#but not with angst. just with ur brilliance

[bunnist4rz]

Guys peak or peak @clayderogatory I love you and ur silly autistic ideas paws are you

TW/CW : none,, knight!leon kennedy x royal!reader,, angst no happy ending

Leon and you wandered through the castle gardens, the dew-damp grass muffling your footsteps. The pale light of dawn softened the sharp lines of his face, casting shadows over the world as you held each other close, aware that your time together was slipping away. His armor, dulled by the night’s rain, no longer gleamed with its usual brilliance, but the warmth in his eyes remained undiminished. The faint scent of roses drifted on the breeze, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting beauty around you—beauty that seemed cruel in the face of your looming separation.

“I can’t believe the time has come,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leon looked down at you, his expression resolute. “I’ll come back to you, I promise. Stay strong, my love.” He pressed a small, worn necklace into your palm. It was a simple thing, a leather cord with a silver charm shaped like a knight in mid-gallop. “This will keep you safe until I return.”

You stared at the token, warmth flooding through your fingers where his touch lingered. “What if—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently, cupping your face. “No ‘what ifs.’ We’ve both faced too many battles already. This is just one more.”

With a heavy heart, Leon mounted his steed, the creature snorting in anticipation of the coming fight. You stood frozen, watching him ride away, the clanking of his armor and the thudding hooves slowly fading into the distance. “Leon!” you called out, desperation in your voice. “Promise me you’ll write!”

“I will,” he shouted back, his voice carrying on the wind. “And I’ll be back before you know it!”

When the castle gates closed behind him, it felt as though they shut out the sun itself, leaving you shrouded in a deep, aching loneliness.

Weeks blurred into months. The castle was alive with the constant murmurs of war—strategies, victories, losses—but nothing about Leon. Each day you wore a mask, feigning interest in trivial conversations. “Have you heard the latest from the battlefield?” a courtier would ask.

“Yes, I’m certain it will be over soon,” you’d reply, though your heart was elsewhere. Each night you sat alone with the necklace in hand, whispering prayers to gods who never seemed to answer.

The wedding preparations came, an unwelcome interruption to your grief. “You should be excited!” the ladies-in-waiting chirped, adjusting the fabric of your wedding dress.

“Excited?” you echoed, forcing a smile. “Yes, how thrilling it is to be married to someone I barely know.”

The laughter of the court felt like a cruel mockery, echoing against the stone walls. “You’ll grow to love him, I’m sure,” one of them said.

But your thoughts remained with Leon, who fought for a kingdom that seemed so far away from the one you inhabited. You moved through the days like a shadow, performing your duties while your heart, your true self, lay buried with the man who had ridden away at dawn.

Your betrothed, a noble from a nearby land, was kind. He sensed the unspoken grief you carried. One evening, he approached you while you were gazing out the window, lost in thought. “You’re so far away,” he said gently. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You turned to him, the weight of your sorrow heavy on your heart. “I just… I’m trying to cope with everything. It’s hard to pretend everything is fine.”

“I know about your past with Leon,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t need to hide your feelings from me. It’s okay to grieve.”

“I don’t know how to move on,” you confessed, tears welling in your eyes. “Every day feels like a betrayal to him.”

Your spouse nodded, understanding etched into his features. “We can share this burden. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Yet the ache in your chest never eased. The days passed, filled with the echoes of war and the quiet suffering of those left behind. Then, one fateful evening, as the sky was painted in shades of blood and fire by the setting sun, your father summoned you to his chambers. His eyes, usually stern, were red and wet with unshed tears.

“Father, what’s wrong?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice.

He handed you a letter, his hand trembling. “It’s about Leon.”

Time seemed to stop as you read the words that shattered your world. “No… No,” you gasped, your heart racing. “It can’t be true. He was supposed to come back!”

Your father’s voice broke as he tried to comfort you. “I’m so sorry, my child. He fought bravely, but he was injured… he didn’t survive.”

Your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, the parchment fluttering from your fingers. “He promised he’d come back,” you cried, your voice raw with despair.

Your father knelt beside you, his arms encircling you in a rare display of tenderness. “I know, my dear. It’s unfair, and it hurts more than words can express.”

In the days that followed, you drifted like a ghost through the halls, your eyes vacant, your spirit shattered. The castle, once vibrant with life, now felt like a tomb. Your spouse approached you one evening, concern etched across his features. “You’ve been so distant. How can I help you?”

“The only thing that would help is to have him back,” you replied, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be present when I’m filled with this grief.”

“I want to be here for you,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “Just let me in, please.”

“I wish I could,” you whispered, the weight of your heartache anchoring you to the ground. “But part of me is lost with him.”

“Then let me help you find it again,” he urged gently. “We’ll face this together.”

At night, alone in your chamber, you clutched the necklace to your chest and whispered to the emptiness, “I’ll keep waiting for you, Leon. Even if it’s only in my dreams.”

[mappingthesky]

not a prompt necessarily but I’m always down for planymphia angst 🙏🙏🙏

in response to multiple asks i’ve received for planymphia angst… here is this <3

i know baby, no attachment

None of this had been in the plan.

It was the first thing they’d talked about that first night in Jane’s apartment; Neither of them were looking for anything serious. They were both unavailable, incapable of making any promises. Not now. Not yet. It would be clean, simple, no strings attached. Just two people using each other. Innocently, admittedly using each other, but using each other nonetheless.

They’d been on the couch in Jane’s dimly lit apartment. Jane was an obvious sort of gorgeous. It was the first thing Nymphia had noticed about her, what drew her in on that first night they’d met: she’d been wearing something meant to lure you in, hypnotized by the clinging of her clothes to her body, the wave of her hair, her eyes tightlined and sharpened like knives. Jane was almost lethal to look at, all done up and primed to kill; the most magnetic friend-of-a-friend Nymphia had ever been introduced to. She was somehow even more gorgeous now, sitting on the couch in her casual clothes, her face aglow in the light of the television, her auburn hair pulled up into a messy top knot. She was painfully, effortlessly attractive, and, much to Nymphia’s surprise, only so much of a smooth talker. She came off suave at first, all punchlines and quick remarks, but after a while Nymphia could start to see her thinking. Jane would be in the middle of a sentence, flying through it, hurtling towards some revelation, and then she’d catch herself. She’d pause, freeze on a word and scoff at it, like she was considering whether whatever she was about to say would be worth the sentiment. And then she’d go a bit shy, averting her eyes and playing with the pilling on the upholstery, giving away just how carefully considered she was. And just when Nymphia was starting to think that Jane was completely nervous to her core, that Nymphia might actually have the upper hand in this situation, Jane would bring it back. She’d pick her head up and let the words go, say something so stunningly direct and devastating. It left Nymphia a little breathless, a little too endeared, a little too eager to kiss her.

They could have guessed at the chemistry, but it didn’t come close to the real thing.

What happened when Jane’s skin hit Nymphia was the sort of collision that produced suns and planets and supernovas, flinging particles off into space with enough pressure to form entire worlds. Nymphia could practically see the stars behind her eyes, fluttering shut when Jane was hovering above her, hand between her legs, finding some undiscovered place that Nymphia didn’t know had been there all along, waiting to be found. Jane turned Nymphia’s body into something more than it was before, transforming her irrevocably. Jane was a comet crashing through her atmosphere, and Nymphia was awe-struck, staring at the sky and watching the sparks shower. You can’t be prepared for such life-altering things, it's what makes them so devastating.

What neither of them could have predicted was the ease of what came after - the lying in bed, talking about it. The debrief. Nymphia was a bit too happily fucked, and unwilling to share the extent of her satisfaction. She was worried she would come off easy, inexperienced somehow. Jane, however, was endlessly attentive. She wanted Nymphia’s experience of the encounter, all the details - what she liked, what satisfied her the most, what she wanted more of. Her sheer desire to please was enough to pull the details out of Nymphia. She was rewarded when Jane allowed her to relive it, this time through Jane’s eyes. Jane’s gaze was far off with remembering, a smile playing at her lips as she recounted her experience of Nymphia in such erotic detail, every telling arch and shudder, and the whole thing was so overwhelmingly flattering that it sort of made Nymphia want to do it all over again.

Nymphia had known better than to pack an overnight bag. She thought she had, anyway.

Her eyes were closed and she was nearly asleep when she’d mumbled, ‘I should be going soon.”

Jane just chuckled. “You’re half asleep already.” Her fingers trailed up the curve of Nymphia’s thigh. “Just spend the night. If you want to.”

Nymphia's eyes were suddenly open, “Yeah?” Jane traced stars onto her hip.

“Mhm,” Jane hummed, eyes flickering up, then back to the curve of Nymphia’s waist.

Nymphia closed her eyes, savored in the feeling of Jane on her skin. A long moment passed.

“D’you cuddle? Or is that against the rules.”

Jane’s hum was an amused look at you asking so soon. She was already pulling Nymphia to her chest.

That first night turned into a three-day sleepover, because of course it did. Nymphia and Jane stretched themselves over the long arc of the weekend, sharing the sort of welcome, unexpected ease that you can’t put down, the kind that you’ll happily destroy your routine over and resign yourself to picking up the pieces after the fact. One weekend became another, and then occasional nights at Nymphia’s apartment with the door shut and her duvet crumpled at the end of the bed. And then they added the weekday rendezvous: Nymphia meeting Jane at her place after work on Thursday evenings, promising not to keep her up late and failing miserably, leaning her head on Jane’s shoulder in the morning as she locked the door on her way out. And then Nymphia was bleeding into Jane’s week, her Tuesdays and Wednesdays, her breakfasts and dinners, her late-night ice cream cravings and subsequent walks to 7-11. And then it was all too regular: Nymphia and Jane, Jane and Nymphia.

It's been a few months now, and there are so many things Nymphia loves about Jane.

She loves how Jane drives with one hand on her thigh, or with her fingers in her mouth. How she looks over to the passenger seat with that special look that's reserved just for Nymphia, and makes her feel like the only person she's ever wanted. She loves how she listens to her music loud, sings along when she’s drunk and tossing her hair, or when it's Sunday morning and she’s at the stove and there’s a record spinning in the living room. Nymphia loves how unabashed Jane is, how bold. How she never hesitates when it comes to the people in her life, how to be loved by Jane is to be fiercely defended by her. Nymphia loves how Jane kisses her in the middle of her sentences, especially when she's talking too much. She loves that Jane is so rough. How she can fuck her like she hates her. She loves how Jane can be so tender. How she can fuck her soft and slow, as reverent as religion. How Jane can make a mess of her, then put her back together again.

There are so many things Nymphia hates.

She hates that Jane is so impulsive, how she strikes so thoughtlessly, how she has to return to the wounds later to draw the venom out of them. How Jane is so stubborn, so set in her ways, so inflexible. How there’s two Janes - the one she’s with now, the one she is around her friends. The one who doesn’t kiss her, hardly touches her aside from a possessive arm around her shoulder or a tap on her knee. How the real Jane, Nymphia’s Jane, emerges as soon as they’re alone together, the one who will see her downturned gaze on the way home and coo what can I do, princess? Hmm? What can I do to see that pretty smile? Nymphia hates that she forgives Jane so easily, that she crumbles every time, that she loves Jane completely and entirely and beyond any measure of hurt that she could unknowingly inflict upon her.

She hates that she’s still sitting at this party, long after Jane promised they’d leave. She hates that Jane’s friends clearly like her; they laugh at Nymphia’s jokes, compliment her shoes, send knowing glances and winks across the room every time Jane so much as mentions her name. She hates how, when they ask what they are, Jane is all too quick to brush them off.

It's obvious that Nymphia’s upset by the way she pounds up the stairs, by the way she wordlessly digs through her purse for her keys, by the way the anger and the hurt and the disappointment emanate from her like poison.

“I just can’t believe they asked that,” Jane scoffs. Nymphia says nothing, gritting her teeth as she turns the key in the lock.

It should be obvious, but Jane is a bit too self-absorbed to notice.

“Like, we don’t even know what we are,” Jane says, and Nymphia feels sick, because she thought she did. “Why would she put me on the spot like that? In front of everyone?”

Nymphia pushes into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen.

“I mean, it was weird, right?” Jane continues, relentless. “Why do they need to know so bad?”

“Yeah,” Nymphia’s voice is hard, laced with venom. She chucks her keys onto the counter with a little too much force. “Why would they?”

“Right,” Jane doesn’t notice. “It would be nice if they could just let us-“

“I don’t know why they could possibly be so confused.” Nymphia interrupts, working off her thigh-highs.

Jane misses a beat. “Wait. Are you-“

“I can’t fucking imagine why they’d think that we’re together.” Nymphia lets her boots drop to the floor, one gut-wrenching smack after the other.

Jane blinks, brows knit together. Nymphia straightens up, fumbles with things on the counter that don’t need to be fumbled with. “Are you upset about this?”

“Why would I be upset?” Nymphia picks up a stray mug, sets it down again. “You just told all of your friends that we’re nothing serious. Why would I ever be upset about that, Jane?”

“I didn’t say that, Nymph,” Jane starts, already on the defense. “I said that we’re something.”

“Oh, right. My bad.” Nymphia scoffs. “We’re something. Let me know when you’re ready to illuminate me on whatever the fuck that means, Jane.”

Jane recoils at Nymphia’s profanity, unfamiliar with her frustration. She’s never seen her like this- so hurt, so ready to retaliate.

It's not funny. Jane shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t, but she’s viscerally uncomfortable and horrifically unprepared for this situation, so she does anyways. “Are you really angry about this?”

The whole thing is white hot and embarrassing, and Nymphia has tears in her eyes when she turns and whips her purse to the floor.

Jane jumps. “What the fuck?” She’s wide-eyed, both hands held up in shock. “Nymphia. Are you serious right now?”

“I don’t know Jane,” Nymphia bites. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“I kinda thought you might be,” Nymphia steps over her bag. “Y’know, because you cut me a key to your fucking apartment. I thought maybe that constituted we were more than,” she curls her fingers in the air, “something”.

Jane shakes her head, jaw tight and temple pulsing. When she speaks, it's in a lower voice, almost ashamed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You never want to talk about it!” Nymphia’s voice cracks, a desperate wail. Jane’s mouth opens, already halfway towards defending herself until she looks at Nymphia and sees her bottom lip quivering, the spilling over of her tears. Jane looked back with a concerned, almost panicked expression, lips frozen and slightly parted.

“Do you love me, Jane? Do you even fucking like me?”

Nymphia surprises herself with the question. She’s so amped up, so high on adrenaline that she lets it all out- the culmination of weeks of words she’d bitten back, suddenly pouring forth from where they’d been collecting in a lump in her throat.

“No, seriously, do you? Because I can’t fucking tell. I think you do, because- because you say all these beautiful things, and you spend so much time with me, and you take such good fucking care of me. So you must fucking love me, right? But when your friends ask, I have to sit there and listen to you tell them that we’re something. Like it’s so fucking confusing to you. Like it's a goddamn secret. Do you know what that feels like?”

Nymphia is fully pacing now, walking the length of the kitchen over and over again. Jane follows her with wincing, pained eyes.

What Nymphia hates, more than anything, is that she doesn’t hate Jane at all. Not for any of it.

“I’m fucking in love with you, Jane, alright?” Nymphia whines, hands whipping through the air with frustration. “I’m so in love with you, and everybody fucking knows it. Your friends, my friends, my mom, everyone! But no one seems to have any goddamn clue if you love me too. And you know what? I’m not sure if I do, either.”

When she finally expels the last of the words from the hole in her heart, Nymphia looks up through her tears. She can barely stomach the sight of Jane, lips parted and wordless, unsure of what to do with the outpouring of Nymphia’s heart. She stares at her, eyes twisted in pain, then looks to the ground, like Nymphia’s words have slid off her and collected in a puddle at her feet. Nymphia just cries, a pained and exhausted whimper on her lips as she pushes past Jane and into the living room. She collapses on one end of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and hiding her face behind one hand, hot tears sliding down her cheeks and into her mouth.

Jane stands in the center of the room with her back turned, still facing the phantom of Nymphia’s words that may very well haunt her kitchen forever. Her head is spinning, because how the fuck did this happen. Nymphia is openly sobbing behind her, and the sound is so gut-wrenching that Jane is nauseated.

Nymphia makes a horrible, shuddering gasp for air and Jane finally breaks, crossing the room and dropping to her knees on the floor where Nymphia sits. She doesn’t even look at her, just sobs, and Jane can physically feel her heart fucking breaking.

“Nymphia,” she says, placing her palm on Nymphia’s knee. “Nymph. Hey.”

Nymphia shakes her head, face contorted with tears. She flinches at Jane’s hand like it fucking hurts, and Jane winces as the guilt slices through her. She exhales a sharp puff of defeat and drops her head in hurt.

Nymphia just cries and cries, and the reality of the situation sinks in Jane’s stomach with every sob. She’s sick to her stomach with concern, worried that Nymphia might actually fucking hyperventilate, and then she’s gently begging the girl to breathe. She goes to reach for Nymphia again and pauses, scared to reach out, scared to hurt Nymphia, scared that she’ll recoil from her again. It’s then that Jane knows, for the first time in all of her life, what she wants. She knows, right as it threatens to slip out of her hands.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Jane hears her own voice. Her words hang in the air for a moment, floating like smoke between Nymphia’s shaky, shattered breaths. Jane looks up.

“This,” she says, a tentative hand on Nymphia’s knee. “What you and I have. I’ve never-”

The words are hard for Jane to stomach. They don’t pour out like Nymphia’s do. They catch in her throat, feel wrong in her mouth. She’s not sure they’ll be enough.

“I’ve never had this with anyone,” she says. “I’ve never wanted to. Not until now.”

Nymphia wipes at her eyes, shudders a bit as her breathing quiets.

“I, um,” Jane glances down, scared to look. “I don’t know how.”

Nymphia finally looks at Jane, so small and nervous and crumbling at her feet. She wants to take her hand, to show her, to be endlessly patient even if it kills her. The desire is so enormous, even now. She almost hates herself for it.

“I know I’m fucking it up,” Jane says to the floor, her voice tiny and wavering. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“I just need to know,” Nymphia whispers.

Nymphia swallows hard, and then Jane looks up and its so fucking harrowing, so moving, because Nymphia can see the guilt in her eyes, the desire, the glimmer of words she can’t figure out how to say. She watches as she considers, catches herself, lets it go.

“I do.” Jane says. Nymphia’s heart plummets, because she knows what she means.

“I don’t want to say it now,” Jane says. “I don’t want it to be an apology. I want you to know I mean it. Is that okay?”

Nymphia nods and Jane mutters over and over I do, I do, you know I do.

It's beautiful and tragic and overwhelming, and Nymphia wants to crash into Jane, to merge together and surpass the need for words entirely. It's too soon to know yet if it's for better or for worse, only that she does it - that she reaches out and takes Jane’s hand.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, a bit of Jane laughing at herself. “But I want to try.”

Nymphia just nods and feels more tears streaming down her cheeks, and Jane’s crying too, and then they’re crashing into each other. Nymphia is leaning down and throwing her arms around Jane, who is sitting forward and clinging to her like she’s scared to let her go. Like she caught a shooting star in her bare fucking hands.

It's a whisper against her hair, but Nymphia hears it. “Can I try again?”

Nymphia could hate herself for it for all of forever. She’s prepared to. Jane doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she doesn't either. Nymphia nods anyway.

It's a new world, one of their own making. It's unexplored, uncharted, and they’re venturing into it together, hand in shaking hand. It's dangerous. She’s doing it anyway. She might hate herself for it. It might be the bravest thing she’s ever done.

[ne-videl]

𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽'𝓼 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶

♡

yandere Rezef Hill x immortal fem reader

quirks of eternal life and the obsessed prince.

yandere, sfw, mentions of violence, kidnapping & imprisonment, angst??, you are immortal and reaaly bored, poor english, possibly wild image of high society bc real history suck

word count: ~3.5k

a/n: hii!!

exams be killing me

glad its over until the next year but I still have a shit ton of books to read at summer bc I'm in literature class (Tolstoy I hope ur spinning in your grave I don't want to read 3rd and 4th tome of war and peace but I have to)

anyway for this fic I re-read first chapters and?? Rezef is such a dick in the beginning?? and I forgot abt it??

also when I think about someone immortal this type of person just comes to mind (I mean ofc u don't give a damn about some angry man, you literally have been through everything) and don't worry about Cayena she's chilling in a nice place

indeed, lady [name], you are shining brighter than usual today. you've only recently returned to the capital, haven't you?" – at that warm evening, a pretty young girl was chirping in your ear, sitting with you on a luxurious sofa in the ballroom.

you listened with half an ear to a mixture of flattery and sincere admiration, looking into nowhere from under your eyelashes.

the ball was playing its climax, and the guests were harmoniously spinning in a german waltz. others, more noble and older, entertained themselves with idle conversations.

you too, thanks to your position, were little constrained by the limits of secular norms, and did not bother dancing. tonight you wanted anything other than to gallop around the stuffy hall. your eyes, devoid of the childish brilliance peculiar to your peers, looked indifferently at the guests.

the ball in honor of the beginning of summer was a great event, even the royal family usually participated in it; such celebrations instilled in their noble participants a sense of reverence for the higher-ranking present and idle anticipation of the upcoming entertainment.

but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't see anything more from the height of your velvet sofa than pretentiously dressed men and women; strangely moving, stiffly dancing and talking vague figures under the sickening light of numerous chandeliers. all this in the stuffy luxury of the hall seemed to you so fake, pretentious and unnatural that you could barely restrain yourself from haughty laughter, or from a bored sigh.

[name], beautiful [name]! daughter of the richest man in the empire, a brilliant socialite, trendsetter and muse of famous poets.

you vaguely remembered what was inside some rubbish that you read about a hundred years ago, you don't know when and you don't know where.

and although in your case, "a hundred years" might not be just a phrase, you couldn't care less. whether this the fifth life or the hundredth – what's the difference? right, there's none – you thought lazily, openly staring at the crown prince exchanging pleasantries with representatives of the capital's bohemians.

like you, who on the last night of spring were dressed up like a Christmas tree, his highness shone with the white brocade of his suit today. eyes with the color of ceylon sapphire peeked out from under his golden bangs, giving everyone present the condescending look of the royalty. little prince – as you laughingly called him to yourself – was handsome to the point that young girls blushed deeply as soon as they saw him, and married ladies sighed dreamily.

at the sight of the handsome prince, some memory cracked in your skull, however, it died as quickly as it appeared. this and a thousand other memories were simply not worth your attention, and, of course, you never scolded yourself for the forgetfulness inherent in your age. you were above it all.

Rezef easily distinguished among the crowd a lady dressed in thick silk with bare shoulders. on your neck, which he did not hesitate to stare at, there was a pair of pearl necklace with a large emerald. when you met his gaze, you smiled falsely and slightly bowed your head.

middle-aged count, whose name he could not remember, looked at the woman in the corner of the hall, and scratched his gray beard with a smile.

"gorgeous, isn't she?" – an old dog next to him grinned vulgarly – "the beauty of the empire, they say."

"what a wonder." – Rezef did not take his strangely enchanted gaze off you, and the words escaped from his lips with a gasp – "it's not a pity to fall in love with such a creature." – he said maliciously, as if he concluded for himself.

the crown prince walked towards you, ignoring the knowing look of the nameless old man beside him.

he walked confidently, with a deceptively friendly smile, and would have been incredibly ridiculous to you if he hadn't been so handsome.

"good night to you, lady [name]." – Rezef smiled warmly, and held out his hand in a snow-white glove to you, – "may I keep you company?"

he kissed your palm, and without waiting for consent, sat down next to you.

you talked about various nonsense; Rezef did not take his shining eyes off you and listened, and you chatted in a dry tone about the opera, exhibitions and the weather in the capital, hardly forcing yourself to remember the topics that the ladies had already retold a hundred times.

but the guests were invited to the cotillion, and you left the little prince as easily as you accepted him into your shining company.

with the last round of the dance, everything that was happening completely mixed up in your head into a bright, stuffy mess, accompanied by the imperial orchestra and the clatter of shoes on the lacquered parquet.

and in the end, caught by the prince's arm, you were only a little confused, but you didn't show it.

"why won't you stay the night at the palace?" – Rezef said, whose broad chest rose and fell rapidly after dancing, just like your own.

you raised your eyebrows, looking at him from under your eyelashes, and fell into thought, accompanied by the prince to one of the front balconies.

normally, you wouldn't mind spending the night with such a handsome man, but today you didn't want carnal pleasures at all. and of course, you could afford to just turn down the prince like that; just because you're not in the mood, just because you don't want to.

"thank you for the offer, your highness, however, I will refrain." – you said.

for a second, when his eye twitched, you saw something unpleasantly bitter in Rezef's soft features, a mixture of disappointment with something else. but you didn't care to the depths of your callous heart; today you're not in the mood, today you're not having any fun at all.

and what was the point of that endless journey that you called life if you weren't having fun?

Rezef fell silent, maintaining his sugary smile and standing next to you, and you leaned on the marble railing, looking up at the sky.

the pale disk of the moon is floating high on the horizon. there was music coming from the ballroom, the rustle of dresses and the clatter of shoes, irritating your ears; the little prince had been gathering his thoughts for a couple of minutes to speak; and you rested your chin on your silk-gloved hand.

"tell me, lady [name]." – your bored gaze returned to the Crown Prince, – "this night, the moon and the stars, and me, doesn't that remind you of anything?"

you raised your eyebrow. even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to remember; over the years, memories inevitably dimmed and got lost.

Rezef looked at you expectantly, with almost childish anticipation. a sick gleam flashed in his eyes.

the longer your silence dragged on, the more you disliked his face, his eyes; the childish interest in his handsome features contrasted unpleasantly with the look of a madman. as if you won't say what he wants to hear now, the earth itself will crack and split in half.

"I'm afraid not, your highness. nothing at all." – you said, lightly shaking your shoulders.

the little prince didn't say anything else. his lips trembled, and he stared into the distance, clearly terribly disappointed.

the last night of spring burned out in your cold eyes, and you sighed indifferently.

♡

Rezef remembered his childhood well. in a world where everyone hated him, for some reason, there were no pretty princesses or kind older sisters. nobody. at all.

there was only a lady dressed in silk and the moon.

you came to him in dreams; whether out of boredom or out of simple human pity, he didn't know. you came because you could and wanted to; because you said you loved doing what you wanted.

it was just the two of you in this dream world. you told him all the life you could remember; and you had a long one, longer than the biggest cat's tail.

the boy lay on your lap and listened, and sometimes cried.

in this world its eat or be eaten, but you definitely won't eat him.

"they all say that I have no place in this world. that I'd better disappear." – little prince was clutching the silk of your dress tightly in his hands and squinting. – "I hate them."

"all of them?" – you answered with a relaxed, lazy smile, running your hand through the boy's golden hair.

"you and I have a lot in common. that's the way life is, child. when you grow up, you definitely start hating someone." – you were grinning. – "and you cry and feel sad a lot."

"when I become emperor, I will definitely make you the happiest in the whole world! so that you will never cry again." – the boy squeezed your hands tightly in his palms and smiled radiantly. he hesitated slightly, and looked at you from under his golden eyelashes. "but you didn't tell me your name."

"[name]." – you breathed out laughingly.

"aren't you a fairy by any chance?" – little prince tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a radiant gaze of his blue eyes.

"perhaps." – you giggled.

prince laughed loudly. a fake moon was hanging over you two, and fake stars were shining; everything in the dream world is fake – you told him.

but he liked these strange dreams. and wanted them to become real; to have a real moon, real stars, and only him and you.

♡

every time already grown-up Rezef met the woman from his dreams, he felt his heart beating faster.

human heart, such a fragile and pathetic little thing. how many of these hearts have you got your hands on?

he would gladly have torn out each one with his own hands.

the love for you, which has passed through the years, was like bitter liquor sliding down his throat. after it, the stomach turns out, but it intoxicates so much that he can't hold himself from taking another sip.

there is no light in him to give you. all he has is the suffocating darkness of his mind, cultivated by the mores of the palace, the thirst for power and cruelty. but just as no one else besides yourself mattered to you, Rezef didn't give a damn about the nature of his feelings.

poor, pathetic little prince. no one told him that this is not the way he should love someone. like a child who has not been taught to walk, and now it's crawling.

he's still holding back, but if necessary, Rezef will gladly drag you with him into the depths of hell.

but it hurts so much. every time he sees you laughing with someone else, smiling at someone else, he wants to cry.

it should be me! – his heart screams – it should be me! – his wounded soul cries while the prince stands over the corpse of one of your suitors, whom Rezef himself turned into a bloody mess. you should have held his hand. should have been smiling at him.

when someone's neck crunched under his hands again, he thought about you. would you praise him if Rezef brought you this man's head? for your smile, he would give his own heart, still fresh, in warm blood, right out of the gaping hole in his chest.

if you knew, you'd laugh.

because you are eternal, and he is just a human being. Inevitably, there will come a day when you will live, but Rezef will not. one day he will die, will end, and you will laugh coldly and continue your endless journey.

no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, you will always have an escape route. you can leave him.

unfair.

Rezef was even a little mad at you for that. he loved you so much; if you had only fluttered your eyelashes once and smiled – even falsely – he would have laid the whole world at your feet!

but you're breaking him. you don't care. you're only interested as long as you're having fun.

oh, how he despised that feeling, and despised you. how much he wanted to kill all the butterflies in his stomach, tear out every shiny wing; wanted to never see your mocking smile and indifferent eyes again, one fleeting glance of which easily made Rezef forget about al struggles for the throne.

he loved you as he had never loved anyone before; and hated because he didn't want to love, because he knew that you won't ever reciprocate.

♡

he and you could't be called friends, however, in the capital's high society, almost all of its representatives were friends and enemies at the same time. in any case, it was not shameful for the crown prince to visit the daughter of the richest man in the empire for dinner.

tall pine trees lined up in orderly rows along the hectares of the estate's garden, shining with luxury no worse than the imperial palace. they bowed their gloomy heads and silently greeted the carriage that evening under the hot july sun that had not yet set.

after dinner was served and eaten, you ordered one of your maids to serve tea in the garden.

"undoubtedly, what happened to the count's daughter is a disgrace to the whole family, however, I cannot help but sympathize with her." – you talked a lot again and at the same time didn't actually say anything.

the only good thing about such conversations about nothing was the opportunity to listen to your measured, eternally bored voice, and just look at you like at a painting in a museum.

the upper world was completely fake and unnatural, and you gladly accepted this fake as a living embodiment of it. and Rezef was willing to play along, because he was the prince, because it was necessary to. and so your conversation drifted from topic to topic, from one rumor to another. the warm wind made him close his sapphire eyes.

"I've seen you in my dreams, marchioness. when I was little." – the crown prince lazily tilted his head to the side, – "I know you, yet you don't remember me. isn't that unfair?" – he said with mock, with sarcastic sadness.

"is it?" – you took a sip of flower tea from a porcelain cup – "well, life is full of injustices, your highness."

a small cabbage butterfly landed right on your finger, moving its thin paws under the cold gaze of your eyes.

"lady, do you like butterflies?" – the prince smiled warmly – "there are a lot of them in your garden."

"only poisonous ones, perhaps." – you replied, and with a smile reflecting his own, squeezed the butterfly in your hand. – "they bring death, yet die themselves if I squeeze my hand just like that. how curious."

"and what about you?" – Rezef, as if enchanted, watched the transparent wings fall on the countertop – "can't you die?"

"I can't be killed in a way that matters." – you answered with a grin, as if you were repeating these words for the thousandth time.

prince pursed his lips in a forced smile. in the end, nothing has changed; he is still just a man at the walls of the eternal city. you won't listen, won't understand, and won't love.

because eternity is beautiful by itself, eternity does not need anyone else.

Rezef likes to think he's doing the right thing.

It's your fault. you could not smile at him so beautifully, not illuminate his darkness with your cold light, not make him feel this.

he didn't want to expose the ugliness of his soul, didn't want to go that far. it's all because of you. you don't even know what an insane cocktail of love and hatred you're making him feel.

and you also don't know that your tea is poisoned.

♡

"do you like your new quarters?" – Rezef almost purred, – "I was trying to guess your preferences, but if something doesn't suit you, be sure to tell me."

huh?

"you won't feel a need for anything," – little prince smiled radiantly, – "prepare to enjoy family life. just have fun and obey me, and I will make you the happiest in the whole world."

what?

Rezef was sitting, busily folding his beautiful hands, and enjoying for the first time the confused, trembling look in your eyes.

a giant bedroom, a four-poster bed, silk sheets on which you were sitting, a translucent nightgown that barely hides anything, and a scarlet ribbon around your neck.

while you were looking around uncomprehendingly, the prince sat down on the bed next to you and smiled sickly.

you saw that abomination again in the bright blue; the look of a pure madman, love which became an illness, mixed with almost animal hatred. a ribbon around your neck.

did he just put you on a leash, like you were some lap dog? that pup, who cried on your lap? you, a being older than his entire palace? you, for whom biting off someone's head is like having breakfast?

you haven't been humiliated like this in the last half-millennium.

"child." – you said slowly and quietly, and in your dry voice there was no trace of the cheeky, fake politeness peculiar to this aristocratic disguise of yours – "I'll pull your guts out through your mouth." – your lips trembled in sheer rage.

Rezef stroked your head and sighed.

"you came into my life so easily. it didn't mean anything to you, did it?" – the corner of his eye twitched, and he laughed bitterly, – "don't think I'll let you go now. never."

hit landed right on the bridge of his nose. you turned out to be much stronger than he expected, and your face was distorted with rage like he had never seen before. Rezef felt his nose bleed.

was the devil himself looking at him through your eyes now? – he thought with a strange calmness.

you hit a couple more times, and, shaking the blood off your knuckles, tore the ribbon from your neck.

how dare he? all of them are just actors in your endless play. if you're not having fun, then none of this makes sense. if you're not having fun, then what are you living for?

you were breathing fast, and were silent. it was as if for eternity you two just looked at each other; you – with fury, he – with calmness, even affably. you were sick of that expression.

but that rage of yours quickly subsided. it wasn't that you forgave him, it was just that after a couple of days you got bored with being violent.

and a year later, you stopped paying attention to the seemingly completely insane circumstances of your new life at all. you didn't mind his sole yet imaginary control over you, just because he didn't mean that much to you.

even now, nothing has changed at all.

and with the tendons cut at your ankles, looking at him with the same bored eyes, you were still disgustingly beautiful to him in the moonlight on the last night of spring.

"tomorrow I will become emperor." – instead of greeting you, Rezef said, entering the room. his face did not express joy, rather, bewilderment, as if he himself for some reason was not completely happy with it.

"yeah." – you said, without looking up from the book, – "congratulations."

now it was difficult for you to move around by yourself, so Rezef usually carried you in his arms.

he sat down on the bed and put his head on your lap and frowned.

"tell me, [name]," – he looked up at you, and when he met your impassive face, he forced a smile, – "why do I feel like I'll never see you again?"

"because you won't. I'm bored." – you shrugged and continued, – "you know, I could hate you." – you spoke calmly and dryly – "but you're not worth it. because in the end, I go on living; I always go on, and you, child, will fall into the very depths of hell."

you stroked his golden hair and smiled calmly. Rezef hid his face on your hips.

"I don't regret anything," – little prince suddenly said softly and laughed.

the last night of spring burned out in your eyes as you disappeared.

brotha euugh

one day I'll go to therapy and stop being funny but not today

I finished playing slow damage and it's the best novel in my life (that shit destroyed me)

also good ends are for weak

I mean I write for yanderes ofc there's not gonna be anything good

it's either normal or "we're fucked" here

also I'm physically intolerable to good endings and will cry if I'd ever had to write one (I love sufferings)

[oozedninjas]

Angst request for the bayverse boys! You said you like ‘dark topics’ and I need to hurt, so I want to know ur thoughts on what each one’s biggest insecurities are when it comes to dating and asking out their crush specifically.

Hopefully you are having a good one, love your writing btw.

Not dark per se but...

Leo

Leo doubts whether he should confess his feelings because he knows his place in the world: he's a mutant turtle who defends the city and his brother's leader.

He's excellent at that!

But being a good boyfriend? God, how should he act if one day love and duty clash, interfering with each other?

He worries that his commitment to his family and his responsibilities might make it hard for him to have a romantic relationship.

He's concerned he won't be able to balance being a leader with being a good partner.

Raph

The idea of "confession" fricking paralyzes him. Not because he isn't bold enough, 'cause he is.

But because you could say no. And then your friendship would be fried too.

He'd just hope that his flirty attitude, along with some well-placed compliments here and there would do the trick of magically showing you he likes you.

So, what he most fears is rejection. Yet, not the "You're not my type, but it's cool if we're friends :)" kind of rejection, but the cruel:

"Me? With a sewer turtle? As if!"

Donnie

He's revolving around not being attractive enough, not in terms of his physical appeal but in the charismatic, and bold sense.

Like, isn't he boring?

God, he's a fucking nerd!

Besides, how is he supposed to confess?

"Hey, I'm utterly infatuated with you because of your brilliance, your exquisite beauty, your boundless creativity, and—"

And then face rejection.

Yeah, thanks, but no thanks.

Donnie also worries that his intellectual pursuits might make him appear distant or too absorbed in his work, causing his crush to lose interest.

Mikey

The top of his worries is to be brushed off as a joke.

"Haha, in love with me? Mikey, the funny dude strikes again, everyone!"

That's his worst nightmare.

He fears his crush to view him as shallow or not mature enough for a serious relationship.

Mikey worries that his carefree nature could be misunderstood as a lack of emotional depth, making him anxious about being seen as a good, understanding boyfriend.

[nyxi-pixie]

Hiiiii.

Sorry to bother you, I wanted to know if you had any fic recs? Your writing is so good and your tastes are immaculate, and I am starving for any kind of good content. Please?

its not possible to bother me love dw <3

NOW. i dont actually read all that much anymore bc i am horrendously picky but this does give me an excuse to hype up the few authors that have satisfied my unreasonably specific tastes 🤩.

so. a few bsd recs for you (except theyre 99% skk because im horribly predictable forever). everyone go read all of these and tell the authors how wonderful they are in the comments please <3

anything @booksandpaperss has ever written is genius work and everyone should read it. could talk abt all of their stuff for hours (and i have🤩 they put up w so much of me bothering them godbless). also our brains do some accidental crazy mind melding shit whenever either of us write fic so if you like any of my stuff you will like theirs. thats the rules. <3

like twin stars in the dark (we collide)- dead apple skk porn as a vehicle for 22skk analysis. makes me salivate i have read it so many times. they get 22skk better than anyone🙏

my lies are for you to keep (my love for you to lose) - the only take on beastskk that matters to me ever. you can actually see me losing my mind in the comment i wrote on this fic bc of how fucking insane every single line made me. theres SO much packed into this thing its fucking crazy i NEEEEED everyone to read it. thats all <3

till death, I'll give you my breath - dazai death timeloop. this fic terrifies me so much i await every update with my teeth chattering and my heart pulsing so rapidly i should be hospitalised. the first scene of chapter 2 genuinely had me on the verge of tears im unwell about it.

(elli also has some jjk stuff thats REALLYREALLY good and if ur into jjk u should check that out too.)

NOW. aside from being a propaganda machine for my fav writer ever. Heres some other stuff i love.

the second perspective by @wildflowerteas. murder mystery/detective noir stuff w some time fuckery. the au of all time. mashes aspects of beast, canon, and some extra special niko sauce into a mixing bowl and goes crazy w it. just Such a genuinely impressive piece of writing. i could talk abt the technical brilliance of it for hours but i will stop myself. you gotta commit to this thing because it WILL make u crazy. also i loveee the sskk. its like if we had the beast first meeting sskk forever. SOSO GOOD!!!!

did fate guide the gun or did you? by @kanetheo. i read this pretty soon after chapter 109 and it genuinely fried my brain for months. the writing style is beautiful (as for everything they write AUGHH!!!) and the angst is delectable. the way it intersperses more fun silly skk moments with just. complete misery. GOD. it just hits. ive reread it quite a few times and it never fails to make me go crazy. srsly cannot rec this enough.

the decomposition of dazai osamu by @hella1975 this shot several bullets through my brain and i still havent recovered. i keep thinking 'oh i should reread that' and then i dont bc some part of my brain still concerns itself w maintaining whats left of my sanity. BUT its crazy good and everyone should read it and suffer at least once. EVERYONE LOVES YOU OSAMU!!!! EVERYONE EATS YOU!!! line of all time lets all kill ourselves.

smoke held conversations by feralrookie - i havent reread this in a while but it does cool stuff with nlh and the skkisms are really good in this too. ppl often write teen chuuya as less intelligent than he actually is. hes very observant, esp of dazai, and this fic gave me that 🙏

i called your name til the fever broke by forest_raccoon - vampire chuuya. biting is involved. i blacked out reading it. enough said.

[redandblackpoetry]

and onto my favorite part of ur answers: eldritch ghost crumbs (⁠つ⁠✧⁠ω⁠✧⁠)⁠つ

i'm v interested in ghost's past with roach, like the entirety of their relationship? hows and whys and whens!!! but i shall keep my silence for the sake of the sequel...... but!! ghost's issues keep increasing (well i keep learning there's even more baggage than i expected) with each of my asks/comments that u answer and i am Enjoying It. like yes. make him Suffer. hurt/comfort is a very superior trope and he is my sacrificial lamb to the angst gods

so idk much abt lovecraftian eldritch monsters (i know of the lore pretty vaguely) bc i am a Fool so idk how much u based ur plot on it but basically any eldritch lore dump is appreciated either way bc of that.

also ghost crumbling at peer pressure? now i feel that. well i think u meant more like a threatening sort of pressure rather than friendly jabbing but it's a lot more funnier when u consider ghost being exposed to peer pressuring and going. uh, ok. LMAO anyway it's also a v beautiful irony that a being that feeds off of fear doesn't welcome it in the parts of his life that he is the most vulnerable in so chefs kiss for that

his true form!!!! i was already guessing this bc it's pretty much implied i feel like but!!! does this mean, when ghost got captured by zaragoza he was in his true form? what are the dimensions even? and!!!! simon saw him like that? could 141 ever get a chance to see him like that, like can he leave simon's body and then come back? (i won't accept the answer of they will but he'll have to completely leave simons body, no sir. simon is along for the ride alive or dead, whether he wants to or not) (talk abt ride or die but die is optional while ride is mandatory)

more importantly, i'm like v v v obsessed with thinking abt simon's pov on first seeing ghost and how his opinion would've changed had the situation been more normal when they first met? like... is he also inherently a monsterfucker? (that's such an iconic question out of context btw, pls acknowledge my brilliance) but like soap sees the tongue and goes. hm. would simon also. ok no my brain is overheating at this point i'll shut up.

(i'm just thinking another au of an au yet again. thanks for the brainrot. it's branching and GROWING how do i stop it????? but like i'm imagining like timeline being different and ghost being captured by the opportunistic fuck shepherd and they try to use ghost in usual military fashion and simon maybe meets him like that and. wow now that i'm getting into it this has the vibes of those merfics of mer being caltured and the scientist seeing them and slowly getting to know them and it's then an epic save-the-mer adventure but mer is an eldritch monster and the pretty scientist is actually a built like a shit brickhouse, gruff military man simon who is Ver Reluctantly starting to get fond of ghost and is not happy abt it)

(i'm dying. why is my brain doing this to me. whyyyyyy)

anyway i have yet again wrote walls of text abt this fic so. i'll wander off and touch some grass before my brain explodes. i'm just. obsessed with all this. a tad too much perhaps so this ask is now ur problem. have fun

The hows and the whys and the whens of Roach and Ghost's relationship have pretty similar answers actually, it'll make sense when I get there hopefully. And I hope that it's as good as you're imagining!

Hurt/comfort ngl is one of my favorite tropes, and I love giving characters trauma and breaking them down and mending them back together and seeing how I can mend them

And don't worry about knowing the lore, as with most fanfiction I'm taking Lovecraft and his genre's works and kinda ripping it apart for juicy bits, though I'm trying to keep the overall impressions. The feeding on different emotions/things is entirely my own idea because I honestly needed some way to nerf Ghost since Lovecraft never elaborates on how his eldritch beings function, so I gave them a food source. The whole possession aspect is actually based on one of Lovecraft's characters though I filled in my own blanks (LC loves being vague for The Horror) and Ghost's parents are also eldritch horrors that are mentioned in his and others' works. Cthulhu also exists in this fic and is actually Ghost's nephew geneology wise! Thats gonna become important in the next chapter ;)

And yesss the fact that Ghost feeds on fear doesnt make him immune to it

And yes! Ghost was in his true form when he was captured by the cartel, though since he was weak he was smaller than normal (he stretches like silly putty). I put a lot of lore and background into each chapter so I'm never sure how much readers remember/understand especially if its spread out. Size wise during the cartel he was probably at least the size of a car, normally he's maybe the size of a six story building? He's actually pretty small compared to some of his kind

And yes, Simon saw him like that and was like "neat, I'm gonna make a deal with this thing because I was the cartel to Burn" and Ghost immediately vibed with that

Would you believe that I'm toying with the idea of the 141 seeing his true form in the main fic? Its gonna be very near the end, and there's a lot of angsty implications regarding it because remember, Simon's dead. Without Ghost to keep his body, well, alive and functioning what happens to a dead body?

Absolutely iconic question and I'd very much believe that Simon is definitely a monsterfucker. He's seen so many human monsters that it imagine its somewhat of a relief and very attractive for him to see a monster not trying to hide what they are. You're also giving me very naughty threesome Ghost/Simon/Soap ideas

And friend, dear mutual, I have absolutely no clue how to fix the brainrot as its infected me as well! And again with giving me ideas!! I was soo close to starting a new 141 fic focusing on Roach for mermay you have no idea, might come to your ask box and ramble at you about it

You know Venom, yes? This idea is giving very Venom movie vibes. Because Ghost is a hardass and he'd cave eventually and end up possessing the people that Shepherd brought in as cannon fodder but he wouldn't gel with them and since he's very prideful he's end up ripping them to shreds over and over. Until Simon. Until Shepherd captured Simon and they gel and Simon and Ghost bond and the 141 come to save them. The team finds out about Ghost and they just slowly introduce him to the world and help him heal and take him on missions

Welp this has been my wall of text, hope you enjoyed! I also need to touch grass but sadly its a beautiful day and I'm stuck at work

[colossal-fallout]

Hi! How are you☺️, Did you eat, took ur meds, I hope you drank some water. If your requests are open I would like to ask for Sub! Hanji x Dom! Vampire! Reader. Basically Reader is hungry, and Hanji offers themselves, so it kind of escalates. And bit of aftercare too. If you are not taking requests, or you aren't comfortable with writing it that's okay too☺️♥️. Much love 💕

Thank you for being so lovely! I hope you enjoy sweetie <3

Blood Lust

Sub Hanji X Dom Vampire Reader. GN.

Warnings; Well, blood. Smut - a little bit of angst. Fluff.

As you peak through the slightly open door to see the beautiful figure bending over her desk, you scold yourself - silently but harshly. You'd somehow underestimated Hanji's brilliance. You knew she was smart, genius even. But this...? Her head is in her hand, eyes totally focused on her work. Nothing new there. Her other hand scribbling frantically, working through equations and evidence, you could almost hear the cogs and gears turning and grinding in that sharp mind of hers. The scribbling of her quill only extenuating the anxiety that rose in your chest.

She's close. So close.

Close to figuring you out. Close to discovering who (or what) is behind all the recent chaos and strange going on's. You were sure you covered your tracks well enough, kept the scent of suspicion off your trail - at least enough for you to not have the woman you lust for so much figure out your true identity.

Your eyes drink her gorgeous form. That peachy backside... her scent. One you can almost taste from all the way outside the room. Her slender fingers working her parchment and her oh-so-soft skin glistening in the candle light.

You tense when she suddenly stops, a sharp and shocked inhalation cutting through her vocals.

Just as your name leaves her wavering voice and she steps back, you enter the room, slamming the door behind you and making her jump.

Your hunger amplifies your instincts as you stare at her, almost challenging her to say something. You can hear her racing heart, pumping all that beautiful red fluid around her gorgeous form. Your eyes focus on the pulse against her neck, even from this distance. She's panicking. You can smell her sweet persperation.

She stammers your name again as your now dark eyes drink her in. You were so close to having what you wanted. To have her all to yourself in a steamy act of lust. If she hadn't been too damn distracted working out who was behind the mysterious situations that had been happening in the castle you all shared with your comrades - you would have had your way with her by now.

"So... now you know." You hum, almost in amusement.

She swallows hard. You can hear her trying to calm herself, she's gaining control of her breathing, setting it to a more slow and steady pace.

"You surprised me." She replies.

To anyone else, she would appear stoic. Calm. Brave.

If it wasn't for your "abilities" if you'd call it that, you would have been fooled. But your screaming instincts to feed makes your senses more sharp - keen. Like a wild animal set out to chase it's prey.

"I thought..." She continued, her hand shifting up to her chest.

What's this your smelling? It's something familiar... pain? She's... feeling pained? It surprises you, making you blink. You thought she'd be angry. Vengeful... but this?

"You thought what, exactly?" You mutter.

"I was convinced... no, I am right. You, you're a good person."

Your surprise spirals now into sheer confusion. Your blank face blinks, indicating your emotions.

"You... you must be hungry now, am I right?" She breathes, her heart rate picking up once more. She's wrestling with her own emotions and failing. "You've not been feeding. You're pale. You have been for days. I... never in a million years would think you are..."

"A what?"

"A..."

She batters back her tears of feeling so overwhelmed with this knowledge and your sudden appearance.

"A Vampire."

Uncomfortable silence fills the room. One you weren't sure how to break from.

She takes another deep breath before slowly, cautiously walking towards you her chestnut browns not once leaving your own orbs.

A sound takes you aback. A beautiful sound that excites you so much, it makes your sex instantly heat up and twitch to life.

You can hear her blood pumping down to between her legs, the smell of pheromones floating off her like some lustful stick of incense.

She's sexually aroused.

Your eyebrow arches as she approaches, her fingers fumbling at the buttons on her shirt.

"What are you doing?" You ask, totally blown away by not only what was happening but the feelings that were pouring off her entirety.

"Drink from me." She offers.

Her tone is nonchalant, as if she's offering you a rum and coke or a glass of water. But the closer she gets to you, the harder her heart hammers, and it makes the hunger inside you grow that much more.

"You don't know what you're asking." You take a step back. "You don't know what it entails. You don't know anything."

"I know i've noticed your eyes lingering on me longer than most." She replies, still closing distance. "Was it out of hunger? Or a different kind of apatite? Both?"

You gulp, not knowing how to feel or what to do.

"Hanji. If I bite you, i'll lose control."

"You'd kill me?" A harshness applies to her tone, one you've not heard from her before.

"No."

"Then what?"

"If you keep coming towards me like that, exposing your flesh..." Your eyes wander to her now bare chest, her shirt open and her bra clearly visible. "You'll find out."

Without a word, her gaze pierces yours as she slowly shrugs off the material, the sound of it crumpling on the floor the only noise beyond your own heavy breathing.

"Hanji. This is your final warning." You husk, your mouth beginning to water and your body trembling with effort to hold yourself back. "I'm not responsible for what happens if you continue."

As if testing you - daring you, she takes a final step forward before reaching behind and unclasping the bra that contained her petite breasts. Her dark, erect nipples came into view as it joined her shirt on the floor. Her flat, toned stomach leading down to the top of her pants. With your heightened sense of smell, you could inhale the scent of her now drenched slit through the material, and god it smelled outstanding.

"Take me, please..." Her voice softly begs.

Your mouth springs open slightly to allow room for your fangs that have automatically protruded out of your control, your pupils enlarging and a growl emitting from deep within your chest. And to your surprise, it turned her on even more.

She whimpers your name. "P-please. Oh my..." She swoons at your display, turning her neck and teasing her flesh with her fingertips.

She'd been warned.

You finally allow your instincts to take over, a fist full of her chestnut hair suddenly in your palm as you harshly yank back her head, her moan of enjoyment erasing any doubts or guilt you may have carried.

You both let out loud groans as you finally sink your teeth into her slender neck, the points puncturing her flesh with ease and the iron tasting liquid pooling out with haste into your mouth.

You did as she said; you drank from her, her gasps encouraging you as you roughly yet swiftly unpopped the button of her pants, yanking them down with your great yet hidden strength.

Hanji's knees begin to tremble from sheer arousal, your hand sliding across her warm, soaked slit with ease.

Parting her thighs for better access, she groans so loudly as you suck her neck at rub her clit with your fingers, grazing up and down, up and down relentlessly.

"I...ah...shi--t." She hums as your eyes roll behind your closed lids in sheer euphoria.

Her legs tremble and she anchors herself onto you, nails sinking into your back as she clings on for dear life, her sudden squeal indicating an unexpected orgasm.

Pulling away from her neck for just a moment; her blood smeared around your mouth, you marvel at the mess she's made in your palm and how easily you've made her come undone. She wanted this a lot more than you'd realised.

Without wasting another second, you lift her with ease and place her on her desk, her flushed face, messed hair and vacant expression showing you just how much that had blown her away.

"Good girl..." You hum as you fumble for a moment before lining up your twitching sex with hers. "Fuck, i've wanted you for so long."

Your bodies collide and with a grunt, you begin to thrust with no mercy, your left hand squeezing her tit hard and the other now on her neck.

Your name leaves her lips over and over as you pound, the desk banging loudly as your intense lust begins to spiral out of control.

Your teeth now sink into her shoulder as you pump yourself against her, her small beautiful tits bouncing at your control.

"haa... oh..." are the only words to leaver her mouth. As well as "please don't stop." and "more... please more!"

Her lower stomach tightens as she cums once again, her overly sensitive and over aroused greedy cunt fluttering on you, squelching delightfully and splashing her juices against your pubic bone.

You notice she'd been gripping her desk so hard in her haze, she'd left scratch marks in the wood as you scoop her up again and continue to pound her against the wall, your tongue desperately lapping up the still oozing blood from her fresh wounds.

"Hanji, you feel so good." You praise between laps from your tongue.

Her slit was like heaven, cuming again and again like it was her super power. Her now dumb-expression sexy as hell as her tongue lolls out of her mouth and her eyes roll back.

"M'gonna cum..." You grunt, slamming her back onto the desk.

"Yes... YES!" She cries out to the moonlight as your tightening coil snaps.

You see stars from how powerful it is, the ecstasy coursing through your over stimulated and over pleasured body. Wave after wave of your sex juices splay over hers, the release so satisfying it could have made you curse if you had the ability to form words in that moment.

It takes you longer than usual to come back to reality, your hunched form slumped over Hanji's fucked out form.

"T-that was..." She stammers eventually.

Planting soft kisses onto her drying wounds, you whisper; "amazing" to finish her sentence. She nods in agreement, well and truly fucked dumb. You palm her hair where you'd tugged it and kiss a bruise you'd left on her breast from grabbing it so hard. It was already forming.

"I'm sorry." You frown. "I did warn you and - "

"Shhh..." She sushes you. "That was the best sex I've ever had in my life. So just... shhh."

You can't help but let out a small laugh, your fangs slowly retracting like a freshly milked cock softening.

She then grins up at you, her brain now back in reality.

"So, when can we do it again?"

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Millie’s Massive Fic Rec Post

To celebrate 700 followers I’m showing all the love, people. What you’ll find here are fics that were sent to me who I agree deserve a bit more love as well as fics I’ve read and adored. They’re split into characters so all you need to do is scroll to find your fave and bask in its glory. There is some swearing but it’s only because it’s the only way I know how to express my feelings. This is also my thank you to each of the authors involved for taking the time out of their day to write these fics for free. There are also some authors I know I’ve forgotten and I am so so sorry if I have, I promise you it wasn't intentional, I love you all very much.

As always, I love and appreciate you all. Let’s get started on this ridiculously long post!!

Harry Potter:

Don’t Walk Away - @kalimagik - THE ANGST. I was on the edge of my seat through it all; I knew what was coming but did I look away? No. I was completely sucked it and that ending... oh my god, I was broken. If you’re looking for an incredibly written piece of angst that has you in tears, then this is the fic.

Dandelions - @lupins-sweater - The first post of A Very Harry Potter Summer and it was kicked off so brilliantly!! This fic had me wishing for my very own Harry to take morning walks with. It’s so wonderful; it has you wanting a summery morning and dandelions to make wishes on.

Always You - @bl597 - inspired by Louis Tomlinson’s song Always You, so I was already sold on that front. It’s an angst piece - Harry pining from afar, regretting his decisions but with a happy ending. I love that it's written from his perspective, that he realises what he’s done. I really do love this fic, and I aim to work my way through her masterlist!

The Truth Behind The Kiss - @justauthoring​ - the anticipation from the first sentence, I was on the edge of my seat. I loved every single word of this fic, it’s written so well. I just, I need you all to read this fic bc it is SO GOOD. Harry, Triwizard tournament, feelings, fluff - it has it all. 

For how long? - @siriusly-addicted-to-writing​ - It seems for Harry fics I am drawn to angst even though I write nothing but fluff for him. This fic is no different. Dani, this fic is wonderful, I love it. You capture the angst brilliantly! Go read this everyone!

Ron Weasley:

“can we pretend I never said that?” - @hello-everyfandom - I love this so much! Ron calling himself ‘the snog master’ had me snorting out loud - it’s great. And then the dialogue continues to be brilliant. I really enjoyed this fic! Ron needs more attention people!!  

Crossing Lines - @kalimagik - ADORABLE. CUTE. WONDERFUL. Oh, Ron. Everything about this fic is marvellous. The relationship between Ron and the reader, the realisation, the meddling. It was perfect, so so perfect.

birthday - @lupinsdarling - FLUFFY AND CHAOTIC AND I LOVE IT. Why oh why doesn't Ron get more love? Why doesn't this fic have more attention? It’s so fluffy and Ron is so bloody cute that my heart physically hurt while reading this. It hurt because it was so PURE.

Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley:

Girls in one room - @eleven-times-lively - Hermione x Reader - oh my god I snorted at Ron, I love it. And the fluff? There’s so much fluff, I can't deal with the fluff. If you’re going to read a Hermione fic, read this one!

just as lovely - @vanillann - this is so pure! it’s so wonderful, and the relationship between Hermione and the reader is so cute! 

Hug ur friends drabble - @firewhisky-kisses - Ginny x Reader - it’s the cutest thing I’ve read, oh my god, is it cute! I love everything about this, Steph is so talented! But I go into that further down.

Neville Longbottom:

Never the Bride - @obsessedwithrandomthings - Dee’s fic reads as a rom com, it’s so brilliantly done. By the time you're at the end, you feel as if you’ve just watched a two hour rom com and need to squeal into your pillow because of the feels. I love this fic.

Moonlight Swim - @kalimagik - Neville. Oh, Neville. This fic stole my heart and it won't give me it back. The idea of a moonlight swim with Neville? Here for it. And the confession? *chefs kiss* incredible. 

Healing - @firewhisky-kisses - I cannot put into words how much I loved this fic,. Steph is just so incredibly talented and writes Neville so wonderfully. Healing is the first fic of two and that second part had me in happy tears because Neville deserves the world. I go back and reread this a lot when I need to boost my emotions, so thank you for this Steph.

Good News - @peachesandpinks - Let me explain something here, Ron repeatedly and without fail hypes up fic writers to the point where she makes me cry happy tears at her comments. Her writing (and I'm going to swear now) is fucking brilliant. I love it, I adore it. Ren has a way with words that I only hope to master. This fic? Marvellous, magnificent, wonderful - pick a synonym and go wild. It’s so sweet and wholesome - what more could you possibly want other than to be on her taglist?

Tally Marks - @obsessedwithrandomthings NEVILLE WITH TATTOOS PEOPLE! NEVILLE! WITH! TATTOOS! Do I need to say anymore? Yes? Okay. Dee is a fantastic writer but she writes Neville perfectly. We have had many conversations about her love for Neville and her love for him shines through in this fic. She writes with such care and I love reading everything.

Draco Malfoy: 

The Purist - @mxl-foy - This series is so good. Like, so good, that if it was a physical book, it would be sat on my shelves. I would religiously check her account every time I came onto Tumblr to see if a new chapter was posted, and if there was, you best believe there was a happy dance. It’s so incredibly thought out and plotted. And there’s going to be a part two! It’s so great!

Notes - @malfoys-demigod - This is so sweet! I live for fluffy Draco as you all know if you read my Draco fics, but I adore reading fluffy Draco as well. This fic is so adorable, I love it! 

Always so Cold - @teheharrypotter - Five times Draco gave you his sweater and the one time you accepted. I love these sort of fics, they’re my indulgence fics. Jealous!Draco is one of my favourite things to read as well. and he’s so dramatic. I couldn't ask for more in a fic, definitely one of my favourites. 

the distance between us - @sdicapriox - This is a genius idea. I love this idea, and I love how it was executed. Almost 10k words of brilliance. I love the reader and her first letter to Draco and her entire personality - fish funeral? genius. I really like how you portray Draco and the effort you put into his internal monologue, it really is something excellent. The ending as well, I won't spoil, I just urge people to read this. 

Heartbreak - @slytherinprincess03 - you have to have a little bit of angst in a Draco fic rec right? This fic has it but the ending is perfect and fluffy, gah! I love it!. Not to mention, Draco is such a gentlemen in it. I can't wait to see what else you write, lovely!!

Hardly A Date - @fanficflaneuse - I love this fic. I love it so much. I tend not to read sibling!reader but I adored this. The relationship between Harry and the reader, and then Draco and the reader. It’s amazing. I could rant for hours and hours about how much I love her work - her series are out of this world and she captures Draco’s character perfectly. 

George Weasley:

Red with Rage - @kalimagik - AGH ANOTHER OF MAGGIE’S FICS. The prank? Genius, and that end line - incredible. Her characterisation of the twins is so good, I love reading her fics. She deserves more than 300 followers! So if you don’t already follow her, go now!

When Everything Changes - @strawberriesonsummer - Based on the song Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran. This is so pure, it’s so fluffy. George is adorable in this! I can't wait to read what else you write for George!

Come back to you - @dreamer821 - JJ, JJ, JJ. Ugh, this fic is a work of art and George is so bloody caring. I mention this a lot but the relationship between George and the reader is so important to get right and JJ does it flawlessly. My heart hurts for this fic and that last line, LOVE IT. I live for how JJ writes George, I could read her work all day. GO READ HER STUFF, YOU WON’T REGRET IT.

Fred Weasley:

The Right Bird - @dreamer821 - I’m not only just involving this because it was used in my writing challenge but oh my days, it is so wonderful. The relationship between Fred and the reader is just *chefs kiss* perfect. JJ has such a way with words and I just love how she depicts Fred.

Lost, are we? - @prongsies - I think I’m going to make my way through your masterlist because I loved this so much. The teasing was so cute, and Fred helping her at the beginning? Ahhhhh brilliant. 

Watermelon Sugar - @prongsies - COMPLETING THE FINEST SERVICE TO THE HP FANDOM AND WRITING FICS INSPIRED BY FINE LINE - I SALUTE YOU. This is so good, so so good. The references to the song are used so well and that little bit of fluff at the end? Amazing. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put the song on repeat now...

Percy Weasley: 

Nothing We Can’t Forgive -  @firewhisky-kisses - This series really does showcase Steph’s talent. She’s an incredible writer and this fic deserves all the attention it can possibly get. It’s the first Percy fic I’ve ever read and I’m already planning a reread. Steph captures Percy’s character flawlessly whilst also depicting his healing in a manner that is so relatable. I’ve linked the masterlist because once you start reading, you won't want to stop. 

Sight is Relative - @hufflefluff-writer - This fic has a blind reader which I think makes it all the more beautiful. Amelia’s characterisation of Percy really is wonder, she captures him brilliantly. The fic after they eat is quite literally breathtaking. The description of colours, the dialogue - it’s fantastic.

Hufflepuff!Reader Headcanons - @soft-nerdy-wolf - I loved this from the beginning where the reader was already helping Percy out of his comfort zone by disregarding curfew. Then the further, I read, I loved more and more because of how fluffy it is! And the confession? So so sweet! This needs more attention!

Bill Weasley: 

Estrellita - @fanficflaneuse and @hufflefluff-writer - It is a fic inspired by the Sound of Music, what more could you possibly want? It’s so delicate and incredibly written by two extremely talented writers. The relationship between Bill and the reader = adorable. The whole series is so fantastic, I’ve linked part one and you’ll find the rest on Amelia’s masterlist, which you’ll need because you’ll be reading the entire thing in one sitting, I swear.

Charlie Weasley:

As Family the First Time - @kalimagik - you’ll have noticed that Maggie features a lot here but that’s because she is so damned talented that I adore most of her fics. The first Charlie Weasley fic I read and I fell in love. It’s just so fluffy and humorous with features from the whole Weasley family. Basically, by the end of it I was ready to raise dragons in Romania with a certain Weasley.

Meeting the Weasleys - @soft-nerdy-wolf - This made smile all sorts of stupid. From the beginning, I wanted to own Hepaestus (the perfect name for a dragon in my opinion - Zeus’ own forger, amazing.) And the fluff with Charlie straight after? I love, love, love it as well as the fun relationship they have. And the pranks with Fred and George? Ah! I just love.

Dragons blurb - @hufflefluff-writer - I know it’s only a blurb but oh my god, I loved it, I love it. Jealous!Charlie and a buttload of fluff - the best to boost your mood.

Cedric Diggory:

A Ghost Story - @wondernimbus - So beautifully haunting. Ysa has a way with words that make you feel as if you're physically there, living the fic alongside the characters. There aren't really any words to describe how talented Ysa is - all I can do is urge to read her masterlist and discover for yourself. 

My Boys - @potterverseimagine - Cedric and dogs - I am in love. This fic is so sweet and pure and playful. Playful Cedric is so great omg and this fic is full to the brim with it. I just... ah I love this so much. AND HE’S ALIVE. I LOVE FICS WHERE HE’S ALIVE. Thank you for this!!

It’s a Date - @angelinathebook​ - Lena, this is so good. You need to write more Cedric! Ah, I hate those boys so much but I love Cedric!! This is so good! Cedric needs more love 100% - if you haven't read this already, you need to read it now!!

Sirius Black: 

Lost Time - @obsessedwithrandomthings - Reader standing up for who she loves against Bellatrix? Yes, we love that. Slow burn romance with Sirius? I love that even more. Dee never fails to astound me when she writes Sirius, and I know she won’t fail to astound you too. Seriously (lol), go through Dee’s masterlist, read her works, you won't regret it. She’s the loveliest.

Our Godson - @nebulablakemurphy - Christina is so talented. The letters!!! Are so good!!! AND WHEN THEY FINALLY MEET? My heart! Christina, it's as if you broke it and then rebuilt it again all in the span of 2.8k words especially with that ending. I love this fic, and you will love this fic. 

Curiosity - @siriusly-the-best-gryffindor​ - I don’t know what else to say that I haven't already said in my reblog but I love this fic. I am heavily pierced and heavily tattooed and I love seeing a reader as the same. I love all of this fic, it 100% needs more love!

The Jimmy Jab Games - @im-a-writer-right​ - A Sirius fic inspired by Brooklyn-99. I loved every single chapter, it made me so happy. And that final chapter, I was smiling like a fool throughout. Sirius is a dream through this, and that bet? I love! I’ve linked the masterlist because you won’t want to move as you read.  

Secrets and fears - @firewhisky-kisses​ - Steph does it again with the masterpieces. Honestly, I squeal a little whenever I see her in my notifications with a new fic because everything she writes is stellar, and this is no exception. If you’re going to read anything tonight, let it be her masterlist. If you haven't read her latest Sirius piece as well, you are sorely missing out. 

Remus Lupin:

Protect - @obsessedwithrandomthings - Oh man, this one hurt. There are so many feels to this fic, so many layers. The enemies to lovers? Amazing. That ending as well - so fucking good. Like everything Dee writes, so fucking good.

Sleeping Beauty - @poppin-potter - This is adorable. There’s no other words for it. The relationship between the reader and Remus is so cute, I was smiling all the way through it. Not to mention the relationship between the reader and the Marauders, so bloody good. And that ending? It was so peaceful, like I was reading and I was like yeah, I would’t mind a piece of that.

Pain of reality - @heloisedaphnebrightmore - I had to involve some Remus angst, and oh my word. You smashed my heart into pieces in the beginning and had put it back together by the end. Heloise is an incredible writer, so so talented. This is a Remus fic you cannot miss out on!

Bruise and Scars - @peachesandpinks - Soulmate AU and Marauders Era Remus. What more could you possibly want? It’s poetic. If you look to my Neville section, you’ll see why I love Ren’s writing so much but let me tell you, I am a SUCKER for Remus. Always have been, always will be. You will not regret reading this fic or any of Ren’s fics.

Nights like These - @teheharrypotter - another fic in A Very Harry Potter Summer and the description in this fic is so good! The way the summer night described has you feeling every moment of it. And the conversation between Remus and the reader is so beautiful, where they touch upon their grief. It’s a wonderfully written piece of work.

James Potter:

Numb Love - @heloisedaphnebrightmore - Unrequited love is like my guilty pleasure because I love the angst of it, and this fic. Oh this fic, it destroyed me and I loved every single minute of it. How this fic doesn't have more notes, I have no clue. It’s a masterpiece of emotions. 

Reading between the lines - @approved-by-dentists - ohhh this fic is great, I love the flirtation between the reader and James in the beginning all the way to end. It was one of the first James fics I read (I’m late to the party, I’m well aware) and omg I love it. Just go read the fic!

Book-thief - @wondernimbus - I’m going to repeat my words from earlier, there are no words to describe Ysa’s talent. James Potter and a bookshop and I was sold. She captures his character so brilliantly. Just... go binge her work.

Summer revelations - @pregnant-piggy - I keep saying this about all the fics I put on here but I love this fic! I love it! First, I love James. Second, I need those muffins - seriously, where can I get these muffins? And their realisations and confessions! It’s such a pure fic, I’m absolutely in love with your portrayal of James.

Newt Scamander:

Cheeky Niffler - @eleven-times-lively - reader is an archaeologist - from that moment, I was sold. I loved reading this, I loved the idea and I love Niffler as it is! I always need more Newt in my life and this is perfect.

Online Love - @strawberriesonsummer​ - Modern AU! I really loved this idea, I love the idea of Newt with a phone and ringing the wrong number. It’s such a wonderful fic, I haven't read Newt in so long so this was such a lovely one to read! I can’t wait to read what other Newt fics are posted!

desire - @blisfvll​ - I am a huge fan of their works; their Draco fics are incredible and their Newt fics are just the same. This had me feeling all sorts of emotions, and I loved every second of it.  

You stared Newt right in the eyes. - @fantasticnewtimagines​ - I didn't know what the title to this was so I just type out the first sentence, I hope you don't mind! This is a delicious piece of angst with a lovely, happy ending. I adore this piece so much because it conveys so much. I love it!!

MARVEL:

I want to take a moment to appeal to the followers of mine who also enjoy reading marvel. @shaynawrites23​ has started to write some marvel fics and even entered my writing challenge and her fics definitely deserve some attention! She’s a wonderful writer and her fics are so cute! If you’re a fan of Bucky, you’ll love these fics!

Catty

Soulmate

Rosy Proposal

[shadyteacup]

could i also pls request for ur 300+ event? i’d like 4 from the angst prompts (make me suffer AHDJDHSKD) with ranpo, thank u <3

Some sweet suffering coming up, now😌 I love torturing y'all so much, that I ignore the pain writing angst causes lmao

Edogawa Ranpo + “Please just pretend to love me.”

Word count: 1429 || Warnings: angst, swearing out of frustration.

You were one of those people that ran behind fame. You loved money, respect and a place among the important individuals of society. Your life’s goal has been to become successful enough to live a luxurious life, and have people look up to you.

During your efforts to do so, you met a certain noiret, whose brilliance and emerald gaze made you week in the knees. You fell for him, hard. At least, that’s what you made him believe. You made him fall for you. You both were living the perfect life. You would make him breakfast, kiss each other when you awoke, gaze into each other’s eyes, bathing in the morning rays. You two would eat out on Thursdays, order in on Fridays, and go shopping on Sundays. It was perfect. It was beautiful. But it was shallow.

Ranpo Edogawa, obviously, knew this. He knew that you were only with him because of his fame as the best detective out there. He knew that you were only into him for the benefits, and that if he was to give up on his career, you wouldn’t bat an eyelid before dumping him. That’s part of the reason that he accepted many cases and didn’t throw a tantrum when asked to actually work at the ada. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you. You were the only individual that has ever tolerated his mood swings and has stayed. Besides, you were gorgeous. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were so perfect. You played the part of a loving partner so well, that you almost had him, the smartest person on the bloody planet, fooled. It took him a while to realise your true intentions, and even after that, it took him a while to accept it. He loved you dearly, and he just didn’t have the guts to admit that your relationship was built on greed. He started closing himself off from others, and soon became a shell of the man that he used to be. He left the office early, didn’t talk to his peers, mostly kept to himself, didn’t joke around, and worst of all, lost interest in snacks. Yosano, his dear friend and concerned colleague, decided to confront him about this issue.

“What’s up with you? And don’t tell me that you’re fine, because you obviously aren’t.”

Ranpo had, after months of silence, openly talked to someone that day.

“I don’t think it’s true love, Yosano.”

He had shed many tears that day, knowing that his friend would keep them a secret. He trusted her.

“You think, or you know?”

She had asked. He was left stunned at her question. Was he sure of this? Was he just overanalysing, and hence overreacting? What if Y/N actually loved him?

“I- don’t know.”

He sighed, leaning into Yosano’s shoulder while she pat his back.

“Then find out. Observe. Know for sure.”

He sniffed.

“But what if I’m right?”, he shifted to look at her, his face showing just how scared he truly was.

“For once, I don’t want to be right.”

She had widened her beautiful eyes at his words. Giving him a comforting smile, she had consoled him.

“If you’re right, then its best to free yourself from this mess. Toxic relationships can really hamper one’s mental peace. Besides, you’re the smart one, you’ll figure it out. I’m sure!”

That’s why he was where he is right now. He had seated himself on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work. He had a plan in mind; a plan that would seal his fate.

He heard the keys jingling outside the door, signalling your arrival. He patiently waited for you to open the door and step inside, watching you as you discarded your coat on the rack and tossed the keys in the key holder by the door. You rolled your shoulders to release the pent-up tension and raked your fingers through your hair. You stepped in, oblivious of his gaze or presence.

“Welcome home.”

His voice stunned you for a second, and you jumped slightly.

“Oh my, Ranpo, you really scared me!”

You exclaimed, walking over to him to peck his cheek, and seating yourself opposite to him.

“What are you doing home?”

“Can’t I be at my own house?”, he cross questioned, crossing his arms.

You were taken aback by his aggressive tone and raised a brow.

“Of course, you can. What’s gotten into you?”

He sighed, looking away from your gaze. He had to stay in character.

“I just... I’m a bit worked up, that’s all.”

“What’s wrong, love?”

You shifted in your seat, leaning forward to look more concerned.

“I lost my job. They say that I’m not good enough, anymore. We’ll have to survive with our savings and your salary.”

You were baffled.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

You scoffed, slumping back into the cushion of your seat.

“But you’re the best at what you do, they can’t just fire you like that!”

He sat silently, observing your turmoil.

“That’s impossible. They can’t just do that. What about all the work you’ve done for them? All the cases you’ve solved, all those hours that you’ve put in; they can’t do this to you!”

“They can, and they did.”

You stood up and began pacing in the hall. Your mind was filled with questions. Your main worry was, ‘Was my effort worthless? Will I have to breakup with him? If he isn’t who he was before, then is there any point in being with him? Was all that perfect play, all those stupid nights when I had to run down to the store to get him fucking ice-cream, or when I had to laugh along to his pathetic jokes, do the laundry, the dishes, treat him like a fucking child; was all that for naught?’

Your mental trauma was too much for you. You were breathing heavily, and your mind was clogged with worries. You were so out of it, that you failed to realise that you’d spoken your worries out loud.

When you heard your own voice echo back in your ears, you gasped, placing a palm on your mouth. Looking over at Ranpo, you widened your eyes at his expression.

“Fuck, Ranpo, I didn’t mean it! I was just worried about how we’re going to manage the expenses, and I-”

“Please just pretend to love me.”

He whispered. His tears threatened to spill. His emerald orbs shone with unshed tears as he clenched his teeth, glaring at you.

“I knew you were in it only for the fame and money. I fucking knew it, yet I stayed. I decided to stay because I had honestly fallen in love with you. I knew that my friends were right about you. Dazai had warned be before we became serious; he had tried to tell me to break it off with you; he had tried to forewarn me, but I didn’t listen to him, because I was so fucking lost in this puppet show, that I had started loving it. I should have listened to him and left you, you shallow hearted bitch!”

You just stood stunned at his words. He had ever even raised his voice at you before. This was so unexpected.

“I haven’t lost my job, Y/N. this was a test to see if you’re actually into this relationship, and guess what, you failed miserably.”

You just stood there, processing his words. So, he hadn’t lost his job? All is not for naught?

Laughing, you shook your head.

“You and your stupid games, Ranpo. I swear I can’t keep up with your pranks!”

“This isn’t a prank, I’m serious- ”

“Gosh, you had me scared for a moment there. This is all your friend’s doing. What’s his name again? Dazai? Yeah, he did this. And you fell right into his little trap! He made you hate me, but you don’t hate me, do you? You love me.”

“Don’t blame my friends. Honestly, how shallow can you get?!”

He chuckled bitterly.

“Get out. Right now.”

You just stared at him, dumbfounded.

“But love- ”

“Out! Now! Get out of my fucking sight!”

You nodded, understanding. He was too smart to be fooled anymore. Picking up your coat, you left the house.

Ranpo watched you leave, and slumped to the floor, on his knees. He had just lost the one person who had managed to make him feel loved. That night, he cried his heart out.

Jsksks I hope u liked it @kovzumee ! lemme know what u think, n if u didn't want this, feel free to req again♡

[fanfiction-g0ddess]

princess knows best

au where twilight’s biggest fear is not failing a test but losing spike bcs.. hello?? why is ur biggest fear failing a TEST

word count: 2.3k

warnings: just angst!!

a/n: please don’t copy to another website

___

The blinding white faded and Twilight trotted into the throne room of Princess Celestia’s castle, before stopping with a small start.

“Huh?” she questioned, her tail swishing. The thrones were unvacant and the entire room was empty. She pulled a hoof to her chest and her gaze darted around quizzically.

“Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student.”

Twilight’s ears perked at the sound of her favorite princess in all of Equestria and she softly pivoted on her hooves. She faced Princess Celestia, ever so graceful as she stood in the hallway of her castle. Her beauty is beyond compare, her elegant multi-colored mane and tail drifting effortlessly in the air as if the wind were always fanning her. She faired beautifully despite being millenniums old and she radiated regality and brilliance. No matter the close bond she and the princess had, no matter how often she saw her mentor, the alicorn still took her breath away at times and she couldn’t help but bow to her princess.

“Princess Celestia,” she greeted, picking herself up from her submissive stance and padding over to her. She stood sideways in front of the princess and stretched out, where Celestia placed her head down on the ridge of her back, Twilight nuzzling the back of her head to the side of her mentor’s.

“You were just the pony I was looking forward to seeing. We must discuss urgent matters at once.”

Twilight blinked. It sounds important . “Oh. Okay. What do you need to discuss, princess?”

“It is regarding Spike,” she said, striding towards the throne room, Twilight in tow. “I am afraid he must leave Equestria. The Dragonlands have much more to offer a growing dragon.”

“For how long?” she asked, trotting next to Celestia. “Because I don’t feel comfortable with him staying there by himself and I have-”

“Forever.”

Twilight froze. It seemed as if time froze with her. The air stilled around her and the skin under her fur broke out into goosebumps. This couldn’t be happening. Princess Celestia would never do such a thing. She liked Spike! I should let her explain herself. Yes! She’s just kidding, just joking around. Or maybe I misheard. I must have heard her wrong. She can’t really be asking me to-

“Twilight.”

Her head snapped to where her mentor sat, on the top step leading to where her and her sister’s thrones lay.

“I know this will be difficult, believe me, but it must be done,” she spoke, her tone not betraying that of regality and elegance. Not a trace of emotion weaved its way through her voice.

“B-but why? Spike’s been raised by ponies, he’ll be eaten alive by the dragons there! And the citizens of Ponyville aren’t bothered by him, he’s a good dragon! If this is a culture thing--he wants to live among ponies, princess,” Twilight explained.

“This is not a matter of which Spike goes voluntarily.”

“S-so you’re banishing him? What reasoning do you have to banish him from all of Equestria?” she cried, lowering her body as she spoke up to her mentor.

“As much as Spike is a joy to be around, he is still a dragon . My subjects in Ponyville may be accustomed to his presence but others are not. He is terrorizing the citizens of Canterlot and the Crystal Empire everytime you two visit,” she countered, sitting up tall.

“Spike doesn’t terrorize anypony-!”

“-He may not mean to, but he does . My student, you represent me. Everytime you bring Spike along to a royal event or announce yourself as my student with Spike at your flank, that is a representation of me and my competence as a ruler. What does it show when my star student, my prized pupil, has a dragon companion?”

“I-I don’t understand. You’re the one who appointed my parents legal custody. You allowed him to stay and become a part of our family. You’re the reason he’s in Ponyville,” she said softly, ears flat against her head.

“And it was one of my biggest mistakes. It seems that even princesses have faults.”

Twilight lowered herself to the floor, tucking her legs under her body and ducking her head. Celestia stood.

“I will be asking my guards to fetch him so you two can say your goodbyes.”

“Please, princess, don’t take him,” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

Princess Celestia made her way down the steps and halted in front of her pupil. The alicorn bent down and lowered herself to the floor, trying to catch Twilight’s eye. She tucked her legs as well, mimicking Twilight’s stance. She extended a neatly-trimmed wing and wrapped it around her student. Twilight raised her head, tears streaking down her face. Celestia placed a gold-plated hoof under Twilight’s chin, lifting her head and leveling it with her own.

“Twilight, look at me.” Twilight did not look.

“Twilight Sparkle, look at your princess,” she demanded, eyes betraying her calm exterior. Violet snapped to hot pink.

“What did you think was going to happen, my dear student? Did you think you and Spike were going to live together in Ponyville forever? Spike will one day grow, grow much bigger than this castle we lay in. You will die and Spike will live. Who will keep him under wraps? I have much more important means than keeping tabs on a predator in my country.”

“Spike wouldn’t attack anypony!” Twilight exclaimed, standing up.

“Oh? And is this the same Spike who after getting a few gifts for his birthday grew into a fifty-foot dragon and rampaged through Ponyville?” Celestia challenged, standing to her full height and unfurling her wings, raising them threateningly at her sides.

“You can’t judge creatures by their worst mistakes! Your sister turned into Nightmare Moon and tried to cast eternal night on Equestria, but you forgave her!” Twilight yelled, cowering before her but practically muzzle-to-muzzle with her mentor.

“That is different!” Celestia shouted in her royal canterlot voice. Twilight gripped at the floor with her hooves, awkwardly trying to stay on the ground from the sheer power emitted from the princess before her. She pawed at the ground with her front hooves, her lips and mane pulling back, her tail snapping and thrashing in the air behind her.

“How?” she cried, all but crumbling to the ground, panting and quivering. “How is it different, my princess? Because he’s a dragon? Please. Please, princess, I’ll do anything! Let me prove to you that he’s not dangerous! Please, let him stay! I’ll let him go off on his own in the Dragonlands when he’s ready, I’ll keep him confined to Ponyville, I’ll end my studies, I-I’ll stop being your student! Just please, don’t make me leave him. You can’t ask me to do that!” she implored, sobs wracking her frame.

She collapsed at her mentor’s hooves, hugging the alicorn’s front leg. She whimpered and sniffled, forehead pressed into the princess’ leg.

“I’m begging of you, please don’t take Spike...”

Celestia seemed to consider this for a moment, before resting a garnished hoof on Twilight’s head and shoving her student off. Twilight looked up at her, wide eyes pooling with tears that had long soaked the fur of her face, matting and discoloring it.

“It has already been decided.”

The frantic unicorn shook her head, her disheveled bangs catching on her drooping ears.

“No. No, you don’t get to decide that. With all due respect, Princess Celestia, you can’t banish him all because of a simple ideation or your prejudice against dragons! He’s my family! Mine! You can’t take him! He’s just a baby dragon! He won’t hurt anypony!” Twilight shouted hoarsely, practically tripping over her hooves to get in front of the princess, blocking the entrance.

“Please don’t do this, your highness. Please. There’s still time to change your mind,” she whispered, ears pressed against her head. She hadn’t called Celestia ‘your highness’ since she was a filly, but she was desperate and panicked and clinging to anything that could change the princess’ mind.

Celestia lowered her nose to nuzzle her student’s cheek and perambulated past the unicorn and through the doors of the throne room. The doors swung closed and the room was empty once more.

She curled up in the right corner closest to the doors, hiding her face in her tail. Broken sobs escaped past her lips and she wasn’t sure if the absence of hoofsteps in the hallway were because the princess teleported or if she simply couldn’t hear them over the sound of her own gasps and hiccups.

“Twilight!” A faded voice echoed through the entire room.

“Twilight!” Came the booming voice a second time, bouncing off the walls.

“TWILIGHT!” All noises were drown out by a familiar voice and her vision blurred white as the room spun around her.

~~

Twilight shook her head, blinking hard a few times as she looked around, taking in the new but familiar surroundings. She watched as Spike raced down the obsidian steps, sharp claws clicking against the crystal staircase.

“I know you told me to stay up there but you were down here for such a long time and you weren’t answering and I got worried so I came down here and you were just staring at that wall! And I was calling your name but I couldn’t seem to get your attention and--what were you looking at?” he rambled, going off on a tangent and gesturing wildly with his claws. He waddled up curiously to the door, inspecting it. 

“I mean, it’s just a wall,” he stated, before the whites of his eyes turned green and his irises and pupils turned different shades of red.

Twilight quickly pulled him back from the door, kicking the door closed with her back hoof. His eyes returned to normal while hers filled with involuntary tears.

“Twi . .?” Spike asked cautiously, claw reaching out tediously towards her. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly, the unicorn leapt at the baby dragon, tackling him to the ground. She swaddled him up in her arms, the two rolling on the floor a few times before she lazily ended up on her back, hindquarters sprawled out and tail flicking excitedly.

“SPIKE! Oh, Spike, I’m so happy to see you,” she cooed, lifting him up by the armpits in the air, his back legs and tail just barely grazing the fur on her stomach. He stared down at Twilight’s tear-stricken face, growing increasingly more concerned by the second.

“I’m . . . happy to see you too, but why are you acting so weird?” he asked, maneuvering his body to bend down, gently wiping a tear from her cheek. He was careful not to cut her skin or poke her eye out with his claw. She sniffled, letting her front legs give out. He settled on her chest and she wrapped all four legs around him, nuzzling his cheek with her nose.

“H-hey! Twi! S-stop! I’m not a hatchling anymore and, heh, your fur tickles! Knock it off!” he laughed, trying to shy away from the unicorn, who was continuing her onslaught of nuzzles and nose-kisses.

Once she was satisfied with the number of nudges and cuddles, she pushed herself up, letting Spike slide in between her hind legs. She swiped a hoof over the spines on his head and Spike looked up at her, all wide-eyed and innocent. The face that Fake-Celestia had tried to send away.

She glanced over at the door, biting the inside of her cheek.

“King Sombra’s dark magic. A door that leads to your worst fears,” she explained, pointing to the door with a hoof while wrapping her tail around Spike’s midsection.

“Did that fear have . . something to do with me?” he asked, playing with her tail and trying to smooth out the frazzled pieces.

“Yes,” she said softly.

He looked up at her again, before turning his body sideways and resting his cheek against her stomach; her soft, purple fur feeling warm and oddly cozy on his smooth scales. He propped his back legs on her left hindquarter as Twilight unraveled her tail from around him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” she answered and it was the truth. She really, really did not want to think about it right now. All she wanted to do was sit with her dragon and pretend like it never happened. It wasn’t real, it was a hallucination. It shouldn’t be shaking her up so badly.

“When I have nightmares and stuff . . . you always say that it’s good to talk about it with somepony. Not good to bottle it up and all that,” he tried, glancing up at her.

“Maybe later, Spike,” she responded, giving him a soft noogie on the forehead.

They sat in silence for a few moments, just basking in each other’s company, until Spike spoke up.

“Soo . . . about King Sombra.”

Twilight’s eyes widened and she jumped up on all fours, knocking Spike over in the process. “OmigodtheCrystalEmpireKingSombratheTEST!”

She galloped over to the door, igniting her horn and blasting a stream of magenta magic into the rhombus-shaped crystal above it. A rainbow cast around the drab room and Spike looked on in awe. Twilight lifted the door’s handle with her magic and threw open the door to reveal an intensly pristine white room.

“C’mon, Spike, hop on! I have a Crystal Empire to save and a test to pass!” she exclaimed, as Spike hoisted himself onto her back and wrapped his arms around her neck, holding on tightly as she dashed up a new flight of stairs.

[delicrieux]

Omg I loved the last one shot you wrote with the reader being in the resistance base and taking care of Kylo! I would love to see another part for it and see what will happen when the reader discovers the truth of who he is.

OMG ur one shot with kylo and him being injured i absolutely adore it and need a continuation !! ur writing is amazing too !!

thank u everyone for ur kind words and support 🥺🧡 u be asking i be giving . i mean .... prepare for some angst? yes? 8k words baby. also, same goes as always, if u want a continuation let me know ! xx

tags ( i wasnt able to tag some people!:( ): @taina-eny -- @shesakillerkween -- @leilei-draws -- @mitsuhkai -- @olivebolivee -- @fav-fan-fic -- @punxataniunderworld

requests are open! | masterlist | part 1.

Long tendrils of smoke rise slowly, spiraling into a clear, starry sky. Jet fuel ignited by a match; angry, red sparks glittering in the dark. It’s hot. Though it’s not the familiar, comforting heat of the wilderness, of the jungle you live in, nor is it the scratchy, dry heat of the deserts you grew up surrounded by. This heat is different, molding, tangible and felt deep within you. It spreads, achingly almost. Shortness of breath, of thought; the world is too quick, too fleeting for you to catch up and everything spins so wonderfully. Desire; the world is wax dripping from your fingers; red dots, red hues, bright orange flames. But that desire twists, rags your body and grows to...

Rage. It hits you in waves and you tremble. Violent shivers and horror; anger fueled by such uncontrollable passion that it goes beyond you, reaching for something, for anything to grasp onto. It destroys. It destroys everything around you. It’s a machine coming from within you; the small specter of purity now devoured by such hate directed at no one in particular that you come undone — nothing left, not even you. Just anger and power — a combination of the most terrible kind.

But this rage is not your own. It’s borrowed. Adapted to you. Fitted perfectly for your flesh, yet still a foreign entity latched onto your bones, no, this goes deeper, latched onto whatever makes you — you.

It is so easy to slip into it that it hardly registers. That raw energy within you twists and burns and you want to hurt someone because you are so hurt that you feel like you might die. One life to save yours; then, however many should follow, anything to keep that pain at bay. You don’t consider it much, you don’t have the capacity to. Blisters; it feels like you’re standing on the surface of a sun.

Where did this anger come from? Who deformed you so horribly? There’s a pull — a gentle tug that feels like a caress from a lover — that wants to turn you back; to purge the rage, the red, the dark, and bring you back into the light. But the pain stays, persistent, at home within you. It’s trying to tell you something. To make you understand. To make you feel what he feels.

And then—

You fall out of bed, breathless and terrified and soaked head to toe in cold sweat. You scramble away from your bed in blind panic, trembling and pressing your back against the icy wall of your bedroom. Your heart beats like a wild drum; your pulse is loud and violent in your ears. You raise your hands to touch your face, to grasp onto reality, to make sure that you are still you. A sigh of relief escapes you and all your energy with it. You slump, cast your head down in shame. You had never felt so... Strongly. You had felt anger, grief, passion— but never so visceral, never so raw. It terrifies you that you are even capable of feeling so, in a dream or not.

Whatever it was that had possessed you had left you feeling hollow. Numb. All your strength had been wasted in destruction of dream worlds that were, up till now, mostly pleasant. Whatever it was you don’t want it to return, ever. The pain was too much. The hate too real. And the potential of that power... Frightening beyond compare.

Your room is bathed in pleasant morning light - dawn is always beautiful and silent. You had slept for possibly only a few hours. You get up, your knees cracking from the weight of your body. Using the wall for support you decide to get ready. You will not sleep. You cannot. The carnal fear of the darkness behind your lashes is reminiscent of that of a child seeing scary shapes in the night.

You’re early to breakfast, though the cafeteria is already festering with life. You give a few waves to your colleagues, offer a few tired smiles when they chirp “Morning, Seven!”. With your tray full you stride to your table, noting that one seat is already occupied — July. He regards you with cold indifference, quietly drinking his coffee. If he is surprised to see you up so early, he does not show it.

Suddenly you hate the silence. The stiffness. The cafeteria echoes with snippets of chatter and laughs yet your table is a crypt — stale and uncomfortable. You can’t be alone with your thoughts. They still don’t feel like your own.

“Hello,” is your lame attempt at conversation. July grumbles something, chewing on his food, “decided get an early start today.” You explain yourself, not that you need to, but you feel better letting him believe this lie and yourself, too. “Taking pointers from you.” You add, taking a sip of water. It feels like a blade going down your throat. You hadn’t even noticed how parched you had been.

“Great,” July mumbles, “congratulations. You’re finally taking this seriously.”

“I’ve always taken this seriously.” You bite back, “War is no trifling matter.”

He snorts, “Could have fooled me.”

You don’t like his tone. Then again, it is your fault for engaging him in the first place. No one to blame but yourself.

In an attempt at casualness, you shrug, “You are still mad at me for not getting rid of our guest, aren’t you?” You don’t say his name. July would find it suspicious. You don’t dare share it. It was a secret passed on to you as a show of trust. You can’t break it, not even among friends.

A frown pulls on his face, cool, steel eyes locking yours, “You’re fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He is not the enemy.” You reply coolly, chest heaving with controlled frustration, “I conducted the interview. I did what we had all agreed on. I relayed the results and you were part of that discussion as well, if you had forgotten already. No threat was detected.”

“At the time.” He says hotly, setting his cup down harsher than intended. It echoes, a cracking, unpleasant sound, “There was no threat at the time.”

The wild flame in his eyes takes you aback. He had always been paranoid and it mostly never had any backing to it. But now he speaks with conviction; grits his words and laces them with honesty. He knows something. Something you don’t.

You sit up straight, swallowing down your concern before it reaches your face. “Elaborate.”

He looks away suddenly, irritated, scowling almost. Familiar tendrils of anger slither around your throat and your grit your teeth. You know better than this, better than arguing with him, better than stooping to his level of mindless shouting. It takes all of your willpower just to keep your mouth shut.

“Ah— Someone stepped out of bed on the wrong foot, as it seems.” Q’s pleasant voice chirps as they promptly plop down beside you, “Seven. July. Do hope the arguing will at least wait till lunch.”

“Fat chance!” Vendetta grins, sitting beside July and dropping her tray on the table with a silent click, “Look at them.” She snickers, “I know who’s fighting who at combat training today.”

“Perfect timing, you two.” You blur, your eyes drilling into July’s profile, not once wavering, “July just said something interesting about our guest.” The temperature, the warmth your two friends brought with them, seems to drop as their laughter abruptly cuts off, “In fact, he was almost insistent that our only patient in the Medical Wing is a threat. Know anything about it?” You finish quietly. You almost expect exasperated stares, surprised faces, hisses of “What?!” and “July, not this again...”. But nothing changes. Nothing comes. Just quiet admission. First blossoms of guilt.

You had always assumed that if your group of four would ever break into three it would be July as the odd man out. Not for any particular fault of his, but out of pure convenience. Vendetta is charismatic; Q is adaptable; you are compassionate. July is, despite his brilliance, almost deliberately difficult. The three of you fit like puzzle pieces, harmonious. You never withhold information from them, never needed to. The four of your share everything, no detail left behind.

Though it seems that your observation was paltry. They share looks and you realize that it’s no longer a quartet but rather a triad. You are left to sink or swim on your own.

“Seven, we...” Vendetta starts, thoughtful, gentle; her hand reaches for your own across the table but you pull it away and she stills, disappointed, “We...” She glances around, “We were going to tell you, but...We...”

“—Had no proof.” Q mutters bitterly, their face uncharacteristically blank, “Besides, of course, the mystery of his past, his sudden appearance, his... Unpleasant behavior.” They squeeze out the last part with a sour little smile.

“Seven, please, listen to me.” V tries to catch your attention, yet you stubbornly stare into your plate of food, “There is just...Something not right with him. It’s like this inching in my chest, I...I think I heard him...talking in his sleep again. Something about a base, but I-” At this you look up at her, and her face crumbles into a soft frown. “I would never lie to you, you must believe me. I just--“ She sighs, frustrated, “I just don’t know what, but something is wrong. I can feel it.”

“I told you not to trust him,” July states, “I said it since you—“ He points accusingly in your direction, “decided to drag him in.” He scoffs, “Should have left him to die.”

Something cracks within you. Something that sounds close to a ceramic cup shattering on linoleum. It spills over like hot liquid all over you, scalding. You pull your chair back suddenly. It’s a knee jerk reaction that halts the chatter and the laughter and the mindless bits of gossip as all eyes turn to you. You say nothing. Just stare. The unspoken “How dare you” fizzling at the tip of your tongue that now feels too big for your mouth. Your muscles cramp up; dull pain in your upper arms, your legs, your chest. You’re trembling again, eyes wide, dry, stinging.

“July.” Q hisses, “Even if we feel something amiss, he is still a person.”

You remember it clearly — the evening you met July. He wore a hard shell, scarred from life before finding the base, before finding a purpose. He was hard to approach and those who dared to glance at him withered away into the shadows. But you saw a glimmer of hope, of light; saw something in a man that has been wronged and has done wrong and now wants to devote his life to protect. He regarded you with the same cold stare, measuring you, challenging you to turn away like everyone else. But you invited him. You were the one that said that the Resistance is happy to have you. You were the one to offer him a seat by your table, Vendetta chirping and blushing and cooing once he joined. And even if he stayed silent through the conversation, you knew that he was glad to be here. Glad to find companionship. Glad to be among those who too want only one thing: to help.

Then came Q, a year later. A group that was equal amounts tough as it was tender was formed. A group of leaders. Nothing ever felt so right as to sit among them.

Now you feel like you’re drowning.

“You’ve changed.” You rasp, boring into July’s eyes. He does not back down, he never does.

“So have you.” He says evenly, “I have never seen you as irritated as I have this week. It’s affecting you. He’s affecting you.” If you did not know any better, you would say there’s a note of worry in his voice. But you always know better. It’s pity.

You decide that you hate him. You decide that you will never be able to look at him the same way, with the same distant respect, with solidarity. You hate him and you hate that he’s right. You have changed. Everyone has. You aren’t the scared, naive girl that ran away from home in hopes of finding something greater. Greater as in friendships; greater as in happiness. It was never about riches or fame or any other form of empty opulence. You wanted to help because you knew how it feels like to be helpless. And perhaps this week had been the most trying: you had been sleeping little, tossing and turning all night, staying up past dawn as to not draw any suspicion. Had been hitting harder than necessary in training. Had been less lively in conversation. You were one of the best because you needed to be in order to protect those who could not protect themselves. It was the source from which you drew your strength. But now that had shifted subtly in wanting to win. Wanting something for yourself. You always offer everything to the world, why can’t it give you something in return?

“That’s enough, July.” Q mutters calmly, their hand landing on your shoulder, a warm, comforting gesture that fills you to the brim with sadness. “You had said enough.”

You exhale a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment to collect your thoughts. Honesty had always been your policy. Honesty is the currency of your group. You are fighters, but you are also diplomats. Vulnerability is the price of compassion.

“I feel responsible.” You finally say, “For him.” You clarify, “I brought him here. I enlisted you to help and share our resources. He is my responsibility. And if you feel that he is unfit to be here, or that he threatens our values in any way, I shall make sure to deal with him accordingly and I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions should it come to it.” You finish dryly.

“He’s not your responsibility, Seven.” Vendetta mutters, “He’s ours. We’re a team. A family.” Q squeezes your shoulder, silently agreeing with her words. Her lips slowly rise into a loving smile, “And we’re worried about you. You seem tired. Let me bring him food today.” She suggests gently, “I can keep him company. That or, I know Michel is dying for a chance to talk to him.”

“You don’t have to carry this weight alone.” Q says, “A little break can’t hurt, can it?” He glances at July, “Once our heads are cooled...We’ll discuss this in detail at dinner. No stone left unturned. If the decision is unanimous, we bring it to the Commander. All in favor?”

“Aye.” Vendetta chimes. You nod stiffly. All eyes fall on July.

“You already know what I think.” He mumbles, “But very well. We meet at twilight.”

.

The day is long. Hours pass in a slow daze and exhaustion nearly crushes by the time a little over two hours is left till dinner. Dread grows and fester; it’s hard to breathe, and the humid air is constricting. You can’t help but feel how different things had been barely a week ago, and how rapidly and uncontrollably they have changed. It should be just another day in stolen paradise; just another day in the line of days before you are, as the rest, called into the main base. Finally ready. You had felt ready. Now you feel uncertain to the brink of madness. How easily your friends had turned... How easily you had been turned. But despite their concerns you fail to see any hidden evil in the man now know to you as Ben.

But perhaps that’s the point. Evil rejoices in the presence of naivety.

You feel him before you actually see him. It’s a sort of warning bell; a presence carried by the wind. You turn your head slightly, wiping away beads of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. You’re on the porch, in the same spot you had found Ben brooding last night. His footsteps are quick and heavy and his hand latches onto your upper arm, yanking you to face him.

“Where were you?” His question is demanding and a twinge of anger burns in his hazel eyes. All thoughts rush out your head with that; you stare dumbfounded, your lips parting to speak but the words sizzle and die on the tip of your tongue. His face contorts, the prominent anger shifting to confusion, “Have they been keeping you away from me?”

An astute observation. Eerily correct.

“What? No!” You say quickly, shrugging out of his hold and crossing your arms over your chest in pretend casualness, “Just been busy today! Lot’s of shipments, new training regime, yada yada...” He traces your face carefully for a lie, but whether he catches it or not you can’t tell. “How... How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He states coldly, irritation dripping in his tone. His brows knit into a frown and he looks away, peers into the wilderness. Pensive. Something lays heavy on his mind and all your intuition born last night evaporates. Nothing. No whispers. Not even a slither of familiarity. The connection you felt had been cut like a thread with scissors.

Is he actively pretending yesterday did not happen? The thought sounds plausible: he’s volatile and prideful, after all. “What are you doing up and about?” You inquire, matching his cool tone.

He exhales through his nose sharply, “Can you take me to the place you found me?”

You blink. He looks at you, expectant. “I...Sure.” You relent under his stare, “Yea, I... Follow me.”

Silence from his part. His lips are shut tightly as he follows after you into the maze of tall trees. Birdsong; buzz of insects; dangerous hums and hisses from creatures hidden in the bushes. The sun is merely a kaleidoscope of shapes seeping through the branches and leaves. The heat intensifies. You feel a prickling in your spine -- he’s watching you intently. His guard is up and so is yours. After everything you had heard today confusion is the only palpable emotion you can name. Can he see it, you wonder. Can he tell that the tension in your shoulders is because of him. You trust him, at the very least, you thought you did. But now he’s luring you into seclusion.

Or are you luring him? You could have said no. Or you could have agreed and went to fetch your blaster just in case. But you didn’t. Obeyed blindly without question. He is not the authority here, you are. 

“That woman brought me breakfast today.” He says coldly. You tilt your head to him, inclining him to continue. That woman. Vendetta.He doesn’t continue. It’s almost like he’s complaining. 

“Yes, I asked her to.” You say softly, “I told you already I was busy.”

“You didn’t look busy.” He counters hotly.

“Ben.” You say sternly, stopping, turning to him fully to catch his gaze. He’s so much taller than you that it’s difficult to not be intimidated, “My world does not revolve around you.” He gulps at your words, glaring, “And her name is Vendetta. The least you could do is remember that.” 

You continue the trek forward. He’s silent, moody. You focus on not tripping on roots and stray branches; focus on keeping your balance once passing through small slivers of ground between sudden drops to the caves bellow. 

Finally, a clearing. Water flows and twists like a serpent, glimmering in sunlight, splashing joyously. The river is long and wide and there is no bridge connecting the two sides, just piles of slippery stones. It’s a challenge getting past it, yet you did so almost every other day. The beauty of untamed nature cannot be compared to anything, and getting lost in it is liberating.

You hop on the first rock, then the second. The water is loud; the current is strong and it splashes your feet.

“Are you angry with me?” He asks silently. You jump and feel the knot in your throat tighten. You wobble and your arms stretch wide to keep balance and you promptly still.

“No, Ben, I’m not angry.” You admit, a bit breathless, but don’t elaborate any further. You are not sure if you’re telling the truth or not. You don’t want to think about it.

“Did you really find me so far out?” He continues questioning.

“Yes.” You mumble, “Why? Do you think I’m lying to you?”

“I never said that.”

“But you thought about it.”

“Oh, so you can read my mind now?”

“It’s not that difficult to tell what you’re thinking, you know.” You state sharply.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You still. A flare of anger rises from your chest to your throat and it take everything you have to control the frustrated sigh from escaping. Your hands ball into fists. Sweat drips from your forehead. With a dry mouth you turn to him, careful of your footing, finding him closer than you expected and just as irritated as you. His brows are kit into a frown, lips turned downward, chest heaving. A soft breeze kisses your heating cheeks, your shoulders, ruffles his dark hair.

“Exactly what you think it means,” You snap, “you’re always angry, always displeased, ordering everyone around, assaulting” You stress the word, “ or berating if something doesn’t go your way. Being secretive and malicious and just when I think I’m starting to understand you, you demand and demand and I literally can’t say anything or else you’ll be upset and then who knows what you’ll do.” You rant, “And all I wanted, all we wanted, was to help you. But you-” You jab your finger into his chest; an action eerily similar to what July did to you this morning, “-you treat us like we’re your servants. Can’t even bother to remember the name of the doctor that had been taking care of you all week. We could’ve left you to die.”

He grabs your wrist, squeezing tightly, pulling it away from his chest, “I never asked for your help.” He growls.

“But you got it anyway,” You retort, voice dripping with venom, “though I suppose you’re too arrogant to even say thank you. You spoiled, selfish, inconsiderate prick-”

“You don’t know me.” He seethes.

“I know everything I need to know about you.” 

He falters for a second, something akin to disappointment flashing in his eyes but it’s gone before you can name it, “You do?” He sounds smug, in a cold, displeased way, “Ah, you do.” His grip loosens and you yank your wrist from his hold, fire raging in your chest. What a condescending look.

You’re so heated that you feel like you might cry. Now you see what July, what Q, what Vendetta see when they look at him - a malevolent, resentful asshole. How could he have fooled you? Was it the pretty eyes and the confused puppy-like stare? His sharp handsome features? Low voice, pleasant when whispered? All a font. You feel ill. Tarnished in some subtle but irreversible way. You don’t want to take him anywhere, you just want him to leave. A part of you wants to run away and leave him stranded, or push him into the water and watch satisfied as the current carried him away.

You genuinely believed you had formed some sort of a connection, as silly as that sounds. You hadn’t known him for long, but what you felt was real and it was special. But this is not the same man that did not let go of your hand, that did not want to left alone in the rain. 

You shake your head, “You make me sick.”

He has no reply to that. He looks away, almost ashamed, and you turn back to the stones you stand on, the slippery rock unstable under your feet. The sky lights up with first shades of pink. Twilight is approaching. 

The sooner you take him there and back the sooner you can request him to be escorted out of the premises, taken where he needs to go. And then this will all be over. He will be nothing but an unpleasant memory. The thought does not make you feel any better, rather it makes you feel hollow, like a balloon, acutely aware of the emptiness within you.

You continue forward in ill-tempered steps. You just want this to be over. His presence clings to you like second skin. Electricity at your fingertips, coursing through your veins, settling in your bones. You cannot shake it, cannot shake the hurt and the discomfort and-

You slip. For a heartbeat there’s only looming dread but before you can touch the water strong arms envelope you and keep you in place. You feel him breathing behind you, his chest rising and hitting your back. He sets you down back on the rocks, letting go only after you’re out of harms way. His arms drop and the heat with them. Wordless, you continue forward, not sparing him the satisfaction of a thank you.

.

You suppose wishing for an uneventful journey is unrealistic; trekking through the dense, suffocating undergrowth, fighting through the heavy, still air, all the while a million wild souls observe and track you and wonder are you here to hunt or be hunted. The colors, deep evergreen and rich brown, mute once the sun is is orange and halfway down. Not far now, not far at all. That idea was the only thing keeping you from crumbling into the dirt. But today is not your day, nor his. Everything always happens for a reason, even if that reason is simply bad luck.

You had been lost in your head, and he lost in the maze of looming trees. He’s unfamiliar with the territory - you were his guiding star, ushering him to where he needs to go. But you were too absorbed; too preoccupied with your blossoming hurt, with the near obsessive need to feel it whole so you could never forgive him and not feel an ounce of it once he goes back to his damned life outside your base. But the jungle is an obstacle course that demands attention and worship. Each step careful, each parting of leaves intentional and gentle. It either allows you to advance, or it does not.

You have no one to blame but yourself. No one to curse at for the forming bruises and muddy skin. No one to yell at for the stabbing pain at your rib cage, and no one to shun because of one fatal mistake. A misstep. A confusion of left and right. The fall was instant and painful and long. 

Birds gawk and spill into the violet sky like ink. You lay in the dirt, your body aching with each intake of breath. Water roars; small droplets from the waterfall sprinkle on you and you wonder just how far down had you fallen. The clearing is unfamiliar to you, but right now everything is. Ben groans beside you; you see him sit up slowly out of the corner of your eye. He pushes his hair out of his face and exhales. You can’t move. You forgot how to.

You feel cold. Something hot and sticky runs down the side of your temple, pulsing down your jaw.

“...Seven?” His voice is rough and rushed and he instantly falls by your side, his hands cradling your face, “Hey. Seven, can you hear me...?”

You remember the leaf covered ground giving out; remember falling into darkness and hitting your back harshly on the steep decline and skidding through sharp rocks and branches; remember suddenly being plunged into icy water and spat out into the air before tumbling to the ground and smacking your head into something hard and blurry.

His fingers gently wipe away the dirt from your face, “Hey, you with me...?” He calls gently, his voice silent, seeping with worry. Through your haze and confusion your find his eyes - such a pretty hazel, now darker in the shade - and manage to squeeze out a painful, crooked smile.

“...Hi.” You whisper, almost voiceless. He cracks a smile, but his lower lip quivers.

“Hi.” He mutters, “Are you okay? Can you sit?”

You try to move but it proves to be too difficult. Noticing your struggle and sluggish movements, he gently eases you into a sitting position, his hold strong but not forceful, not even an echo to what it had been on the rocks. Your head spins, too heavy, buzzing. You gingerly lay it on his shoulder. Water laps by your feet. You are dripping from head to toe. The breeze makes you shiver, and he carefully wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers pushing strands of wet hair from your face.

“Do you know where we are...?”

“The jungle.”

You somehow sense he doesn’t appreciate your sarcasm.

“You’re hurt.” He laments. Weakly, you clasp onto his arm and slowly pull away from his shoulder. You’re so close your noses brush. You can feel his breath ghosting over your lips. You see worry in his eyes. You feel a twinge of life light up in your chest.

“I’m okay.” You mutter, even if it is obvious that you are not. 

“I’m sorry...” He utters, his eyes, half-lit and tender, pouring into your soul. His fingers brush your cheek, trembling lightly, lastly settling on the side of your jaw, “I’m sorry,” He repeats in a breath, “This is all my fault.”

Your heart spurs to life; the same pleasant buzz of energy flows back into you in forms of butterflies. The aching relents, the sharp pain in your side easing as if soothed by a cold touch. Your hazy vision sharpens and for a moment you can see everything in its minute detail, before all goes back to normal. The pulsing in your head stops, blood drying by your temple. You blink a few times, your brows knitting into a frown, lips parting to intake a slow breath. Your hand reaches to graze his cheek.

It’s back. What ever this fragile, beautiful thing is, it has returned to you.

“Who...are you?”

Vendetta had been right, there is something different about him, but perhaps not in the way she had intended.

“I’m Ben.” He says softly, “Just Ben.”

“No...” You observe him, “You are not.”

You feel a pull in your chest, as if you were a moon beckoned by his gravity, “How do you do it?” You ask, not quite certain what you’re referring to. A thousand questions swim in your mind and you shut your eyes, trying to focus on just one. But he still pulls you in, somehow, and gently you rest your forehead on his, each simple touch sparking a feeling of this is right and this is how it should be. Like a current of a river taking you where you need to be.

“I’m not doing anything.” He admits softly against your lips with an ache in the back of his throat.

Your eyes pry open, “Liar.” is all you say with quiet disappointment.

You untangle yourself from him and rise onto your feet, swaying a bit and he hurriedly jumps to aid you but you hold out your hand to stop him. His arms fall by his sides. The roar of the water momentarily absorbs you completely. It’s dark glimmer makes your stomach drop. You look up. The sky is already budding with stars, the last light dying by the horizon.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to return to the base now.” You mutter, a shiver crawling down your spine. Your wet clothes cling to your skin, leaving no bend and curve obscured to his watchful eye. But it doesn’t bother you, at least not as much as it should, “Before we lose light completely.”

He nods solemnly. “Why did you want to see where I found you?” You ask, knowing he will not deny you an answer. It’s that feeling, that connection, open communication that leaves him vulnerable to your prodding.

He glances away from your prying stare, his jaw locked tight. Your chest swells as you regard him — a picture of divine loneliness. You almost fall pray to it, to those whispers, to those instincts that urge you to rush to his side and comfort him. He sighs heavily, his shoulders falling. “I wanted to see if you would go with me.”

“What?” You sputter, eyes wide in disbelief, “Why?”

“Because I want you to join me.” He seems to find his voice, the first uncertain notes glossing over with purpose, “To leave with me.” The corner of his lips quirk into a half-smile, “Have you ever seen the snow?”

“No...” You admit, taking a step back, “No, I haven’t. The Rebels need me. I don’t want to leave.” You finish quietly, crossing your arms over your chest. It’s more of a comforting motion rather than a defensive one.

“But you agreed to go with me today.” He says.

“Because you asked.” You counter.

“Then I’m asking again.” He extends his hand in an offering, “Come with me.”

You stare at it, your instincts urging you to take it. But you don’t know what entails going with him; you don’t know about his life and what sort of deal you would be signing by lacing your fingers with his. A part of you wants to agree — the part which you desperately try to explain, but cannot — and the other reminds you of duty. Of your mission. It reminds you of everything you will be unable to do if you take it.

.

He watches you, half worried and half irked as you stare at his hand with distant eyes. He can’t read your mind, can’t hear snippets of your brooding thoughts, but he knows you’re considering his offer, and he knows that this is all a charade which will end in his victory. He knows you will accept — it is now impossible for you two to be apart, the consequences of that severe enough to burn out a star.

But you’re guarded. Your mind sits behind a wall that can’t tear down — he’s not close enough, and you won’t let him. It is most likely an unconscious effort, a shield of some sort that your untamed energy had built in order to protect you from the likes of him. He likes that. He always enjoyed a challenge: everyone always danced around him and to find someone actually worthy of his attention is a rare sight on its own. That being said, he could invade your mind, could hurt you, could force you to spill all of your secrets in one breath. But he won’t. He wants you to come to him by your own volition. He wants you to allow him into your mind because you want him to see and feel and hear everything that’s hidden behind those pretty eyes and tender smile. Therefore he will not be forceful or rough; instead he will open your eyes - sway you, offer you something for your kindness, because he cannot fathom the fact that some things in life have no price. But he knows that you will join him - sooner or later matters little in the grand scheme of things.

Though, it is his fault he is so terribly impatient.

It’s frustrating to think that the Force would connect him to you out of everyone in the universe. That must be why he’s feeling this tightness in his chest, this, if he wasn’t so prideful to admit it, fear festering inside him — you’re a member of the Resistance that is not only Force sensitive, but also now linked to him. If the Rebels should become aware of this sensitive information, there is no telling what they would do. In the First Order you would be hailed like royalty; showered with praise and opulence and given authority to do as you please, given the life so many in your base believe he has. But the Resistance would not be as kind, if they would be kind at all - they would use you, abuse you, transform you into a weapon or a helpless little lure. Because they would know he would come looking for you. He is now destined to always look for you; destined to follow you across the galaxy and back if it meant you standing by his side in the final battle. They would change you into something unrecognizable. The safest side is his, and his shadow is the only place you’d find solace. He could train you. Protect you. Allow you to harvest the power that is capable of so many beautiful, terrible things.

He knew you were Force sensitive when he first laid eyes on you — the silence was confusing and heavenly and at the same time oddly irritating. Everyone else was an open book full with loud, useless mussing, overloaded with trifling information of which the only value he found was the exact coordinates of your base. He could return any time he wished and destroy everything in a slow, arduous way that would break you down and rebuild you, make you see that he is doing you a favor if you were so stubborn that it would come to that: you had saved his life, and now he is trying to save yours. And despite your proclamation that you can tell what he’s thinking, he finds great difficulty understanding you. Kindness is alien to him. Kindness had been ripped out of him by betrayal and replaced by hate. It is the only real emotion, and the only source of his strength. If only he could tear you away from those people you call friends, then you could finally understand. 

But knowing you had the Force dormant within you wasn’t enough, he needed to test you, needed to know just how far your powers went.

He didn’t expect it. To be connected. It wasn’t until you touched hands did he feel your happiness as his own.

Though it’s unstable, your connection. Wild emotions sometimes ebb and flow and pass one person to the other. And he, too, in moments of surprised vulnerability forgot to keep himself tempered and in control. His anger, hatred, all things wretched and deformed have slipped into your dreams and your day to day life. A part of him, now permanently a part of you. It felt like he finally found something he had been unknowingly searching for — a missing piece of him that has returned to make him whole. Without you, he would feel like carved bark, a half-finished project incapable of reaching its full potential. To let you go is not an option anymore. 

Stronger together, he reminds himself in a scolding tone. He is not supposed to care about you, rather of what’s in you — raw, untamed power, a well of untapped potential. You are his half, and he is yours. You are connected by the Force, and there is nothing else to it. Cannot be anything else. 

The human shell is hardly his point of interest.

.

“No,” You say, taking a small step back from him, from his offer, from the temptation, and casting your gaze down into the gleaming water, “no, I can’t go with you. I have to stay here.”

You don’t dare to look at him and see just what expression he is wearing, though you guess he’s not too happy by your rejection. You cheeks heat uncomfortably - his gesture was noble yet crafted so carefully that you suspect an ulterior motive behind it. You can’t throw your life away, not before you understand what’s actually going on between you. You clear your throat awkwardly, sparing a blank look at the swaying trees and trying to think of the best route to return home, “Come on.” You utter, “We shouldn’t be standing around here. Not safe.” You add silently.

Though you can’t help yourself. You spare a glance at him and freeze up -- it looks like you slapped him, his eyes wide with hurt and pale face blotching red. He slowly retracts his hand, his motion stiff and mechanic as if he does not know what to do with it if he’s not holding yours. It feels cold again, and you are fairly certain it has nothing to do with the lukewarm water dripping from your clothes.

Snow. You see it in quick flashes -- a white, hazy storm -- that fulls you to the brim with dread. What was it that Vendetta had said? A base somewhere existing in his memories, a place he will return to, a place where he wants to take you. A palace hidden in the snow.

July, in all his brutality, was right: you had been fraternizing with the enemy. Ilum, the planet of frost and snow and home to the Starkiller Base of the First Order. And someone from that same Order had offered you to come with.

It’s a different kind of pain -- you’d prefer the headaches after a day of mental gymnastics, the dull pain of muscles after training, the sharp stabs of a sprained ankle, the pulses and red flashes of an open wound. Anything would be better than this winter in your soul. You feel tired, in an incurable, empty way. As if you lost a half of something integral that you will never have again. Love can bloom only so much before it withers.

You turn away from him and approach the trees, not entirely certain if he’s following you or not. You feel like you’re a cloud in the sky, heavy with rain and thunder but unable to release it. The capacity for that had been robbed from you. He, you realize, is the first person in the line of people that you won’t be able to save. He’s going where you can’t follow. He’s another chess piece on the board that is this war - and one day you will face him among blood and slaughter. 

It is hard to believe that mere minutes ago he had been cotton on your fingers, almost destroyed by longing he can’t explain. 

Ben...To you the name is now forever cursed.

.

It is night when you return to your room, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind you on the alabaster floor. You collapse onto your bed, your head heavy thoughts, each more confusing and cumbersome than the last. Your agreed meeting at twilight was completely forgotten after the tumble. Somewhere half-way through the jungle you recalled that your friends might be missing you.

The door to your room slides open and you look up - Q. They watch you for a silent moment, assessing the damage: messy hair, dirtied linen clothes, blood dried on your cheek, tired, deep eyes that face the world without truly seeing anything. They clear their throat, giving you a smile, “When we noticed your absence and the absence of our esteemed guest,” They start, their voice even, diplomatic, perfectly neutral, “it is suffice to say we were frightened that you had been lured to a trap. Fallen to an early grave.” They approach you easily, taking a seat beside you and landing a hand on your knee, “Though, fall you certainly did from what I can tell.” They finish with a note of amusement.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, “He wanted to see the place where I found him and we got lost.” You explain, sparing the details. They accept your answer, even if it’s full of holes. “Did the meeting commence?”

“After we unanimously decided that you aren’t stupid enough to get yourself killed.” They huffed, “V was especially eager to send out a search party. I must admit that I was, too, swayed by the idea. July, however, as always, shot us down. Had more faith in you than us. For that, I apologize.” They pause, pensive, “But you care little for that, I suppose. You want to know what we decided.”

“Yes.”

“Your vote still counts, Seven. And if you want, we can call a-”

“No.” You cut them off sadly, “No, I agree with your decision, whatever that decision might be.”

“Then first thing tomorrow morning he will be taken to the nearest station,” They say softly, “and released from our care.”

You think you could feel sorrow if you were not so exhausted - right now the only thing you want is to shut your eyes and forget the world exists entirely. You nod stiffly, replaying the dream you had this morning. Flames like hands grasping for the sky, chaos and wind and blood -- but the smoke dies down eventually, and now you stand in the aftermath. There is nothing left, just ash.

They tap your knee once for good measure and stand up, sparing you a rueful glance.

“I may not know exactly what your, ah...situation is, per se,” Q utters, “but know that if you ever wish to share it, you can come to me. Or any of us. Even July. He may be tough, but he still cares about you. In the only way he knows how.” They stand there for a beat, waiting for you to say something, anything really, but you don’t. “Goodnight, Seven.” 

Q leaves and the door shuts and you wonder if today had been real or a factitious, terrible nightmare. Perhaps you never woke up, perhaps you are still sleeping restlessly, trapped, unable to open your eyes and look at the sun with a smile while saying, “It was just a dream.”. The pain had passed leaving nothing behind. The night is dark and endless and the bleak light of your bedroom illuminates your surroundings without an ounce of warmth. Still silence, suffocating air. This blanket of loneliness lays heavy on your shoulders before it all piles and piles and--

You, laying in bed, shivering, tears crawling down your cheeks and lips red from biting, and Ben, in the Medical Wing, heaving, watching the broken glass bottles glimmering on the floor, supplies smashed, sheets thrown about haphazardly in sudden rage, feel the same scorch of heartbreak.  

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hope you liked it!

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[checkmatcd]

@mellifluoustm 👉 Just pretend I'm sending this from mallory or Jules! Or honestly *whispers* any and all blogs I'd die to write everything with u. BUT THROW ALL THEM IDEAS AT ME. SEND 👉 FOR SOME MUSES I’D LIKE TO THROW AT YOU! multimuse meme | accepting

okay this isn’t including any pairings we’ve really talked about ok but i thikn the only ones we really talked ab were our until dawn muses anyway SO

mallory & bobbi - hello the squad takes down the barren falls cult ft. the weird biology teacher from the high school

eve & harrison - hes technically not in the cult but also he got a bone marrow transplant from adam so he’s like,,, cult adjacent so there’s somethin that can come from that, he’s also basically adams son now so sorry eve u got a son too

jules & parker / steve / autumn - my crime kids w ur gal i havent thought much past it thats just the point i was gettin to

charlotte & bobbi - we have a thread goin but team taking down the cult an entire aesthetic

grace / emilie & alex / daniel - i havent officially added either yet but u know we’re gonna fuck shit up w them

jade / sasha & the tweevils - we have to fuckin destroy ourselves w them ok idk if u want angst w ur bratz muses but ur gonna get it

north & barbie - let our android girls be iconic together!! barbie joins the revolution let north help her learn how to think for herself

barbie & barbie - lmao i just want them to interact bc they can be that spiderman pointing meme

katya & debbie - uh hello stranger things ocs need to stick together and they can be bffs

katya & kevin - kevin has a stranger things verse we gotta do somethin

zach & any barren falls muse - just picture it: a new guy comes to town, ppl are already suspicious even tho he’s a high school student, then they realize that he has an alien laser gun on his arm. imagine the chaos, the brilliance. imagine him joining night watch and just blowin shit up. iconic

mallory & timmy - does mallory want Another son bc she’s gonna get one, this boy died when he was ab 9 and he got brought back to life but he has a hole in his head and he struggles BUT he’s researching a bunch of stuff ab the people that did that to him and he’s trying to find another island that theyre doing this on AND if he heard the podcast he’d absolutely go to the gang to see if they can help also he may or may not have mutants inside him and also lowkey almost turned into a demonic mutant creature on live tv when he was 9

literally everyone

idk many muses from ur multi bc i havent seen most of the shows/movies BUT

i want everything w everyone