his lips into a tight smile. “Come on… You humans are so delicate, you know. You’ll be fine, right?”

Your voice came out with the same adoration he was so familiar with. 

“So you’re the deity that’s been taking care of me…” 

Dazai didn’t question, didn’t know, didn’t understand, but this time he could do nothing. Nothing except watch you evaporate from this mortal plane. When your hand went limp and he could no longer hear the sound of your heart, or the softness of your breath, Dazai felt as though he had been shot in the head. 

Taglist: @todorokichills @alittlesimp @greenshirtimaginesii @darlinqserenity @nameless-shrimp @whorefordazai @requiem626k @kruven @nonsense-corner @kiyokoxd @jessbeinme15 @starglow-xx @shadyteacup @scul-pted @kuraxmasha @yochicoz @pompompurin1028 @swrdemon @life-sus @foolishestchildofchilds @fyodorscello @kur0-kawa @planetxiao @dazaiaiko @chuuyasboots @ruthdied @allisonlol @questioningmyownexistence @sebtomm @nullified-kiss @nathansside @cuteflowers-101 @sigmafied @boombboi @scarletta-ruan @skgch @daz8i @httpsobi @dazaiscum @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @dazaisfavgf @alice0blog @irethepotato @vinyicryes @monastary @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @disa-ster @mastering-procrastinating @wonpielle

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #05 - Stamp

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #5 - Stamp

Briar tilted his head as he watched Vy'thanis spread a clean cloth on his workbench and check a few tools. The half-Elezen was a little puzzled by the Duskwight giving him a slightly nervous look, even as the tall man smiled at him. Briar could practically sense the tension and it made him nervous as well. With a soft hum, he pulled his legs up to crisscross as he settled on the couch, just watching the jeweller.

Briar had never had much chance to see someone work with gems or the finer metals. Goldsmiths and jewellers were uncommon in the Shroud, although woodcarvers could make some beautiful things. Briar had heard once upon a time Gelmorra had been full of skilled artisans who worked with ores and stones to make beautiful things, but it seemed that had been taken from the Duskwights along with many things. Was that perhaps why Vy'thanis seemed a little uneasy? Briar could only hope it was a force of habit and not a true fear that he would betray Vy'thanis. That was not something he would ever do.

Still, he didn't want to rush the other so Briar sat quietly, other than brushing his red bangs back so he could see more clearly. He watched as Vy'thanis took a deep breath, gave him a quick smile and picked up what seemed to be a very plain and ordinary small stone, at least in Briar's eyes. He waited to see what tool the Duskwight would use, but he didn't expect the subtle thrum of aether to fill the room. Briar's ears perked sharply and he straightened in surprise, head tipping to one side again.

Vy'thanis gave him another smile, a knowing one this time, as he cupped the stone between his palms. The feel of magic in the air grew more intense as Vy'thanis rubbed his palms slowly over the dull stone and revealed a sudden myriad of colours. Even the brown was polished to something that gleamed like the finest polished wood but was mixed with spots and stripes of blues, greens, reds, and golds as if a rainbow captured inside it.

The Duskwight smiled as he murmured to himself, lost in his work to Briar's eyes. "So, what do you wish to be, hmm?"

Vy'thanis turned the stone over, smoothing away rough spots with a touch as he considered it closely. Coming to a decision, the jeweller nodded. He touched the stone, shaping it with magic and touch. He didn't change it over much, perhaps not wishing to remove the stone's natural beauty. He coaxed it into a shape similar to an arrowhead, although softened so the edges would not harm the wearer. A little hole appeared at the wider base of the stone and then Vy'thanis ran his hands over it for a final smoothing polish to make a simple, but striking pendant.

"There," the Duskwight said, his deep voice full of pleasure. "Beautiful."

"It is," Briar said quietly, finally speaking as he gave Vy'thanis a look of quiet awe. "What is it? I mean, I see it is in the shape of an arrowhead, but what stone is that?"

"Mmm, most call it 'boulder opal'," he explained. "It's opal found in iron-heavy stones deep in the earth. Rather rare and very beautiful."

"It is," Briar agreed, looking at the pendant. He blinked when Vy'thanis pointedly offered it to him, taking it carefully. He had worried it might be fragile given the delicate play of colour, but the stone was solid and warm in his palms as he cupped it. He turned it back and forth in the light, fascinated by the way the colours gleamed and changed with each movement.

"You should keep it," Vy'thanis said, relaxed now that Briar's response had been nothing worse than admiration and wonder. He hadn't truly expected a greedy response, but people had surprised him before. Still, given Briar's innocent reactions, the Duskwight couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for such worries.

"What?!" Briar looked up, fingers curling around the stone instinctively so he didn't drop it in surprise. "Vyth, I couldn't. It must be terribly valuable."

Vy'thanis waved away the worries. "I have several others that I will work on later. I think this one was meant for you. Here." He took a moment to look through his supplies and a bronze bale with a matching chain. "Here, let me see a moment."

Briar obediently handed the pendant back to watch the Duskwight work again. A little whisper of magic had the bale opened and through the pendant's hole, melded together again in a moment. Vy'thanis threaded the delicate chain through the bale, nodding. The burnished bronze suited the deep browns of the opal well and he leaned closer to Briar. The half-Elezen blushed but didn't move as Vy'thanis measured the chain. A few moments had it just the right length to slip over Briar's head and rest a little below his collarbones.

The opal gleamed, warm and solid against his chest as Briar touched it reverently looking up at the Duskwight again. "It's wonderful."

"It suits you," Vy'thanis murmured before perking. "Ah, before I forget. The last thing for an artisan. Well, at least one that works in jewellery," he chuckled. He turned the pendant so the slightly flatter back was toward the Duskwight. He brushed his fingers over it and his stamp appeared as if carved into the stone. "Every skilled master has his mark."

Briar smiled as Vy'thanis stepped back, picking up and turning the pendant so he could study the stamp. He ran his thumb over it slowly, feeling the delicate lines etched into the stone. "I like that," he said softly. "I can touch it and remember that you made it. For me. Thank you, Vyth."

Vy'thanis was still a moment, eyebrows raised before he blushed a little and smiled. "You're very welcome, Briar."

The lovely Vy'thanis belongs to @vythanis/ @valdiis .

[arachnidamoon]

Ok may I shall make request,

It’s basically a fluffy hyperfixation I had that I wish to make true but I am no writer sooooooo-

Plz?

Request: Do you do muzan stuff I hope you do- ok ok listen, muzan finding a child (y/n) in the middle of the woods and some how fell in love with the sweetheart, like loves us so much he will literally have the upper moons be body guards for this little human child-

And when I mean fell in love I mean platonically- I hope this is good- you can change whatever you want, your the writer!

Yes, I love the idea! So cute! Also, I'm weak for anything related to Muzan or the Upper Moons.

I tried my best to fit everything into one story, but I hope you like it 🥺!

Adoption (Muzan + Upper Moons + Child! Gn! Reader)

"You will look after my child until I get back."

Muzan glared at the Upper Moons as he made his order clear. His gaze only softened when he glanced at (Name)’s sleepy form in his arms. Muzan brushed a strand of hair out of their face, admiring how adorable they were. He would never admit that out loud, though. At least not in front of his subordinates.

"Not even an ounce of harm should come to (Name), so make sure you attend them correctly."

Muzan had to leave to investigate a lead that could bring him to finally find what he had long been searching for: the Blue Spider Lily. That led to a problem: he had to find someone to take care of (Name). A frown appeared on his face because, in all honesty, he didn’t want to leave his child with the Upper Moons. (Name) was human. Fragile. His subordinates, some more than others, could be a menace to the safeness of the little one.

He had no other option, though. They were the only ones strong enough to protect (Name). Muzan rubbed his temples, trying to calm down. The memories of when he found (Name) were still engraved in his mind.

——————————————————————————

The demon lord was walking around the forest, trying to find some sort of information about the whereabouts of the Blue Spider Lily. It had been snowing since the morning, making walking around the area at night difficult. Even for him. Still, he wasn’t going to let any sort of valuable information go to waste without checking it first.

Like always, it was useless information. His face turned to one of pure anger as he hit the nearest tree, which made some fragments of snow fell on top of him. Muzan brushed it off his clothes, his red eyes narrowing. He only cared about one thing right now: his and his subordinates' constant failures to find the flower he desired so much. And that was the sole reason behind his anger.

He was about to leave when a mumbled crying noise got his attention. A child. A small one, too. Muzan got closer, trying to see what was going on. And he found (Name). The human child was covered in snow, sobbing, shaking, and trying to warm up. They were quite young—around four years old. As soon as their eyes met, they stopped crying.

"Dada!"

The child wrapped their tiny arms around his leg, their (e/c) eyes fully focused on the man in front of them. Muzan wasn’t the type to feel sympathy for anyone, but his cold heart slightly melted as the human child called him father. He decided to pick them up, wrapping his arms around (Name). Muzan tried to warm the child's body, his free hand cleaning the snow off their shoulders and hair. It wasn't long until he heard a grumble from the little one's stomach.

"Let’s get you something to eat."

——————————————————————————

Now, Muzan had fully adopted (Name) as his child. All the demons knew about it since he told them. They also remembered that meeting very well. His announcement included two things: a phrase about adopting (Name) and some threats. Just in case someone decided to hurt his child.

Muzan stopped recalling the past. He had things to do. So, he finally tucked (Name) in their bed, leaning in to kiss their forehead. After that, he sat on the edge of their bed, giving instructions to his subordinates. (Name) kept peacefully sleeping the whole time, unaware of what her father was still talking about with the Upper Moons.

"If (Name) has even the slightest complain about any of you, be sure you’ll never live to see another day."

After the threat, Muzan promised himself to go back home quickly. He would check if the information was authentic, and he would return. After all, he never fully trusted the Upper Moons. Muzan put his hat on, staring at the door of (Name)'s bedroom. His eyes met a drawing (Name) had made of them, making him smile for a mere second. Then he left.

——————————————————————————

The time (Name) was able to share with the Upper Moons went by without incident. All of them acted in different ways, but the demons grew to adore the little human child.

Kokushibo acted like a guardian, not allowing anyone to hurt (Name). The Upper One was once on a walk at night with the child. As soon as they kept walking, a group of kids slightly older than (Name) crashed into them, making the little one fall to the ground. The situation didn’t end well. At first, Kokushibo asked several times for them to apologize. When they didn't, he didn’t hesitate to unsheathe his katana. A warning look in his six eyes.

"I’ll not repeat myself anymore. Apologize to (Name)-sama or face the consequences."

The kids were quick to bow now, apologizing to (Name). Once they finished, they flew away with pale faces filled with cold sweat. (Name) turned to Kokushibo, thanking him. Their eyes glinted with admiration, and their adorable smile was back on their faces.

"Whoa, you are amazing! Dad has such a strong warrior by his side!"

Kokushibo couldn’t help but crack a slight smile as the child praised him, picking them up in his arms as they carried the child back to Muzan’s house.

Douma loved playing with (Name). He was the most outgoing and affectionate of them. The Upper Two liked to make sure the little one was happy and entertained. He bought (Name) toys, tickled them, read them stories before they went to bed, and even took them to the Eternal Paradise Faith. His followers whispered and looked at the child with confusion, unable to fathom where they came from. Still, they treated (Name) with the uttermost respect. After all, their Lord Founder's guests were their guests too.

"(Name)-sama, look! I made an ice sculpture of you! Isn’t it cute?" The Upper Moon placed a small sculpture on the child's hands, signaling them to look closely at it. An excited expression in the Upper Two features.

"It is! Is super cute!" (Name)'s bright smile as they admired their present was contagious, which made Douma smile back at them.

Much like Kokushibo, Akaza was like a guardian for the little one. He was always around the kid as much as he could, trying to avoid other demons from hurting (Name). Akaza always stayed by their side as they slept, alert to any sound. One of those nights, Douma tried to enter (Name)’s room to sleep by their side, wanting to give affection to the child.

"(Name)-sama is sleeping. Get lost." With that, Akaza closed the door in Douma’s face, not allowing the Upper Two to even speak before doing so.

Hantengu used his clones around (Name) since they were able to take better care of the child than him. Sekido was the scariest one for (Name). Not only because he acted like an authoritative figure but also because of how easily he got angry. Patience was not his strong suit, but luckily Aizetsu was always by their side to calm Sekido down. Meanwhile, Urogi and Karaku cracked jokes around (Name), wanting to make them laugh. Urogi also loved taking (Name) in his arms as he was flying, always making the kids' eyes widen in amazement. Their little hands held onto him as they giggled.

"More, please!" (Name) always begged when Urogi landed, wanting to experience that again.

Gyokko spent his time with (Name) doing more creative activities. He taught the child how to paint and draw, although only the basics. (Name) loved his explanations, admiring his work as he taught them. The child got closer to the vase he was painting, and when he was about to tell them to step back because of how easily it could break, (Name) said something.

"Your work is so pretty!" That was such an ego boost for Upper Five that he even allowed the child to paint one of his vases.

Daki was the most reluctant to bond with (Name) at first. She didn’t want to interact with the human that now had Muzan’s full attention, not understanding what was so special about them. Still, she was unable to avoid the kid when, one day, they grabbed her leg, giving her puppy eyes and the most adorable look she had ever seen. The Upper Six melted, hugging the child.

"I’ll be your older sister from now on!"

Since then, Daki started pampering (Name) a lot. She bought them cute, expensive clothes. She made sure (Name)'s outfits were always up-to-date with the latest trends. Daki would brush the child's hair, loving to see how shiny it got each time she brushed it. When Gyutaro was out too, they went out for walks or even to food stalls

All of this led the Upper Moons to want to spend more time with (Name), becoming both attached and protective of the little one.

But soon, Muzan came back. The demon lord was quick to snatch his child away from them.

"Your work here is done."

The Upper Moons were all devastated when Muzan told them that. Some showed it more than others. Daki was even about to whine, but then (Name) spoke.

"Dad, I want to see them more often. Please."

(Name) begged, not wanting to say goodbye to the Upper Moons. Muzan sighed, but he ended up agreeing. He would go to any lengths for (Name), after all.

[novelcain]

So about mafia! SWK, I seriously cannot get it out of my mind that whilst the golden cudgel is an accessory, Wukong still uses it when shit gets real and he gets real pissed. Like,,, sure it's modern times and he uses guns since killing with them is quick, easy, and mostly clean,,,, but there are certain occasions that need a point to be made.

So imagine, Wukong falling for florist/baker! reader and they're already courting,,, somehow that information is leaked. A rival mafia, maybe one that's small enough to be disregarded/fly under his radar, or maybe one that's in alliance with him but hates his guts,, kidnaps the reader and holds her hostage to gain leverage against him.

Now, here's a reason why Sun Wukong isn't just the Monkey King, but also the king of the entire underground crime scene.

But maybe people have forgotten that fact and this little rule he has, it's been a couple centuries after all.

You don't mess with him.

And if you do, well, you're gonna wish he used his guns instead.

BFCAODBEQBELNQ SHUT UP! SHUT UP! EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP! <-me yelling at the voices in my head I LOVE LITERALLY EVERY SECOND OF THIS

I absolutely LOVE violently protective bitches so this really made my brain go brrrr

CW for descriptions of violence, gore, and torture below!!

I just imagine him learning that the little baker he's been smitten with has been kidnapped by a small up and coming gang with dreams of toppling the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and taking the place of his gang. And that just won't fucking do.

It would seem that in the past hundred years that he's been mostly under the radar people have become rather bold. They seem to think that he's gone soft. That he's become weak. Well, he supposed they needed a little... reminder of just who the fuck he is.

"P—" sob "P-Please! Just l-let us go! Y-You'll never hear from us again. I swear!"

The ginger monkey demon raised a single gloved claw and the men and women beating the three demon leaders stopped and took a few steps back to allow the Dragonhead room to speak.

"Ooooohoho, you've really done it now~," Macaque chuckled from his spot in the corner without looking up from the game on his phone.

There was a moment of silence across the room as Wukong gently ran his ungloved fingers through your hair while you were passed out in his lap. By the time his gang had gotten there, you had been beaten to unconsciousness. Luckily, the damage wasn't too bad but you'd certainly have a few cuts and bruises—along with a nasty black eye—for a couple weeks.

"Humans are so... fragile," the Monkey King spoke in a soft voice while not taking his golden eyes off of your limp form for even a second. "I learned this a long long time ago. And because of this knowledge, I'm careful about which buttons to push and how hard to push them. Because like I said. Humans are very fragile. And if you push them too hard or too fast... they break."

Wukong carefully shifted so he could lift you bridal style without jostling you before carefully handing you to his adoptive son, MK. The young man immediately took you and left the room to get you somewhere safe to be healed.

The Great Sage reached into his pocket to put his other glove back on and watched as his heir left with you in tow before turning his attention back to the morons who dared cross him.

"But you wanna know something else I learned a long time ago?"

He approached the three demons. Looking down his nose at them while removing the cudgel from his earing.

"Everyone's fragile when compared to me."

With that being said, his staff grew to its normal length and slammed down onto the leg of the leader's righthand man, completely severing it at the knee. The weasel demon shrieked in agony as his companions looked on in horror.

Wukong then effortlessly lifted his staff and struck the demon in the head, instantly ending its misery. The other two flinched back as much as their current injuries would allow and the Dragonhead could see them both trying to grasp the concept that their friend was simply dead now.

The Monkey King flicked his staff to dispose of the some of the blood marring its surface and watched with malevolence as it splattered across the faces of the remaining two leaders.

Wukong then turned his attention to the Dragonhead of the small gang and merely lifted the cudgel and let it drop onto his skull, cutting off his scream and nearly splitting him in two down the middle.

The last executive was now openly ugly sobbing at the viscera of his fallen friends and Wukong just propped himself onto his staff and watched until the man calmed down enough for him to speak.

"Now," the Great Sage paused as he slowly shifted down into a crouch like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey, "You're probably wondering why you're the last one left."

Wukong pressed his cheek to the side of his staff as though this were a normal conversation as he waited for the other to quit sniveling and respond and once the tiger demon finally could he asked, "B-Because you're going to let me g-go?"

Wukong threw his head back as he let out a loud barking laugh. "Wow. You guys really didn't know who you were fucking with did you?" He menacingly leaned closer and the others in the room maliciously giggled at ignorance of the executive. "Allow me to enlighten you."

The monkey fiend flicked his wrist once more but this time to balance his staff on a single claw as though the mighty pillar weighed nothing more to him than a pencil.

"I am the Monkey King."

He spun the staff.

"I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven."

He spun the staff again.

"I am THE Sun Wukong."

He let the staff fall into the palm of his leather clad hand.

"And I don't. Leave. Witnesses. I leave bodies."

The tiger demon whimpered as Wukong casually pointed the golden end of the cudgel at his chest and there was a tense moment of silence between them before Wukong pulled the staff back to him so he could lean on it once more as if nothing had happened.

"Guess again."

"I-I don't know! I swear I d-don't! H-He was the head of our gang, n-not me!" He nodded to the now deceased lion demon. "It was his decision to go after your girl!"

Wukong sighed and ran his free hand down his face. "You think I didn't know that? Ugh!" He sighed once more. "What did I expect from someone stupid enough to try and take me down," he asked himself before returning his focus to the tiger demon. "Fine. I'll make it easier for you and ask you one last question... Whose idea was it to go after my girl?"

The tiger demon's eye's widened as Wukong's golden one's narrowed. "N—" he gulped "No. You're... mistaken."

"Oh, really!?" A six eared grinning shadow poked out of the wall beside his head, peering down at the tiger in challenge.

"I—. I—."

"You—! You—!" Macaque mocked the shivering gangster. "You should just shut your mouth if you're gonna lie. I hear everything~."

Macaque's shadow then sunk back into the wall with a laugh and he stepped out back where had been previously, except this time without his phone, so he could watch the show that was about to unfold.

Wukong hummed in false contemplation before he once more held the staff over the tiger, but this time the tip of the iron rod hovered over the demon's leg. Right over the center of his thigh.

"Ya know... I understand that my stories aren't as widespread as they used to be. But—" he paused to chuckle "you'd think that if someone were to try coming after me! Then they'd at least read a fucking book, so they could grasp the kind of power I have at my disposal. For example!" The monkey tossed the staff a few feet in the air and letting it spin a couple times before flawlessly catching it just before it made contact with the tiger's leg, making the fiend flinch. "Did you know that this staff of mine roughly weighs a little over eight tons? Do you have any idea the kind of damage something like this would do from simply falling on you?"

He glanced to the crumpled remains of the tiger's leaders and the tiger's gaze followed.

"That's why I did that. To give you a taste of what's to come for you."

And with that, Wukong slowly let the staff slip down and watched in sickening glee as it sunk into the tiger's flesh like butter.

Holy shit this ended up way fucking longer than I meant for it to be but dats fine it just kinda took a hot minute lol

[twyftwyt]

MASTERPOST

When @noah-seb-omens tagged me in a ski mask post and suggested I write a prompt about a masked Noah, I knew I had to take this seriously, but I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted it to be a one time story or a slow burn kind of a moment. And then I remembered that if anything, I am a tease and I cannot just give everything away the first time. So with the possibility to leave you frustrated at the end of this, I give you “The Prey and the Hunter”. You have @noah-seb-omens to thank for urging me to write this and you are always welcome in my inbox with feedback and suggestions. Enjoy, my dear feral friends.

Yours truly,

🦦

a little disclaimer: this is going to be R-rated so if you do not wish to get down and dirty, please scroll away; this part is pretty clean but there are still suggestions of dom/sub relationship and restraining;

The Prey and the Hunter

Chapter 1

She shines

in a world full of ugliness

She matters

when everything is meaningless…

I could hear him whistling to himself, something slow and seductive. I tried to judge his distance from me, it sounded like he might be in the kitchen but I couldn’t be sure.

I tried to shift my weight in the chair I was sitting in but the cuff on my wrist dug into my skin. I wasn’t really sure how long I had been here. The silence and stillness in the darkness of the room all but removed my sense of anything. I only had my hearing to go on. My heart was pounding in my ears and I tried to lick my lips nervously, but the cloth between my teeth prevented me. I talked myself into slow, steady breaths through my nose to calm myself down. The cool, hard back of the chair lined against my spine. My wrists were cuffed behind it, keeping my posture absolutely perfect. I could tell by the weight and sharpness that the cuffs were metal. And they weren’t loose. They locked in tight enough to make any kind of rotation of my wrists almost impossible. And when possible - very painful. My knees were spread and when I tried to adjust my position, I felt the restraints holding them in place against the legs of the chair. My entire body was immobile.

Fragile

She doesn’t see her beauty

She tries to get away

Sometimes..

Noah’s whistle seemed somewhere further away now, completely carefree. Teasing. I blinked behind the darkness and bowed my head. Not in defeat but to rather gather myself from the sensory deprivation he brought on me. As much as I tried to calm myself, my heart deceived me and pounded furiously beneath the black bra I wore. What a picture this must be. Bound, gagged and blindfolded to a chair in nothing but thigh high stockings, a skimpy pair of panties and a bra. I started to smile behind my gag but heard his footsteps coming closer and quickly regained my composure.

I could feel him near me. Smell him. He stood still, not making a sound. I heard something creak and felt his feet rest on the chair between my knees. He must be sitting on the table in front of me. I kept my chin down, towards my chest, letting my hair curtain my face. I could sense his eyes on me but he never spoke, never moved. I jumped slightly when the tip of his finger touched the top of my thigh and softly traced a line to my knee. I heard him hop off the table and then he was gone again. When his moist, hot breath brushed against my ear I shot my head up. I never heard him come up behind me and the shock of his low voice scared me.

“I’ll take the gag off now, but you have to promise to be silent.” his voice was deep, his tone firm. I nodded once to show that I understood and I felt his fingers work the knot behind my head, the fabric fell away and landed on my lap. Quickly, I licked my lips, rewetting them after so long of being dry. Whistling to himself again, he circled around me before kneeling on the floor between my knees. His fingertips reached out and lifted my head up. His thumb rubbed across my bottom lip and I subconsciously parted my lips slightly.

“Eager, are we?” his voice was barely above a whisper and just as my lips started to form a response, I remembered to be silent. The heat of his body as he leaned in closer to me bounced off my electrified skin and I sucked in my breath, holding it, waiting for his next move.

“You look beautiful when you’re helpless.” his lips a hair from my own as he spoke. Lazily he dragged his fingertip down my throat and between my breasts. Softly he pressed his mouth to mine, kissing me quickly. I heard him lean back, away from me but I could still sense him in front of me. I could feel his eyes taking in my body. His hands reached out and grabbed my hips, his nails digging into my skin. When he raked them down the insides of my thighs I arched my back instinctively. I knew he could play this game for hours, but I wanted him to give in. It was worse when he leaned forward and left a trail of wet kisses across the top of my thigh. I could feel the thick fabric of what felt like something covering the space around his mouth. My head instantly went there. It must have been the ski mask. He was wearing the ski mask. And he wanted me to feel it. To know that this is not just another day of the prey and the hunter, but rather a much darker, infused with torture evening. I wanted to reach and grab his head and guide it where I wanted it most. He picked up his head from my lap placed a feathery kiss on top of each of my breasts before moving up further to sharply bite at my collar bone. I moaned softly as his teeth dug into my flesh, unable to help myself.

As he dragged his lips across my chest to bite the other side of my collar bone, he murmured against my skin, “You aren’t being silent”

Again, his teeth bore down into my skin and his tongue flicked over the indents I’m sure he left behind.

He moved away and again I was alone. The bit he left throbbed in time to my heartbeat. I heard a phone ring in the distance. Once.. twice…three times and then silence. His shoes kept a muted beat against the marble floor as he walked, this time humming to himself. I strained to hear him, where in the house he was, what he was doing. His humming sounded further away and then slowly came closer and closer until he was in the same room as me again. Just as his nearness, my body responded. My breath quickened slightly, the tiny hairs on my arms stood on end. I swallowed hard, keeping my chin down but cocking my head to the side as if trying to pinpoint his exact location in the room. He was behind me, that much I knew, but he had fallen silent. The clang of keys on a tabletop, followed by what sounded like a pocketful of random change brought me from my thoughts and I listened carefully.

A boot dropped to the floor, followed by the second one. The sound of a zipper right behind my head made my stomach flip-flop and I let my tongue dart my lips in anticipation. I knew he wasn’t going to give in to me already, the game was about anticipation and fear and he played it like a master. Conducting his own symphony and gloating to himself as every reaction he evoked from me, came to him almost effortlessly. His calloused hand touched my hair, twisting a lock between his two fingers playfully. I could see his face, clear as day, in my mind, the expression I have seen countless times before. But I knew this time was different. I had asked him, jokingly, to put on the mask a few times while we were fooling around or going at it, but he always shrugged it off with “this needs preparation” or “you’re not ready for that yet”. Seems I had finally been deemed worthy. I squirmed against the wooden chair, foolishly, but unable to sit anymore. Immediately his fingers twisted a handful of my hair into his fist and I readied myself, the sound of my sharp intake of breath seemingly much louder than it was in the silent room. My head yanked back, not hard, but hard enough to understand his intentions. I was nothing but prey to him in this very moment. A toy to toss around in his hands until he fell bored of it. And I was more than willing to play the part.

“Do you trust me?” his voice became more of a growl, one I knew and yearned for, animalistic. I could hear him gritting his teeth through his words. I nodded my head yes as best as I could and forced myself to take short, shallow breaths. His fingers cut off my airway enough to prevent a full lungful

of air. I had to trust him otherwise I would panic and if I panicked the game would be over. And it was my first time playing with that Noah. With that animalistic side of him that I saw awoke only during shows and at his most feral and primal moments. And I was ready to take whatever he had to offer. And I knew I was either going to be begging for it or running away from it just fast enough for him to catch me and make me cry for it.