#you are NOT until dawn!! how dare you stand where he stood!!!

[alfairy]

The movie “adaptation” having the audacity to use the games logo when it apparently isn’t even remotely related to the actual game itself is making me lose it lmao

[laurasimonsdaughter]

A farrier and her son were closing down the forge late at night, when the sound of hooves approached from up the road. They looked out across the yard and watched, with growing discomfort, how a hooded figure on a blood bay horse came riding towards them. Steed and rider halted at the gate, and the farrier hesitantly lifted her hand as the stranger spoke, in a voice as searing as fire:

“I am expected in the next town and my horse needs shodding.”

Neither master nor apprentice dared to lift up their eyes.

“Yes, sir,” the farrier answered and the figure dismounted.

The bay was a formidable animal, but it followed its master’s orders. The farrier worked the metal while her son worked the forge and she shaped the horseshoes exactly to the horse’s feet. But when it came to the shoeing, the nails that her son put in her hand were barely half the length of what was needed. She held them, and hesitated, and nailed the irons in place.

“What is your fee?” the stranger asked, once more taking the reigns of his steed.

“No fee, my lord,” the farrier replied. “An honour to serve you.”

The hooded rider went away and mother and son stayed behind, too frightened to speak. But barely had they gathered their courage and turned their backs to the road, or a second rider approached them.

He too was hooded, and his horse was black as night.

“One of my fellows went before me and I follow where he goes,” the rider spoke with a voice as dry as the cracked earth. “But my horse needs shodding.”

Once again the farrier worked the metal while her son worked the forge, one again she affixed the horseshoes with nails too short by half. She would take no fee for their labour, and the stranger rode off into the night.

No sooner had the sound of pounding hooves faded from their hearing, or a third set of hooves could be heard coming nearer.

This rider rode a white horse and his words dripped with the thickness of his voice.

“My horse needs shodding, for two of my fellows have gone before me and where they go I am close at hand.”

Barely a word was spoken. They shod the stranger's horse exactly like the others, and watched him gallop away. Then the farrier took her son’s hand, stood in the yard, and waited.

Slowly, at a steady pace, a fourth figure came down the road and halted at their gate. His hood and cloak were black, he carried a scythe at his side, and sat astride a pale horse.

“Three of my fellows have gone down this road, and whatever their destination they choose must be my own. If I am to go where they are going, my horse will need shoeing.”

“Of course, sir,” the farrier replied, but her son spoke up:

“But must you?”

The figure bowed his cowled head and cosigned his horse to the farrier’s care.

Again she carefully trimmed the hooves, again she expertly shaped the horseshoes, but when her son handed her the nails she shook her head. He faltered and she shook her head again. He gave her the proper nails and they finished their work.

“Thank you,” the stranger nodded. “What is your fee?”

“Whatever you deem our services are worth, my lord.”

The stranger held his horse by the reigns and for a long time he looked thoughtfully down the road where the three had gone before him. Then he looked at the mother and son, standing stiffly side by side.

He held out a thin hand and gave them each a single coin, one just like the other, before mounting his horse, and turning back in the direction from which he had come, riding at the same unhurried pace.

The farrier and her son watched him until he was out of sight and out of hearing. They stood there, until dawn broke, and the dark was chased away. Only then did they did they dare to lock the gate and go to the house, where the rest of family still slept soundly.

The two coins were placed in salt and buried underneath the doorstep. And for as long as that house stood, no one who was born under its roof was carried out of it before their time.

[slytherinslut0]

lorenzo berkshire • run.

summary: how do you define the man who embodies contradiction? a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare?

after some pushing, you realize you’ve always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. and perhaps, you also realize, he’s the most dangerous kind of all.

word count: 5.9k

warnings: forced proximity trope, SMUT, multiple orgasm, teasing, PIV, fingering, a chase through the forest, jealousy (slight weaponizing of mattheo), established boundaries entirely consensual, dark!enzoberkshire (meh), left the door open for a part two considering i never elaborate on where they’re going.

Lorenzo Berkshire. He is what he is, until he isn't.

Growing up, you always held your perceptions of Berkshire close. A sweet boy with a puppy dog stare, eyes like liquid amber holding the gentle warmth of a summer's dawn. Innocent lad with a cheeky smile that radiated like sunlight on a dew-kissed meadow--simply too damn nice for his own good. A walking ray of sunshine, wouldn't harm a fly with a feather.

He was what he was, until he wasn't.

You're not entirely certain when the switch flipped, when he chose to reveal his true self to the school and no longer cared to conceal it. You suspect it was around fifth year, perhaps during one of the winter months. You recall hearing it before seeing it, albeit faintly—the rush of footsteps, the sound of flesh meeting stone, the sickening thud of fist against face.

And when your eyes finally caught up to your ears, you recall yourself silently thanking the stars for the gracious gift of karma, and you'll never forget the silent exchange you shared with Berkshire as he was finally pulled, nay dragged, up and away from your cheating, scumbag ex.

He is what he is, until he isn't.

From this, the question still stood to linger: what precisely is Lorenzo Berkshire? These days, if anyone is to know, it should be you. You've spent ample time in close quarters with him, enough to dare attempt an answer. Moments etched in memory, his breath warm against your neck, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin, his lips mapping the crease of your thighs; among others. You suspect that, more than anyone else, you could provide a solid insight into the truth of this enigmatic man.

And yet, the answer eludes description.

How does one configure the blueprint of a man who embodies contradiction—a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare? He defies categorization, existing at the intersection of light and shadow, warmth and danger, innocence and intensity.

Understanding Lorenzo Berkshire, in his entirety, would mean subjecting yourself to the dualities of his nature—standing in both the path of his aggression and the shelter of his protection. It necessitates penetrating beneath his skin to fathom the intricacies of his design and ascending above to attain a panoramic view.

It entails becoming his adversary before earning the privilege of his friendship, which is precisely where you falter—because how do you become an enemy to a man who's already been silently protecting you for years? Who not only touches but worships you with reverence? Who smiles like sin as he kneels before your altar? Who, despite any provocation that may test his patience, has never and would never suggest severing ties?

Perhaps, you decide, the closest you can get is by first figuring out how to get under his skin.

——

"Enz," the word's a hiss, slipping through breathless cords. "You're moving too fast."

Enzo's response is terse, a nod accompanied by a faint smirk that dances across his lips before he continues on, unabated.

"Noted." The word carries zero sincerity.

You fight a groan, frustration simmering beneath your skin. Yes, you anticipated his lacklustre response, yet it did little to quell the mounting annoyance within you, creeping toward heights of Everest.

"Enz--where are we even going?"

It's pathetic really, your vocal inflection. A half-assed plea for a response you know you won't receive. He must detect it too, for all he offers in acknowledgment is a dry chuckle, effortlessly shoving a branch aside as he ducks beneath it. You groan, audibly this time, the chill wind cutting through you like a knife.

"Enzo," you beseech him, again, your voice a breeze lost in the vastness of the night, "please just slow your pace...talk to m-"

With clear reluctance Enzo pauses, abruptly, as though someone poured cement into his shoes. He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness like a beacon--brief and pulsing. You hardly have time to meet his eyes before he's moving again.

"We can't afford to slow down," is all he offers as he resumes his long strides. "Not now."

The urge to strangle him swells within you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your sanity whole. How you curse the moment you offered to accompany him on this perilous journey. How you yearn to be back in the safety of your bed, cocooned in the warmth of the castle walls, far from the chaos that ensues when you entangle yourself with Slytherin boys and their penchant for trouble. Yet here you are, a prisoner of your own folly. By this point you're certain you'll never learn.

You huff your frustration. "Gods, Enzo."

Without giving him time to deflect, you quicken your steps and reach out, grasping his wrist, instantly acknowledging the tension in his skin beneath your touch. Then, in an instant, two eyes the colour of burnt honey pivot to lock onto yours, and you see it--that ferocity. Bees buzzing with anger at the sight of their spoil. It's there. It's always there.

He is what he is--

"We've been walking for fucking ever." As you exhale, the air swallows your breath. "I'm not going to help you if you won't reason with me. If you don't tell me where the hell we're going."

"Your word was given, angel," it's short, cautiously curt, but it's enough. His tone a velvet glove masking the steel beneath. "Wasn't it?"

"My word was given, but it was also contingent on trust." You survey your surroundings. Trees, bush, and Merlin knows what else. Your shoulders slouch. "And right now, that's in short supply."

He blinks, eyes floating up and over your head, a glimpse as fleeting as twilight, before returning to meet your own. You see it again, swirling in his irises, though it's softened slightly by something you perceive as guilt. The winds howl, sucking air thin as the tension thickens, congealing in your throat.

"You know I'd never endanger you."

--until he isn't.

There's a waver in your gaze, torn between the desire to hold his sight and the temptation to descend on his lips. You don't miss the purity in his tone, a sweetness that saturates the honey in his eyes and leaves nothing but pure sugar lingering on your tongue. So saccharine it makes your teeth ache, yet you find yourself craving more.

At any other moment, you'd believe him. Now, far within the depths of the forbidden forest, the circumstances allude it.

"You doubt me," his voice cuts through the silence like a blade through silk. He couldn't miss your hesitation in a dream. You feel his skin turn to ice beneath your touch. "Since when?"

Doubting Enzo feels foreign, a betrayal of self. It's no secret that the man is troublesome, usually up to no good--but you've always known, even as his teeth graze your pulse and his hands encircle your throat, that the last thing he'd ever do is hurt you. This isn't your character. Tonight's different, and you know he senses it.

"Since you started coming out here in the middle of the night," your voice is a whisper, releasing his wrist before you could feel the inevitable leap of his pulse. "Since I had to bribe Mattheo with damn near half my worth to get him to tell me why."

One thing for certain about Lorenzo Berkshire, it's that he should come with a warning. A word of advice not to be deceived by his soft appearance. All puppy cuddles with sharply fangs oozing venom. A caution to approach with the wariness reserved for handling hazardous materials. An infomercial on how his embrace is as deceiving as it is lethal, a trap set with a smile and an eager wag of the tail.

Except, now, there was no smile. No wag. Just the trap.

"You bribed Mattheo." He repeated, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder, entirely disregarding the beginning portion of your statement. "And just what exactly did you have to offer to loosen his tongue?"

A lightbulb burst to life in your brain. A waking sun. A brazen flame. The answer, so glaringly obvious in retrospect, had been within reach all along. What rouses a dormant dragon from slumber? What pokes a sleeping bear to wake? It is the threat to their belongings—the primal instinct to protect what is theirs at all costs. To perceive any potential threat and squash it at it source.

This was your moment.

You could insinuate that you tempted Mattheo with your own tongue in exchange, perhaps alongside the opportunity to mark your knees with bruises. You could say you offered your body, your dignity, anything that might garner a reaction. Of course, the truth was far more mundane; it only took a meagre 30 galleons and a pinky promise to loosen Mattheo's lips. And he didn't even tell you anything worth knowing.

But if you aimed to stoke the fires of Lorenzo Berkshire's wrath and draw his fury upon yourself, this appeared to be the sole route remaining. For throughout all the years of knowing him, the one consistent trigger that never failed to ignite his fury was any hint of a threat...against you.

But before you could comprehend the lapse in your response, Enzo stepped closer, your name hissed through clenched teeth. "What'd you give him?"

Your heart thrashed like a caged animal. The wind billowing through the depleted space between your bodies, tousling his hair in the night. Did the forest always sound like this? Didn't he just say you couldn't afford to slow down?

Your gaze meets the air over his shoulder. "You're deflecting my question."

"And you, mine," another step forward, and you take one back. You can't help but notice his fingers twitch at his sides. "Why?"

Have you added astuteness to your Enzo observation list? If not, it must be at the top. He's always been a master at unmasking your bluffs with a single, cutting retort, dripping from the teeth with condescension.

Your eye twitches. "You're just full of questions tonight, aren't you?"

He doesn't find your deflection half as amusing as you do. "Only because I'm being met with evasive answers.”

"Huh." You cock an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Nosey and entitled."

"Hm," he cracks a grin at that. Purely to spite you, you're sure. Purely to make your pulse skyrocket. "I prefer curious and expectant."

"Quite a pair of traits." Tension thickens in your throat. You force yourself to swallow it. "You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?"

His grin widens. "I'm certain you'll enlighten me."

You peer at him, your eyes searching for warmth in the dim of the forest but finding none, like bees seeking nectar in barren fields. You square your shoulders, trying your damnedest to ignore the distant howling sounds coming from the forests depths.

"It's a tale as old as time, Enz, I'm sure you've heard it." A branch snaps underfoot, the sound jolting you back to reality, but you swallow the instinctual yelp that threatens to escape your lips. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Before you can even process it, Enzo moves with lightning speed, seizing your wrist just as you reel from the inevitable impact of your back colliding with an ancient oak behind you. Pulling you into him, his face moves dangerously close to yours, your eyes converging, honey pouring over your skin, sucking you in like quicksand.

"You know there's another part to it, don't you?" his voice cuts through the air like a dagger, sharp and precise. He waits for you to settle before he continues. "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."

That bastard.

"It doesn't matter what I gave him," you force yourself out of hesitation, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart, the tingling sting on your spine. "I'm still here with you, aren't I?"

His silence is telling. Bottomless pits pin you down, an anvil in influence alone.

And then he breaks it. "It matters to me."

"Why?" you press, your curiosity piqued by his insistence. You're trying to drag this on for as long as you can but his intensity has you stumbling. Words flow like water. "Who cares, really? I mean-"

"Because," he slices your sentence in two. The latter dying from lack of purpose.

Your lips thin to a pursed line. You blink up at him through lidded eyes, mouth opening to speak but nothing comes out as he leans in closer, so close you can practically taste his breath. He'd never been possessive before, not like this. But perhaps you never gave him a reason to be. You've always been his, unquestioned, unsanctioned. Despite the lack of title. You know he’s only acting this way because you’re deflecting. Your heart barrels into your throat, desperate to claw its way out.

"Because I said so," he continues, his grip on your wrist tightening with each passing moment, his nails leaving indentations in the bark beside your head. "Because, whatever dept you owe him, I'll help you absolve it. Professionally."

A sickening grin creeps across your lips, and his eyes are glued to it. You're skinned raw under his gaze, his pupils so piercing you feel them in the marrow of your bones. You observe the subtle flicker of his tongue, moistening his lips as he gleams down at you--your saviour from above, your dormant dragon, your slumbering bear.

He is what he is.

"I don't need your saving, Enzo," your voice is a breath, as soft as a phoenix feather. As flaming as one too. "I need your honesty."

"My honesty." He repeats as he leans in closer, his hand shifting to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You shudder under his possession, his lips grazing against your jaw like fire and ice, simultaneously scorching and soothing. "I'll give you my honesty, angel."

You sigh as you hear the unctuous in that tone. You know he isn't going to give you what you're asking for, but he'll give you enough to quench your thirst. Classic fucking Berkshire. He releases his grip on your wrist, replacing it with a firm hold on your hip, anchoring you to reality.

"My honesty is I knew you'd try to come tonight, and I only let you because at least here, at my side, I can protect you." Warm lips brush feather-light against your lobe. "My honesty, is if Riddle puts a fucking hand on you, we're going to have a problem."

As the last few words spill from his lips, you feel as though you've got a sugar high, his words oozing with saccharine sweetness, like indulging in a bowl of chocolates or sipping from a concentrated cauldron of peach juice. They have a cloying effect, threatening to rot your teeth and stain your tongue. Just like his eyes.

And it's right then, that you come to a startling realization. You've always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. He's not one to overwhelm with his presence, but rather a relentless force, a perpetual energy that never fades. A silent protector, yet also a silent aggressor. He's a master of masking his anger, of controlling it with a precision that borders on chilling, only bringing it out to protect what's his.

Perhaps, you realize, he's the most dangerous kind of man of all.

"Always acting as my shield," you can barely get the words out, your voice soft and reverent, as though speaking in prayer. "My silent knight."

"Mm." Enzo's lips curve into a sardonic smile against your temple. "Only fitting for an angel."

His hands roam up your hips with a possessive urgency, pulling you closer to him until there's barely an inch of space between your bodies. His face buries into your hair, his breath stirring the strands as he holds you close, fingers digging into your waist.

"I know you didn't offer him what's mine," it's not a question, but a statement of absolute conviction, spoken with the confidence of a seer who reads the future unraveling before them. "I know I fuck you too good for that."

"You're right, Enz," you concede, lids fluttering shut, folding faster than a lawn chair in tornado season. How could you not, when he's exerting this kind of influence over you? "I didn't."

You still had no idea why the two of you were out here. And at this point, it was hardly an afterthought.

"Then what's your play here, angel," he growls through a groan, a ferocious intensity ignited in the way he's squeezing you, pressing your hips back against the tree. "What the fuck are you trying to do to me."

Your lips part, poised to release the words swirling within your mind, when a sound pricks your ears. Not a sound of your own making. Something distant, yet distinct.

In an instant, your eyes snap open, but the darkness shrouds any clear view, offering only faint glimpses of looming branches and rustling leaves. Enzo remains oblivious, seemingly consumed by the frustrated desire you've so eagerly drawn from him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a futile attempt to push him back. "Enzo—"

"Are you trying to test me, angel?" Deep as the forest depths. As dark as them, too. His hands leave your hips and find your wrists, pinning them back against the bark above your head. "Make me jealous, yeah?"

There's another sound, now, drawing closer. You blink up at the complicated man before you, fluttering eyelashes fanning the crease of your lid. Bark burns into your skin as his intensity increases, body sweating under the heat of his eyes as they drip down at you, fever rising by the second— fear and arousal mingling as one.

"Enz-" you hardly have time to breathe before his lips are on your neck, and he's sucking. Hard. "Fuck."

Adrenaline surges you, rushing your lungs with rapid breath, sparks of lust snapping over your skin. Enzo has vanished, replaced by a storm cloud brewing with ominous intent, his once collected demeanour now a loaded gun with a cocked trigger. He was primed to annihilate, eager to erupt. You cursed yourself for pushing him to this brink, at this precise moment, as an impending threat loomed closer with unmistakable certainty.

A gasp escaped your lips as Enzo's teeth sank into your neck, branding you with purple pleasured marks of his possession.

"Enzo, damn it-" your voice is ragged, his lips trailing to the other side of your throat, the hold on your wrist growing tighter. You had to warn him. You didn't want him to stop. Your thoughts jumbled, your brain grappling with what to articulate first, settling on the throbbing pain in your wrists. "Gentle—"

Enzo groans against your neck, rolling his hips into you, fucking fire over every available expanse of flesh.

"Gentle." His breath tickles your neck, your thighs trembling, seeking friction as your hips move in rhythm with his. "I'll fuck you right here against this tree and the last fucking thing I'll be is gentle." A plea balloons in you, knocking teeth, choking. He senses it--a grin crawling across his lips in response. "That's what you wanted after all, isn't it angel?"

Nothing could stop the moan from fleeing your lips as he smirks against your pulse. Not even Merlin himself. Gripping the back of your head, Enzo crashes his lips to yours--hurried and unrelenting, the plush entirety soft and sweet and insatiable against your own. As quick as a lightening strike, you're drowning in his sugar, another realization settling on you like an encroaching dawn just how much of a taste you've developed for it. For him.

Then, he pulls away, breathing a command against your lips. "Run."

Your gut bottoms out--fear instantly drawn to the forefront of your ignorantly blissed brain--and before you can catch your breath or summon your stamina or attempt to direct some blood flow from your cunt back up to your head he's already propelling you forward, dragging you through the forest with a grip that could crush steel. Roots and branches blur past, the forest a chaotic whirlwind of greens and browns below your feet.

And it feels like hours, perhaps even years of running and dodging before Enzo finally slows his pace. You're both panting, gasping, chests heaving, but his urgency perseveres, gaze scanning the clearing as if in search of something, and then you see it, too—an old greenhouse tucked behind a few large trees, clearly abandoned.

Before you can process it, he's already on the move again, dragging you toward it.

He whips open the door and practically hurls you inside—the aged wood creaking on rusty hinges as it swings wide. His eyes, sharp as flint, dart back to survey the clearing you just fled from, and whatever he sees there seems to set his nerves on edge because before you can even blink he's striding toward you, his grip resuming its vice around your wrist as he pulls you toward a small supply closet.

You feel like a ragdoll. It's starting to get real fucking old. "Enzo-"

The words dissolve on your tongue when in an instant you find yourself inside the minuscule expanse of the closet, shelves stacked with gardening supplies, Enzo's breath pouring over the back of your neck, his body so fucking close to yours you can't take a breath without touching him. Reaching over you, he shuts the door and locks the two of you inside, engulfing you in a darkness so thick you can almost feel it clinging to your skin.

Then, there's silence, and suddenly you're aware of every inch of your existence, from the breath leaving your lungs to the sweat crawling behind your knees. Enzo shifts, as if uncomfortable, his crotch pressed firm against your ass and you can almost taste the intensity radiating from his eyes as his hands grip your waist, pulling you back against him with a force that makes breathing normally a distant dream.

"Poachers." He mutters against your neck.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you process his words, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. Poachers. You try to steady your breathing, but it's like trying to contain a storm within a teacup.

Your throats arid. "What do we do?"

You shift to adjust your stance, the sensation of Enzo's erratic exhales against your neck making your entire body tingle--and at your movements, he huffs, his grip on your waist tightening, his fingers pressing into your skin with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

"We wait." He murmurs, his voice rough, like gravel underfoot. "Stop moving."

You need to shut up, but you can't. "And if they come in here? If they find u-"

Enzo's hand clamps over your mouth, silencing your words with a firm yet gentle grip, embodying the duality of his character. Strong yet soft. Cold yet warm. Your pulse quickens, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. Only Lorenzo Berkshire could evoke such contradictory sensations, stirring arousal in the face of danger.

"Shh," he cooes against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Trust me."

Lungs hitching, you nod, though the gesture is barely perceptible beneath his palm. He doesn't free your mouth, however, instead choosing to tease your earlobe with his teeth, his free hand on your abdomen, holding you tight against him.

"You can do that, right, angel?" his tone as soft as feathers, a gentle coaxing that wraps around you like a warm blanket. "You trust me."

There's that inflection again. As right as rain. You know he's fully fucking aware that the way he's speaking to you is calming you down, just as he knows you trust him implicitly. You wouldn't have been out here in the first place if you didn't.

And just as you go to nod, to give him the best answer you can provide to his non-question, his lips descend, claiming your pulse, his grip over your mouth intensifying as he attacks it--slow and silent and determined, your back arching and your lids fluttering in response.

"Mhm, you know I've got you," his free hand trails up your stomach, slowing just as his thumb reaches the underwire of your bra. "Always have."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clench, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. You groan against his hand, his growing desire pushing against your ass as evident and desperate as his movements. Darkness cloaks the closet, stealing your sense of sight yet all the others are overwhelmed by him. He's all-consuming, everywhere, everything—

"But this," five poised fingers start to glide down your stomach, his lips shifting back to your ear. "Is what you get for testing me."

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid over your hips, thighs, like he hasn't done this before, like it's care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction, and he tsks you, shaking his head.

"You wanted gentle, didn't you, angel?" The tease in his tone makes you want to choke him. Sort of makes you want him to choke you, too. "Consider this my version of it. Be good."

His fingers slither under the band of your leggings, a slow, torturous crawl toward the epicenter of your longing. Your hands grasp for purchase in the darkness, but there's nothing substantial to hold onto, just like the ephemeral sensation of his touch. He's both intimidating and unnervingly gentle, leading you to the brink of ruin with calculated precision.

You whimper under his palm, hips jerking toward his touch, desperate for more, but it only causes him to go slower. He coos another command to be quiet, a teasing taunt dripping with wicked delight, and you can practically feel the satisfaction pouring from his lips. He's laser-focused on unraveling you, on making you utterly undone before giving you what you crave most.

When his index finger grazes over your clit, you audibly groan, head falling back against his shoulder.

"You can't rush penance, angel," his mouth opens in a smile against your ear, though it feels more like barred teeth. That smile is as much deadly as it is pretty. "Let it simmer."

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, trembling with the intensity of his touch. You're swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realize, and feel like you're choking when he starts to move lower, two fingers shifting your panties to the side and slicking through your folds.

"So wet." He's barely audible now, even as he's breathing the words into your eardrums. "Mm, so fucking wet."

Before you can prepare for it, those same two fingers inch inside you, and curl. Your eyes roll, his palm pulling your head back tight against his shoulder as he slowly finger fucks deep into you--in and out in perfect rhythm, the sloppy sounds emanating from your cunt filling the dark, steaming space and making your skin prickle with hot shame—you're fucking dripping for him.

He growls, low in his chest, and instinctively your legs spread wider, inviting him deeper, inviting him to inebriate you further. You're caught in the perfect balance of his contradiction, teetering on the edge between disciple and devil. He worships you in one breath and ruins you in the next. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Mine." Is all he mutters, before there's a sound outside the door, and you both freeze.

Footsteps.

Almost immediately, you're ripped from the derogatory haze you'd just found yourself in—your body stiffens, tension coiling through your limbs like icy tendrils, turning your blood to frost. Enzo's fingers slow, though they remain inside you, adjusting ever-so-slightly to avoid the slick sounds your cunt makes every time he moves. You feel his teeth tease your ear, his silent way of telling you to calm down. That he's got you.

The footsteps draw closer, and there's no mistaking it—someone, most definitely multiple someone's, are lurking just outside the door—in search, of you.

But before you can even entertain the thought, before it has a chance to sink in and settle in the recesses of your mind, Enzo crooks his fingers against a spot that sends sparks flying behind your eyelids, his thumb applying just enough pressure to your clit to send you hurtling into a realm of sensation he introduces you to regularly, but not one you were prepared to face in this moment, under these circumstances.

You grit your teeth, the urge to scream clawing at the back of your throat like a caged animal desperate for freedom. Enzo is ruthless, merciless, driving you to the very edge and daring you to jump--driving you to the edge of sanity and forcing you to suppress the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

The footsteps grow louder, veer closer, before they slow. Before they stop.

It's cataclysmic, catastrophic—a blaze raging in an open battlefield, a hellfire during open warfare. You hardly have a second to comprehend the sheer insanity of what you're engaged in before Enzo's pace intensifies and he yanks your head back against his shoulder with even more force, to the point you're certain the back of your skull will leave an indent on his skin.

His lips brush against your ear, practically daring you to cum— daring you to keep resisting.

"It's clear," a voice rings out, neither yours nor Enzo's. Footsteps pick back up and draw further away. "Let's move out."

And then, it's over. A weight lifts off your shoulders, a tidal wave crashing over you. Your body erupts, convulses, squeezing around Enzo's fingers and trembling against him as your climax charges through you like a raging bull, unstoppable and overwhelming.

You scream behind his palm, knees threatening to give out from under you, the gates of heaven themselves coming into clear fucking view.

"Good girl." He husks in your ear, working you through your high, his chest rising and falling against your back, the hunger evident in his words. "My little angel was so fucking good...I think she deserves a reward, doesn't she?"

You nod, the fervent desire for more evident in the desperate plea that crawls past your lips, only to be muffled by his palm. Enzo's groan reverberates against your ear, his erection painfully hard against your ass. With a swift motion, he withdraws his hand from your lips, unlocking the door and shoving it open, propelling you forward with a commanding grip on your hips.

He wastes no time in pushing you up against an old wooden table, the rough surface biting into your skin as he yanks your leggings down your thighs. His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling your head back toward his mouth, his lips hungry and insistent against your own. Meanwhile, his free hand works quickly to undo his belt, his urgency evident as he prepares to take what he desires.

"Did you like that, angel?" He breathes against your panting mouth, his eyes barely open, his belt hitting the ground at his feet. "You like what I fucking did to you?"

"Yes—" you're choked by a gasp as he slicks his length between your thighs. "Gods-fuck, yes!"

"Yeah, you did. Fuck, I should have edged you, I shouldn't have let you cum," his voice is wanton, despite himself. You're not even sure if he knows what he's saying. "But I can't fucking help myself. I fucking love ruining you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the tension in the air thick as molasses. With a single swift motion, he plunges into you, a symphony of pleasure and pain ripping through you as he fills you completely in one long, deep thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into the wooden surface beneath you as his grip in your hair tightens, the other latched onto your hip to hold you steady.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, breath hot on your jawline. His hand shifts to grasp your jaw, pulling your lips back to his. "Always so fucking tight for me."

You can only whimper in response, his pace ruthless, and unhinged and unpredictable as always. His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There's a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear.

He is what he is, until he isn't. Until he's someone else completely.

You're clutching at the desk and screaming into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again and amidst the onslaught you're hit by the realization that this man is everything—simultaneously overwhelming and subtle, too much yet not enough. He's a feeling that engulfs you, swallowing you whole until it fills your lungs, leaving you choking on the intensity of it all. Your lips move against his in perfect synchrony, your eyelashes fluttering with each powerful smack of his hips as he drives himself deep inside you, over and over and over again.

"Enz—" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it.

He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There's a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray strands pulled across gleaming honeyed eyes.

"Cum," you swear it's a plea. You hear the desperation as much as you feel it. "Cum for me."

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddled for him, broken by his touch, stripped of all structure just to be held up by his own. The sight and feel of you erupting sends him over the edge, his groan rumbling against your temple.

"Fucking hell—" his hips stutter, his breath does too, his lashes fanning as he pours his cum deep inside you. "Fuck."

You sink against him as he finally comes to a slow, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from the desk and running up through your hair, pushing sticky strands back from your forehead. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first, it takes forever to recover from it, and before you can even register the movements Enzo has already pulled out, done up his pants and is helping you pull yours back up your still-trembling thighs.

As you turn to face him, he pulls you in. You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

When he pulls back, you let the first thing in your mind slip past your teeth. "You're unbelievable, Enzo."

He smirks, wetting his lips before leaning down and planting a small peck on the top of your head. "I'm yours, angel."

Lorenzo Berkshire is what he is, and what he is, is yours.

[matchadobo]

Hey! If it’s okay, can I request Kidd going absolutely feral because his s/o got hurt?

KIDD; avenging you

wc: 771 warning/s: gn reader, violence, mentions of blood and scars, super short ><

"where are they? let me fucking see them." kidd tried shimmying through the crowd that stood before the doors of the ship's clinic. they were stopping him and he wasn't gonna stand idly and follow.

"captain, they're in a critical state. they shouldn't see any visitors yet." said the ship doctor, shivering under the frigid gaze of the pirate. "it'll be until tomorrow before we allow visitors, their wounds are still too fresh."

kidd gave everyone one last glare, before finally surrendering and turning his back. stomping away with one objective in mind.

"and where do you plan to go, kidd?" killer called out, following after the redhead.

"don't follow me." he firmly replied, not looking back. his tone was sharp and no one planned on disobeying him. "i'll beat his ass and leave no fucking trace of that marine."

so he descended his ship and off he goes to the port nearby, using his devil fruit to pin those who stand on his way. throwing heaps of metal that gathered above him, bolts of lightning sending the navy flying. he was seeing red, he wanted to see red.

remorseless as he is, kidd lived up to his name as one of the most ruthless and vicious pirate befitting the title as one of the worst generation. he bullied each that blocked his path with his power, ignoring the pleads and screams with no regard whether those are civilians or navy.

"where's the shithead who hurt one of us?" he growled, brusque as he fisted the collar of one of the marines. "start talkin' less crying, aye?!" he gruffly added, nostrils flaring.

killer and the others were behind him, cleaning up his mess and watching his back. they kept an eye out for the marines. instead of stopping him, they opted that supporting him would atleast get them somewhere. going against their captain only applies at certain circumstances and this isn't one of them. besides, they also wanted to get back at the pack of idiots who dare to hurt you.

once the marine had shivered enough to tell him where the bastard is, kidd wasted no time and propeled himself with piles of metals to the highest place in the building.

"found you." he grinned maniacally, listing down the things he plans to do with this dumbass vice captain. he had a devil fruit and he caught you off guard. once he had you on his grasp, he pinned you down and mercilessly scarred you. killer and the others were too busy fending other marines off while kidd dealt with the captain. "you've got some goddamn nerve laying a hand on what's mine."

it took the entire evening until dawn before kidd was finished with the poor marine. kidd pummeled the bastard to a pit underground that he created from the top. he bled the vice captain dry, and the captain had no chance of calling for back up because of killer. last thing kidd knew was the guy wasn't breathing before he was satisfied with his bloody creation.

you soon found kidd sleeping on his seat that was positioned next to you. dried blood littered his pale skin. he had a few scratches but it's obvious that the blood was not his. he had his arms crossed, head almost falling to the side as he dozed off. you figured he waited for you to wake up, it was already evening.

you shuffled a little, but it only took one whimper from you for him to shot up from his seat. "w-why are you bloody?" you weakly uttered. your voice was hoarse and your lips were dry.

"you shoulda seen the other guy." he laughed, he reached over to brush your hair at the top of your head with his palm. he looked at you with the softest gaze; well, he always looked at you like that, no one else. you could see how he pained to see you like this from the way his eyes softened.

"sorry." you covered your face, ashamed in front of your lover and captain. "that was shameful as a kidd pirate-"

"aaah fuck off with that." kidd cut you off, prying your hands away from your face and holding them together. his thumb rubbing circles at the back of your hand. "they outnumbered us and i was careless. don't worry your little head because i gave it to 'em back tenfold."

you smiled a little, if it weren't for the pain you would've laughed. "i'll be stronger." you pledged, looking deeply into his eyes.

"get fuckin' better first and i'll see you through it."

hello >< tysm for the requesttt <3

i've been gone for a while i'm sorry. i wanted to draw a lot and i just realized how much i made u guys wait TT, i hope i can come up with something to make it up to those who're waiting <3 i haven't been feeling my best lately so let's pray that this subsides wkwkwkwkwk

[kiri-tatsu]

// Chase me to the ends of this world //

the man you love has decided to chase you, how dare you make a call of his feelings and leave him without letting him explain? he is unhappy when finding you, but is determined to talk with you and confess his own feelings. He has no idea what follows after as long as you both handle it together. Tw- angst, misunderstandings, confessions, fluff, some kissing(?!?! me n u when??)

Zhongli

wc-1075

Even though he promised himself to not chase after Y/n, he couldn’t keep that up anymore after the second month. He could only see their presence everywhere no matter what he did though his busy working days.  

Signing papers? He would always think Y/n would burst into the room at any given second and drag him off to go accompany with whatever they needed help with. Drinking tea? He could only ever think of their past conversations, their laughs and smiles. Talking with Tartaglia? He could only reminisces their pointless bickering with the harbinger as he watched them with a smile.

He would constantly remind himself that they were no longer there in Liyue to come pester him or fill his days with joy, or ask him of anything anymore. He would no longer be able to experience that until he forced himself to get up and make things right himself.  

As soon as the second month of Y/n missing from his normal days, he got up and left telling Hu Tao of his departure, but nothing more, Zhongli just couldn't take it anymore. The first person he would question would be Barbatos seeing how Y/n thought of the young-looking god as a brother.  

Before he could even pass through Stone Gate, there stood a bard clad in green, “Barbatos,” he spoke lowly, and the bard looked up with a small smile, “Rex Lapis, what a surprise! Now, why are you entering my nation?”  

Zhongli closed his eyes while crossing his arms, stating his reason out loud would be rather embarrassing, but for the sake of finding his dear quicker, he would put that aside, “I’m in search of Y/n, do you have any information of their whereabouts?” Venti let out a small laugh and motioned for the ex-archon to follow after him as they traveled through the land of freedom.  

“Y/n came here a bit ago, saying they couldn’t bare to be in Liyue anymore, any idea why?” Zhongli didn’t say anything as Venti turned to look at him for a second before he continued to lead the way, “Y/n should be at Windrise around this time,” he mentioned as they finally made it past Dawn Winery.  

“When you see Y/n, please just take to them,” Zhongli nodded as the bard nodded to himself, “Then I trust you will be able to journey safely the rest of the way then?” Zhongli nodded once more, “You need not to worry about me Barbatos, once I talk with Y/n, hopefully we will return home together.”  

Venti let out a small laugh, “Then this is where we part, it was nice seeing you again old man,” just as Zhongli was about to retaliate the little man was gone in a whisp of the wind leaving the ex-archon to shake his head as he continued on his journey to the large tree.   

The closer he got, the more his heart had hammered against his chest threatening to fall out, his hands got hot and wanted to pull off his gloves, but he shook the thought away as he began to think of what he would even say when he finally found Y/n.  

A simple ‘I’m sorry’ was definitely not good enough to say, but he knew for sure, his feelings would be voiced before the day would end. No matter what ridiculous lengths he had to prove his feelings, he would do anything for them.  

Once arriving at the tree, he could see their figure, it took everything in his body to not just run and engulf them in a hug. Their beautiful face was contorted into one of confusion as they looked up from their book to see him of all people, “Zhongli?”  

He shook his head as they began to stand up, and instead took a seat next to them, “Why are you here?” Zhongli let out a sigh as he took their hand and pressed a kiss to the back of their hand, “You left me a letter, and didn’t allow me to explain myself dear,” Y/n frowned as they pulled their hand back.  

“Then explain,” the muttered as Zhongli nodded with a small sigh, “During the Lantern Rite, me and the Traveler were talking casually, anything and everything came into mind, then little Paimon asked about relations to you,” Zhongli felt his cheeks heat up the more he talked. “And when I went to apologize to you the next day, knowing of the conversation I had the night before, I could hardly look at you.” 

Y/n was frowning still, but then Zhongli took their hands in his, “Y/n dear, you promised to be there by my side all those years ago, I never told you before, but I do indeed love you,” Y/n shook their head with small tears in their eyes. “Why now? Why are you barely telling this to me now?”  

Zhongli sighed as he brought them into a hug, “I thought I was obvious, but I guess not, and before you left Y/n,” They looked up at him as he gave them a small smile, “I was taking up more work so I could clear my week earlier so I could make it up to you,” their lips parted as they stared up at him. “I was planning on confessing then my dear.” 

They let out a groan as they melted into his arms, “I’m an idiot,” they muttered as he squeezed them as a laugh slipped past his lips, “A little bit, but I’m glad to have told you now.” Y/n looked up at him and reached up placing a small kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad too Zhongli, Morax, or Rex Lapis, cause now I have you here with me now.”  

A glow in his eyes made them smile, “They’re all you, but different, it doesn’t mean I love you any less, no matter what,” Zhongli buried his face into their shoulder, “You're too good to me my dear.” He glanced at them with a look in his eyes that they had never seen before.

"May I kiss you dear?" Y/n felt their face was on fire as they nodded slowly as his words as he cupped their face in his hands, and closed his eyes leaning to brush his lips against theirs, making sure that this time, he would do everything in his power to keep them happy and by his side until the end of his days.

Diluc Ragnvindr

wc-1025

Everyday Diluc would wake up, get dressed, go to work, and hope to see Y/n there, and each time he had gotten his hopes up, it would be shattered the moment Charles had shaken his head. He counted the days since they left, never failing to mark each day off on his calendar, until a full year had passed. Instead, he knew if he wanted to see the one, he held dear to his heart, he would have to track them down.  

And he did, he went back to past letters to dig up the bittersweet conversations they had, and then he finally had the information he had been looking for, their homeland, Inazuma. He bit his lip but nodded to himself as he packed a bag for his trip to the far land. It didn’t matter, he knew the reason why they had fled here to Monstadt, so he must have hurt them terribly if they went back home.  

When setting foot in the foreign land, he knew he had his work cut out for him if he was going to track them down, so he asked around, but being in a new place and knowing no one, he only had one reliable source. “Ad Astra Abyssosque, oh, Master Diluc, you’re a long way from home.” 

Katheryne, the only one to know nearly everything about nearly everyone, Diluc let a sigh escape past his lips, “I think you already know why I’m here,” the woman nodded, “Y/n L/n, right?” He nodded as she gave a small laugh, “Their home is in Ritou, you can find the L/n’s estate there.”  

And off he went without another word, no matter how tired he was from his boat ride here, he was determined to talk with them before finding a place to stay for the night. Talking with Y/n and making things right was his top priority. A semi-familiar family crest was carved into wood, and he knew he seen it before and darted to the front door.  

Knocking on it, he waited for a few minutes until a short woman with short hair, and e/c eyes opened the door, he knew he found the right place, “Uhm, is Y/n L/n here?” The woman nodded, “Who are you?” The woman closed the door as she exited the door, and the man moved to the side as he watched her. “Diluc Ragnvindr, I am a... a friend of Y/n’s.”  

“Ah, the one who broke their heart,” she stated sarcastically, “I should harm you boy for breaking my child’s heart and making them come back here, but I got to see them again... So, I will allow you to speak with them, be glad their father is out the picture or else things would’ve been worse for you.” 

“Take off your boots before you enter,” he did as he was told as a small boy lead him elsewhere, “This is N/n’s room! See you later,” he ran off as Diluc stared at the door for a bit before lightly knocking on the door, “Come in,” a small voice that he knew by heart made him hesitate for a second.  

When he slid open the door, their back was faced from them as they were doing some little girl’s hair, “What do you want?” They asked, although their voice was soft, he knew that they had no idea who he was exactly. They were brushing the little girl’s hair and had a hair pin in the corner of their mouth.  

“Hey Y/n...” The pin fell from their mouth as their hold on the little girl’s hair faltered at their head whipped over to him. “Y-You...” They glanced back at the girl, and sighed before moving their hands randomly in Diluc’s eyes, “Yuki-chan, please, uhm, could you give me and my friend a moment?” The little girl nodded with a smile as she grabbed the brush from their hand and left without a word.  

“Why did you come here?” Diluc opened his mouth to speak as he looked at them, which made it a bit harder. They were dressed in traditional clothing instead of the clothes they were used to seeing them wear in Mondstadt, so they looked absolutely beautiful/handsome to him now. “I missed you...” 

Their heart skipped a beat as they turned around to hide their flustered expression from him, “That a bit out of character of you Master Diluc,” Y/n mumbled and they heard the floorboards creak under his weight as he moved to them. “I’m serious Y/n, I missed you,” his hands had wrapped around their waist as he buried his face into their shoulder.  

Y/n could feel his hair tickling their cheek as it suddenly felt hotter in the room, “I love you,” their heart skipped a beat as they turned to him abruptly, “What?” His eyes were soft, and his face was as red as his hair, “I love you Y/n,” he muttered once more as his hands cupped their face. “Please... Can I kiss you?”  

Hesitantly they nodded as his lips brushed against their softly, as soon as it started it ended leaving both of them looking at each other bashfully. “I’m sorry I should’ve told you sooner...” He muttered as his arms encased them into a hug, “I was talking to Traveler that night about you when you were supposed to meet us, I was going to introduce you to them.”  

His body was warm against theirs and his hug was so calming and comforting they could melt right in his arms, “I’m sorry I never told you, I wish I did sooner,” Y/n’s arms squeezed him as they let out a small laugh, “It’s okay, I made a rash decision,” they could feel him press a kiss to their head.  

“Would you be willing to come back with me?” Both hearts were beating rapidly at the question, one in fear, and the other in near excitement, “Yes, archons, I miss Mondstadt’s food,” he let out a sigh of relief, then a chuckle. “Nothing else?” They shook their head as an innocent look was upon their face. “Oh, you hurt me Y/n.”  

Kamisato Ayato

wc- 1090

Time seemed to move slowly, and he knew not of what to do, his heart felt heavy knowing that Y/n was no longer in Inazuma. He could go after no matter how much he wanted to because of his work. He was drowning in work, it was suffocating as he stayed up countless nights to complete the papers, only to pass out over the work.  

How was he ever going to go after Y/n if he couldn’t completely complete his work? After another night full of work, and him passing out over the papers, he woke up and found himself in bed, everything was cleaned, and most of all, all his papers were done. With wide eyes he turned to the door as it opened, in strolled in his dear sister and their housekeeper.  

“Oh, brother, you’re awake now!” Ayaka cheered and Thoma had presented breakfast to the siblings and made his way out the door to give them some space, “Ayaka, why is everything in my room suddenly looking as if everything is done?”  

Ayaka let out a giggle, “Me and Thoma decided to help you out a bit. You need a break, and I know how much you miss Y/n, so me and Thoma decided to help you out a bit and do the rest of your work until you get back from your vacation,” Ayato furrowed his eyebrows, “Vacation?” 

Ayaka nodded, “You’re going to Y/n’s homeland, we hope you rekindle with them, now hurry up and pack your bags, your boat ride leaves at noon,” he was still at a loss for words as the rest of his day went by as a blur.  

But by nightfall, he found himself in Sumeru with a woman with dark hair and yellow highlights, blue eyes, named Dehya and she was his escort. He had made small talk with her, and as they made their way to the streets of Sumeru. “Uhm so, Dehya,” the woman turned her head to him, as he spoke lowly. “Do you know anyone by the name of Y/n L/n?”  

The woman turned forward again, “And why do you want to know that?” Ayato sighed as she lead him up the spiral walkway up to an inn, “They are a dear friend of mine that had fled from our... well my homeland, and they came back here.” Dehya placed a hand on her hip, “Rest for the night and I’ll offer up some information up over breakfast for a price.” 

The night was filled with Ayato restlessly waiting for the sun to rise, tossing and turning all night but somehow managed to get some shut eye. Waking up in the morning begrudgingly, he dressed for the day, and was met by Dehya waiting outside his little room. “Y/n is actually a friend of my girlfriend’s, so we’ll head there and get some information of their whereabouts.” 

Through Sumeru they traveled, day and night camping out a bit before journeying further, by the third day, they made it to Aaru Villiage, the tall mountains hiding the place, and Ayato was nearly greeted with a spear to his face. Heterochromia eyes stared down at him as Dehya had to calm the unknown woman down.  

“Candace! He’s a friend, please,” with that she let her polearm disappear as she gave a small smile, “Very well, why did you come here then foreigner? Usually, people don’t venture out to the desert for nothing.” On the walk, Ayato explained his situation with a flustered look upon his face.   

“Oh, I should have every right to stab you with my polearm for hurting Y/n, then,” Dehya stepped in front of her girlfriend with a nervous grin waving her arms around. “Hon! He’s here to apologize to Y/n, not make things worse!” Candace scoffed as she lead the two to the village, “Y/n’s here actually, I’ll give you two only ten minutes to talk then you go back to Sumeru City.” 

Ayato sighed, “That’s all the time I need,” she lead him to a house in the middle of the village, and opened the door, “Ten minutes,” she stated once more and Ayato inhalded deeply, until someone rounded the corner making his heart stop in his chest momentarily, “Candace you’re ba.... Ayato...? What are... What are you doing here?”  

His body was frozen, he couldn’t move, and he had no idea what to say to them after not seeing them for weeks, “I... I came for you Y/n,” they let out a scoff as they crossed their arms, “And why would you do that? I thought I wrote to not come after me.” Ayato shook his head as he stepped closer to them, “You only stated you were a coward, and you said nothing about chasing after you.” 

Their eyes hardened into a glare, “Well, you have to go back, aren’t you busy with all your work anyways?” Ayato sighed, “I wouldn’t be here if my work wasn’t being handled by someone I trust; Ayaka decided to take over for me until I get back.” Y/n shook their head as they crossed their arms, “I doesn’t make sense, why did you come here to find me?” 

Ayato let out a chuckle as he held out his hand motioning for them to take it, hesitantly they slipped their hand in his as he pulled them in his embrace. “And I thought you were smarter than that darling,” Y/n felt their cheeks burn as they shook their head, “Shut up commissioner,” he pressed a kiss upon their head.  

“What about the traveler?” Ayato shook his head as his hand had began to pet their hair, “What of them?” Y/n felt their throat tighten as the words slipped past their lips, “Don’t you have feeling for them?” The commissioner shook his head, “None for them, but for the very person who stands before me love...”  

Their heart thumped rapidly against their chest as Y/n looked up at the man with an expectant look. “If you want me to say it out loud, then say it dear, otherwise it’ll just linger up in the air,” Y/n sighed as they looked up at him with a flustered face making his own heart flutter in his chest, “Please... Voice your feelings out loud, so I know you are genuine Ayato...” 

His hand cupped their cheek as his eyes continued to stare into theirs with warmth, love, and adoration, “I love you Y/n,” and with that his lips pressed against theirs softly to further prove his love for them.  

Alhaitham

wc-1014

He knew not what to do since Y/n left, everything seemed to get him more irritated as the days passed without their presence in his daily routine. He found himself missing them no matter how much he tried to push those thoughts and feelings to the back of his mind.  

He knew if word got out about their absence, he knew that scholar that delivered the letter would probably push all the blame to him, so for the sake of not having to deal with that much later down the line, he begrudgingly sent off to where he knew they would reside. Their homeland Liyue, was luckily the neighboring nation, so it shouldn’t take that long, right? 

Wrong, it was so much more mountainous than what he was used to, rocks, cliffs, and more hostile beasts were present in every turn and path he took. He just wanted to go back home and never return to the outside world, but by some miracle he managed to safely make it to Liyue Harbor without any further complications.  

The scenery was new, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about the land, but he needed to focus on the situation on hand; find Y/n, talk with them, and hopefully return to Sumeru with them. He sighed as he walked down the street people walking by and oogling at him; tall, handsome and foreign, who wouldn’t stare at him as he walked by? 

He needed to rest after traveling for days to make it here, so he took a seat in front of a man telling a story about the god to the lands he was in; The God of contracts, Rex Lapis or Morax, he went by many names. A man in front dressed in browns, golds, and oranges stood out to the scribe’s eye.  

Although he didn’t really want to speak with anyone or socialize, he shook the feeling away as he looked over, only to see the man already glancing at him, “You seem troubled and in need of some guidance, yes?” Alhaitham felt his hearft stop for a second, now that was scarily accurate, he nodded curtly.  

He motioned for the scribe to sit in front of him, “Tell me of your troubles stranger.” and with that, Alhaitham shared his story reluctantly, trying to mask his heartfelt feelings for the one he was searching for with some little white lie. “The way you speak of this person, you seem to hold them in high reguard,” oh, so much for hiding his feelings. Now being found out by a stranger was quite embarrassing.  

“And, I also have a feeling of who you speak of, dear little Y/n, they have bright/dark eyes, s/t, and they are about y/h,” Alhaitham nodded at a loss for words, that was exactly who he was searching for, how did this stranger know so much? “Well, the last I seen them today,” the scribe leaned in to hear the man’s words, “They were getting commissions from Katheryne.” 

He nodded as he stood up, “I thank you for your assistance... What is your name?” The man took a sip from his cup, “I am Zhongli,” his eyes darted up as he looked at the scribe, “Now off you do scribe,” Alhaitham walked a bit before turning back only to see the man walking in the opposite direction, how did he know? 

Children ran past him, as he kept his eyes forward, only to feel someone bump into him from behind, “Oh, sorry,” they muttered as they went past him, and up some stairs, but he stopped in the path as his eyes went to their figure, the very person he was searching for, and without wasting a thought he followed them.  

They were speaking to Katheryne, he waited until they were done collecting their rewards, and tapped them on the shoulder, their smile fell when they turned to him. “What are you doing here?” Alhaitham furrowed his eyebrows, “Why did you run away then? If you didn’t them maybe I wouldn't have to chase you down to another nation because you just assume things,” Y/n scoffed as they walked away from him.  

Before they could get far he grabbed their wrist and led them to an alleyway and blocked the way for them to leave, “Let me go! Archons, I don’t want to talk with you!” Their eyes filled with tears as they glared up at him, he nearly faltered, but shook his head. “No, you’re not leaving until we talk Y/n.” 

“Why do we even need to talk? I left because I didn’t want to talk about anything, I just wanted to come back home,” they sobbed on the floor pathetically as Alhaitham kneeled in front of them and cupped their face wiping away their tears, “And why would you assume my feelings for anyone?” 

They looked up at him as he wiped their tears, “I don’t love Kaveh like that, he was my friend and I wanted to return our friendship, but I can’t force that upon him,” Alhaitham wrapped his arms around them, their face buried into his shoulder, “I don’t care what stupid nonsense I have to say in order for you to return back home with me, just please don’t leave me again like this...” 

They could feel him press a kiss against their forehead, they looked up at him as their face flushed no on longer flushed from their crying. “I-I don’t understand...” Alhaitham sighed as he sat on the ground in front of them, “Do I have to say in all of the languages in Teyvat Y/n?” He asked, a bit irritated by their inability to fully comprehend the situation.  

“No... I just want to hear you say it...” Oh, they just need confirmation and reassurance, his eyes softened as he nodded and fully brushed away all their tears, “Well Y/n, you could’ve just said that” his lips pressed against their nose a small smile displayed upon his face as he looked them in their eyes. “I love you Y/n.” 

we have reached the end of this mini series, sorry no pt. 2 for other characters, but i hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing <3

[hana-no-seiiki]

【 PROVENANCE OF THE SUN | ZERO : ASCENSIONEM DEI NOVI 】

RISING SUN REMAKE

YANDERE! JJK! VARIOUS! x CULT GOD! READER x CULT MEMBERS

Sign up for the cult and get notified on when this updates by replying! [Taglist]

Synopsis: In the thousands of years Sorcerers have challenged curses, there was one thing they have yet to utilize. Blessings, constructed by the positive emotions of humanity such as love and adoration.

And at the center of it all was [Y/N] [L/N], ORTUS SOLIS’s biggest blessing yet.

THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF HAPPY REIGN BE THINE;

DELICATE, GLOVED HANDS combed through [hair color] tresses. Efficient in its movements; any tangled knots of hair swiftly disappeared. The chirping of birds and crickets, along with the golden luminescence of the sun breached through the glass panes and into the chambers of the dignified godling.

“May this lowly servant bask in the Sun’s glow.” Even if muffled by the doors between them. The deity knew which of their followers dared to interrupt their routine. Only few were bold — no — idiotic enough to impose.

The pampered child answered with a low volume, a heavy disinterest laced their voice, “Enter.”

RULE ON, MY LORD, UNTIL WHAT ARE PEBBLES NOW.

“This lowly servant has come to divulge the Sun with the words of the oracle.” An elderly man bursted in. Head high, he wore robes of grandeur quality; with golden embroidery upon white fabric. He stood out in the traditionally styled house. “Permission to speak?”

The pair of maids who worked on the child’s hair parted from their master. The action gave the man a full view of their entrancing form. Eyes of [eye color] gazed at him. He could already feel his limbs going weak. An overwhelming sense of exhilaration, adoration, and need to bow seeped into him. The man knew that if he had not been as exposed to the deity as he was throughout the years, their ethereality might have already made his heart stop.

The child’s eyes wandered throughout his figure. Every moment their glance lingered sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. Only for them to break their line of sight. “Permission granted.”

BY AGES UNITED TO MIGHTY ROCKS SHALL GROW.

Nay, he realized, it was not just their divine image nor scrutiny. Any sound that left from their lips would be enough to make a crowd dead where they stand, or at the very least be crippled by the paralyzing sensations of bliss. Indeed, this was the power of his Sun. None other than his lord, [Y/N].

A power he both feared and adored.

“The oracle has spoken. Due to the Queen Dowager’s unfortunate passing, the coronation shall take place soon.”

He couldn’t help but gasp as [Y/N] stood. Their full height at their age was far lesser than his, yet it was never a comfort. “How soon?”

“He said it – it would best be held next year . . . my Sun.”

Silence befell them.

Without a thought, the man kneeled. It did not matter how old or frail his body was, as soon as the warm emotions left him he knew he had offended their holy being.

“Do you have a family?”

“My Sun, p-please. You have to reconsider . . . ! “

Their frown indicated that he gave the wrong answer.

“I do not, my Sun . . . “ He bowed. His face was practically one with the floor.

“How mundane. In here I thought I’d get a show for this evening.”

He stands up in one quick motions. The crack of bones breaking and rearranging was arduous in itself to hear.

“MY SUN! MY HOLY LIGH—“

“You see, ever since that old hag died I realized — there’s no one alive that’s able to stop me from doing what I want anymore.”

“With a coronation or without. I am your god.”

“Through you, everyone will be informed. You get to die in service of a new dawn. Where would you find a better honor than this?”

The worst thing about the man’s last breath was that as agonizingly torturous his god’s rays of light were on him — he did not feel an ounce of anger or resentment.

Only unfettered, immaculate happiness.

WHOSE VENERABLE SIDES THE MOSS DOTH LINE.

[zorosjuicymelonsx]

Finding You

A/N: Well well well, I'm back with another chapter :D

I will say, Y/N does blush a lot but what can you do when a hunk of a man like Zoro exists like even just thinking about him now I feel like blushing XD

Anyways thats enough from me, I hope you enjoy this chapter to your hearts content and I'll be back next week with the next one!

Chapter Three Previous Next

The sun slowly peaked up from the horizon signaling a new day and Zoro’s end to his night watch. Grunting as he stood up and grabbed his swords, he beelined down the ladder to the deck with full intention of being reunited with his bed. Unfortunately, he just had to hear the sounds of faint grunting from the other side of the deck. He frowned, exhaustion evident on his face. He knew it wasn’t the shit cook so who else would be up at this hour? 

Being the responsible first mate he was, he huffed in annoyance before changing direction to locate the cause of the sounds, moving his hand to sit on the hilt of his sword in the off chance of an invasion. To his disappointment; he finds you. To his eye, you appeared to be training with your sword near the tangerine trees with your back to him unaware of his arrival. 

He noticed your attire: black, loose clothing almost tattered from extensive wear. Your hair was tied up and sweat glistened down your neck and back. At his brief observation of you, he could tell by the power you had as you swung your sword up and down that you were no novice. For some reason, he was reminded of home watching you. He felt nostalgic, briefly thinking of Koushirou from his time training under him. 

‘Was it possible that you were trained in the same dojo as him?’ 

He quietly continued to watch until you finished, hearing a sigh of relief leave your mouth. Sheathing your sword back and turning to head back to your room, a small gasp of surprise left you followed by a flush of embarrassment on your face as you realised Zoro was standing there. You stood awkward, you weren’t sure how long he was standing there for but nonetheless offered him a shy smile. 

“Where did you train?” He asked as he walked to stand in front of you. 

“Back at our village, we trained in the same dojo. You wouldn’t remember me, I was quite small and easily blended into the background.” You answered, smiling at the fond memory you have as a kid watching Zoro defeat almost every student who dared to challenge him, including yourself. You couldn’t help but mentally coo at how cute he was as a kid. 

Zoro nodded. He eye was captured by your sword. He lifted his hand up with his palm visible, silently asked for your permission to see the sword. Your eyes went to his palm, frowning as you noticed the calluses decorating his hands. 

‘They look rougher from the last time you saw him.’

Your hand tingled remembering how they felt in your hand. 

After a few seconds of ogling, realisation dawned on you of what he was asking for. You unhooked your sword from your waist and gently handed your sword into his palm. 

‘I wonder if he will ever remember that he gifted me this sword…’ You thought to yourself.

Zoro took your sword and unsheathed it, taking in the weight and its intricate design of dark green with gold decorating the entrance points. He knew this was a sword of a swordsman. He was amused at the thought of someone like you handling a sword like this. As he held the sword, he also felt familiarity with it, almost as if it wasn’t his first time holding it. 

He briefly looked up from the sword to observe you, seeing the visible definition in your arms folded under your chest, the faint sight of scars littered sporadically over your hands and the faint outline of abs on your waist. He had clearly misjudged you being delicate. You would feel the weight of his eye on you, almost like…no there was no way he was checking you out. 

“I could kick your ass right now Roronoa.” You spoke confidently as you took back your sword and re-tied it back to your waist, showcasing a cocky grin on your face. 

“Are you sure about that?” Zoro questioned with a raised brow smirking back at you, you nodded taking a few steps away from him. He could see the seriousness in your gaze as you unequipped your sword from its sheath. 

“Don’t even think about going easy on me either.” You warned, getting into a fighting stance. 

“If you say so.” He pulled out Wado. You eyed the sword and for a moment your heart ached for Kuina. The pristine condition of the sword was just proof of how he didn’t fuck around over the last few years with his vow to her. Shaking the ache away and replacing it with determination, you watched as he got himself into position. 

“Bring it on.” 

The two of you lunged at each other, the clash of swords gritting against each other as the sun rose higher into the blue sky. As promised, he did not go easy on you with the immense power he gave into his attacks. You were light on your feet, using your speed and stamina to counter his attacks. He grew frustrated with you, he could tell you planned to exhaust him as you ran around him handing him short but attacks. 

You were so quick in fact, you ended up behind him, taunting him by giggling in his right ear and quickly moving away as he turned to attack you. You put him out of his misery and decided to stand facing him, your sword swung against him which he quickly blocked. The sound of scraping swords would normally bring Zoro great joy, there was nothing he loved more than fighting with them. In this case, it was pissing him off. 

You felt exhilarated fighting him, the adrenaline and the rush of memories flooded your mind of the past fights you had with Zoro brought you great joy. Unbeknownst to Zoro, you had spent the last few years getting stronger as you traveled searching for him, spending hours of your life training. You were determined to make him proud.

The fight continued on for some time, you refused to give in even when your muscles had ached and your stamina began to deplete. Zoro took advantage of this once he noticed this, landing his sword onto yours that allowed him to easily twist and disarm you from it, your sword skidding away from you. He pointed Wado out quite close to your throat huffing for oxygen, signaling his victory with a ‘ha in your face’ smile only to see you had broken out laughing whilst you were also recovering your breath. His smile quickly turned sour, slowly dropping his sword from your throat confused by why you had suddenly started laughing. 

“That was fun, we should do that again.” You spoke out, walking past him to pick up your sword. 

“You lost and you’re laughing?” Zoro questioned as you put your sword back into its sheath. You looked up, nodding at him with the brightest smile you could muster. 

“Yes, now I know what I need to train on for next time. Thank you Zoro. I'll see you at breakfast!” You gave him a bow of gratitude and walked away from him. Zoro watched, trying to find the right words to express what he felt but found nothing. As he sheathed Wado back, suddenly he groaned, grabbing his head at the sharp ache that sparked in the forefront of his brain. He was not one for experiencing headaches, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he ever had one. The ache disappeared after a few seconds, bringing him back to total normality. 

“That was weird.” Zoro grumbled to himself, putting his feet into action as he headed for bed.  

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

“Luffy for the last time, that’s Y/N eggs and you’ve eaten enough to feed all of us!” Sanji shouted at Luffy, you giggled at the antics of your new captain. Luffy pouted as he crossed his arms in defeat. 

“It's okay Sanji, here Luffy you can have mine.” You scraped your eggs off your plate onto his. Luffy's pout now replaced with stars adorning his eyes as he chomped down. Sanji sighed in defeat but would never bring himself to ever lecture you. 

“Y/N-chan, it's sweet of you to be generous but you need to eat as well.” Sanji lovingly said as he walked over to you and placed more eggs from the pan he was holding. You smiled apologetically and got to work polishing off everything on your plate. 

As you picked up your cup and slowly began sipping on your coffee, you looked over at Luffy and remembered a question you had for him. 

“Luffy, may I ask what I’m expected to do now that I’m part of the crew?” 

Luffy looked up from his plate to look at you, a bright smile on his face.

“What's your dream Y/N?” Luffy asked. You weren’t expecting this question, the only person who really knew about your dream was your best friend Lily from the village and Zoro. You didn’t find your dream to be as inspiring as Zoro’s or Luffy’s but nonetheless you would tell your new captain. 

“My dream would be to illustrate my travels around the world. I carry my sketchbook around with me.” You answer back feeling a faint blush of embarrassment on your face, not noticing how Usopp’s ears perked up in interest. 

“Then as part of my crew and one of my nakama, you are to achieve your dream and in turn you  help me to become the King of the Pirates.” Luffy's answer was sufficient enough, you smiled at him nodding in acknowledgment. 

“You draw too? Can I see some of your work?” Usopp asked, you turned your head to nod at him. 

“Hold on Usopp-bro, before you do anything I need to give Y/N a formal tour of the ship. I hope you aren’t as helpless as your husband is with navigation.” Franky said, you and the others laughed. As much as you loved Zoro, you couldn’t deny he really was terrible with directions. 

With breakfast over, you thanked Sanji for the meal, got up and followed Franky around the ship with Usopp. He showed you around the rooms, where the bedrooms were, bathroom and the locker room to put your stuff in. You noticed your locker was placed next to Zoros which, not surprisingly, looked quite clean. 

After leaving the locker room, the three of you were making your way to the deck when you noticed a room Franky hadn’t taken you into with a sign ‘In Progress’. 

“What's this room for?” You asked him. Franky and Usopp looked at each other,  Usopp scratched his neck as he looked away from you embarrassed while Franky lifted up his right palm to giggle behind it.

“That room is for you and Zoro, it's not finished yet but it will be soon.” Franky said, winking at you. You had completely forgotten about that room and failed to fight the blush blooming on your face. 

Franky continued his tour taking you to the deck and to his workshop, proudly showing off his work in development. You admired in awe whilst Usopp promised to show you his factory room later on when “it was safe”. You had no idea what he meant by this, the tour eventually came to an end and you thanked Franky for his time. 

You made your way back to your shared room with the girls to grab your sketchbook to show Usopp your work. As you were leaving the room with your sketchbook in hand and made your way back to the deck to meet Usopp again, you noticed Zoro emerging from the boys room behind you, sleep evident in his eye. He looked at you, offering a short grunt in acknowledgment and entered the kitchen to see what food was left over for him. You smiled fondly to yourself, continuing up to the deck whilst remembering just how much Zoro loved to sleep. 

‘Some things never change do they’ 

Seven Years ago - Shimotsuki Village 

“Hey Y/N, are you heading home now?” Lily caught up to you as you were leaving the school building. You turned to acknowledge her with exhaustion evident on your face from the day you’ve had. You usually would have walked home from school with her but groaned as you remembered you had an errand to run. 

“I just need to make a quick delivery to the shop for my dad. You go ahead, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You promised, waving at her before walking away from the building.

As you walked on the path, you made a quick decision to take a shortcut through the forest to your left off the path to get to the shop. The parcel your dad had given you was hefty in weight and you couldn’t wait to feel the lightness in your bag back after spending the day carrying it. 

As you walked through the forest, hearing the gentle crunch of grass and leaves under your shoes, a gentle breeze wafted through your hair. You admired the forest, it was one of your favourite places to stroll through to clear your mind when you were overwhelmed. You always made sure to admire what it had to offer you from the brightest of greens in the leaves of the trees to the darkest shades of browns in the soil and bark. You truly felt at peace. 

After walking for some time and realising you weren’t far from the shop now, you turned a corner around a large tree when your eyes noticed something under one of the trees. You froze for a moment. You couldn’t make out what or who it could be from your distance. Your curiosity got the best of you, deciding to quietly walk up until your eyes could make out that it was Zoro leaning back against the tree sleeping. 

“Now why would you decide to nap there?” You whispered to yourself. You’ve never really been this close to Zoro before where you could examine his face as you always chose to keep your distance from him. You took in his tanned skin, noticing how supple it looked, his green hair vibrant. He looked so gentle like this compared to how you usually saw him; enigmatic and cold. You took in his facial features, his closed eyes were soft, his lips parted open and the sound of gentle snoring could be heard.

You knew he was special from how everyone treated Zoro. You were personally too intimidated by him to even look him in the eye. However, you realised he took no notice of all the stares he got from them. You couldn’t understand why they were so obsessed with him but you also couldn’t understand why you were so drawn to him at this very moment.

Deciding the parcel delivery could wait a little bit, you walked to sit a few trees away from him so as to not disturb him. You quietly dug through your bag and pulled out your sketchbook and pencil. 

You spent some time drawing him, taking your time doing so as you had a feeling he wouldn’t wake up from his slumber for some time. Some time passed and you stopped after you were satisfied with your work, looking between your work and Zoro. Your eyes paused on him, looking at the still Zoro, not noticing a small smile had crept on your face. Your heart began to thunder in your chest and your face and ears began to burn. 

‘Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum.’

“Oh fuck.” 

[rowaelinsdaughter]

𝕳𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖉𝖆𝖞 (𝕸𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

omg, i need holy water,like, did I seriously write this??? well, i did, so please enjoy as much as i did writing this 🫶🏻 sorry if there's any error, english isn't my first language

WARNINGS: smut, fluff (a little bit), iron nails play (?)

WORD COUNT: 1,5 (k)

“I can do it, I can do it, I can do it…No, I can't do it”

“You know Manon would kill me if I was here, right?”

You rolled your eyes and turned to look at Asterin. “I know she would, but I need someone’s opinion on” you pointed to your body “this.”

Asterin rolled his eyes.

“I already told you, you look perfect and Manon will love it” a mischievous smile adorned Asterin's lips “besides, I don't think it will last long.”

You looked in the mirror again and appreciated the black lingerie that adorned your body. Manon loved seeing you in lingerie, it awakened something primal in her. When there were people she was reserved, although she had to keep you close and touch your back or hand so that they knew that you were hers, and that they had no chance of being with her. Besides, who would dare to confront the Queen of Witches? But, when you were both alone? He couldn't stop kissing you, having you close, telling you that he loved you. Although she was always the dominant one and you loved it.

You caressed the straps of the bra, marveling at the softness of the fabric. The top part held your breasts perfectly, the lace was perfect and the bottom part covered only your area, leaving your ass visible. You hesitated again whether to leave it on or not. But it was Manon's birthday. Her 150th birthday to be exact. You were going to do it.

"Ok I'm leaving." Asterin stood up from the chair she had been sitting in while you tried on the different lingerie. He approached you, winked and left.

You grabbed the robe that matched the lingerie and decided to dress up a little more. You made waves in your hair and left it down, creating a perfect waterfall down your back. You decided to wear little makeup and painted your lips a soft red, creating a contrast with your black lingerie.

Manon had to go to a nearby town to listen to people and then try to solve their problems, so to kill time you decided to read a book that you started a long time ago.

It was dusk when you heard Abraxos arrive, you approached the window being careful not to let him see you and there you saw him. She wore her moon-white hair in a braid and her fighting clothes fit perfectly on every part of her body. To surprise her, you decided to go into the bathroom until she arrived.

It wasn't long before you heard the door open and close.

“Yn” Manon looked around the room, confused to not find you anywhere.

You opened the bathroom door a little, careful not to make too much noise and so that she wouldn't find out, and when you saw that her back was to you, you opened the door completely, leaning on the door frame, letting the robe fall a little. 

Manon turned around and all rational thought vanished from her mind when she saw you standing there.

You saw how his gaze changed from surprise to lust in a matter of seconds, making a current of electricity run through your entire spine.

Gathering courage you decided to approach her. Manon watched as your hands opened the robe you were wearing, letting it fall to the floor, exposing yourself to her.

He approached you, looking over every part of your body, from your bare feet to your breasts. When she was centimeters away from you and you felt the heat emanating from her body, she approached your ear, and with a voice that he only saved for you when you were in bed, she whispered:

“I'm going to devour every part of your body, I'm going to make you scream my name so loud that the people in the town where I've been will know who makes you feel this way, and I'm going to enjoy my gift every moment. And when dawn comes you won't be able to get out of bed. Have you understood me?”

You swallowed and with a small voice you responded. “Yes, Manon.”

Her hands grabbed your knees and she lifted you up, carrying you to bed. You had never felt more exposed than now, lying on your double bed, she looked over you again. She took out her iron nails, caressing from your neck to your panties, a stain of your arousal present on them. You held your breath, watching a feline smile grace her handsome features as she noticed the stain.

She retracted her nails and tore them out with that strength that characterized her. He threw what was left of them into some corner of the room. Her hands caressed your legs to your sex, a muffled moan left your mouth, waiting for Manon to do something.

She caressed your clitoris and your hips rose involuntarily, controlled by the fire that now ran through your entire body thanks to the attention your lover was giving you. At this, Manon caressed your clit again, this time using a little more pressure, making you moan accompanied by her name.

“Is something wrong, witchling?”

She brought her face closer to your sex and licked from your entrance to your clit, sucking it, drawing those moans from your lips that let Manon know that you were enjoying yourself.

“Shit Manon… Don't stop plea-” You couldn't finish the sentence and a moan louder than the others came from your red lips as you felt her insert two fingers, synchronizing the caresses she gave you with her tongue and the thrusts of her fingers, reaching to that point that made you see the stars.

You heard a growl leave her lips as you felt your walls clench around her fingers. You were close, very close. With one hand you grabbed the sheets and with the other you held her head between your legs, preventing her from getting out of there. But Manon loved to make you beg, with her free hand she pushed your hand away from her head, pulled her fingers out and moved her tongue away from your sex.

"No, please"

She leaned back on her heels and began to undo her clothes, starting with the top. Her jacket, shirt and bra disappeared in some corner of the room. You licked your lips at the sight of her round breasts and pink nipples. Manon, seeing where your gaze was, decided to squeeze them, making your walls tighten.

You stood up, kneeling in front of her, pushed her hands away and began to massage, caressing her nipples with your thumbs. Manon sighed and that was the signal you needed to start licking one of her nipples and continue caressing the other. You notice how her hand caresses your head and with the other she strokes  your sex, inserting two fingers again.

You pull away and start kissing her neck and the hand she has in your hair tenses. You adored that area of ​​her, because it was the most sensitive. She pulls you away from her neck and takes out the fingers she still had inside you, grabbing your face with both hands and brings you closer to a kiss full of love, passion, lust and warmth.

You notice how she begins to get rid of the bottom part and lie down again, this time bringing your sexes closer together, moving her hips in a perfect rhythm, eliciting moans that are quickly silenced as your mouths are together.

You were the first to separate from her. You leaned your head back, leaving room for Manon to start biting and leaving marks that you knew everyone would see tomorrow.

You were close, very close.

“Are you close, witchling? Do you want to cum?”

You nodded. But Manon stopped moving her hips and grabbed your neck without applying too much pressure but just enough to make you go to the limit.

"Words"

“Yes Manon, please, I want to cum.”

She leaned close to your ear and whispered. “Good witchling”

She moved her hips again, this time a little faster and caressing your clit.

You became a bundle of moans, you felt that incredible sensation in your lower area. And then your whole world exploded, you stopped hearing what was happening around you, and you could only feel the orgasm course through your body, making your back arch.

You noticed how the bed sank next to you and two pairs of arms pulled you to her body. You wrapped an arm around her torso and rested your head on her shoulder. You were both drenched in sweat, but neither of you made any attempt to get out of bed and clean yourself, feeling better in each other's warmth.

Manon turned on her side so she could stare at you. You opened your eyes and found the gold that you loved so much. You smiled tired and at the same time happy.

“Did you like your gift?”

You saw her smile and her hand brushed your hair away from your face.

“I loved it, but”she got on top of you again “I told you that I was going to have you until dawn and I'm going to keep my promise.”

A playful laugh left your lips, you put your arms around her neck, pulling her close to you.

“Happy birthday, Manon.”

"Happy Birthday to me"

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 ©𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚 / 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆.

[mikki-does-simp]

Words aren't worth shit. (Kuroiro Shihai x GN!reader)

surprise you guys, i came back from my grave for the kajillionth time! frankly, i'm slightly sick of interacting with almost of the MHA fandom, but my love for 1B seems to never ever waver, so i'll try my very best to stick to more longform fanfiction and post more-often so that the people who deserve it have actual content.

A/N: i wrote this in literally two adjacent blocks starting at 1AM and ending around 5 AM with a sleep from 4-4:30, so forgive any flow inconsistences or grammar/spelling mistakes because i say fuck the beta

edit: actually never mind next time i will appreciate a beta run more i left so many spaces that were just- *unfilled*

socially awkward kuroiro AND tactical manipulator kuroiro CAN co-exist, it just has to be written in a very specific way, though. despite that, with you, he feels like a cat covered in wet spaghetti, but like, in a good way.

Who the hell came up with the saying "a picture is worth a thousand words"? Or hell, who altered it to have it to relate an action? Kuroiro didn't really seem to convince himself of it, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't like he was indifferent to works of art- after all, he considered himself a sort of artistic guy... but when it came to a flash, a picture in his mind, a memory- usually it only took up about thirteen words in his mind. He considered himself a writer. Dare he say a poet. He kept piles upon piles of journals of his writing, and where people could not suffice, pen and paper were his greatest confidants. As much as he liked pencils, pens were just- ironically more artistic; even if he had to scribble at the paper if he misspelled a word or accidentally placed the lettering way too close.

He clenched a few papers between his hands, skimming over the writing as he stood in wait for what might be a pinnacle moment of his life. There were too many mistakes in his mind- so many scribbles it seemed like a quarter of each page was just a section or a word, blacked out in ink. He sighed, inwardly admitting that staying up until two am in the morning writing this was a terrible idea it's not like the author is doing the EXACT same thing down to the hour, but he could just not wait. Thoughts seemed to be always running through his head at light speed, from dawn to dusk and in between his dreams like a sickness of his. This is when he started to pace around with the pages in his hand, having to really mentally prepare himself for what he set up on what seemed to be the first impromptu thought of his entire life so far.

Kuroiro had somehow deluded himself so hard that he decided that he was going to profess his feelings for you within the next moment. Or at the very least, his fond admiration for your pieces, large or small that create the entire puzzle. He had slipped a piece of plain notebook paper under your door, even; that's how casual he tried to seem about it, as it could mean a lot of different things under different connotations if you ask someone to meet you. It wasn't a fancy sort of greeting or letter like he would have spent countless hours imagining he would, but it would make due. His pen and paper were becoming restless in it's own right, sick of hearing the same thought in a different variant over and over and over again. He had decided to meet you about fifteen minutes before the dormitory curfew, as to both make it less inconvenient for you and to make sure he had an escape route if anything went wrong. Yet again, his mind seems to be in a race with everything around it, dreaming up every possibility. Every triumph, every pitfall. The churns in his stomach grew more intense as he began to doubt himself,

It didn't take too long for you to meet him, with the casually dressed notebook paper folded in one of your hands. You pocketed it, then closed the gap of distance between you and Kuroiro, standing in front of him with a curious look to the papers in his hand- and how he looked like how he was going to vomit up a hairball. It raised some eyebrows, sure; but you seemed to understand his nature- his mannerisms, his idiosyncrasies: you seemed to accept them as they were, with no complaints otherwise about who he was. Human. A breath of fresh air for a guy like him, really. He didn't even greet you properly for a moment, already seeming to clam up, enamored by your beauty. It took a couple seconds for him to actually remember why he brought the two of you here- but when he did, he slowly looked to the writing in front of him, starting to read it out. Unfortunately for you, it was incredibly difficult to decipher what he was actually saying- he used so many elusive synonyms that the average person wouldn't be familiar with in terms of linguistics, and he would often go back to read a part if he messed it up, or pause for a moment to try and figure out what he was trying to say himself. The more and more he talked, the more Kuroiro realized this the sole brainless idea he had in a very long time- at least in his book, so out of some sort of shame, he started getting quieter as he read. His posture crumpled up more than it was before, and he was mumbling so badly, that it was even hard for him to hear the words that were spewing out of his mouth as he tried to read back He dropped the small stack of papers, much to your confusion; then, much to his incredible embarrassment, he felt his legs start to buckle despite himself as he kneeled to the floor, covering his face with his hands and starting to mumble a little louder about how incredibly awkward this situation was and that you should just forget it ever happened. He couldn't anymore, everything seemed to catch up to him in his incredulity...

You kneeled down to the floor with him, starting to pick up the papers for him. His hand reflexively moved to instantly snatch the papers from you- to hide away and confide yet again in the caverns of pen and paper- but he stops himself, opting to ball his hand into a fist to do so as he starts on an attempt to quell his mild panicked breathing. He felt so... soppy. Dare he say even- pathetic in a way. It took a moment, but he eventually found the strength to look you in the eye, and they lock, the watercolor to his monochrome. You pick up the rest of the pages, and even if it is incredibly messy and out of order, you remember how he reached to grab them from you, and although it confused you on why he would do that, you respected him too much to pry; in a state where he was cracking on all sides of a sphere, where he looked so oddly vulnerable. If you weren't too preoccupied with being concerned about the way he was acting, it would have felt good, about how he seemed to trust you being within this state

"Hey..." you interjected, slowly starting to offer both your held papers; and your free outstretched hand over to Kuroiro, "Take the time you need. You'll find a way to say what you need to say... and I'll flag you down with signals so it won't- get lost within the waters."

You had sort of an idea what was happening- but you could ask for more context later, as Kuroiro seemed a little too nervewracked to answer your questions. He took the both of you off guard, as he shuffled a little closer, his own arms beginning to outstretch as he simply took your simple outstretched gesture to wrap his arms around you in a shakey but gentle embrace. In that very moment, he couldn't believe it but... no words could describe what he felt. He almost lost himself in trying to figure it out, but at the same time, you quelled the tide all the same as you held each-other there.

[wavvie]

Retribution: Prologue

Part 2 of 2

previous/next

The congregation parted for Yaenfiera, the choir echoing throughout the grand cathedral. All of it was foreign to her; marriage was something few priestesses agreed to—those who did never married a human, let alone the last King of Dawn.

Daenil looked upon Yaenfiera with an unpleasant leer. The infernals had done their work, and they did it well. Yaenfiera had seen such looks before from him but never at her. "We gather here to submit to the will of the gods." The priest's words begin as the choir quiets to a harmonizing hum, "Through them, His Grace, King Daenil, and Her Holiness, High Priestess Yaenfiera, are to be bound in marriage. With flesh against flesh and hearts to beat as one, their souls are forever intertwined from this day until the end of their days." "As Atlir vows to Ielia, I, too, pledge to you," Daenil's voice wavers; he pauses for a moment and winces before continuing, "I will forever walk by your side, bring light to your darkest days, shield you from harm, and worship and adore you." Yaenfiera looks to Daenil, and sorrow settles in her heart. The last time they were in this chapel, he was young and in love. Perhaps she, too, had loved him and him her. Those days were gone. Any ounce of love they could muster was lost out at sea. And here they both stood again, wanting to regain what was taken from them. As if a sham marriage would return those they loved and lost.

Screams erupt throughout the cathedral, hell fire engulfing all but Yaenfiera and Daenil. Yaenfiera could all but watch in horror as Daenil's subjects grew disfigured and grotesque. They're screams of agony turning to ones of pleasure. A pit from the depths of the hells opens, and three pairs of red eyes watch from within. Two make their way out of the fiery abyss, leaving the third to watch from afar. Tall, slender, horned beings make their way to the altar. "Lovely good show, if only the mouthy wretch could've seen. Alas, I don't dare trust her on the mortal plane. As tempting as it would be to toy further with you both." The one with more grandeur horns spoke first. "Pitty, pitty. I tried to make my father wait until the consummation; how the horrendous display of breaking a holy vow would anger my ever beloathed grandfather." The less grandeur shook his head in disappointment. "Guards!" Daenil calls out on instinct. "Be grateful, Your Highness, we've only taken the souls of your esteemed keep and the city below. We are not but merciful; it would be wise of you to remember that in the coming months." The figures give a flash of teeth, sharpened to pointed ends. "It was you. You were the one entering my conscience." Daenil looks on in horror. The more grandeur rushes the King, grasping his neck and lifting him off the ground. The King struggles to breathe. "Yes. I am the first of my kind, but far from the last. The first Rising Sun, the first Fallen Moon. Unlike my parents, mortal hood is all but a mystery to me. To be so… disposable, to break so easily, why I could never." The grandeur spoke. "Let him go, Dostrin." Yaenfiera tries with her might to sound strong, pulling from every essence of priesthood, of sovereignty. Her voice cracks, filled with fear. Dostrin, son of Atlir and Ielia. The first to be born a god, the first to have had his godhood denounced. "There's a fourth piece we require that you so carefully absconded with, High Priestess." The less grandeur draws Yaenfiera's attention to him. Estrus, the son of Dostrin and the Goddess Ola. Dostrin's key to leaving the hells without the divine's leave. "She's hidden under whatever cloak of protection you weaved. Perhaps it's better this way: let her find my grandfather's champion, so once she's in our possession, I can gut the bastard where he stands." "No," Yaenfiera says, earning a burning glare from the half-demon-half-god. "No?" Estrus mocks. Yaenfiera stands her ground. "She will do what was entrusted to her. If you are here, the fated encounter is nigh. She will deliver the Rhae'zeil, and he will be your reckoning." Yaenfiera holds her head high; the words she spoke to her daughter coming to her. 'Hold fast. When despair sets in, and all seems lost, hold fast and remember who you are.' Yaenfiera brought the child in her mind's eye. "Your unwavering servitude is aw-inspiring, High Priestess. Now, someone waits for you both; I found her wandering around on the seafloor." And with that, the world became a sweltering inferno around them.

[cherrywoodmaeg]

Shortcut, Pt. 10

Last chapter had the worst cliffhanger. Good thing I didn't disappear for no reason leaving all three (3) of you readers hanging.

Anyways, I'm thankful that some of you reached out. I have no intention of abandoning this story, and I have a few more chapters ready to be released.

Lots of love!

A long way home

Jon had absolutely no idea where he was. The trees around him grew high and only scarcely allowed the sun to shine through. Upon waking up, he had found himself without his coat, lying on the mossy ground, covered in mud and wet.

A dull headache began to form behind his forehead. Where the hell am I? Where is Niphka?

Jon groaned and ran his hands over his face. He only vaguely remembered the past night and tried to get the impressions it had left into the right order.

We had a chat, I went to sleep, and then –

It dawned on him.

The ship.

His dreaming state had transported him back onto the HMS Triumph, back into that room with Gregson and Doyle, back into the water, without air, without a chance of survival, until…

Niphka.

Jon remembered the panic blinding him as his mind was stuck between sleep and consciousness. He remembered running. He remembered falling. And then, nothing.

“What have I done?”

Jon tried calling for Niphka. He cried her name until his voice grew hoarse and his throat yearned for water. Despite his protesting ankle, Jon staggeringly began to walk. If he wanted to survive, sitting around wouldn’t do him any good.

After travelling with his giant companion, Jon’s own speed seemed agonizingly slow. When the sun began to hide behind clouds, he could only guess how much time passed. Eventually, Jon stumbled across a rocky road meandering through the woods. It was really more of a desire path, but it left him with a dilemma: left or right?

Before he could make his choice though, he heard something.

“Niphka?” he yelled, barely daring to hope.

“Hello?”

Someone had answered, but Jon didn’t recognize the voice. He took a few steps toward where he presumed its source. As the path bent, he was confronted with a new scene.

A chaise lay in the ditch, one of its large wheels broken. A white pony stood nearby peacefully gnawing on a twig. And on top the damaged carriage sat a very angry woman, who, upon seeing him, jumped off and stomped towards him.

“Perfect! You!” She pointed her finger at Jon, who came to a halt in confusion.

“Tell me you saw them!”

Jon had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t just stand around, man! You’ll be my witness!”

Despite her robust leather soles, she was a lot smaller than Jon. Nevertheless, her determination and her strong voice made her a force to be reckoned with, as Jon was about to find out. She looked young, barely of age, and wore her honey blonde hair in a braided knot. Rogue strands had fallen out at several places and made her appearance worn. Her orange and yellow clothes were cut like a hunter’s vest and trousers, but the embroidery on it as well as the ornaments on the carriage revealed that she came from money.

“Witness to what?”

She merely groaned.

Jon grew annoyed. “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

She flopped herself down next to the intact wheel of her chaise.

“If you didn’t see those idiots shoving me off the street, you’re useless to me.”

Jon ignored her grouse and walked past to stroke the pony.

“What’s his name?”

“That’s Ferdi. And since you’re asking so politely, I’m Ida.”

“Jon” he responded without looking at her. His interest had wandered over to the broken wheel.

“Why are you half-naked?”

Jon sighed. “Long story.”

She shrugged. “Well, you wear whatever you want. Or don’t.” Ida got on her feet and pulled a wooden box out of her chaise’s seat.

“Want to share lunch?” The piece of bread she waved at him seemed like the most delicious thing in the world. Jon sat beside her and dug his teeth into it. It was dry, but he could barely restrain himself from devouring it all at once.

“Eat like a person, man. When’s the last time you’ve had something?”

Her sceptical eyes scanned him up and down.

“Are you a vagabond or something?”

“’M trying t’get home,” he responded between chews.

“And where’s that?”

“M’llershby.”

That only made her suspicion rise.

“On foot?”

Jon swallowed his last bite.

“Do you like to interrogate people for fun?”

“Lots of strange people around.” She wiped her hands on her clothes.

“Well, at least I have this piece of evidence so I can get those idiots a proper prosecution for their offense on traffic law.” She pulled a dirty green jacket from the carriage.

“Hey, that’s my coat!” Jon yelled in surprise.

“You can’t have it back. It’s evidence.”

Jon nearly rolled his eyes.

“Alright, Ida. If I can repair your chaise, will you give me my coat back?”

She looked at him in surprise. and then gave him her hand to shake.

“I’ll tell you what, Jon: If you repair that pile of chaos, I will not only give you your coat back, I will actually pay you.” And she added, “If you don’t mess it up.”

Now, Jon almost had to laugh. “Deal!”

Part 9 < Part 10 > Part 11

[g0dspeeed]

Making Moves

Eli Palmer was a brave man, certainly brave enough to sit in the Spread Eagle and muster up the courage to meet the bartender.

He didn't expect the bartender to be braver.

Cappie De La Costa & Eli Palmer

He took a sip. Then another. A big gulp and a deep breath. The stool creaked under his weight, under that pressure of hesitation that sat heavy and stilled whatever bravery he mustered up in the last hour. A mistake, for the short pause allowed that sickening doubt to creep in like a fog. His tense body settled back down as it seized him, as it brought that damn insecurity back to the forefront of his mind.

To be there felt like a surreal dream. It bordered reality and fiction, to be in a place he passed almost every day but had no reason until the last month to step foot in. Had someone told Eli Palmer that he would be nursing a beer in the Spread Eagle on a Thursday night, oh the funny look he would give! But it wasn't a dream. It wasn't a joke. He was there and fighting the urge to flee.

Another sip. Tasteless, the beer might as well had been water. Another swallow of anxiety, for his body was churning with it, bubbling in his stomach every time he dared to look at her, when he dared to take in her cheeky smile and the glitter of her emerald eyes from across the bar.

The lukewarm bottle was pressed to his lips, but Eli found it empty. It was lowered back to the table top by his sweaty hand–

Sweating? Really?

Eli berated himself for the hundredth time that night for he felt absolutely ridiculous. He had fought overseas, saw the horrors of war, abroad and it's domestic aftermath. He spent nights alone in the mountains, fell asleep to wolf song. He was the leader of his own militia, unafraid of authority and an advocate for independence from the Powers That Be. And yet, he was nervous. He was paralyzed, all because of her.

The night was dragging at a slow pace, but despite his discomfort, Eli found that he could watch her work all damn day. Cappie–Just 'Cappie' because no one he knew was wise to her actual name– was a hearty laugh and a firm hand, all cheeky smiles and a suggestive wink flavored by the addictive uncertainty of where one stood with her. She dressed plainly in a sports bra that was brimmed by wadded dollar bills and gray joggers that rested low on her hips, low enough to show the thin elastic of a red thong. There was a lazy sexiness to her which Eli guessed was the intent. The scar down her cheek was prominent, true, but to Eli the scar made her smiles all the more attractive for anyone who could smile after surviving such woundedness was admirable in his book. Men seemed to blush at whatever she said to them. Eli hated how much he wished it was him–

"Hey, handsome!"

Whatever thought he was having evaporated from his brain as Cappie called out from the bar, making every man who thought held all her attention look over. A heavy pause followed as it dawned on Eli that she was talking to him.

"Yeah?" he managed to say, his voice level enough to mask just how shocked he was that Cappie noticed him at all.

The bartender seemed tickled by his confusion and raised an unopened beer bottle in his direction.

"Got another for you," she said. "If you wanna come and get it.”

Eli stared for a beat longer before he nodded and left his stool. The music drawled on in the background, the moment probably unexciting to the rest of the crowd as Eli moved to stand across from Cappie. She was still smiling with hazel eyes glimmering from the overhead lights. Eli hated how light he felt as he accepted the beer, loathed how he lavished in the fleeting touch of their fingers.

"Thanks," he said. "How much?"

Cappie waved off his question.

"Paid for," she told him.

Eli frowned, but Cappie paused to pour a shot of whiskey. She knocked it back with another wink, no doubt seeing how his dark eyes tracked her throat. His lips twitched a smile at the way Cappie hissed from the burn.

"Was tired of waiting on your handsome ass to make a move," confessed the bartender with a smirk. "So I made one. Gotta say, I like you close to me than all the way over there 'cause, shit, you have the most beautiful eyes I ever saw.”

Eli felt warm all over, her words a spell for his beating heart. It took a second for her meaning to register, but like how he faced the wars in Afghanistan, the Hope County Sheriff's office, and the wilds of the mountains, rather than flee, Eli Palmer faced the unknown head on. He looked Cappie in the eye and made the stranger beside him make room so Eli could sit at the bar across from her.

"Well, ma'am," he then started with a shy smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Promise I'll never do it again, starting when your shift ends."

And Eli Palmer did what no one else in the Spread Eagle had done that day: He made Cappie De La Costa blush.

[onepiecc]

@phoenixbxrn -closed starter-

The auction was big and popular as they were selling pirates that were captured by the World Government. Sometimes Marines would leave pirates behind to sell as slaves for the world noblemen to purchase. The female came as she was looking for a new pet to show off as it was becoming popular among the female Celestial Dragons to have a pet that was a devil fruit user zoan type. She wanted some rare and exotic as nothing had caught her eye until it came to the final item for the evening. It was a former pirate that was well known, but she was mostly interested in his devilfruit abilities.

Cosima smiled as she finally found the perfect pet to take home with her after weeks of searching. Standing up the woman left her section as she wanted to buy him in cash and gloat in front of the other Celestial Dragons that came. She deserved a dramatic moment and wanted to leave an impress on her Canary. As the bids were being placed she waited in the back of the room in the darkness so he would not be able to see her. When an older Celestial Dragon bit who was known to have an interest in handsome men all the lesser nobles stopped bidding. At least they knew better to go against a god unless you were of an even higher status.

The auctioneer was counting down for any final bids, as the old man giggled with glee as he licked his lips believing he had won the crown jewel of the whole auction. “100 billion berries.” Cosima’s voice echoed throughout the entire hall as she started to walk down the steps. Glancing around to see who would dare outbid him, the old man was fuming shouting, “Who dares to defy a god!” Her purple eyes narrowed as she stood over from where he was sitting until it dawned on him who it was “The Saint Figarland family. If you know better then you shall keep that mouth of yours shut.” Her voice was cold and venomous before she turned to keep walking towards the stage with a smile on her face as the old man looked away angry as he couldn’t go against her.

Walking to the stage she wrapped her fingers around the male’s face as she inspected his injuries. Clicking her tongue with disapproval she glanced at the auctioneer and glared. “I want my canary patched up with the best medical care before I leave in two hours. Plus no branding his skin I want him how he is. If you leave any more marks on him I will make sure you suffer the same a hundred fold.” Standing up the female left to go to the study to wait for the order to be completed.

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Nightmare

Hilda fanfic

Another nightmare for Erik. I do like playing around with the surreal-ness of them. One-shot.

***

“Go on. Tell them, Ahlberg. Tell them you lied. You made the whole story up to get attention, because nobody likes you!” Jeremy’s accusation rang out, bringing a hot flush to Erik’s cheeks. He dared not lift his head as he stood, trembling, before the entire schoolyard.

“Tell them you never deserved that medal.”

Erik’s jolted upright, the second accusation knifing deeper than the first. How did Jeremy know he’d deliberated riled the Trolls - provoked them to attack the city he’d sworn to protect? How could he know what he’d done?

It was not the schoolyard before him, but all of Trolberg. A vast crowd, staring up to where he stood, alone on the stage where they’d presented his medal. This time, all those faces didn’t fill Erik with giddy elation, but with the same fear that had gripped him all those years ago. He’d been caught.

Erik looked about desperately for his deputy. She always knew what to do. She would get them out of this sticky situation. “Gerda? Help.” There she was, suddenly, standing at his shoulder. But his plea fell on a stone-cold expression. Gerda said not a word, but turned her back and walked away.

“No, please! Gerda, don’t leave me alone up here.”

“TELL THEM.”

It was not Jeremy that accused him now. The voice was familiar, but deeper. The same voice he’d heard in the vision, calling out his name. Behind the crowd, she stood, towering over them. The Troll’s mother. His mother.

She stepped forward, shrinking as she strode through the crowd, her face still carved of stone, but the features became clearer as she approached. Not kind. Not the loving face Erik knew, always there to tell him none of this was his fault. Nothing ever was. No, her features were twisted with utter disgust.

Erik raised his hands as he took a stumbling step back. “Mo-mother?”

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, lifted him clear from the ground, and slammed him up against the wall behind. Erik gasped. Not only from the force of the blow, but the shock. His mother had never laid a hand on him before.

“Tell them.”

The crowed stared, expectant. As what she wanted from him dawned, tears sprung to Erik’s eyes. They would all know! They’d know he’d lied, they’d know he’d put them in all in danger. And worse, they’d know he’d made a desperate, pathetic grasp for their praise, love and affection.

She had never hurt him, but in that moment, Erik knew she would not relent until she’d wrung the truth from him. “Mother, please, don’t make me…” he begged, voice splitting, “I can’t!”

“If you won’t speak, I will reveal you to them as the man you really are.”

She raked her nails down his chest, tearing his clothes to tatters, stripping him bare. Unheeding of his pleas, she clawed one hand, then the other across his body, again and again and again, cutting his flesh to ribbons. And all of Trolberg saw him revealed. Not only for what he’d done, but his mother cut him deeper still. Through the layers of deceit, past the stories of doom, and the grandiose speeches that promised Safety Patrol, and its illustrious leader, as Trolberg’s heroic saviour.

“Mother, please, stop…”

Erik collapsed to his knees, whimpering, hugging his flayed chest together. But it was too late. Every eye had bored deep inside, seen past the deception and frustration to the fear and desperation which had driven him. Seen deep inside to the scared, unlovable, ugly soul, desperate to be seen as something it knew it could never be. They’d seen him for who he truly was, and they would never love him now.

Erik awoke, not violently, but with a faint, wrenching sob. He curled up on himself, and scrunched up tight, covering all his mother had stripped bare. Until, slowly, he realised it had been nothing but another dream. Another in the string of nightmares, waking him since his actions at the wall. Despite his safety, no longer in danger of being outed, despite no hope of falling back asleep, he stayed knotted in his covers for a long time.

[heretic-altias]

FFXIVWrite Day 13 - Check

Gonna preface this one with a TW for self harm. It's not like. depression self harm, it's very much for a cause, but a man does stab himself so yeah. World's worst checklist on how to save your dragon. Absolutely not approved by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

Don’t know my characters? Here’s a basic breakdown to help you out!

~

Kito’s entire plan had led up to this moment. He desperately focused on Twintania’s presence in his mind, hoping their connection would be enough to draw her his way.

He’d been horrified to learn what had happened when he’d finally returned from the First. She had just flown off one day with no warning. Her thoughts had seemed muddled and strange, and she wasn’t shielded from him as she usually was for both of their sanities. It was only talking with the Scions altogether that they had worked out what had happened. 

Like her mother Tiamat, Twintania had been tempered from the start. But her link to Kito had more than likely allowed his blessing of light to shield her from its influence. With him on the First and their connection weakened, she’d been vulnerable to the call of Lunar Bahamut when Fandaniel summoned him.

The theory was once they freed her, Kito’s blessing should shield her again as if she had it too. As long as they stayed in the same world anyway.

But doing that required subduing an ancient and powerful dragon long enough to cure her tempering.

Kito had a plan though. A terrible one. One the Scions didn’t know the entirety of. But a plan nonetheless. 

He mentally ticked the boxes in his mind as it progressed.

Step One: Get into the same area as Twintania. 

Check. He stood on the battlefield in the desert, dragons and soldiers clashing all around him. Fandaniel had made this step easy with his attack.

Step Two: Hope Kito’s mental link was still strong enough to draw Twintania near him and the Scions even while she was tempered.

That was what he was waiting for, but he could tell it was working. He could sense her presence approaching. But he waited until he could see her in the sky above him.

Check.

The Scions knew this much. But all they knew of step three was his assurance that he could bring her down long enough for them to save her.

“Stand back” he warned them, moving forward himself. Both to keep them safe when a dragon fell from the sky and make sure they couldn’t stop his next move.

He rolled up a sleeve and examined his left arm. A blot of ink was left in just the right spot as he’d planned it. He knew both his own and Twintania’s anatomy well enough.

Step Three: Drive a knife into the perfect spot in his arm to pain her wing and bring her down.

The idea had stemmed from the idea that when they didn’t block each other out they could literally feel each other’s pain. Twintania couldn’t block him out right now, the tempering gripped her too strongly for her to be aware of that. It was only his mental block protecting them both from that right now.

He dropped it and was made aware of painful gashes on her underbelly. She’d already met the wrong end of a sword.

At least this next wound wouldn’t be hers.

The Scions finally realized what was about to happen as the knife came into their view, gleaming in the sunlight.

“Kito, don’t you dare!” Alisaie shouted, charging forward.

Before she could stop him, he drove the knife into his arm, blood instantly wetting the blade and tumbling down his arm.

But his plan worked. Twintania’s left wing jerked as if it had been stabbed, and she tumbled from the sky with a screech of pain. Kito couldn’t risk throwing the block back up yet though, there was too much of a chance of her realigning herself. So he felt the impact in his bones as she hit the ground hard, hard enough where he fell over himself.

Check.

She had landed only ilms away from him, most likely only not crushing him on sheer last second instinct. It seemed even in this state she was somewhat aware their lives were tied together.

“Now!” Kito yelled, hoping the Scions were still focused enough to get the job done. 

“You’ll be ok. I promise” he whispered to the dragon as he heard their footsteps approach.

Luckily, the Scions were still unphased after his stunt. Being stabbed hurt, and he really didn’t want to have to repeat the act. Not that anyone would let him.

He wasn’t worried. He’d specifically plotted out the spot to be one that would be non fatal to him while also hitting a point that would mess up Twintania’s flight. But gods it still hurt, and he instinctively clutched the wound. The bloody knife lay forgotten on the ground. It didn’t matter though. The last step was the Scions’ job.

Step 4: Bind her down with magicks before she can recover and cure her tempering so she comes to her senses.

Kito could see they stuck to it, but rather than helping them Alphinaud stopped by his side.

“You are aware we need to fight a battle when this is done, aren’t you?” Alphinuad questioned as he got to work healing the injury.

“Good thing I know some good healers then” Kito answered back as he mentally threw up that mental block again. He didn’t need to share Twintania’s pain anymore, and he felt instantly more alert, no longer feeling like he’d dropped from the sky.

Alphinaud just shook his head and continued until the bloody wound was gone, the sticky drying blood the only sign it had ever been there.

Kito stood up and fixed his sleeve before resolving to stand guard while the Scions worked.

He felt it the moment the tempering broke. Twintania’s mind seemed to recede into its usual corner of his being as she regained control, only to shove itself straight back into his awareness as her memories caught up.

YOU FOOL! She roared directly into Kito���s mind, hauling herself to her feet and stomping up to him with a growl.

It worked, didn’t it? He grinned at her.

He didn’t need to tell her how much he’d missed her or how worried he’d been for her. They were connected, she would always know how he felt.

The Scions gathered around them as well, and Kito held up a hand before they could say anything.

“I know. It was a stupid plan. I’m already being yelled at for it by the dragon in my head, so you guys don’t have to bother” Kito assured them.

Alisaie seemed to be seething with rage, but that was her normal reaction to poor decision making. The others just looked thoughtful.

“I’ve never seen anything like that. It was fascinating. Don’t ever repeat it, but it was certainly something to watch. It was as if you’d both been struck simultaneously” Y’shtola commented.

“He has grown bolder in our time apart. Not wiser. But bolder” Twintania added.

Kito could feel the anger at the risk he took radiating from her. But he could handle her never forgiving him if it meant not losing her.

And to think she hadn’t even liked him at first.

“I hate to interrupt your musings, but I do believe we have a battle to win” Thancred called, gesturing to their surroundings.

Mother flies once more. She calls us to battle, and we shall answer, Twintania told Kito, crouching so he could climb onto her back.

She does. We convinced her to fly again Kito told her as they took flight.

I did not think it possible, back upon Azys Lla. But you, little mortal, always make the impossible happen it would seem Twintania sighed.

She was grateful he’d cared enough to save her. Angry at how he’d done it. But warmed by the fact he had nonetheless.

Now lets see how many of your siblings we can save Kito declared, brandishing his greatsword.

And off they flew, fighting together once again.

[nix-lw]

Lortober day 5: Uncertain

Fayrn took his ink pen and began writing his monthly letter. It was more like a journal at this point, since he had no way of actually sending them. The wolves he wrote letters for were constantly wandering and thus he would not know where to send the letters to. Still, he wrote them, in hopes of one day being able to deliver them in person one day.

Dear birth parents, 

It has been over five winters since I first met my beloved Yrsa. After becoming her mate my life has been filled with so much joy. But there is something that troubles me.

Most days my beloved is happy, just as I am. We´re watching our children grow, watching the seasons change, enjoying life in the Windborne pack alliance. But some days I catch her sitting in the guard tower, eyes looking at the faraway mountains as if searching for something. I can see her mind wander, lost in a world of thoughts and memories. I can see her usually bright smile falter. Sadness fills her lovely blue eyes, a sadness I’m not familiar with. In those moments she seems like a lost pup, alone and afraid. The reason for it is something she won’t share with me. Whenever I try to approach her during those times she hides her sorrow behind a fake smile. I asked her about it, once, and she reassured me that there was nothing wrong. I do not ask further, but I do worry. What is it that causes her soul such unease and heartache?

I hope there comes a day when she lets me share her sadness and until that day comes I will continue to stand by her side. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yrsa sat down to write her monthly letter. It was her mate´s idea, to write letters to wolves she could not see of visit. He said that it helped him gather his thoughts. She thought she´d at least give it a try, took her ink pen and began to write. 

Dear pack,

It has been over five winters since I left for my mission. Five years since I bid farewell to you all and ventured alone into the cold winter night to begin the treacherous journey down the mountain side. 

I have spent every waking moment of my life trying to prove that I am what everyone assumed me to be. 

A blessed child, a special existence, the key to our pack's bright future. The pup that was blessed by Orrin, born during a blue moon, who´s fur was as white as snow and eyes blue as the sky.

You all believed that I was destined for greatness and so placed your trust, your hopes and your dreams upon me. I too believed your words and thought myself more important than the common wolf. I was the soldier that was going to end the war and bring victory to your side. How could I possibly let you down?

The victories I earned did come easy at first. No pup stood a chance against me, my litter mates defeated time and time again. I took pride in my great strength and skill. 

Then, as the years went on, the victories did not come as easy anymore. My fellow littermates grew stronger and in time I almost found myself evenly matched. None of them believed it to be true however, all claiming I went easy on them.  I wanted it to be true, but in reality I was barely keeping up this fragile facade. 

I thought that I wasn’t taking the training seriously enough and so trained harder than anyone else. From dawn to dusk the training grounds were my world. My sword was my only friend. My armor was my only comfort. I was the daughter blessed by Orrin, who’s white fur and bright blue eyes would strike fear in the hearts of any enemies that would dare challenge her.  And yet… 

Time had come for my mission, a secret order from the general. Infiltrate the enemy camp and kill the leader of Windborne. If I was successful I could turn the tide of the war and bring us victory. My life’s purpose. I was ready.  At least in your eyes. In my eyes I was but an illusion of a warrior. But perhaps this would be my chase to prove to everyone, most of all MYSELF, that I was in fact the hero of Icerun.

However, I was no match for the world outside our high fortress walls. 

The first day I got caught in a sudden snow storm and almost froze to death. The second day an avalanche destroyed my camp and took most of my belongings with it down the mountain side.

I had to wander alone without provisions or shelter for weeks. My body grew tired and thin. Then, once I had finally reached the Windborne territory, I got attacked by a herd of brovius and almost lost my life. I realized the truth, I was not special. The world held no favor for me. I am just a normal wolf.

 I woke up in a Windborne camp. A wolf named Faryn had rescued me from the bovious and brought me to safety. The Winborne pack cared for me when I was injured, gave me food and shelter, a place to rest. They are compassionate, welcoming and more than happy to help. They let me join their camp when they realized I was alone, in the middle of winter.

The “ruthless soldiers that burn the land” are nothing like we thought. They aren’t “relentless killers, brainwashed by their corrupt leader to destroy all of Icerun”.

Mother, father, brothers… The war you spoke of does not exist.

Yrsa looked down at her mess of scribbled words. She frowned and scrunched up the paper, tossing it into the fireplace. As she watched it burn to ashes she let out a heavy sigh.

“How could I possibly explain to them that I´m not their special daughter? How could possibly explain to them I that I was taken in by the enemy, grew to like them and ended up settling in their pack? That I abandoned my mission?”

Her vision became clouded by tears.

“How can I possibly explain to Fayrn that I was sent here to destroy the Windborne pack? He would hate me….”