#Alterative prompt: betrayal

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober: Day Three - Alterative Prompt: "Betrayal."

I felt bad about how short day three's story was, so here's another one for the alterative prompt: "betrayal." I wrote this in under an hour, so it might be a little messy. I'll edit it either tonight or tomorrow.

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping and murder.

Enjoy Abby and Fredbear (*cough Garrett cough*) being cute dorks.

Implied Schmelly (Vanessa x Mike).

--

Trust, for Mike, is like a double-edged sword. 

Trusting people means letting them in. It means letting them see him vulnerable. It means letting them in on how hard he’s struggling, and how close he is to his breaking point. 

But it also means having someone to rely on.

He hasn’t had that in a long time. 

His mom had been distant following Garrett’s disappearance, and his dad’s death a few months before Abby was born didn’t help matters. But Mike had been determined to set things right. Their family was a mess for years, and he hadn’t wanted his little sister to grow up feeling their misery. Slowly but surely, his mom came out of her shell. 

Mike saw her smile for the first time in years, staring down at Abby. 

They became closer, too. The distance created between them slowly started to go away. It wasn’t a fast process, but Mike finally had his mom back. After years of anguish and suffering alone in his guilt, he had someone to place his utmost trust in. 

And then….

…..she was gone.

Abby is someone he trusts, but she’s a child. And, as a general rule, Mike refuses to share anything too “grown-up” like with her. She’s a child and should be treated as such. He won’t allow her to grow-up so fast. 

And that’s not to say he has no friends. He has several….from school (which he graduated from years ago). Mike just hasn’t reached out to them, but he has them (he pushed down the stinging feeling of rejection when, after writing to them about his father’s passing, they never reached out to talk. He had needed them, but apparently they never needed him). 

And that’s why, when Vanessa came into his life, he was hesitant on letting her in. But she was persistent above all other things, and someone that seemed to have his best interest at heart. 

Abby even seemed to like her - if the picture on their fridge is anything to go on. (Abby is a lot like him, he’s found, in that, she enjoys drawing - a lot. After their mom’s death, she had stopped entirely. So, seeing her draw a picture like that, soothed something deep inside.)

So, it isn’t a surprise when Mike, too, started to like her. 

Vanessa understood him in ways no one else ever has. She shared very little about herself, but a lingering sadness seemed to follow her. She reminded him of himself. 

Mike found himself telling her all his secrets. He told her about Garrett. About his worries with Abby being taken away. About not being enough. 

And she listened to them all, a sympathetic grimace on her face. Her hand would find his, and give it a gentle pat.

He felt like she understood. 

Vanessa was his friend. 

He had trusted her. 

“Why?” He breathes out, voice shaky. She isn’t looking at him, her head bowed. “I trusted you!”

Vanessa looks up at him, eyes watery. “My brother,” she started, “I did it for my brother.”

Mike wants so badly to scream at, to ask why she hadn’t told him about Steve Raglan (or should he say, William Afton). 

He feels sick. 

So, so sick. 

“What?” He asks, because Mike doesn’t think he can say anything else without breaking down. 

Vanessa just shakes her head, backing up from the machine he’s currently locked into. The head of one of the animatronics hovers above his face. 

His heart breaks for the millionth time in his life. 

Mike doesn’t bother to call out to her as she hurries from the parts and services room. It won’t change anything, and they both know that. 

 He can’t find it within himself to fight. 

Mike grits his teeth, grimacing as the machine suddenly starts. 

He hopes Abby forgives him. Aunt Jane isn’t the kindest person in the world, but maybe she had been right all along. Maybe Abby would be better off with her. 

The mask is inches from his face. 

Mike shuts his eyes. There’s no point in watching. He wonders if this is what those poor kids had to go through. 

His heart breaks again, for the millionth-and-one time. 

The whirring of the machine quiets down. 

“Mike!” Abby shouts. 

He opens his eyes to see another-more unfamiliar-animatronic standing above him. For one terrible second, Mike thinks his sister is talking to him from the suit. He screams out her name. He can take the heartbreak and betrayal, but if he let his sister down….

“Abby?” 

The animatronic-a yellow bear-seems to furrow its eyebrows, equally as confused as him. 

“Down here,” she says. He turns his head, sighing in relief when he sees his little sister in one piece. 

“Thank god, you’re okay.”

“Fredbear kept me safe,” she tells him, a small smile on her face. “He says he knows you.”

Mike doesn’t know whether to correct that assumption, or play into it. The bear decides for him, reaching forward to help him out of the suit. Its movements are gentle, but Mike can’t help the slight wince whenever it gets too close.

Soon enough, he’s out of the machine, the bottom-half of the Freddy costume lays on the floor behind them. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, crossing his arms. 

Its one undamaged ear wiggles at his words. “You’re welcome,” it says. 

Mike looks at his sister. “Have you seen Vanessa by chance?”

Abby shakes her head. “No, why?” 

“She…” Mike trails off. There’s no reason for him to tell Abby about her not being who they thought she was. This is new territory for both of them, but he’s pretty sure this falls under “grown-up stuff.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just worried about her.”

Abby’s face lights up. “Well, she isn’t here, so I’m sure she’s okay.”

When her back is turned, Fredbear sends him an almost sad look. Like it knows that he’s lying for Abby’s sake.

He ignores it. 

“Let’s…go home.” He’ll have to come back another night. The contract he signed lasts five nights (seven if needed by the owner). But both Abby and him need sleep. It had been a long night. 

He takes her hand, leading her out of the building. His car is still parked out front. It’s not until Fredbear opens the door to his passenger side that he realizes it has followed him out of the restaurant. 

“Not to be rude, but what are you doing?” He asks. 

Abby answers for it. “He’s coming home with us. He says he used to live with you.”

“I want to go home,” it says, but it’s voice wavers between the cartoonishly deep voice that he's come to associate with Freddy, and another, smaller one that reminds him of…

“Okay,” Mike murmurs, too exhausted to fight, “but buckle your seatbelt.”

Its ear wiggles, again, and he can see Abby smiling in the rearview mirror. 

He pulls the car into reverse.

Tomorrow is another day. 

[lancermylove]

Dark Side of Dating Him 2 (Scenarios)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demons x gn!Reader

Warning: Detailed warnings before each scenario, but the scenarios are dark.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: I would love to see the even darker / more situational stuff for the demons 😳 or at least some of the bros

A/N: If you get sad easily, proceed with caution. If you like to feel the burn, enjoy. 😂

Series: [1]

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Warning: Angst, manipulation.

Barbatos had constantly been by Diavolo's side for the past three weeks. Despite being married, he hadn't spent a single night with you. You watched him from afar, missing his presence, yet a strange sense of calm kept you from feeling truly upset. Why were you not sad that your husband wasn't spending time with you? Though you couldn't answer that question, a series of unsettling déjà vu moments had been haunting you.

Standing near the throne room window, you observed Barbatos and Diavolo's meeting. Your husband's expression was unreadable - a mask of perfect composure as he listened attentively. But something about his demeanor struck you as off. The light that usually danced in his eyes when he looked at you was absent, replaced by a cold, distant gaze that sent chills down your spine. You couldn't shake the feeling that the man you saw before you was different from the one you knew intimately.

Who was the real Barbatos? Was it the devoted husband who showered you with affection or the inscrutable butler standing in the throne room? The more you pondered this, the more uncomfortable you became. Moreover, Barbatos had the ability to alter timelines and outcomes. The déjà vu moments - were they a result of him changing past events to create a more favorable reality? Had he altered your shared moments, erasing any friction or discontent to maintain a perfect image of your relationship? Had your husband used those powers against you?

You wanted to trust him, to believe in the sincerity of his love and the authenticity of your marriage. But the longer you thought about it, the harder it became to fight the doubts. The thought that he might have been manipulating your reality filled you with a sense of betrayal and heartbreak. What had he altered? What had happened in the past? You knew you needed to confront him to clear the shadows that clouded your thoughts, but would he allow you to find out the truth? All he had to do was use his powers to find a new reality and make you forget everything except your love for him.

Warning: Angst, degrading, depression.

Being a human in the Devildom was never easy, especially as the future spouse of Prince Diavolo. The demons of Devildom scrutinized you relentlessly, picking apart your appearance, your humanity, and your weak strength. They mocked your way of dressing, which they deemed unfit for royalty. Every aspect of your body was criticized, and your manner of speaking and laughing was a constant source of ridicule. Even the smallest mistake was subjected to their harsh judgment.

One evening, feeling utterly defeated, you decided to confide in Diavolo. He was your rock, and you hoped he would understand the toll this relentless criticism was taking on you. However, when you told him about the demons' harsh words, he simply brushed it off. "Do not pay attention to them," he said with a dismissive wave. "Their opinions do not matter."

His response stung, but you tried to push through. As the day passed, Diavolo became busier, consumed by his princely duties. Whenever you wanted a moment to talk, he would hand you one of his tasks and ask for your assistance. It felt as though your relationship had shifted from intimate to professional and cold. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the council members proved you wrong.

You stood by Diavolo's side as the council members openly criticized you. Their words were like daggers targeting your already fragile self-esteem. You looked to Diavolo for support, hoping he would defend you, but he sat silently on his throne. His eyes held a distant gaze as if the criticisms directed at you didn't matter.

"Endure it," he had once told you. "You need to learn resilience if you wish to rule the Devildom with me."

His expectation for you to bear their harsh words in silence and patience felt like a betrayal. You realized that, to Diavolo, your value as his future spouse was linked to your ability to endure, not your happiness or well-being.

Warning: Angst.

Being Lucifer's significant other came with its own set of challenges. The responsibility of his younger brothers often fell on your shoulders. Whether it was cleaning up after their latest mishap, calming them down from their frequent outbursts, or dealing with the consequences of their chaotic antics, it was an endless cycle of stress and exhaustion.

One evening, after another taxing day of managing the chaos, you were at your breaking point. Seeking some solace, you approached Lucifer in the hope that he would understand and offer some support.

"Lucifer, today was just too much," you began, your voice tinged with weariness. "Dealing with your brothers and all their chaos is overwhelming. I feel like I'm about to break."

He paused in his tracks, his expression stern. The Avatar of Pride didn't say anything for a moment but then broke the silence in a cold vice. "Cease your complaints. You need to learn to be resilient. You are excessively sensitive."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone. "But Lucifer, you don't understand how hard it is. I'm trying my best, but it's too much."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of impatience flashed in his crimson orbs. "You have developed a propensity for complaining and relying on me for every issue. You must learn to handle matters independently."

The words cut deep, and you felt a lump in your throat. "Why can't you just understand how I'm feeling?"

Lucifer sighed in irritation. "You need to be mature and learn to manage your own affairs. I cannot resolve your matters for you."

As if the conversation wasn't already painful enough, he glanced at your disheveled appearance. "And attend to your appearance. You look unkempt."

With that, he entered his bedroom and closed the door as if he didn't want you to follow him inside. The weight of his words pressed heavily on you, amplifying your already overwhelming stress. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to process what had happened. You had hoped for comfort and understanding from the one person who meant the most to you, but instead, you were met with criticism and dismissal.

Warning: Angst.

The memory of the two witches in the human realm haunted you. Their threatening presence, the malevolent glint in their eyes, and mocking laughter had reduced you to tears. They called you pathetic, and in that moment, you felt utterly powerless. Mammon owned them money, but the witches targeted you instead since they couldn't get to him. When you finally returned to the Devildom, you immediately sought the comfort of your most treasured possession—your grandmother's necklace.

But as you searched through your belongings, panic set in. The necklace was nowhere to be found. Frantic, you rushed to Mammon's room, hoping he might have seen it. "Mammon, have you seen my grandmother's necklace?"

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. "Uh, 'bout that..."

Your pulse quickened as you studied his expression. "Mammon, where is it?"

He hesitated before finally coming clean, "I sold it. I needed the money."

"You what?" you shouted, disbelief and anger flooding you. "That necklace is irreplaceable! It was my grandmother's! How could you do this to me?"

Mammon looked defensive and quickly raised his hands. "It's just a necklace, y'know. I didn't think it was that big of a deal!"

Your anger flared more at his dismissive words. "Just a necklace? It meant everything to me! How could you be so thoughtless?"

Instead of offering comfort or an apology, Mammon stepped back, his face a mask of guilt and fear. Then, without another word, he turned and ran. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face. The betrayal cut deep, and the loss of your grandmother's necklace felt like a piece of your heart had been ripped away. Mammon's actions and his cowardly retreat further added to your pain and made you feel abandoned. You had trusted him, believed in him, and he had shattered that trust for something as fleeting as money.

Warning: Yandere-like behavior.

The celebration was in full swing, and everyone was ecstatic about your recent achievement. But in the corner, Levi stood apart, his expression distant and melancholy. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for you — Levi truly was — but the pang of jealousy and self-doubt gnawed at him. Why couldn't he achieve something worth celebrating? Why did he always feel like a useless demon?

Over the next few days, he avoided you, refusing to even meet your eyes or speak to you. He wouldn't even allow you to enter his room or answer your calls or texts. When he finally talked to you, his voice was filled with desperation and vulnerability. "Do you love me?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

"Of course, Levi," you replied without hesitation, but you didn't fully understand why he was asking you this question.

Following that conversation, Levi's behavior changed drastically. He became increasingly possessive and would not let you talk to anyone else, not even his brothers. His jealousy flared and led to arguments if he saw you talking with them. You tried to understand and accommodate his feelings, but his possessiveness became suffocating.

The more you pushed for space and independence, the more Levi spiraled into darkness. He clung to you with an obsessive intensity, convinced you were his and only his. The fear of losing you consumed him, driving him to extreme measures to keep you close. You were at your wit's end.

"Levi, you can't keep doing this! You can't control who I talk to. This isn't healthy for either of us."

His eyes darkened with a mix of hurt and anger. "You're mine, (y/n). I won't let anyone take you from me. If I can't have you, no one else can."

His chilling words sent a shiver down your spine. The Levi you once knew was nowhere in sight and was replaced by someone consumed by possessiveness and insecurity.

Warning: Angst, Violence.

The memory of the chair flying towards you was still fresh in your mind, just another reminder of Satan's uncontrollable rage. Though Satan had done it accidentally, the thought of the chair hitting you at high speed made you shiver. Lucifer had been furious when he found out and dragged Satan into his office for a severe lecture and punishment.

Later that day, your boyfriend appeared at your door, his expression calm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to throw the chair at you. It was an accident."

You nodded, accepting his apology. "It's okay, Satan. Just try to control your anger next time."

The second he heard your words, he sighed in relief. However, Satan's expression darkened the next moment, and he began to badmouth Lucifer. "That pompous tyrant doesn't understand anything. Always lecturing, always punishing. He's the worst!"

"Lucifer isn't wrong, Satan. You can't just lose control like that. It's dangerous," you sighed.

His eyes flashed with anger at your words. "So you're taking his side now?" he spat, his voice rising. "You think he's right and I'm wrong?"

You stood your ground and firmly nodded. "Yes, Satan, you were in the wrong. What you did was dangerous."

That was all it took. Satan's anger erupted, and in an instant, he transformed into his demon form. His eyes glowed with fury as he grabbed you and slammed you against the wall, his grip so tight you thought your bones would shatter. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe, and the pain got overwhelming.

"Satan, please stop," you begged, your voice trembling. "You're hurting me."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as his blind rage had completely consumed him. The pressure intensified, and you cried out in pain, feeling helpless and terrified. Fortunately for you, Beel stormed into the room. "Satan, let go of (y/n)!"

With a great effort, Beel managed to restrain Satan and pull him away from you. The two brothers struggled, their powerful forms clashing, but Beel finally managed to drag Satan out of the room. The noise and chaos terrified you, but all you could do was curl up in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. You had always known about his temper, but this was the first time it had been directed at you so violently. Did this mean that if he got angry enough, he could take your life?

Warning: Angst, cheating, suggestive, depression.

You had always known that Asmo was a flirt. His charm and compliments were part of his nature, and you had tried your best to brush it off. After all, he was a friendly demon who loved to make others feel special. But for the past few weeks, you had noticed him disappearing at night, and a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest. You tried to deny it, convincing yourself that it was harmless fun. Yet, deep down, you knew what he was doing.

One day, you returned to the House of Lamentation earlier than planned. Without knocking, you entered his bedroom, and your heart stopped at the sight. Asmo was in bed with two other demons, and none of them had anything on. Your boyfriend lay in the middle, his arms wrapped around their perfect bodies. When his eyes met yours, he gave a playful smile without a hint of shame on his flushed face.

"(Y/n)," he said in a seductive voice. "Why don't you join us? The more the merrier!"

The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. The "Avatar of Lust" wasn't just a title - it was the bitter truth. Your heart shattered, and you fled from the room, tears blurring your vision. That incident plunged you into a deep depression. The pain and betrayal you felt were overwhelming, and you found it impossible to care about anything, least of all yourself. You stopped your self-care routines and paid no attention to your appearance. The vibrant person you once were faded into a shadow.

At first, Asmo tried to comfort you. He brought you small gifts and tried to cheer you up with his usual charm, but every attempt he made only led to arguments. You were too hurt to accept his gestures, and he was too proud to understand the depth of your pain. Eventually, the strain became too much. One day, after another argument, Asmo looked at you with a coldness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, (y/n)," he said, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held, "You've let yourself go. I'm not attracted to you anymore."

The severity of his tone left no room for doubt - Asmo was breaking up with you. The man who had once made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world was now telling you that you were no longer worth his time. You stood there, numb, as he walked away. The realization settled heavily within you: Asmo had never truly seen you. To him, you were just another conquest, another fleeting pleasure.

Warning: Angst.

You checked your wallet and sighed. Feeding Beel and keeping him happy had drained every cent from your wallet. It felt like the only reason you earned money was to feed your boyfriend's unsatiable appetite. As you slumped on Beel's bed, you heard Belphie enter the room with a loud yawn.

"What's wrong?" He sleepily asked.

"I'm broke," you whispered. "I spent all my money on food for Beel."

Belphie scoffed and plopped on his bed. “You should have been prepared. The House of Lamentation is broke most of the time because of Beel’s appetite. But you do know that he can’t control himself, right?”

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you snapped at him. “Then why don’t you use your money to feed your twin?”

Your words started an argument; your voices echoed through the halls, but you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to notice Beel entering the bedroom.

"What's going on?" Beel asked, worried.

Belphie wasted no time and replied, "(Y/n) was complaining about how they were broke because of your need to eat. They want me to use my money to feed you, so they don't need to feed you anymore."

The older twin's eyes were saddened as he glanced at you. "Is that true, (y/n)?"

You wanted to explain yourself clearly, but your words came out jumbled and defensive. “I just...I didn’t mean it like that, Beel. It’s just been hard...”

Belphie cut in, his voice mocking. “See, Beel? They can’t handle it. Maybe they’re not worth your time.”

“Shut up, Belphie!” you snapped.

For a moment, Beel's eyes widened in shock, but the next, they hardened. "Don't talk to him like that again, (y/n). Leave!"

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Beel, please, I didn’t mean-”

“Just go,” Beel interrupted, his voice breaking slightly.

Belphie smirked in satisfaction. "You heard him. You're not worth his time, and he deserves better."

Tears blurred your vision as you turned and fled to your bedroom, your heart heavy with regret and confusion. You collapsed onto your bed, the tears flowing freely now. The pain of the breakup and the argument weighed heavily on you, and you cried yourself to sleep.

Warning: Angst, spoiler from OG.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pouring your heart out to Belphie. Your voice cracked with each word as you recounted the emotional turmoil you had recently in the past. It was something deeply personal that you had never shared with anyone else. When you finally turned your head to look at him with tear-filled eyes, hoping he would understand, you saw him fast asleep. Frustration boiled inside you. How could he fall asleep when you were sharing something so important? Tears rolled down your cheeks as you shook his shoulder, but he remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

The following week was supposed to be special—a date you had planned with Belphie for your first anniversary. You had looked forward to it all week, imagining how wonderful it would be to spend time with him. But the hours passed, and the meeting time came and went. Belphie didn't answer your message or pick up your calls.

Somewhere in your heart, you worried something had happened to him, but your mind already knew why. A quick check of his room confirmed your worst fears: he was still asleep. The carefully planned date ended in disappointment, leaving you feeling neglected and unimportant. Later, when he finally woke up, he muttered a half-hearted apology for missing the date. His words lacked sincerity, and he clearly didn’t understand how much it meant to you.

A few weeks later, you found yourself in front of an enraged demon who hated that a human was in Devildom - a hater of Diavolo. Panic surged through your veins as you fled and desperately dialed your boyfriend's number. The phone rang endlessly, but he never picked up. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear gripping you tighter with each passing second. With no other options, you called the older brothers.

They arrived in time to help you before the demon could hurt you more or kill you. Exhausted and shaken, you returned to the House of Lamentation, your body aching from the ordeal. You headed straight to Belphie's room, your emotions a tumultuous mix of fear, anger, and betrayal. As expected, he lay in bed, barely awake. Even after he noticed your tear-streaked face, disheveled hair, and minor cuts on your skin, he remained lying down.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly, his voice lacking genuine concern.

That was the final note. Your emotions broke, and you yelled at him in a cracking voice. "I almost died today because you wouldn't answer your phone! I was in danger, and you were just sleeping!"

"Sorry."

A weak apology was all he could offer, and the next instant, his eyes shut again. He was asleep once more. You stood there, stunned and heartbroken, staring at his sleeping form. Did he not care that you had nearly died? The memory of your past death at his hands flashed before your eyes, reminding you of the cruel reality. What else were you expecting from someone who had once killed you? The weight of your disillusionment settled heavily in your heart as you turned away, feeling more alone than ever before.

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➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

[queers-gambit]

But You Without Me Ain't Nice

prompt: ( requested ) deciding to surprise your boyfriend for Christmas after studying abroad, only to discover him in the arms of another. when you return to Oxford, so does his desire.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 5.7k+

note: it's not EXPLICIT cheating 'cause i wanted them to get back together.

warnings: small bouts of jaded feminism, cursing, hurt and comfort, AU timeline 'cause of implied altered canon, small angst, drama, emotions are hard, long distance relationships are hard, boys are dumb, "cheating" but not explicit - you'll see, more so betrayal, so that makes this relationship angst?

Cassandra's squeal of excitement was shrill enough to pierce an eardrum when you shuffled into her dormitory, shaking the snow from your hair and coat before she hugged you tightly. "I'm so excited you're here!" She beamed, "It's been so fucking lonely without you! God, you just had to leave, huh?"

You chuckled, "Oh, shove it. Edinburgh has one of the best programs in Europe, Cass, you know this!"

"I know, I know, you're better than us little folk at Oxford," she mocked with a groan, letting go of you as your eyes rolled in humor. "But still - it's so boring without you, I miss my roomie. There's literally nobody around for me to cause havoc with," she pouted dramatically.

"Well, I'm here for the holidays," you assured, "so you get me for the next couple weeks, you lucky ducky."

"Oh, please, you and I both know Felix isn't gonna let you outta his sight when he sees you. You planning on goin' home at all?"

"No, no, my sister has a flat just down the way," you explained. "She's in London until after the New Year - gave me her key when she picked me up from the airport," you showed her the metal device with a grin.

"Gonna take Felix back to the flat?"

"If he wants," you nodded.

"Oh, yeah, whatever, a flat completely to yourselves for the entire winter holiday? He's gonna lose his mind," your friend tutted. "When are you seeing him?"

"Uh, he said he was going to some party tonight?"

"Well, that's normal," she muttered almost bitterly. "C'mon, get changed, we'll meet him there."

"What do you mean, 'normal'?"

"What? Oh," her head shook as if realizing what she had just said. "No, it's - it's nothing, just," she winced slightly, "Felix is at every party."

"Really?" You asked softly. "We talk all the time on the phone, when does he even have time?"

"No offense, but it's not like he's a model student. He's constantly partying, I hear about it all the time from girls in class - "

"What do they say?"

"He's just popular - you know, he's Felix. And he's a regular at the pubs, too."

You had a weird feeling in your gut and chest, just nodding at Cassandra. "Well, at least he's enjoying himself," you offered meekly.

"Mhm, got that right," she snickered. "He's a legend 'round the university, even people in other colleges and programs know about him. Guess that's one way t'make an impression."

"Yeah, that's Felix for yah," you sighed. "Can I borrow an outfit?"

"What's wrong with that?" She paused, looking you up and down, then wincing, "Yeah, okay, I have options for you."

"Oh, don't sound so judgmental!" You laughed, "I just didn't pack party clothes, I didn't think we'd be going to any."

"You're so lucky to have me," she grinned at you, shoving through a rack of options in her wardrobe. "You wanna look classy slutty, spicy slutty, or just plain slutty-slutty?"

You hummed and chose the 'classy' option, being an open back black mini dress that clung to your figure and hiked up your thighs with every step. It felt exciting to be with Cassandra again, meeting your first year of secondary school and becoming the closest of friends; enduring family turmoil and social drama arm-in-arm. You listened to preppy pop music as you got ready; taking turns in the bathroom to finish your hair and make-up before slipping the dress on and latching the borrowed heels around your ankles.

When you gave her a look at your final outfit, she approved - claiming Felix would probably have a heart attack when he saw you.

"Wait!" You laughed, snatching a festive Santa Claus hat from the care package her parents sent; nestling it on your head. "Eh? Eh? Right? It's good!"

"Girl - "

"C'mon, it's festive!"

"You're lucky you're just so damn cute - it works," she grinned, tossing you your coat before shrugging into hers. "Hold on - you know the rules!" She halted you from opening the dorm door, holding up the bottle of tequila. "Shots before we leave!"

"Jesus, I've missed you," you laughed, taking the solo cup she held out; watching her pour enough for at least 2-3 shots.

"It'll keep us warm in the snow," she explained. "They not partying down at Edinburgh?"

"Not like here," you snickered, downing the drinks with a screwed up expression. "And they're all really preppy - like I thought Oxford had snobs, but Christ Almighty. My roommate down there literally had a panic attack when I bought a bottle of wine."

"Why?"

"She's American, said they're not allowed until they're 21."

"Wow... That's gotta suck for them," she downed her own shots. "Okay! You ready? Wait, are you wearing panties?"

"Yeah - "

"You can't in that dress."

"I'm not taking my panties off, Cass, let's just go!" You laughed, snatching her hand and leading her out of the dorm. "So, c'mon, tell me about the guy you're seeing," you requested, looping your arms together, trudging onto the snowy sidewalk.

"Oh, you mean Jason? Yeah, no, that's over. I just realized that being here is literally the only time in my life I'll have all these easy opportunities and there was no use in wasting my time dating just one person. And it eliminates the threat of cheating. Like... I don't hold my liquor all that well anymore and there's so many good looking people here! Why be in a relationship and run that risk, you know?"

You blinked at her, unsure what to say.

"Oh," she froze, "no, no, I didn't mean - no, look, dating in college is really cool when you know you're with the right person. And since you and Felix have been together for two years already, I think it's pretty safe to say he's the right one - right?"

"I think so... But I can't lie, I've been feeling kinda guilty, thinking Felix would prefer the opportunity to sow his wild oats instead of committing to us. You know? Like you said - "

"No, don't do that, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm being stressed and upset," she hugged your arm tightly, continuing down the sidewalk. "Felix doesn't want t'be single, he would've bucked up the nerve to break up already. And you guys talk so often, he would've said something, right?"

You mused, "Not necessarily, Felix is used to having all he wants."

She shrugged off your words, "You're overthinking 'cause you're nervous to surprise him. But you're the best Christmas present, seriously. Made my day all the better."

You just smiled and skipped over the patch of ice in your way, nearly slipping, but Cassandra kept a tight hold on you - laughing loudly, your amused shrieks echoing around the brownstone buildings. When you arrived at the flat hosting the party, you climbed 2 flights of stairs without incident and let yourselves in; being greeted by strobe lights, thick clouds of smoke, and an abundance of drunken Oxford students.

It was packed - a welcomed sight after your past semester abroad, attending dinner parties with tart wines and classical music. You only had one more semester left before coming back to Oxford full time, and things just weren't the same being away; you missed the excitement, the parties, the friends you made. Granted, you had friends at Edinburgh, you often thought you could make friends anywhere, but you knew a lot of faces here. It was a comfort. And despite knowing you were here only a couple weeks until the next semester began again, it was still nice being back.

You were greeted by several people, being hugged happily and your cheeks kissed sloppily. They asked all about your program in Scotland, insisting you do rounds of shots with them, updating you on the juiciest gossip you missed.

They told you everything... Except what you should've known.

"Have you guys seen Felix?" You asked, glancing around the packed party. You noticed the uncomfortable looks exchanged, questioning, "What? What is it?"

"Uh, you know what?" Oliver Quick sighed, a new addition to the friend group that you didn't know - actually meeting for the first time tonight. "Yeah, yeah, saw him over there - on the sofa," he pointed somewhere behind you.

"Thanks, mate," you patted his shoulder, turning to push through the partygoers.

When you were gone, Farleigh turned to Oliver, "What the fuck was that? You know Felix is drunk off his tits and India's rubbing real close."

"So? Shouldn't she know someone's making moves on her man?" Oliver asked. "Not exactly fair - "

"It's not entirely fair to set Felix up like that," Farleigh sneered. "He misses her, so he drinks, flirts with girls. But he's not acting on it, you just want to get him in trouble, you fuckin' twat!"

Oliver shrugged, looking over in time to spy you approaching the couch. "He'll only get in trouble if he's acting on his impulses, being unfaithful," Ollie sneered.

When you made it through the crowd, you found Felix sitting on the couch, but what made you stop in your tracks was the little lady sat on his lap - a girl you recognized vaguely. Felix downed the shot being handed to him, grinning that stupid grin you adore, broad hands splayed on the girl's thigh as she curled into her chest with skinny arms wrapped around his neck. Her sticky lips whispered something in his ear, giving a small nibble that made your boyfriend laugh - always the ticklish type.

The alcohol you had already downed burned an angry hole in your gut, heart heavy with betrayal, feeling outrage at their audacity the longer you watched. You looked beside you and snatched the drink from a drunk guy, taking two dramatic strides up to them and without thought, launched the entire cup at the couple.

"You bitch!" India gasped, rocketing to her feet. Felix was about to yell himself, but when he looked up and registered your angry eyes glaring at him, he gaped in shock. "Seriously, what the fuck is your issue, slut?" India sneered, stamping her foot.

"Oh, fuck off, sweetheart," you snapped, "not like it's my boyfriend you're sitting on! Really wouldn't throw stones if I was you!"

Felix stood and pushed India to the side, "Baby - "

"Oh, spare me your fucking excuses, Felix! For Christ's sake! This is what you've been doing while I'm gone!? Huh!?"

"No - "

"Bullshit! Cass told me you're constantly partying, so is this what you do? Huh? Hang up the phone with me, come to these shitty parties, get shit faced, and take girls home before calling me in the morning? You even wait until they're gone before dialing my number?"

"Darling, I swear - nothing was happening, nothing was going to happen! I don't - "

"Well, not with us soaking wet!" India raged. "You're just a jealous hag, I mean, you're dating someone like Felix but I've never even seen you! Maybe if you were a better girlfriend, he wouldn't be looking elsewhere!"

"Jesus Christ, India! Fuck off - NOW!" Felix bellowed, shocking the girl. "You don't know a Goddamn thing you're saying, and you know you're too desperate - "

"Oh! So, you're moving in on 'desperate' girls 'cause they're easy, right?" You snapped. "She might be desperate, but you are fucking pathetic, Felix! I know you get everything you want, I know you don't know real consequences, but I don't have to add to that!"

"Let's just talk outside," he tried, looking more and more like a kicked puppy.

"I'm not going anywhere with you again. This isn't working, Felix, there's no way I can trust you - not when I've just seen - this!"

"Baby, it isn't - look, this isn't what it looks like! Okay? I know it looks bad, but I don't touch them - "

"There's more!? Of course, there's more - 'cause why have just one, right?"

He winced, "I just - listen, I only flirt, baby, I swear, but I-I know that's not much better. You bein' gone, I-I have this pent up energy - "

"Oh, the poor rich boy! Unsupervised without his girlfriend, so you think it's okay to flirt with other girls? Have them sit on your lap? Touch them? Flirt all night?"

"I know it sounds bad - "

"No, you know what?" You chuckled ruefully. "You two have fun, I'm out. I'm so fucking done with you, Felix, this relationship - it obviously isn't viable. So, have your skank, but make sure you get to a clinic. You obviously couldn't choose someone decent to cheat on me with, make sure she doesn't give you any STDs."

"What did you say, bitch!?" India tried to surge up to you, but Cassandra stepped in and shoved both her shoulders; sending her sprawling to the dirty, sticky floor.

"Watch yourself," she barked, dropping another drink on her and making India squeal. She glared at Felix and approached you, hushing, "You okay?"

"No."

"Let's get outta here," she nodded, wrapping you in her arms and leading the way out - not like she had to, students parted way like the Red Sea to let you two pass.

"Wait!" Felix rushed, grabbing his jacket and following you both out. Despite the heels, mini dresses, and alcohol, you and Cass were sober enough to scurry down the stairs and outside by the time he caught up. "Baby! Wait! Please, c'mon, let me explain!"

"You've done enough! I've seen enough!" You yelled back, Cass not stopping you two from making your escape. "Just fuck off back to your whores, Felix!"

"No, no," he rushed in front of you two, forcing you to stop. "Let me talk to you, please, you think it's worse than it is, I mean - "

"Awh, you think just touching other bitches isn't that bad?" Cass sneered. "Silly slut," she scoffed, rolling her pretty eyes.

"Cass, do you mind? This is between us," He sighed.

"Oh-ho, I very much mind," she rolled her eyes. "Grovel if you want, but I'm not leaving you two alone."

"I don't want to talk, Felix! For fuck's sake, I saw all I needed to. I'm literally killing myself slowly in Scotland, trying to secure my own future 'cause not all of us can be born into money - "

"Baby, that's not fair - "

" - And you're here, living your best life, being fucking deceitful, aren't you? Your girlfriend on the side and a full buffet of sluts to choose from - and nobody would know 'cause I wasn't in the fucking country! You know what?" You chuckled, "Thank you, actually. Thank you for proving what I feared the most and cutting us free. Better to know now than later when I'm far more invested. Enjoy your pick of the fucking litter, Felix, 'cause I'm removing myself from this equation, you're now free to do whatever you want - don't have to be such a gentleman anymore and just flirt with them."

"You're right, okay? You're right, I wasn't thinking, I was trying to - I don't even know! Have 'the college experience', I think, and I got carried away. I'm so sorry - "

"You're only sorry 'cause you got caught," Cass snapped.

"Ohk for fuck's sake - Cass, I love you and all, but do you mind if this stays between my girl and I?"

"Oh, so you inviting all that female attention was 'keeping it between you'?" She cocked her head, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, babe, let's go. You don't need to hear his pathetic whinging anymore."

"Think you're right," you sniffled from the cold. "Bye, Felix."

"Please - let's just talk about this!"

"No more talking!" You barked. "You don't need to defend yourself, I saw her with you - I don't need your excuses! This is over, Felix, just - for God's sake, fuck off, already!"

He froze, never hearing such aggressive words from you before. In the years you were friends and the two you've dated, you hadn't so much as raised your voice at him - even when upset. To hear such profanity at this level shocked him. He's heard you yell, but usually at other people; he's heard you curse, but typically from excitement. He felt overwhelmed watching Cassandra walk you away under her arm, the tears surfacing and his confusion blinding; wondering how the hell he had managed to fuck everything up THIS bad.

When you got back to her dorm, you were a wreck and Cassandra wasn't sure how to start comforting you. She watched you slide to the floor in tears and squatted to take your shoes off, set the bottle of tequila beside you, and then got comfortable on the ground, too. She stretched her arm around your shoulders, sighing sadly, and just held you when you sobbed uselessly into her neck.

No amount of crying would change the past. No amount of frustration or self-pity would help. No amount of regret would turn back time and prevent you from leaving your very attractive boyfriend to the mercy of Oxford sluts.

After an hour of just crying, Cassandra perked up and asked, "You wanna stay the night here or go to your sister's?"

"Felix knows where your dorm is," you sniffled, mascara down your cheeks and chin. "Maybe we should go?"

"You want me to come, too?"

"I don't want to be alone..."

"Lemme pack real fast," she agreed, leaving you on the floor to drink until you felt numb while she raced around to prepare a duffel bag. When she was finished, she hoisted you from the ground and took her car keys, shouldering your own duffel, and leading you out of the dorms. On your way to student parking, neither of you were surprised to find Felix sprinting in your direction.

"Baby! Wait, wait, wait! Please!" He begged, barely slowing down and literally skidding to a halt, nearly slipping on ice. "Just - please, let me talk to you. I-I can't let you leave thinking I fucked those girls - "

"Oh, just go fuck yourself, Felix!" You laughed.

"Is she drunk?" He asked Cass in mild shock.

"Do you know a better way to deal with a break up?" She rolled her eyes.

"We're not broken up - "

"I heard otherwise," she sneered. "You're not used to losing, Felix, but the rest of us, on Earth, know when a relationship is over."

"I made a mistake!" He pleaded loudly.

"Just one?" You snapped.

"No, you know what? I've made a few, but I swear, nothing fucking happened! Not with any of them!"

"Oh," you mocked, snickering to Cassandra.

"Just give me a chance - "

"I did," you interrupted sadly. "I gave you all the chances, Felix, and you still chose to betray me. So, you know what? I just need time to digest your bullshit betrayal, and in order to do that, I literally can't be around you."

"How will you know how sorry I am?"

"I know, I can see it - just like I saw that bitch on your lap," you scoffed. "Can we go now?"

"C'mon, babe," Cass agreed.

"Go? Go where?" He rushed, looking panicked.

"Away from you!" You laughed, holding onto your friends arm tightly as you wobbled in her borrowed shoes.

"At least let me help you - "

"Don't need help from a slut!" You shouted to the sky, not stopping.

Felix Catton was left standing in the snow, his heart walking away from him in heels too high.

And when you got to your sister's flat, Cassandra raided the fridge and brought you ice cream and pretzels - for something both sweet and salty. For the rest of the night, you cried while stuffing your face, but whatever it was worth, at the very least, you had your best friend there to wipe your tears.

Well, after a gut wrenching Christmas break, you went back to Scotland to finish an anticlimactic semester at one of the world's most prestigious universities. Without Felix to call, you dedicated more time to studying, which paid off, because by the end, you received the highest marks in your college and earned multiple letters of recommendations from well-respected professors.

But now that the year abroad was over, you were set to return to Oxford for the next three weeks to report back to your program chairs and give them an update. Suddenly, it was like the entire semester of avoiding your feelings about Felix caught up to you the moment you boarded the plane. You had stuffed your emotions deep down, ignored his morning and evening phone calls (yes, he still called everyday), and tried your hand at dating other people - but it wasn't the same. You hated that you missed him so much, but you figured you had more self-respect than to belittle yourself for a man.

A beautiful, kind, generous man... Who made a mistake... Who demonstrated remorse... Who understands what he did was wrong and hurtful... And your Daddy did raise you to 'forgive and forget'. But still, you had a difficult time forgiving Felix in full, and therefore, couldn't forget what he did.

The betrayal was still so fresh and you couldn't stomach the idea of even speaking to him. So, you decided to avoid him by any means.

When you returned to England, it was drearier than normal. Your sister wasn't able to pick you up this time, figuring you would just hail a cab when someone laid on their horn in a long, continuous, obnoxious beep. When you looked over, Cassandra was waving at you rapidly through her window.

With an easy grin, you rushed over to her car and tossed the few bags you had into the backseat before getting in the passenger seat. "What're you doing here?" You gasped, leaning in to hug your friend.

She returned your affection enthusiastically, then was pushing you off, "Bitch, I'm double parked in the red - we gotta go!" You laughed when she rushed off, heading back to Oxford as she explained, "But you said on the phone your sister wasn't getting you, so I took the liberty of reading between the lines."

"No, I didn't mean it like that - "

"I know you didn't," she grinned, "but I just wanted to get you to campus all the faster, I've missed you!"

"We have three weeks together before the start of summer," you reminded. "Ready for exams?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Enough of that! Tell me all about Scotland!"

You spent the rest of the car ride without a single thought spent on Felix - all too appreciative for friends. Until you got back to the dorms, that is. You'd been there all of an hour before there was a knock at the door and when Cassandra opened it, she glanced up and down the hall in confusion, not seeing anyone - but a bouquet of flowers caught her attention.

"Well, this is cute," she mused, picking up the flowers from the floor and closing the door. "Someone left flowers? Ew, bet they're from Jason - he's been begging me to get back together."

You didn't bother reminding her they were the same Felix always sent you. You just nodded and said they must've indeed been for her since nobody knew when you were coming back. Yet something in your stomach churned, knowing this was no coincidence, you knew they were from Felix, and the idea made you oddly... Warm.

You didn't want to be touched by the small gesture, but it was sweet. Reminded you of the good times between you and Fi. You felt your guts twist, realizing how much you missed him. None the less, you never said a word.

The following day was as normal as it could've been. People were looking both happy to see you and exhausted from prep work before final exams. You understood, having completed yours; all that was left was to write up a report to your dean and other department heads and present it. You spent your days in the library while everyone was in class, and while there, you were surprised to see Felix hunched over a set of books.

You didn't approach him, just chose a separate table and got comfortable. You were in the zone for a solid hour before a shadow loomed over you, making you jump when a hand met your shoulder. "Sorry, sorry," Felix rushed, hands held in defense. "Just thought I'd give you this - you seemed really focused."

You blinked when he set a blueberry muffin down. The gesture made you smile, "You remembered?"

For every study session, you had a blueberry muffin to munch on.

"'Course I do," he nodded rapidly. "Remember everything about you, love. And these were always your favorite, right?"

"Yeah," you breathed. "Uh, thanks, Fi, this was nice of you."

"Seemed really focused, wanted to make sure you ate," he half-smiled. "I didn't mean to interrupt, uh, j-just wanted t'say good luck on your presentation."

Your heart clenched when he walked away back to his table, not once looking up at you as he worked. He really only meant to give you the muffin, which surprised you - Felix was terribly persistent, and for some reason, you actually felt sad that he wasn't vying for your attention or forgiveness.

This felt like a reality check, reminding you that you were truly broken up. So, you just sniffled and focused again, nibbling on the muffin as you revised your report. You hated the tension, the distance, the disturbing idea that while gone, he had been with countless other girls. You especially hated that you began regretting leaving for a year, feeling as if you created this situation by leaving room for Felix to seek attention elsewhere.

You knew it wasn't the truth - this wasn't your fault. You weren't the one who decided to implode your relationship, to be unfaithful in the least bit; and seeking higher educational opportunity wasn't grounds for anyone to cheat. It felt entirely unfair; you were in the same position as Felix, alone in another country, missing your friends and family, and yet, YOU never sought attention - emotional or physical - in any way from anyone else.

You at least had a sense of loyalty. But at the same time, you tried to validate that this was "the best years of your lives" and Felix was a young, hot, rich boy. Why wouldn't he bask in the attention of others? He always had and it felt wrong to crucify him for being a lad with hormones.

You began to wonder, did you overreact? Of course you didn't!

But you missed him immensely.

For the three weeks left in the semester, Felix would leave flowers at your dorm room, brought you little treats, never impeded on your space, and just made himself known without being overwhelming. You thought it was endearing without giving him too much credit after his betrayal. For three weeks, he was sweet, kind, soft spoken, and from what you understood, turned reclusive - refusing any party invitation, even backing out of pub meetings.

He wasn't hanging with friends, drinking, distracted with girls. According to local gossip, if you could put stock into the words, this new behavior started right after Christmas; after your very public break-up.

You were mildly intrigued by his change of attitude, but didn't confront it. You felt distance was necessary for healing, yet there was no denying your love that still festered - and maybe, the idea that Felix was truly remorseful and loved you, too.

It all came to a cultivation on the day of your presentation. To say you were nervous was an understatement - pacing the entire night before, going over what you were going to say, making final revisions; driving Cassandra up the wall, but she was still supportive.

That morning, she left early for her own ventures, but made sure to help you pick out an outfit. It was something smart, it complimented your figure in a professional manner and made you feel powerful and like a "real" adult.

You packed your bag and walked to your college's lecture hall, getting there about 20 minutes early to set up your materials and run through your notes one last time. When your dean and other professors entered to settle in their seats at the front, you heard the upper backdoor open. When you looked up, you were shocked - like, actually shocked - to see Felix sitting up there with Cassandra, Farleigh, your parents and sister.

You tried not to dwell on their presence, but suddenly, knowing Felix was there to support you, you didn't feel so nervous anymore. Something about his viewing of your final project made you a little more confident, quelling your nausea as you cleared your throat and started your oral presentation that had a guided visual and 20-page report.

When you finished, you were grinning. Your deans applauded you, and from the back, so did your friends and family; in fact, Felix was on his feet, clapping with vigor. You handed over the flash-drive that housed your visuals and then your bound essay report, shaking the professors hands, and letting them leave.

When you turned, your family had descended the auditorium stairs and your friends were trailing after.

"Oh, you brilliant girl!" Your father gushed, wrapping you in a huge hug. "My perfect, most special girl! That was amazing!"

"Thanks, Daddy," you giggled. "What're you guys doing here?"

"Oh, Felix called," your mother informed, petting hair off your shoulder in a calming motion. "Glad he did, we're so proud of you."

"I didn't even know peers could sit in," you admitted.

"Apparently, they're not, but you know, Felix has a way with rules," your father sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "Thank God you got your mother's intelligence, fear you'd be shit outta luck if you had mine, eh?"

This triggered a round of other compliments from your loved ones; sister and Cassandra both beaming at you in pride, everyone offering their compliments on specific sections of your presentation to prove they really, truly had been listening. You felt bashful, waving them off out of embarrassment, and then you agreed to attend dinner for a celebration - your mother informing you that the summer would be spent in a French villa and details were to be discussed at the meal. But first, you noticed Felix still sitting high up in the lecture hall and promised you meet everyone at the dorm later.

When the hall cleared, you sighed and slowly made your way up to where Felix lingered; his form fidgeting nervously the closer you got. You dropped to the seat beside him with a deep sigh, ready to confront everything, when he offered a decently large bouquet of familiar flowers. "Congrats, love," he whispered. "Was really well-done, even if I didn't know half of what you were sayin'."

You accepted the flowers, petting the petals gingerly, then asking in a low whisper, "Felix?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"I know how important this was for you, I asked them all to come so we could support you, knowin' you were nervous - "

"No," you interrupted, turning in your seat to face him. "Why'd you have to go and ruin us? Why wasn't I enough?"

He swallowed thickly, "It wasn't you that wasn't enough."

"Huh?"

"Think I felt insecure," he admitted. "You were at Edinburgh, bettering yourself and I think I got scared that you'd love it there so much, you know, that... You'd leave. Leave Oxford, leave England, leave... Me. So, I just... I don't have any excuse, honestly, love. I know I fucked up, but I think my fear was being projected in the worst way..."

You nodded, "Do you regret it?"

"Every fuckin' day."

"Any plans for tonight?"

"What?" He blinked in shock.

"You wanna come to dinner with us? I mean, you went through the trouble of gettin' everyone here - and I know you must've bribed someone to let them watch."

His cheeks reddened, chuckling nervously, "It wasn't... I didn't... All right, yeah, I had to pay off the custodian - he unlocked the door for us."

"Mhm," you smirked. "So? Dinner?"

"Are you sure?"

You nodded, "You made a mistake... A huge one, but a mistake none the less. We've had time apart, and I've learned, I don't want to be without you. My life is far more interesting with you in it and I feel less alone. So, if you want, I'd like for you to come to dinner with us, maybe work on our friendship again. See where things go?"

"As long as you're okay with it."

"I'm the one inviting you, yes, I'm okay with it," you chuckled at his nerves, standing, and offering your hand. "C'mon, Mum says we're spending the summer in France - maybe we can convince her to invite you, too."

"Doubt Cassandra would let that happen," Felix mused, shouldering his bag and taking your hand - instantly lacing your fingers together.

"Oh, on the contrary, she might like it; it'd give her something to do."

"What's that? Makin' me her personal punching bag?"

"Exactly," you grinned, squeezing his hand.

"Hey," he paused you before you could exit the auditorium, looking sadder than when his dog died; bottom lip gently trembling. "I just... I need you t'know, I'm really fuckin' sorry, love. I was an absolute idiot, I fucked this up - broke your trust. I regret nothing more, I was such a fuckin' arsehole, and I don't want to be without you, either. I realized I'm not myself without you, that me without you doesn't feel right - "

"Hey," you halted his rambling, "I can't tell you it's okay, Fi, because it's not, but your atonement is appreciated. We've been friends for so long, I don't think I want to walk away entirely - so, let's just go slow and figure our shit out." He nodded in agreement, letting you lead the way, smirking when you cheekily told him, "Mh, bit of advice though? You could try to get in good graces by payin' for dinner tonight."

"Done and done," he eased, releasing your hand to hang his arm around your shoulders, and just like old times, you raised your hand to lace with his, other wrapping around his waist. The smile didn't fall from Felix's face all night, and by the end of the night, had arranged to stay with your family that summer - Oliver Quick and what could've been a summer at Saltburn far from his mind.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

[doumadono]

Synopsis: Dabi hates his birthday dearly, but you surprise him with a small gift and heartfelt words that chip away at his guard significantly

A/N: the prompt was "Thank you for being born" This one-shot serves as the kickoff to my little Dabi's birthday event. I won't deny shedding a tear or two while writing it (there's something about making wishes that gets me emotional) Here's the link to the song I listened to while crafting this piece💜

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST DABI'S BIRTHDAY EVENT

The scent of cigarettes hung in the air as Dabi reclined on a worn-out couch, brooding in silence. The glow of the television screen flickered in the dimly lit common room as Dabi absentmindedly watched the news.

Another day, another hero thwarting villains, this time at one of Musutafu's bustling shopping malls. As the headlines praised the courageous actions of the hero, a bitter taste lingered in Dabi's mouth.

"Fucking pathetic," he growled lowly, taking a drag of his cigarette. A bitter smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he contemplated the irony. The world hailed heroes on the day he considered his own personal tragedy. The day he was born, the 18th of January.

The news anchor spoke with enthusiasm about the hero's bravery, the citizens cheering in gratitude for another villain thwarted.

Yet Dabi's thoughts, like wisps of smoke, curled around the unwelcome memories of his past. He traced the scars on his face absentmindedly, a reminder of a past he wished he could erase. The reflection in the TV showed a man haunted by his own existence, a shadow dancing on the edges of society.

Dabi couldn't shake the bitter truth that clung to him like a shadow. He hadn't chosen this life; it was thrust upon him by his father's sick ambitions. His birthday wasn't a cause for celebration; it was a stark reminder of his origin, of a life marred by pain and betrayal.

It didn't become any easier when he revealed himself as the son of the number one hero, Endeavor. The revelation didn't alter a single thing, but at least his obnoxious father was aware. Aware that his failed creation was still alive and somehow thriving on a path fueled by vengeance.

As the news continued, highlighting the hero's accomplishments, a bitterness swelled within Dabi. The contrast between his life and the celebrated hero's achievements became painfully apparent. The hero on the screen stood tall, celebrated by a society that Dabi saw as inherently flawed. He couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment, not towards the hero, but towards the world that applauded those who fit neatly into its definition of heroism.

The door to the common room creaked open, and you stepped inside, holding a neatly wrapped package adorned with shiny paper and a ribbon.

Dabi slowly raised his gaze, his turquoise eyes meeting yours. A skeptical eyebrow arched as he observed the item you held in your hands. "Don't tell me it's what I think it is," he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of sourness.

You approached, taking a seat beside him, the small package cradled in your hands. "Well, you'll never know unless you open it," you teased.

Dabi scoffed, "You and your surprises."

Undeterred, you extended the gift toward him. "Happy birthday, Touya. I hope you like it."

Dabi sighed, his skepticism evident as he began to peel away the shiny paper and loosen the ribbon. The room was filled with the soft rustle of wrapping paper, and he shot you a sidelong glance, an unspoken question in his gaze.

Inside the wrapping was a tiny box. Dabi hesitated for a moment, eyeing the box as if it held secrets he wasn't sure he wanted to uncover. Eventually, he cracked it open, revealing a silver necklace with a delicate flame charm.

"It's a flame," you explained, your voice soft. "I thought it suited you, taking your quirk."

Dabi lifted the necklace, examining the intricate details of the charm. His expression remained guarded, but there was a hint of something beneath the surface – a mixture of surprise and skepticism. "A flame, huh?" he muttered, more to himself than to you.

"Yeah," you affirmed. "A symbol of your strength and intensity."

He gave you a skeptical glance, his turquoise eyes narrowing slightly. "You put way too much thought into this. My quirk's a real fucking gem – kills me a bit every damn time I unleash it."

You bowed your head, realizing you had never viewed his quirk in that manner. To you, it wasn't just about his ability - it embodied an immense determination and unmatched dedication, even if the cause wasn't particularly flattering.

Dabi continued to study the necklace, his fingers tracing the delicate flame. There was a brief pause before he finally spoke, his voice low and gruff. "It's not bad, I guess."

You smiled, a small victory in breaking through his usual stoicism. "Glad you think so. Happy birthday, once again. And... There's actually one more thing I'd like to tell you... May I?"

Dabi regarded you with a notably impassive expression on his face, nodding.

You reached out and gently took Dabi's hand in yours.

His forehead creased into a frown, a silent question etched on his face.

"I know you've been dealing with a lot of crap," you began slowly, your voice sincere and heartfelt. "I don't fully understand, and most likely I never will. But ever since I joined the League, you were the only one who's been patient with me. Through all my failures, you saw some potential within me. You've always offered advice or just a listening ear whenever I felt like shit and wanted to cry it all out." You let out an exasperated sigh, wiping a single tear from your eyelashes. "Oh God, why am I even getting emotional? This isn't about me."

Dabi's frown deepened, his gaze steady on your flushed face as you continued, "Okay, so I basically just want to tell you that, to me, you were never a bad person, nor evil. I love you for who you are, with all of your flaws. I'm just... I just... Thank you for being born."

The words hung in the air, a mix of vulnerability and gratitude woven into your confession.

Dabi's stoic facade wavered as he absorbed your heartfelt words. His turquoise eyes, typically guarded, widened in genuine surprise, a subtle vulnerability creeping into their depths. The frown etched on his forehead softened, replaced by a mixture of astonishment and something resembling gratitude. He remained silent for a moment, processing the weight of your confession.

Finally, a raspy exhale escaped him, a rare display of vulnerability. "I... didn't expect that," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. His gaze lingered on your teary eyes, and for a moment, the facade of indifference cracked. A subtle shift occurred within him, a fracture in the armor he usually wore so tightly.

With a rare tenderness, he reached up, his thumb brushing against the moisture on your cheeks. "Hush," he murmured gently, a subtle warmth in his usually gruff voice. His touch was surprisingly tender as he wiped away the traces of tears, his thumb grazing over your skin.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, the touch lingering for a moment longer than expected. "Thanks, Y/N," Touya said, the word carrying a weight of sincerity. "For the words and the gift. Means more than you think."

A subtle warmth lingered in his gaze as he fastened the necklace around his neck. The flame pendant rested against his chest. "You always manage to surprise me, doll face," the white-haired man chuckled softly.

"Well, it is your birthday," you quipped, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. "There's no way I could have failed to surprise you on that particular day," you whispered, leaning your chin on his shoulder, gazing up at him with the most innocent, doe-eyed expression.

He cast a glance down at you, scoffing with a slight eye roll. "Sometimes I wonder how someone as cute and soft as you manages to be a villain, Y/N."

You flashed a mischievous grin at him. "Well, let's just say that I'm flexible."

Dabi leaned casually against the back of the couch, his arm extending to wrap around your shoulder and pull you closer. "No doubt in me, you are. You prove that every night."

Blushing, you gasped and playfully poked his chest. "Todoroki Touya! Quit it!"

His fingers absentmindedly played with your hair. "What? That's the fact. And you know what? I love you."

You smiled at him, studying his expression for a moment before nestling against his chest, allowing his warmth to envelop you. "I love you too."

Together, you both tuned into the news service and later some TV show, but your attention was elsewhere. All that mattered was that the person you loved the most was right there by your side.

[chrumblr-whumblr]

Announcing the Chrumblr Whump Challenge for May!

You don't have to be in any way affiliated with chrumblr to participate (or even know what it is)! This is just to set this challenge apart from the many other whump challenges doubtless happening during any given month.

Please reblog this post to share it! We'd love to see what you create. Once you post your masterpieces, just tag this blog (@chrumblr-whumblr), and we'll reblog your post. If you're concerned your post has slipped through the cracks, feel free to ping again or send in an ask (the askbox will open up presently).

If you don't like any day's prompt, or simply want to do more prompts, feel free to substitute the alternative prompts at any point. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ping this blog, and give it a follow so you can see and contribute to the sweet sweet whump.

NSFW responses will be reblogged with the tag #nsfw. I reserve the rights to tag anything I consider NSFW under that tag.

Below the cut is the prompts in plain language.

Daily Prompt List

Blindfolding

Kneeling

Carrying

Watching while loved one is hurt

Forced to obey

Tied to a chair

Blame/guilt

Blood covered hands

Mind control

Whipping

On the run

Manipulation

Panic attack

Traumatic touch aversion

Memory loss

Begging

Touch starved

Shaking hands

Asphyxiation

Came back wrong

Exhaustion

Gagged

Concussion

Drowning

Stabbing

Wiping away tears

Hiding it

Scars

Infection

Shaking voice

Humiliation

Alternative Prompt List

Secret caretaking

Shouting

Abandoned

Misunderstanding

Betrayal

Stress position

Hypothermia

Altered mental state

Kidnapped

No anaesthetic

[azrisweek]

Azris Week 2024 Prompts & Rules

We are delighted to announce the prompts for Azris Week 2024! Each prompt is accompanied by a few suggestions to help spark creativity. Don't feel obligated to follow the suggestions. We intentionally kept the prompts very open to interpretation this year and can't wait to see where the inspiration leads.

Day 1: Contrasts

The chilled darkness of the night, the warming glow of a fire's light. One spends his life pulling strings behind the curtain, and the other is center stage dancing to several tunes beyond his own. Born to privilege, born to poverty. One's family found, the other's fractured. "Contrasts" is a broad theme, how will you explore it?

Day 2: Familiars

Take it to mean the noun—hounds, shadows, horses, other pets, maybe sentient little flames, companions, friends, family, etc—or expand your interpretation to the adjective and see where it takes you.

Day 3: Contact

How do the heir of Autumn and the Shadowsinger communicate? Through letters or texts, maybe, or through heavy gazes and the brush of fingers on exposed skin. Have they always spoken with each other this way?

Day 4: Free Day

This is self-explanatory.

Day 5: Slice of Life

So much of this enemies-to-lovers ship is full of strife, pain, and betrayal. But what about the quiet moments? Whether in the midst of chaos or with lower stakes, how have they learned to love each other?

Day 6: Changes

What changes? What remains the same? Change for the individual, change for the pair. Think of shifting opinions, a changing world, personal growth, and developing relationships. One of the reasons we ship Azris is our love for their dynamic. How dynamic can they be?

Day 7: Solstice & Equinox

Autumn Equinox, the shift in seasons from light to darkness, a time of harvest and plenty. Winter Solstice, the longest night, the turning point. One can predict that the Autumn Equinox in the Autumn Court is as grand of a celebration as the Winter Solstice in Night. We're closing out the week with a hearty dose of holiday spirit.

1) Be respectful. We're here to celebrate Azris and appreciate the creations made in their honor. This is a positive, inclusive space which won't stand for bashing of any kind.

2) Please direct any event-related questions to this account, not to the mods individually.

3) Tag us and use #azrisweek2024 when posting here or on Instagram so that we can reblog/repost. If you are posting a work to AO3 add it to the event collection here.

4) Creations of all kinds are welcome and encouraged! Fics, fanart, mood boards, headcanons, incorrect quotes, edits, playlists, etc. We will not be promoting AI generated/altered images or fanworks.

5) A caveat to the previous rule. This event won't tolerate characters being warped to fit heteronormative roles and/or relationship stereotypes. For example (thanks to @cauldronblssd for putting it so clearly,) fem Eris or Azriel as queer identities or gender non-conforming characters, yes—fem Eris or Azriel as a substitute for a straight woman, no. With this in mind, we reserve the right to use our discretion and not engage with content, regardless of how it is tagged, if said content perpetuates harmful stereotypes.

[mickules]

Dangantober Ghost Photo breakdown

Dangantober Ghost Photos with some little behind the scenes ghost shenanigans

they may be ghosts for a while....

Full breakdown of each character below ↓ MAJOR DANGAN SPOILERS

The main idea was inspired by Sayaka, the avoidable tragedy of her death, and the vengeance that allowed her to name her killer from 'beyond the grave'

Each ghost is stuck, or trapped in some sort of loop, compelled to act according to certain 'rules', much like how they lived under monokuma within the Killing Game. Each rule has some connection to a ghost's talent, aspect of their life, or death. Reminding them of their regrets in a fashion that wouldn't allow them to pass on.

Sayaka "Don’t swap the dormitory name plates." Her fate in the game was a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was so scared of being trapped in the school, that she trapped herself. It seemed like a perfect stimulus for a ghost, going over the events of her death again and again, but never being able to break out of the cycle. She always leaves behind the message, as she'll never know if Makoto understood her regrets.

Mukuro "Don’t pick a fight in the gym." Mukuro's haunting is based entirely on how her death was a result of picking a fight with monokuma, and how she loses everything. Her lingering grudge creates an animalistic aggressive atmosphere like a Fenrir Wolf, her stoic soldier persona lost as she lashes out at people who remind her of her failure. She hides herself like she did in life, only visible in reflections as Junko's shadow - and will try stab you in the back, playing out her own betrayal.

Leon "Don’t play with baseballs near the hallway" It seemed like the worst fate for Leon would be being stuck, static in his unwanted role as The Ultimate Baseball Star. As with his murder, he couldn't help himself, but resorted back to those skills to dispose of evidence. His animosity making the game almost unplayable for everyone else, he releases all his frustrations toward himself, almost zombie like, at a scapegoat: baseball.

Chihiro "Don’t enter the locker rooms at night" Chihiro's murder and trial was mostly co-opted by red-herrings, like Genocide Jack and the location of the murder. So the idea is that the story got warped by a series of Chinese whispers; Genocide Jack miscast as a 'bloody Mary' style urban legend, Chihiro a forgotten footnote. Based on how Hina thought Alter Ego was actually Chihiro's ghost; I thought the haunting could work more like a séance or a ouija board; asking Chihiro questions beyond the veil much like how AlterEgo helped the class, Chihiro is only trying to help.

Mondo "Don’t eat the butter in the cafeteria" I REACHED for Mondo, I know! but he got turned into BUTTER! I wanted to incorporate his execution with his motive to murder, so his ghost is based on Calabar beans, supposedly able to sort the guilty and the innocent. If you swallow without worry the poison might not spread, but if you eat cautiously and chew; you'll die. He appears slowly, enough that you can ignore him, the same why you might ignore your guilty conscience. He may be a hypocrite, but in a way he's trying to save you from his own fate.

Taka "Don’t pass notes in the classroom" Not unlike Sayaka, it's another case of replaying actions when they were alive, but Taka is still continuing his role as 'Hall Monitor' His prompt is passing notes since that's what lead to his death, originally the note you were passed in class was going to be written by Taka but that felt like it broke his own rules. He disappears if he's ignored, much how he faded after Mondo's death. Ishida is only triggered if you interrupt his routine, disrupt his pace, and create disorder from what he sees as order, holding Mondo's pickaxe almost like a reaper's scythe.

Hifumi "Don’t play hooky in the art rooms" I know Hifumi is the 'Ultimate Fanfic Creator' in the english, but my brain always autocorrects that to 'Doujin Author' instead. And given his focus on fandom culture, I thought his haunting playing out like a video game, something in the zeitgeist like Slenderman the Eight Pages would be appropriate. Originally I had you collecting his artworks, with Hifumi hunting you down, blinded by the blood covering his glasses. He creates his own narrative much like how Celeste convinced him to go through with the murder. He certainly casts himself as a 'protector', expressing glee at being justified in his actions.

Celeste "Don’t default on your debts" As much as you could see Celeste's talent as unwholesome, she took absolute pride in it, and part of that was following through on a bet. Celeste does seem like the type to always find an angle; so she will find a way to exploit those around her into spoiling her, but that's not enough to dispel her stripped aristocracy. She's not in some vast ornate fireplace, she's in an incinerator where you burn rubbish. And the Versailles Witch won't let you get away if you get close enough to see her indignity.

Sakura "Don’t be disrespectful in the dojo" Sakura was very difficult since, like Chihiro, she's got no real impetus to become a vengeful spirit at all. But given her choice to betray the class to protect her dojo, it would be cold comfort being forced to watch over a facsimile of a dojo, at arms length, in a fashion like Tantalus. Her statue is based on Nio, muscular wrestler like figures who stand at the entrance of shrines to protect them from evil. She functions a little like SCP-173, she can only move if she's not watched.

---

Given that the sdr2 kids were all remnants of despair, and all had the potential to be as monstrous as Junko - I tried to link them each to an urban legend or a cryptid or similar, to make them another degree removed from humanity. Additionally, their rules are written to sound more like threats, than the THH kids' warnings, to make the distinction that they were more dangerous, far more active.

Imposter "Never copy someone else’s work" There's a common belief that everyone has a doppelgänger, a normal extension of the concept that there are only so many different faces in the world, so some are bound to be potentially near identical. But it's often seen as a bad omen to see yours - a signifier of your imminent death, or maybe a tragedy. The Imposter craves the sensation being someone else, so they don't have to be left with the void that is their own personality. By reducing you to the imitation they show you a fraction of their own personal despair.

Teruteru "Never take someone’s food without asking" Although it could be argued that all the ghosts are kinds of Poltergeists, but I wanted Teruteru to have less of a physical appearance but to express himself through the items in the kitchen - the thrown knives, the rattling pans, the food, much how he was truly himself whilst cooking, but outside of that he projected a false and vain persona, a persona which has been burned away. There's also a reference to the crimes he's implied to have committed whilst a remnant of despair, namely cannibalism.

Mahiru "Never record over something without checking" A large part of Mahiru's philosophy surrounding photography is in capturing the smiles and happy memories of her subjects. Writing over any of those would be unthinkable to her. She's based on Spirit Photography, ghosts and apparitions appearing in celluloid, with some aspects of the Ring, a ghoul able to cross over and reach you through a medium which something shouldn't be able to. The AV equipment she haunts is supposed to have been left behind by classes 77 and 78, the only other echoes of them that remain at Hope's Peak.

Peko "Never knock on an occupied stall" I know it's unfair! But she spends so much of case 1 in the toilet, and disposes of the evidence in case 2 in a bathroom.... Plus, I based her haunting on Hanako-san, a ghost who haunts a toilet stall, and only appears if someone knocks at her door. Peko cannot act alone - she can only act if she's called upon, if someone asks for her. Her multiple hands juggling the masks of the many identities she wears as she has none of her own. The colourful façade of 'Sparkling Justice' being her most memorable, and overriding her own face. Delicate yakuza tattoos wrap around her fingers, and she's missing her little finger on all but one of her hands - a common yakuza punishment for failure.

Ibuki "Never interrupt someone’s musical performance." If Sayaka is a siren, Ibuki is a Banshee, not only due to her singing voice, but also as she heralds the death of Hiyoko. Ibuki became trapped in someone else's elaborate web which lead to her death, so in her haunt she becomes twisted within the threads of her own vocal chords - as a reference to how she couldn't tell anyone what was wrong due to the despair disease. Her exceptional hearing helping her locate you, like a spider finds flies through the vibrations of the web. I was also inspired by the so-called suicide song, Gloomy Sunday, and getting such a song stuck in your head

Hiyoko "Never taunt someone with hurtful names" I wanted to make the rules more specific than just 'don't be a bully' so I used Hiyoko's vice of name calling as what makes her zone in on you; much how she picks apart insects when we first meet her. She's mistaken for a Zashiki-warashi, a harmless child spirit, a Japanese yokai in ode to her love of traditional Japanese culture. She's actually closer to a Usutsuki-warashi, a bad-omen, spirit of a child culled during famine when there wasn't enough food to go around - much like Hiyoko was culled to remove her as a witness.

Mikan "Never feign being sick" Mikan was partly based on Annabelle, the possessed Raggedy Anne doll, in how her innocent and clumsy nature belied the darkness beneath, but also how she was ultimately still just Junko's puppet on a string. Her only place of control is in the nurse's office where she can inflict her own feelings of helplessness onto her patients. (but there was also definite inspiration from the Silent Hill 2 Nurses, not just in the eerie way they move, but also how they are objectified, much like how Mikan is.)

Nekomaru "Never cheat in a sporting event" St. Elmo's Fire (witches fire not the movie) is an electrical phenom, an omen that precedes a lightning strike. Based on his appearance plus his transformation into the electrical Mechamaru, it also is reference to the electrical pulses that control the beating of the heart. Nekomaru essentially treating a bad-sportsman with the taste of a future where an infirmity forcibly retires them. Originally I had him drag them from underground to slow them to a crawl, but it seemed against Nekomaru's principles.

Gundham "Never harm an animal" Gundham would probably revel in the exaggeration of his myth; it's what he would do when he was alive. He's one of the more cryptid like, more of an animal than a person anymore, his transformation based on a Rat King. This phenomenon is where several rats get their tails tangled together with dirt creating a ring of trapped rats encircling their knotted tails in the centre. I originally thought to recreate it with hamsters, but given his beloved Devas survived him, I thought keeping it being rats was better.

Nagito "Never throw something useful away" Nagito is a difficult one since he would find no compunction continuing his test of hope vs despair, much as his role as servant in UDG. The Honest Axe parable has a woodsman drop his old axe into a lake, a river spirit offering him a gold and silver axe asking if those were the axe he dropped. If he refuses he is rewarded, but if he dishonestly accepts he his punished. If you accept Nagito's offer, you admit that you gave up on the item too soon, as a microcosm of giving up hope, you get a taste of his karmic luck as 'reward'. Nagito probably has a very good idea how to break their bonds as ghosts and allow them to pass on, but he won't give the ultimates the answer so easily.

Chiaki "Never delete someone’s saved game" Some of you were right on the money, Chiaki was based on Ben Drowned, I was originally going to draw her like the 'elegy of emptiness' link statue but it was so goofy, I went more classic .exe/doki doki style. Like many of the more positive characters, she's not really fit to be an evil spirit, and plus she was never actually a remnant of despair. The ominous foreboding feeling she gives you is a heightening of paranoia that would hopefully steer you away from contacting the other ghosts.

Junko Is the culmination of everything, the source of every rule. There's no despair after all if there's no one for her to torment, her vitriol enough to outlast her own death in canon by several games, she's dragged every victim into her purgatory. Like with the killing game, those she's trapped with her have the chance to 'beat her' but the game is rigged in her favour. She may be unable to manifest unless every rule is broken, but she's a master of manipulation. She's been the one to spread the rumours, so that people actively seek out to 'break' her rules, supernatural happenings being encouraging rather than deterring, making more people tempted to see for themselves. The ghosts were given just enough autonomy to believe they have agency, when they're trapped in Junko's loop.

If each ghost moved on, she'd have no one give her an endless stream of despair, no hauntings to spur on the thrill seekers/ghost chasers, no reason for all her rules to be actively broken by one person. She'd be slowly forgotten, slowly dissipate, and essentially disappear.

Originally I had Junko's haunting take place in the principle's office, She would call you over the tannoy, but I chose to make it more ambiguous. The idea was that, were she able to manifest, she was the only truly fatal haunting. Imagine the despair if they found a dead student in the principle's office.

I just wanted to thank everyone again, I had a lot of fun with this! It isn't a strict au, so if you wanted to play around with it, go ahead :) I hardly have a monopoly on ghost aus after all - there are loads of far better thought ones about, so if you liked this I'd recommend checking some out!

[piggyinthesea]

To All The Boys I’ve Hurt | 002

part two of this fic

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴀʀʟᴏs sᴀɪɴᴢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: “ᴡʜᴏ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪs ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ. ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴇʀ ɪs ɪʀʀᴇʟᴀᴠᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀs. ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛғᴜʟʟʏ, ᴍᴀᴛᴇ.”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k+

Finally, you replied, breaking the anticipation. Swiftly, he reciprocated, and our text chat turned into an extended conversation. Every day leading up to the Japan Grand Prix felt like a chapter in a thrilling saga. Meanwhile, your cousin covertly envied you in the background. On race day, your cousin was buzzing with excitement, and you was just happy to spend the day with her. The irony of wearing Red Bull gear in the Ferrari Paddock wasn’t something that worried you. In a white shirt with a bright-red bow in your hair, you unintentionally created a fashion paradox, blending in to the fans of Ferrari.

“I’m going to get stares from Ferrari fans. Who cares, though? Still repping Red Bull,” your cousin declared, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Amidst your confusion, she groaned, “Dude, pulling Formula One guys without knowing the first thing about Formula One? Carlos is Ferrari’s second driver. Remember the picture I showed you yesterday?”

“Oh! That picture. Damn. I thought he was a mechanic or something. So, that’s why you were worried about them finding out about each other.” The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, revealing a mosaic of logos on his shirt that should’ve been a dead giveaway. Maybe you weren’t the sharpest tool, but you sure dazzled.

She laughs at your cluelessness. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Let me just text Carl- Carlos, I mean.” You swore that was unintentional.

Carlos

heyy!! good luck today :)

thanks, you ;). hopefully I can see you after the race. i miss you already.

Carlos’s stomach did a delightful somersault as he smiled at your text. With his phone locked away, he transformed into his racing alter ego. He lifted his shirt, the marks from your recent escapade played peek-a-boo, hinting at the nocturnal secrets you shared.

Charles entered, strolling into the locker room with a teasing whistle. “Someone had a fun night!” Charles whistles as he dominants his space. Carlos’s skin flushes, he shamelessly smiles and looks away. It had been a while since the two of you slept together, but because the marks you left on him were dark and large, it took a while for them to fade. It had only been about a week, but the marks were still visible. Just slightly faded. Carlos blushed, skillfully deflecting the banter. With his back turned, Charles couldn’t help but notice the cryptic scratches on Carlos’s neck – an inadvertent trail of evidence.

“Cállate.” Carlos playfully deflects the subject. With Carlos’s back facing Charles, Charles begins to overly examine the familiar scratches by his neck.

Charles squints, his stomach nearly dropping at the sight. They looked too familiar.

“Fuck, Charles. Oh god.” Those scratches painted a vivid picture, and Charles unwittingly stumbled upon a clandestine affair.

Face buried in the crook of your neck, Carlos whispered, “I will forever love you, ma belle.” A whispered promise that added a thrilling layer to your entanglement.

You pull his face and lock eyes with him, “You shouldn’t, my love.”

Charles grapples with a sense of betrayal, but deep down, he understands he shouldn’t. Rationalizing that there’s no conceivable way Carlos could have known about his history with her, he questions whether Carlos would have pursued a romantic connection if he had known. The uncertainty lingers – would Carlos have slept with her if he was aware of their shared past? The internal conflict churns within Charles as he navigates the intricate web of emotions.

Carlos turns around, fully dressed, and catches the peculiar expression on Charles’s face. “What?” he inquires lightly, prompting Charles to articulate the unspoken tension hanging between them.

Charles remains silent, contemplating his words. Finally, he breaks the silence, asking, “If I tell you, will you care enough about our friendship to stop?” The gravity of his question hangs in the air, a plea for understanding and preservation of their bond.

Carlos’s stomach takes a sudden plunge as he discerns that Charles is aware of the truth. Despite this, he maintains his composure, standing firm. “What are you talking about?” Carlos asks, a mix of reluctance and fear evident in his voice. He initiated the question, yet a part of him dreads the revelation, afraid of what it might entail for their relationship.

“Devil-spawn girl, you met her. Right? Look, man, stop while you can. I’m not just speaking from jealousy; I’m speaking to you as a friend. She’s not good for you,” Charles adds, a tinge of envy coloring his cautionary words. The undertone of jealousy reveals the emotional struggle within Charles, accentuating the complexity of their friendship in the face of intertwined romantic entanglements.

“Who I have relations with is none of your concern. Whether or not you know her is irrelevant because she’s not yours. Respectfully, mate,” Carlos retorts, the tension in his voice echoing the strain on their friendship. His words hang heavily in the air, emphasizing the palpable rift that has formed between them due to the complexities of their intertwined relationships.

Charles stands frozen, his emotions a volatile mix of pity, envy, and bitterness towards his friend. The air thickens with tension as Charles grapples with the stark contrast between his evening plans and Carlos’s company with you. Unbeknownst of the unconscious glares he shoots at Carlos, the unspoken tension heightens, setting the stage for a complex unraveling of their intertwined relationships.

The prevailing tension hangs like a heavy cloud, noticeable to all, and the fleeting glimpses caught by a select few cameras reveal the glares Charles casts towards Carlos, laden with an unmistakable sorrow. The mere mention of you induces a poignant melancholy in Charles, inviting him to delve into the depths of retrospection. As he ruminates on the past, a profound sadness settles in his eyes. Charles, once confident in his efforts, now carries the weight of unfulfilled expectations and the somber realization that, despite his attentive listening and genuine regard, something essential slipped away. The undertones of sadness paint a poignant portrait of Charles wrestling with the echoes of a relationship that eluded his grasp.

Seated in the Ferrari paddock, you and your cousin become aware of the conspicuous glances from Ferrari fans due to her Red Bull attire. Undeterred, she dismisses the judgmental looks and immerses herself in the exclusive privileges offered within the paddock during the races, reveling in the unique experience despite the disapproving gazes.

Immersed in the race, you find joy in the shared experience with your cousin. Her occasional muttering of random facts about specific teams and cars adds an endearing layer to the moment, and you can’t help but appreciate her cute enthusiasm for the intricacies of the Formula One world. The blend of excitement and shared knowledge enhances the overall enjoyment of the race day.

The proximity to the racing cars unveils a revelation – the sheer speed is beyond comprehension until you witness it up close. They fly by in a blur, leaving an ephemeral imprint. The experience is awe-inspiring, highlighting the marvels achievable through engineering and mechanics. As two red cars streak by in rapid succession, the spectacle becomes a testament to the thrilling capabilities of modern racing technology.

“You fucked one of those drivers and are about to fuck the other, you know?” Your cousin delivers the statement with unabashed candor, injecting a provocative and cheeky vibe into the conversation. The bold remark intensifies the atmosphere, creating a moment of shared amusement amidst the high-speed drama of the racing event.

A sharp nudge to her waist accompanies your response, “You’re annoying, you know.” The physical gesture punctuates your playful reproach, capturing the mix of irritation and camaraderie that defines your dynamic with your cousin during this candid exchange.

The mischievous thought crosses your mind: “Should I blow her mind?” You contemplate, “I hooked up with Carlos. Yesterday. While you were away…” The revelation hangs in the air, adding an unexpected twist to the conversation and leaving room for your cousin’s stunned reaction.

Her wide-eyed stare lingers for a moment before she exclaims, "You can't keep getting away with this! You can't keep getting away with this. You have to share your Formula One connections with me, get me a date with Max Verstappen, please!" The volume of her voice fluctuates, creating a crescendo of excitement that culminates in a more subdued plea for a connection with the renowned driver. The mix of astonishment and her final, almost whispered, request adds a layer of humor to the exchange.

Amused by her request, you laugh and respond, “I don’t know who that is. I’m assuming a race car driver. How would I even bring that up with Carlos?” Your lighthearted tone underscores the irony of the situation, emphasizing your lack of familiarity with the Formula One world despite the amusing connection you’ve formed.

Her plea tugs at your empathy as she begs, “Please. I really admire him. At least try, for me?” The earnestness in her request adds a touch of sincerity, prompting you to consider fulfilling her wish despite your limited knowledge of the racing world.

Charmed by her puppy-dog eyes, you find yourself relenting, and with a smile, you say, "OK." The exchange captures a moment of playful acquiescence, highlighting the good-natured rapport between you and your cousin in the midst of the Formula One excitement.

As the race concludes, Max Verstappen secures pole position, triggering an exuberant outburst from your cousin that resonates across the paddock, much to the dismay of nearby Ferrari drivers. Charles Leclerc claims second place, and you stand in awkward silence. However, when Carlos Sainz secures third place, your natural inclination takes over, and you can’t help but cheer for him, adding a touch of personal investment to the racing outcome.

A sudden realization strikes you – back when you first met Carlos, you mentioned having a connection with "one" of the Ferrari drivers. It becomes evident that Carlos understood it was Charles. This revelation carries a subtle sense of a lie, as the shared history between you and Charles unveils itself, introducing a nuanced layer to your interactions.

Carlos was aware all along. Initially uncertain if you knew he was the other Ferrari driver, he strategically used this ambiguity to his advantage. Concealing this knowledge, he anticipated the moment you would eventually find out, a revelation he calculated to unfold today. The intricate dance of secrets and revelations adds a complex dimension to the dynamics between you and Carlos.

Contemplating the situation, you question whether you should be mad. Despite realizing Carlos wasn’t overtly hiding anything, you find yourself not feeling angry. It’s clear that he’s aware you know, and you decide it’s better to take the initiative and text first, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between you two. The choice reflects a measured and composed approach to the unfolding revelation.

Carlos

hey, great race. we need to talk.

sent 5:44

In the wake of your text, Carlos doesn’t respond immediately. However, considering the circumstances, it wouldn’t be unusual, given that you witnessed him getting interviewed right after stepping off the platform. The anticipation builds as you await his response amidst the post-race interview.

As Carlos grappled with nerves, he remained oblivious to the fact that you had texted him, plunging further into the depths of overthinking and the looming uncertainty. The weight of nervousness settled on Carlos as he pondered: Were you contemplating ending things with him? Would this mark the conclusive end of what you both shared?

Carlos’s worries were momentarily eclipsed by the barrage of questions from reporters. As they interviewed the top three drivers, Carlos paid little attention, offering pre-scripted responses to the usual inquiries about the race. The mundane discussions about cars after a race failed to captivate him. All he craved was rest. Despite his job involving a significant amount of sitting, the act of driving, fueled by a constant surge of adrenaline, drained most of his energy.

The seemingly endless interview finally concluded, and Carlos, yearning for relief, made his way back to the locker room. Once there, the first order of business was checking his phone. The anticipation lingered as he sought a moment of reprieve from the relentless scrutiny of post-race interviews.

her

hey, great race. we need to talk.

I’m sorry. Does this change anything?

sent 6:04

A surge of anxiety fills Carlos’s stomach as he gazes at his phone, the weight of your response pressing down on him.

Charles, breaking the post-race silence, and speculates, “She knows, doesn’t she? I remember she wasn’t much of a Formula One fan – if it wasn’t for her cousin, she probably wouldn’t know about it at all.” As he speaks, he nonchalantly unzips his suit and steps out, introducing an air of uncertainty into the atmosphere.

Carlos bristled with heat at Charles's mention of you, irritated by the presumptuous familiarity. The unfolding drama in the room intensified as Charles spoke, assuming a connection that didn't truly exist. The clash between perception and reality heightened the tension, setting the stage for an unspoken confrontation. Despite the escalating drama, Carlos chose to maintain civility, concealing the internal turmoil beneath the surface.

“I guess. Mate, can I just please ask you to be happy for me, though?” Carlos’s voice carried a vulnerability, adding a poignant layer to the conversation. The plea for understanding and support injected a subtle emotional complexity into their interaction.

“I don’t know if I pity or envy you, Carlos. I respect you enough to let you make your own decisions, just don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.” Charles’s words, tinged with a mix of conflicting emotions, reflect the intricate dynamics of their relationship. The subtle blend of pity, envy, and respect adds a layer of complexity, emphasizing the challenge Carlos faces in navigating his personal life within the scrutiny of their shared world.

The remainder of the time in the locker room unfolded in silence. Carlos pondered Charles’s words, dissecting them for any hidden meanings. Before he knew it, solitude enveloped him, leaving him alone with his thoughts as Charles had long departed. The hushed aftermath resonated with the weight of unspoken tensions and internal reflections.

her

I like you Carlos. But, if you knew this entire time I had an old fling with Charles, why’d you continue talking to me?

I like you. A lot. That’s why I didn’t stop. I know it was selfish. I’m sorry.

It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize, not to me at least. This won’t change anything between us <3.

🩷🩷

Carlos swiftly transitions from his racing attire to regular clothes, and with a lingering tension in the air, he texts his sister, seeking a favor. Her inevitable questions follow, but Carlos remains tight-lipped, adding an air of mystery to the unfolding narrative. The unspoken urgency and secrecy intensify the atmosphere surrounding Carlos’s actions.

Shortly after the race concluded, you made a quick exit. Your cousin, eager for a Starbucks fix, pleaded for a post-race treat, and you gladly accepted. Amidst sips of your usual refresher and bites of a croissant, family topics took center stage. Engaged in a light-hearted banter, you and your cousin delved into gossip about each other’s aunts, playfully arguing over whose aunt held the title of the worst. It was evident that your mom, despite her protective nature, wasn’t the contender for the unfavorable title. Laughter filled the air as you shared embarrassing memories, creating a moment of connection and amusement in the aftermath of the race.

An hour post-race, you and your cousin returned to the hotel after the Starbucks run. Walking side by side through the hotel corridors, you reached your door and were greeted by an elegant black circular box. A shared look of confusion passed between you and your cousin as you brought the mysterious box inside and closed the door. In a moment of playful speculation, you humorously considered the potential plot twist of a Russian spy story, teasing the idea of the box possibly ending in an explosive surprise.

Relief washed over you as the box revealed its true nature – not a secret bomb, but a thoughtful gift. Opening it, you were greeted by the sight of delicate light pink roses gracefully arranged within, accompanied by a simple white note. The contrast between the initial intrigue and the subsequent tender gesture added a touch of sweetness to the unfolding narrative.

“Huh? Roses… poor guy couldn’t do better,” your cousin muttered, eyeing the box with a hint of playful teasing. Her comment added a lighthearted touch, injecting humor into the moment as you both assessed the unexpected floral gift.

You read the note out loud, “For my Devil-Spawn girl. -C.S.” The term “Devil-Spawn girl” echoed in the room, leaving a hint of uncertainty and perhaps an unappreciated tone in the air. The unexpected endearment carried an unconventional touch that stirred a mix of emotions.

“How cute. Carlos sent this. Why’d he call you devil-spawn girl? Is there some sort of secret meaning between the two of you?” Your cousin inquired, her gaze fixed on the brand as she meticulously counted each individual rose. Immersed in her curiosity, she simultaneously typed into her phone, adding a layer of intrigue to the unfolding mystery.

“Huh… not that I know of.” Your curiosity piqued, you leaned in, dipping your nose into the box. The lovingly strong scent of fresh roses enveloped you, carrying with it a unique aroma akin to rainwater – something that might not conventionally be considered pleasant but held a distinct charm that you vouched for. The sensory experience added an intimate and personal touch to the unfolding scene.

Your cousin, visibly astonished and perhaps a tad envious, expressed her disbelief as she learned about the actual price, which hovered around fifteen hundred dollars. “Woah! The price for these flowers. I completely retract my statement from before; this guy definitely went all out.” Her mix of emotions added a dynamic layer to the unfolding narrative, blending surprise, envy, and a revised perspective on Carlos’s gesture.

You scoot over to her, curiosity getting the better of you, and peer at her phone, eager to catch a glimpse of what she’s discovering or typing.

The Million Roses. 

The brand on the box matched what appeared on her phone, and the resemblance was strikingly identical. While acknowledging the undeniable beauty of the roses, you couldn't help but find them excessively expensive. A tinge of practicality crept in, contemplating that regular flowers from a vendor would have sufficed just as nicely. Carlos, however, chose the most extravagant bouquet. The realization sparked a mix of admiration and practical consideration – the amount spent on these roses could have bought him double the flowers at a street vendor, simultaneously making a positive impact on their lives.

You sent Carlos a quick thank-you text, and after a brief delay, he responded, apologizing for the wait. The conversation shifted as he inquired about your day. While you shared that it was good for the most part, you couldn’t help but admit that by the end of the day, your social battery had completely drained from being around so many people.

+1 838-738-7272

Hi.

The anonymous message perked your curiosity and though the alarms in your head rang stranger danger, you couldn’t help but reply.

who’s this?

Sorry, I was unaware you had deleted my number, I guess it’s been a while. It’s Charles.

[inkedreverie]

𝑨𝑳𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫

warnings: 18+ content. minors dni! p in v sex, angst, slight knife kink if you squint, soft!dark! lloyd, non-con that slowly turns into dub-con, kidnapping, slight dacryphilia.

pairing: soft!dark! lloyd hansen x ex-girlfriend!reader

summary: After a painful breakup, Lloyd Hansen kidnaps his ex-girlfriend, seeking both her affection and the satisfaction of getting even for her betrayal. Will she be able to escape his clutches, or will Lloyd get the last laugh?

prompt: 16: in a private jet,  on the way to a business trip. 

author’s note: anon, I hope you enjoy this! I loved writing this and kind of got carried away with the word count! Also I tried my best to make this soft!dark.

listen to the playlist | library | read on ao3

Lloyd Hansen is whipped. It’s not something he’s willing to admit. And he’s not going to. At least, not yet. He had been with a lot of women throughout the years but none of them left a mark the way she did. It’s been about a month since the two of them broke up. And he still can’t get her out of his head. It’s infuriating! She’s all he can think or dream about. She’s becoming a nuisance. He can barely focus on his current mission. And to him, it’s all her fault.

He drops everything mid way through his flight. He demands the pilots alter the course to pick her up. There’s no way he’s going to be able to finish this mission without Y/N. And he’s positive once he has her, everything will be fine. He’s smiling, just thinking of all the sick things he has planned for her. He wants her to pay. Sure, maybe he would think differently if it had been his idea to break up but no, it had been hers.

When they land the plane at the local airport, Lloyd recognizes the town as if he were born and raised there. He has been obsessed with Y/N ever since she ended their relationship. At first, he struggled to cope, pushing her out of his mind and trying to move on, but Y/N was ever-present, like an unlucky penny. He tried everything to get over her but she kept coming back to haunt him, leaving him with an unquenchable thirst for her.

By the time he reached her house, the sun had set and everything was going according to plan. A couple of his men suggested that they would handle the situation but Lloyd insisted - he wanted to be the one to capture and abduct Y/N. It was only fair, after the months of pain and suffering she had caused him. He was determined to make her pay.

As he crept into her tiny home, avoiding the creaky floorboards, he felt anxiety wash over him. But then Y/N's scent hit him like a wave - a mix of vanilla and lavender that left him aching for more. He was careful and precise, his movements graceful and silent, like a hunter stalking his prey. He wanted her, and he was going to get her, no matter what. The thought of her in his power made him grin, a sick, twisted smirk that didn't leave his face. He was finally going to make her pay for breaking his heart.

Lloyd remembers the last time they spoke like it was yesterday. It had replayed in his mind like a broken record, forever on loop and torturing his soul.

Y/N stormed into her house, Lloyd hot on her heels. He slammed the door behind them, "What the hell were you doing with him?!" He seethed. His hands were clenched into fists, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at her.

She whirled to face him, and her anger boiled up inside. "For the last time, we were just talking!" She slammed her purse on the couch. "Oh my god!" Her voice rose to a yell, "I can't do this! You're jealous all the fucking time, and I can't do this anymore!"

His jaw clenched, and his hands rested on his hips. "So just like that? You can't just walk out of my life like this!" The anger dripping from his words was palpable.

"You think I want this?" Y/N shouted back. "I don't! But it's gotten to a point where I can't breathe! You're suffocating me!" She felt her heart breaking, but knew she had to stand up for herself. "Please, just leave Lloyd."

Her words seemed to cut him deep, and he looked hurt. Something in Y/N's stomach twisted, and she knew that this was the end. They couldn't keep going on like this.

Her last words echoed in the space between them, and Y/N knew that she had made the right decision. Their relationship had been unhealthy, and it was time for both of them to move on. She watched as Lloyd left her house, and a small sense of peace washed over her. It would be hard, but she knew she would be okay. She was strong, and she was ready to face whatever came next.

He’s pulled from his thoughts the moment he sees her as he enters the bedroom, moving close to the walls to remain hidden in the shadows. His lips curl into a sly smile as he takes in the sight of Y/N swaying in the bathroom, still in her pajamas, humming to herself and finishing her skin routine at the mirror. Y/N’s breath catches in her chest at the sight of him in her reflection, her heart pounding, frozen in place.

He takes a step closer, the cold steel of the knife pressed against her neck, his free hand wrapped around her waist. With a wicked grin stretching across his features, he takes a deep breath, his nose trailing down her throat, eliciting a shudder down her spine. Her mind races, searching for a way out of this, but she can’t move, can’t think. She’s trapped, and they both know it. “Did you miss me, Princess?” he whispers in her ear. 

The moment feels like it stretches on endlessly, each beat of her heart pounding in her chest as he holds her in his grip. She can hear his hot breath on her neck, and feels a sense of dread wash over her as he speaks in a voice dripping with malice. "You're coming with me," he says in an unforgiving tone. She knows she has no choice but to be at his mercy, trapped in his grasp with no way to escape.

Lloyd can hear her heavy breaths and feels the sweat dripping down her neck. He can see the slight tremble in her body as her back presses against his firm chest, and it only adds to his sick delight, knowing that she's already fearful of him. When she doesn't speak, he follows up his earlier threat by trailing the flat part of his knife against her chest, adding to the terror that now courses through her veins.

 The cool touch of the blade against her skin sent chills up her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and goosebumps cover her arms. "Now," Lloyd breathed out, stopping the knife just above the neckline of her top and between the valley of her breasts.

 "Are you going to be a good girl, or are we going to do this my way?" His voice carried a sinister edge that was impossible to ignore. It was as if he was daring her to do the wrong thing, to give him a reason to hurt her.

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling a sense of fear grip her heart. She knew this situation was delicate and that Lloyd was unstable. She could feel his anger radiating off of him, and hear it in the bitterness of his voice. "Lloyd, you don't have to do this," she whispered, fighting hard to keep her voice steady. 

She felt a sense of panic rise within her as Lloyd's hand gripped her jaw. She knew that she had to stay calm and try to talk him down, but the fear was overwhelming, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to take slow, deep breaths to steady herself, but it was difficult with Lloyd's hot breath on her face. She hoped that somehow she could diffuse the situation before it escalated further.

But she knew the stakes were high, that this was a dangerous game she was playing, and one wrong word might set him off. She had to try to diffuse the tension, to find a way out of this mess before it was too late.

Lloyd's knife clicked and retracted into his pocket without another word. He chuckled darkly and pushed her against the wall of the bathroom, causing her to choke out a gasp. Grabbing her hips, he turned her to face him. His gloved hand gripped her jaw, squeezing it with a firm grasp but not enough to leave a bruise.

"I do, sweetheart," Lloyd seethed, his voice laced with venom and anger. "You've made my life a living hell, and you're going to pay for it," he continued, his dark eyes boring into her own, daring her to defy him. His breath was hot against her face, and she could feel his rage emanating from him in waves.

Y/N winced under his harsh grasp, feeling the rough texture of his glove against her skin, evoking a small whimper from her lips. Her heart raced as he started to reach into his pocket, her eyes darted from his heated gaze to his hand that was now reaching into his back pocket. “C-can’t we just talk about this?” She stuttered out, her lip now trembling.

He let out a dark, sadistic chuckle, enjoying how her fear made him more determined and hungry for her. “Oh, sunshine, the time for talking is way past due,” he said with a twist of his lips, his hand slipping down to her throat and causing her to gasp. She instinctively struggled against his hold, fear flooding her heart before he pulled out a cloth and covered her mouth, her vision blurring as she slipped into unconsciousness.

–

Y/N awoke to a slight chill in the air, feeling the soft texture of the luxurious bed against her bare arms. She licked her dry lips as she strained her wrists in her bonds, feeling the slight burn from the friction. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to her new surroundings; the small circular window showcasing a nighttime sky filled with stars, and the steady hum of the plane's engines.

But what caught her eye were the sleek, dark gray walls, contrasting sharply against the marble floor and the narrow and sleek design of the plane. A modern style fit for a king, yet Y/N felt a slight familiarity to it, as if she had been here before. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and her heart threatened to stop. She was on Lloyd's private jet.

Her heart pounds against her ribcage as she hears loud footsteps coming down the narrow hallway. Lloyd enters the room and stands in front of her, his figure towering over her. The tense silence between them is thick with fear, and Y/N's body trembles in anticipation of what was to come. She had no idea how she ended up here, or what Lloyd's intentions were, but she knew one thing for sure: she had to find a way off this plane.

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally awake,” Lloyd said with a twisted smile, his eyes watching her carefully, a hint of mockery in his tone.

"Is this some kind of sick joke? I'm not amused," Y/N says, her voice filled with frustration and irritation as she meets Lloyd's eyes with a piercing stare, the words coming out in a challenging tone.

"Oh, sweetheart. This isn't a joke at all. I'm quite serious." A mischievous grin played on his lips as he took a step closer, his calloused fingers roughly gripping her chin. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin. She felt like her heart was racing at his closeness.

"You've been quite the distraction," he admitted, his voice low and seductive. She could feel his body heat radiating against hers as he spoke, his breath fanning her ear. It sent shivers down her scalp and raised the hairs on her neck. His thumb traces the outline of her jaw before he touches her bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “So, you see, there’s only one thing left to do.” He adds, his voice low and husky as his blue eyes locked with hers, laced with a familiar desire and hungriness that she’s seen before.

She swallows hard, a determined look on her face despite the warm sensation building in her lower stomach. She's determined to stand up for herself, even if all she can do is yell. "Don't touch me!", she spits out, straining against her restraints once more.

Lloyd snickers, grabbing her by the throat and digging his fingers in. "Oh, Y/N," he purrs, letting go of her neck before turning her and shoving her down onto the plush mattress. She hits the bed with a thud, her cheeks pressed against the soft covers as the air escapes her lungs. Lloyd steps back, his fingers still curled into a fist as he looks down at her.

The silence between them is thick with tension, the only sounds coming from her breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets. He leans forward again, hovering his face inches from hers. She can feel his body heat against her, and the warmth radiating off his skin is palpable. His breath is hot and stale in her face, and she can see his pupils dilating in the low light.

"So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" he hisses, his words barely loud enough to be heard.

She's too afraid to move, frozen in place by the threat in his voice. She knows that one wrong word, one false move, could escalate the situation into something beyond her control. The fear is written all over her face, and she strains even harder against her restraints, trying to break free. The rope stings as it digs and rubs against her skin. But it's no use - Lloyd has complete control of the situation.

Lloyd lets out a sharp laugh, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of amusement and cruelty. As she struggles against him, her attempts to break free seem only to egg him on. He grabs hold of her pants, grinning widely as he pulls them down.

Her eyes widen in shock, and she tries to scoot away, still trying to get her bearings. Her heart thuds in her chest as the sound of a zipper being lowered reaches her ears. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes as the reality of what’s  happening sets in. She doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to think that Lloyd could be capable of such a thing.

Her voice becomes a choked whisper, and she shakily tries to  reason with him, “L-lloyd, please… don’t do this!”

He only laughs again, his grin growing wider as he leans down once again, his lips against the shell of her ear. The smell of his breath is hot and thick on her cheek, making her stomach churn. She continues to squirm, desperate to get away, her body tensed and her breath coming short gasps. She’s never felt so vulnerable and scared in her entire life, and she can’t believe that she’s in this situation with a man she used to trust.

Her heart aches, and tears continue to stream down her face as she comes to a terrifying realization… that she’s at the mercy of a man who has no mercy. 

“Lloyd, don’t…” Y/N sobs as she feels him grab her hips again, forcing her to bend her knees. “Oh, sweetheart ,” he purrs at the sight of her bare cunt. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He grips the shaft of his cock, pressing the wet tip against her slick folds. He looks down at her with a self satisfied grin before shoving himself in one swift motion. He doesn’t care to let her walls stretch around him. The burning sensation mixes with a sensation of pleasure  as she chokes out a gasp. 

More tears stream down her cheeks as her body betrays her, slick drips down her thighs. She doesn’t want to feel this way but she can’t deny how good this feels as he pounds into her, his cock so deep she can feel every inch of him. He’s not soft or gentle. Lloyd grunts, his fingertips digging into skin of her hips. She's sure he’s gonna leave a mark. “What’s wrong, pumpkin? Can’t take it?” He mocks with a rough thrust into her that sends her gasping, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Y/N clenches her hands into fists, wishing she could hold onto something–anything. But all she can do is lay there and take it. Her cheek still pressed against the sheets, ass up in the air as she feels his hips snapping  against her ass. “H-hate you. S-so much!” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as her cunt clenches around him. 

“No. You hate that you like it.” He retorts, a smirk on his lips. When he bends down to untie the rope  binding her wrists, a wave of relief washes over her. The pressure on her skin eases, and she can move her hands for the first time in hours. But even with her wrists free, the intensity of Lloyd’s touch remains intense. She grips the sheets tightly, holding back a soft moan as he continues at a brutal pace. Despite her efforts to muffle it, she knows he hears her, and there’s a hint of amusement in his expression.

“That’s it, baby. Give in. Y/N. You’ve been craving this, haven’t you? Missed my cock filling you up?” When she doesn’t answer, he growls, leaning forward and pulling her back with his fist in her hair. Her back comes in contact with his chest, his hand slipping from her hair and wrapping tightly around her waist. The next thing she felt was his lips trailing over her shoulder, his thrusts never relenting.  

His mouth trails sloppy kisses up her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin as his hands trail over the thin fabric of her tank before he pulls it down, revealing her bare breasts to the cool air of the plane. A low groan slips past his lips as her tits bounce as he speeds up. “You’re mine, you hear me?” He grumbles into her ear. “Mine. Never gonna let you go.” Without another word, Lloyd begins kneading her breasts, making her gasp. “You like that, don’t you? C’mon, sweetheart. I wanna hear you say it.”

He craved her; that was a fact. It didn’t matter what she thought about him, how much she despised him, or how desperately she tried to ignore the desire that burned within her. He had a hold on her, and he knew it. “I’m yours.” Y/N breathed out before closing her eyes as she felt her walls clench around him. That was enough for Lloyd. He’d been trying his best to stay in control this whole time but he couldn’t wait any longer. With his right hand, he gripped her chin, pressing his lips against hers fervently. 

There was nothing sweet or short about the kiss, his hips grinding deep into her cunt, making her moan against his mouth. “That’s right. You’re mine, sweetheart. Forever.” His hand fists her hair once more, pulling her against his chest tighter and kissing her neck. His balls throbbing every time he felt her clench around him. Lloyd groaned as he felt his body tense before his cum spilled out of her.

He gently laid her back down on the bed, leaning down to give her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, pumpkin. I’ll be back shortly.” He whispered, pulling up his pants and shoving himself back in his slacks. He grabbed a blanket, watching as her breathing slowed down and her eyes fluttered shut. Lloyd gave her one last look before he strided down the hallway, preparing to land and take out his next target.

banners credit: @.saradika & @.fic-dumpster

[winniethewife]

Blood and Sand (Khonshu x F!Reader)

Prompt: Sand

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT  self-harm mentioned, Khonshu being a fucking creepy ass bird man, Blood, voices in your head, bad mental health, hallucinating, Character death, Making up shit for fun,

Words:577

But you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand

And I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand

Don’t think too hard. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. It’s all in your head. Mind over matter. She’d heard it all before. What good is a mind that hardly works? What good is a mind that wants to self-destruct? Out here in the desert does any of it matter? She could sense him watching her. Khonshu. It’s his fault this happened. The voices in her head. They keep screaming. She kneels on the hot sand, panting.  Marc, Jake, Steven, they were gone. Fucking gone. She couldn’t stop it from happening. She couldn’t save them this time. What was the point? What was the point in continuing if the only ones that ever mattered were dead and gone?

“Accept my offer, Become My Moon Knight, take on the mantle. Avenge them!” Khonshu’s voice echoed as he repeated the same thing he’d been repeating since the moment He had noticed the passing of the system that had held the position for several years.

“Would you just fuck off? Do you seriously think after seeing how you treated them I’d want any part of this?” She finally turns on him and yells, tears streaking down her face as she glares at the god in front of her. For once the voices are quiet. Khonshu however, begins to seethe. His presence starts to encroach on her mind, his already established connection to her via Marc and the others is still open enough to bother her like this, just enough to make her feel him, enough to influence her mind. She blinks and suddenly the sand turns red in her vision, as red as when the blood of their body bled into the sand before, as red as the blood that left the slits on her wrists every night since.

“Foolish child. You think I don’t have any control here? Do you not know my power?” He laughs lowly as he tightens his fists. She falls to her knees as her vision swims in images of Marc, Steven, and Jake in horrible situations, every time they were hurt on the job, every time felt pain, all at once in her head as she heard their screams. She clutches her head in agony as she rocks back and forth. She looks up and in Khonshu’s place stands the three alters.

“Why didn’t you save us?” Marc, his voice dark, cold, and accusatory.

“Didn’t you care about us?” Steven, his voice sad, confused, filled with betrayal.

“¿Hicimos algo mal?” Jake, his voice low, angry and growling.

“Please... I tried, I cared, you never did anything wrong, never. Please…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please…forgive me. Forgive me. Please.” She begged as she looked at them, her heart filled with hurt and guilt. Watching their faces as she begs them.

Marc, Brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a line, his eyes stone cold.

Steven, forehead crinkled in worry, a pout on his lips, his eyes leaking tears.

Jake, dangerously calm, his upper lip twitching in a snarl, his eyes dark and focused.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” She closes her eyes, clenching her fists, digging her nails into her palms.

“Not sorry enough to avenge us.” Marc accuses

“Sorry isn’t good enough for this is it?” Steven sounds angry.

“eso no será suficiente.” Jake 's growl in her ear.  

She takes the sand in her hand and lets it run through her fingers, watching as the red sand flows through her fingers, watching as it turns to blood in her hands and drips down her arms and onto the ground. She can feel their eyes on her, the voices in her head start chanting again. You failed, you couldn’t save them, they blame you, they blame you, it’s all your fault. Look at you, so weak, so pitiful, so incapable, you couldn’t save them, how will you save yourself? She looks back up to see them gone and Khonshu in their place.

“So, what will you do?”

“Fine. You win.”

Translations:

¿Hicimos algo mal?: Did we do something wrong?

eso no será suficiente.: that's not going to be enough.

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch

[hepbaestus]

✨My fics - a masterlist✨

Here's where all my fics go in order of publishing with a little detail about each fic, the blurb and accompanying credited fanart.

Hep's Hideduo Stardew Valley AU Masterlist

Hideduo Kiss Week Event Masterlist

don't just count your years make them count (nenê feliz aniversário!!!) - 09/03/23

4.5k words|family fluff|no TW's apply|tumblr link|

A parent struggling to find a gift for his son, only to be saved by his son's chosen sister. The eldest children's birthday party happens and Pac didn't think that Ramón could get any cuter. How wrong he was. A story of how family helps one another and can look like something that you never thought you could have.

Accompanying fan art by Shen ❤️

What a Monster he'd become - 12/03/24

1.1k words|angst with a hopeful ending|TW's do apply|tumblr link|

TW: cannibalism

Vacuus Island, an abandoned Federation Island. Fit's left in the ravine by Madagio with the rotting corpses of the workers that had worked here previously. Fit doesn't have a fun time down there, resorting to things that he hoped Pac wouldn't hold against him when. If he returned.

to be loved is to be changed - 25/03/24

2.1k words|family fluff|no TW's apply|tumblr link|

Based off a prompt by Pen

As you love, you change too. Ramón goes through that process of changing because of the love he's received since Pac became his Pai, so much so that his physical appearance is altered by it. This is Fit and Pac's reactions to that.

Accompanying fan art by Mooney 🩶 and mini-comic by Shen ❤️

love is the longing for the half of ourselves that we have lost - 30/03/24

2.6k words|angst with a happy ending|TW's apply|tumblr link|

TW: mild blood

Fit goes missing after having completed Madagio's mission, and with the children all put into a medicated sleep, Pac has no one. It isn't until he realises that Fit's been gone for too long that he begins to truly panic and sets out on a search for the Dread Bow. On the search for the underground cabins, he sees a burst of light and thinks it's Fit. It isn't him. It would never be Fit. Until it is.

count your age by friends, not years. count your life by smiles, not tears - 03/04/24

2.4k words|sad with happy ending|TW's apply|tumblr link|

TW: Blood and injury

It's Ramón's first birthday and his dad isn't there but Pac is.

You can't recover memories of a missing event - 21/04/24

0.4k words|hurt/no comfort|no TW's apply|tumblr link|

Based off this series of posts

Without realising, Pac's missed a lot of events in his boyfriend and kid's lives. Their first birthdays, his second date with Fit, seeing Fit's face as he realises that Richarlyson called him dad. This is him having that realisation.

I was performing my ritual of sipping tea, shooting flirtatious glances and planning murder - 21/05/24

2.3k words|purgatory angst with sad ending|TW's apply|tumblr link|

TW: Blood and Violence,Body Horror,Character Death

Fit had not been able to think of anything else other than Pac's betrayal two days prior. This is his revenge. Exactly what he thinks Pac deserves.

Waking Up - 25/05/24

0.9k words|it was all a dream au|TW's apply|tumblr link|

TW: Mentioned character death, off-hand mention of starvation

It was a normal day on the island, Fit was with his family.

Until he wasn't. Until it wasn't.

[drakiandh]

Shifting Jewels, Chapter 4 - A Promise

Hi Hi wassup. @cosmicrain-draws @otherxagnela, I finally got to the good part, so this'll be my last tag of you guys. Hope you enjoy! Oh! Also, bonus art of what I imagine Star to look like at the bottom!

Words - 4,827

The surroundings around them gradually brightened as they reluctantly opened their eyes. A hiss escaped them as the initial sting subsided, and they blinked until the sunlight revealed the forest around them. They slowly sat up, finding themselves adored with a surprising second pair of arms when their lower hands dug into the soft earth. Cross-legged, they raised all four hands, examining them in fascination. The top pair boasted sharp claws and armor-like plating on their arms, contrasting with the unadorned lower set, leaving them perplexed. Dismissing the thought for the moment, they shifted their attention to the world.

Four eyes allowed them to perceive the environment with a unique perspective. First, they took in the burnt-out remnants of a campfire, the wisps of smoke dissipating into the air. Then, their gaze wandered through the trees, appreciating the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. A low hum emanated from their chest as they absorbed the details of their surroundings, and finally, they directed their focus inward, contemplating their newfound form.

A lingering thought prodded at their consciousness, a subtle reminder of an important task they were meant to fulfill. Tilting their head back, they gazed up at the clouds overhead, trying to recall the specifics of their purpose. It dawned on them—future vision. Whose future were they supposed to witness? Their gems. Yes, their gems. A sensation, entirely novel to their experience (which wasn’t surprising given their new form), enveloped their body, prompting their eyes to instinctively close.

As they surrendered to this unfamiliar force, a river materialized within their mind, winding its way through mountains of images and thoughts. Emotions surged through them—confusion, pain, anger, happiness, love. Countless tributaries branched off from the main river, resembling the intricate veins that carried lifeblood on Earth. The paths of existence intertwined, forming a complex network that ultimately led to a significant confluence. The main vein, the one they recognized as their own, extended towards an unforeseen destination, and an unsettling emotion clung to it.

Was it pain? No, it felt like something more profound, something surpassing mere betrayal. What could be worse than betrayal? The answer eluded them, tied to the fates of others, notably entwined with Rose Quartz. Their eyes fluttered open, and a burgeoning headache throbbed in their skull. Frowning, they pressed their hands into the ground, attempting to ignore the whirlwind of emotions engulfing them—mainly confusion and apprehension—and focusing on the more immediate task of standing. Internal voices wrestled within them—one urging analytical assessment, attempting to decipher the potential alteration of the river’s course, while the other, overwhelmed with the sheer thrill of existence, yearned to explore. Yielding to the latter, they wobbled a bit before finally finding their footing.

“There we go,” a voice muttered, causing them to freeze and scan their surroundings. No one was in sight, only the silent company of the towering trees. Their eyes narrowed, tension tightening their posture as they cautiously surveyed the area. The urge to call out won over the impulse to remain silent, prompting them to open their mouth. “Who’s there?” The familiar voice echoed, startling them into a stumble that sent them crashing to the ground with a yelp.

Realization dawned— the voice had been their own. Chuckling at their brief confusion, they sat up, scanning the surroundings once more. Convinced they were alone, they attempted to speak again. “Hello?” The same voice resonated from their throat, eliciting a delighted smile. “Awesome!” they exclaimed, trying to stand once more. Their voice was perfect, boosting their confidence as they took a step, stumbling but managing to stay upright. A laugh bubbled forth as they walked around the clearing, crossing one set of arms while the others planted firmly on their hips, reveling in the simple joy of their newfound existence.

Two of their hands instinctively went to the purple gem on their chest, their sharp claws tapping gently on its smooth surface. The Gem of a Star Sapphire. A low hum emanated from them as they contemplated the gem, tapping it twice before their attention shifted. Moving their hands to their back, they discovered another gem nestled just below the juncture of their neck and body. As they touched it, a fleeting shock of pain prompted a subdued hiss. They traced the cracks on the gem’s surface, a frown forming as they realized it was the broken gem of a Painite—one hit away from shattering. So why would they-?

A sudden gasp escaped them, urgency flooding their entire being, as a blinding white light enveloped them. In an instant, their consciousness split, returning to their respective owners. Star groaned, collapsing ungracefully to the ground as he reformed. Shaking his head to clear the haze, he rubbed at his eyes before looking around.

“Pain!” The cry tore from his throat as he witnessed the red gem desperately trying to prevent his destabilizing body from poofing. Star scrambled to his feet and rushed over to Painite, falling to his knees in a panic. He hovered his hands anxiously over the destabilizing red gem, muttering curses to himself. “Shit, shit, shit, why the hell did I—?” He berated himself, bringing one hand to his gem. Summoning the ancient healing tears he had learned to perfectly mimic, the liquid gathered in his hand, radiating a brilliance brighter than gold. Leaning forward, he attempted to pour it onto Painite’s gem.

However, Painite reformed just enough to slap Star’s hand away, his hiss carrying a harsh tone. The red gem glitched for a moment before settling into a form, revealing the dull red armor of corruption that had grown.

“You idiot!” Painite’s ragged voice reached Star, who turned to the other in concern. “I told you I don’t want to be healed by you!”

“Pain, you were literally destabilizing in front of me!” Star weakly protested, assisting the other in sitting up. “I couldn’t just do nothing!”

“I’m fine, Star,” Painite hissed, groaning slightly at the movement. Star failed to notice the unusual use of his name without hatred for the first time in 5,000 years. Painite glared at him, baring his teeth in a clear but heatless threat. “Why the stars did you do that?!” he demanded, his voice rising slightly.

“Do what?” Star asked innocently, wincing when Painite snarled at him.

“Fuse with me, you idiot! You could’ve gotten corrupted!” Painite shouted. Star winced and quickly tried to think up an explanation.

“It was in the moment! Honest!” He said, raising his hands in a surrender gesture. Painite’s expression shifted into a displeased frown as he crossed his arms. “That fusion, they were supposed to be so you’d have future vision for a minute too. I forgot you were corrupted, really!”

“Forgot? Fusion with a corrupted gem always ends up with the other becoming corrupted as well, Star. Everyone knows that.” Painite hissed, tapping his claws on his armored arm.

“I know, I know,” Star sighed, digging a hand through his hair. “Really, I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” Painite turned away. Silence passed between them, while Star became more and more nervous.

Scarab’s voice was soft when he next spoke. “Why did you fuse with me? Just to give me future vision for a moment?” He asked, his hands falling into his lap. “It’s… wrong.”

“Are you saying it’s wrong because it didn’t feel right, or because Homeworld had told you fusion is only for those of the same gem type?” Star asked, tilting his head a bit. Painite remained silent for a long moment before answering.

“…Homeworld,”

Star smiled, putting his hand over Painite’s. The red gem’s gaze lifted to Stars. “Homeworld can’t control you anymore; you don’t have to stick to anything they told you. There’s no right or wrong on Earth.”

Painite scoffed. “Ironically, since I’m Earthborn.”

Star paused for a small moment. “Wait, you’re Earthborn?” He disregarded the new detail when the moment ended. “Nevermind, that doesn’t matter. What matters right now is me answering your question.” He paused and took a small breath. “You asked what you saw in our future, and to be honest, it’s really hard to try and see more than one gem’s future when you’ve got such an accurate read on it. And I’ve never read my own future; normally it’s just to see events of horror. Nothing so… simple.”

Painite remained silent, rubbing circles on the back of Star’s hand. “I’m so used to blood and death that at this point I’ve started searching for it. I saw so many paths when I poofed you—sorry about that again—and so many of them led to one of us shattering. I couldn’t even look at the few that didn’t. So, I thought, uh, I thought by fusing with you when you asked that question, I-” He cut his words off, looking down at their entwined hands as a blue blush bloomed on his face. “I thought I wouldn’t be so… scared if you were there to see it too.”

“Star…” Painite whispered, the name coiling around his tongue and sounding so perfect without his anger and hatred coating it. Star loved to hear it. The red gem unlinked their hands, bringing one to cup the other’s cheek. Star leaned into the touch, adverting Painite’s eyes. He saw the other frown. “I’m sorry for pushing you. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

Star quickly shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I’m- I’m used to it.”

That only made Painite’s frown grow deeper. “It’s not fine, Star. I’m sorry I never saw how badly Pink was treating you.” A laugh bubbled out of Star, short and sweet. The secret behind Pink burned at his throat, begging to be released, to tell Painite the truth. But unfortunately, no one can go against a Diamonds command; it was made in their very mineral. No one can know. His mind was pulled from his thoughts when Painite began speaking.

“I know I’m pushing again, but had you ever seen that…” He paused, looking nowhere as he thought. “…emotion?” Star hummed, assuming it was when they were fused. The vision they saw. Familiarity bubbled up in him at the memory, but was quickly squashed down when he could compare that odd feeling to something other gems had felt so long ago. He shook his head, shaking away the other’s hand.

“No, I haven’t,” He said, bringing one of his hands up to cup Painite’s fallen one. “I’ve seen something similar. When I first saw the shattering of Pink-” Painite tensed, but didn’t otherwise react, giving Star the go-ahead. Star hesitated despite himself. “I was curious, curious to see how others would react to her… death. So I looked into the future of some Quartz and found something similar. But this- us, this is different. It’s more… personal.”

“Personal?” Painite repeated, adorably tilting his head.

“Yeah. Like before, with those Quartz, it was more like a boss/worker relationship death. Like their parent died, or something along those lines.”

Painite looked away. “I remember Pink Diamond’s death. I was there to see it happen, I wasn’t fast enough to stop it. It was… excruciating,” Star winced and lowered his head. Maybe he’d take the news well if Rose ever told him? But Pink’s words echoed in his head. No one can know. “And our future, it supposed to be like that? But, closer?” Painite paused and looked at him, a sadness Star was well familiar with growing in his eyes. “Are we always destined to be shattered?”

The question caught Star off guard. “What? I-” He cut himself off, looking towards their intertwined hands once more. “I-I can look… if you want.”

Painite hummed. “Only if you want to. I will not push you, and we can deal with it when we get there.”

“No no, I- I want to. I want to see,” Star hesitated, pulling his hands free and scooting himself back, giving them plenty of space in between them. “Okay, it’s been like 5000 years since I last did this, so I might not be as accurate as before.”

“That is alright,” Painite said, hands falling gently into his lap. “Just do your best.”

Star nodded and took a deep breath, his eyelids slipping shut as he immersed himself in the vivid imagery of the rivers and streams surrounding him. The darkness of his mind came alive with intricate veins, and he concentrated on pushing them outward. From his gem emerged his weaponized shadows that enveloped both him and Painte in a grand dome, spacious enough for them to stand comfortably. A surge of power coursed through him, a kaleidoscope of emotions, thoughts, and actions coiling just beneath his closed eyelids, seen by none but himself.

With determined focus, Star extended those shadows, compelling the intricate visions to materialize on the inner surface of the dome. Veins appeared, gracefully intertwining and pulling from the shadows, creating a mesmerizing display of pathways he had seen countless times before. A final, deliberate push from his gem bathed the dome in a soft blue light, coalescing into a luminous ball at its center. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Painite looking around, captivated by the intricate veins and paths that now adorned the inside of their ephemeral sanctuary.

“Impressive,” Painite’s voice resonated, somewhat obscured by the whispers of a thousand voices in Star’s head, but comprehensible nonetheless. “I can understand why you’re so valuable.”

Star smiled and raised his hands, palms open. In a deliberate motion, he took a deep breath, and shadowy hands emerged from the dome’s surface at his command. They gracefully twirled around specific veins, coaxing them towards the blue ball in the center. As the veins connected seamlessly, images flashed on the ball’s surface. Star, due to his ability to peer far into the future, had to compromise visual quality for accuracy.

“Our future is one of the more advanced I have seen,” Star began, his voice echoing slightly with subvocals as he slipped back into the habit forged by years of envisioning victories. “Before we had reconnected, I had seen only pain and death.”

The images on the dome began to move as Star spoke, depicting the figures of the two gem beings clashing together. “For five thousand years, I had seen only shattering.” The image portrayed Painite thrusting his spear forward, piercing through Star and shattering him. In another, Star squeezed Painite enough to break his gem, resulting in shattering when it fell. “But for some odd reason, the path changed suddenly.” A larger vein appeared, pulled into the dome and resetting the images, showing a simplified version of when they were at the creek. “Something changed, some small thing that set us both on a new path. I do not know what it is, nor do I care now.”

“You speak much differently when you do this,” Painite noted, tapping a claw gently on a passing vein, which glowed slightly at his touch. Star laughed.

“Yeah, weird, isn’t it?” He responded before pulling a few new veins towards the ball. “Now, there are so many paths that are equally shattering and life. In one, I see you shattering me in a last-ditch effort to realign yourself with Homeworld, only to be shattered when you return because of your corruption. In another, I see separation, where we both go our own ways.”

“Which is the path that is ours?” Painite asked. Star smiled.

“They all are,” he responded, earning a confused look.

“I thought there was only one river, and that all streams lead back to it?” Painite asked.

Star laughed. “To a normal Sapphire, you’re correct. They see as far as 100 or so years into the future. In one hundred years, not a lot can happen to us gems. It is just one big river that is the present, and little streams split off that are your choices, before eventually either leading to a lake of either death or forever contentment, or rejoining the main river. But for me-” He gestured around at the veins hovering around them, then to the ball that had shown his words visually, which had zoomed out, revealing a web so much bigger than a simple river. “I can see thousands of years into the future. The rivers of the present are so much smaller for me, acting as just simple streams in the grand scheme of things. I can see all the rivers that flood into yours, see all the little streams that lead to a lake, see all the little things that shift your river of time. It’s beautiful. All these veins around you now are all the little paths and directions one simple decision can make. And once, just a day or so ago, you would’ve stuck to your vendetta for so long that it would lead to death.”

A vein, cut off and dull, was brought before Painite. Then the larger vein, still feeding into the ball, was moved for a slightly better view. “This larger vein is the future of both me and you combined. So very easily it can split off and flow into one of these dead paths, where one of us, or both, can die. It’s so complex that I had to take a moment to process it when I first saw it.”

“Yes, it is very complex, but what is our current path?” Painite asked, wrapping a hand around one such death path and tugging it slightly. Star smiled when Painite flinched as it broke off easily and quickly hid it behind himself. His smile fell, however, when he saw the future of their current path.

“I see… only pain. Pain and death.” Again, the ball showed them fighting. It showed Star squeezing Paintie so hard he shattered.

“How can I change it?” Painite asked, worriedly looking at the ball.

“Hang on, lemme-” Star concentrated, pulling all the spare veins back into other shadows of his mind before pulling the main one closer, bigger. “There are two steps I can see so far. I can’t really get the details for it, though.”

“That’s alright,” Painite responded. “Just tell me how.”

Star hummed. “First, we get you to the fountain. And then… then we rush to Rose.”

“What?” Painite replied, confusion coursing through him. “What does the rebellion’s leader have anything to do with this?”

Star gazed at the visions appearing on the ball, showing the fountain and them near it, then rushing towards the temple that held the Crystal Gems. And then it just cut off, repeating it over and over again, as if the path was too split to decide. He’d only seen it once before. The day the Diamonds corrupted Earth. “I-I don’t… know,” He said, trying to force it forward, but it only cut out and repeated over and over. “There are too many options, too many chances, too many-” He cut his words off, his eyes widening as he looked at Painite.

“What?” The red gem asked, staring back at the other.

“You’re corrupted,” Star muttered.

“Yes, we’ve established that already,” Paintie said, crossing his arms.

“No no, like you’re corrupted. Corruption works by consuming and distorting the light that is our bodies. If you hadn’t gotten cracked… then you’d have been corrupted.”

Painite scowled. “What are you getting at?”

Star hesitated. “If your gem gets healed, then the corruption will finish its path and corrupt you fully.” Painite’s eyes widened in realization. “That’s why we have to go to Rose; she might be able to heal you if-” He bit his words off, Pink Diamond’s command halting his tongue and burning his soul.

“If what?” Painite prodded. “Star, please tell me if Rose Quartz, a simple Quartz, has the ability to heal me.”

“I-I can’t,” Star responded, shaking his head slightly. “I just can’t.”

“Why not?” Painite pushed. “Why not, Star?”

“I can’t, Painite,” Star replied, surprising the other with the use of his full name. “I just can’t.” Painite remained silent, then nodded.

“Fine. But you will tell me when I have healed,” he said, earning a nod from Star. They sat in silence for a moment before Painite spoke again. “Now, is there a warp pad where the rebellion’s leader is?” Star nodded. “Good. Then we’ll fix the warp pad, and you’ll try to convince the Quartz to heal me.”

Star nodded, but a thought crossed his slowly headache-induced mind. “Wait. Fix the warp pad?”

Painite shrugged. “I figured out the base minerals for healing a warp pad. I wasn’t able to get enough to heal the Homeworld Warp, so I just used it to fix any broken pads I came across.”

Star lit up, a smile breaking over his face. “Awesome! Then let’s get started on getting to that pad.” With a simple thought, the shadows surrounding them fell, pulling the veins of the future back into them as the ball of light fizzled and went out. Star hissed softly, digging a hand through his hair as a pounding headache made itself known.

“Are you alright?” Painite asked, standing and walking over to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. This migraine will end in just a few hours,” Star responded, shrugging off the other but taking the offered hand to stand. Star tried to pull away, but Painite didn’t let go. Turning, he saw Painite turning his head away. Star waited for the other to speak, their fingers entwined more comfortably.

Painite’s voice was hesitant when he spoke, red blooming on his cheeks. “The fusion…”

Star blinked. “Oh, sorry about that again. I’ll make sure-”

“No,” Painite cut off, his grip growing tighter. “They… they were… nice.”

Star was stunned into silence before excitement bloomed in his chest. “Really?” he asked, a smile breaking over his face. “Do you, maybe, wanna, I don’t know, do it again, maybe?”

Painite remained silent for a long moment before hesitantly nodding. Star smiled as brightly as he could, wrapping his hands around the other’s waist and lifting him up into the air. “Star!” Paintie’s words were cut off when Star began spinning, laughing. A laugh bubbled from Painite as well, even more so when Star dropped him and caught him in a hug.

“Oh man, you’ve got no clue how happy that makes me,” Star said, his eyes slipping shut. Painite sighed and hugged him back.

“How could I have ever hated you?” Painite muttered into his shoulder, and Star giggled.

“I don’t know, man, I’m pretty lovable.” Painite pulled away and swatted at Star’s chest, earning a laugh from the Sapphire. Star leaned his head on the other’s, a bright smile almost as radiant as the white light that enveloped them both.

“Just over these mountains,” They muttered, their clawed hands digging into the rugged rocks as they hoisted their weight onto the ledge. Standing tall, they moved to the edge, peering down at the landscape below. The terrain was a rugged expanse, a patchwork of rocks and intertwining vines. Amidst the natural chaos, a shimmering glint of blue emanated from a distant warp pad. With a scowl, they muttered to no one in particular, “Must it be such a steep fall?”

Without waiting for an answer, they stepped off the precipice. Claws bit into the rock, slowing their descent until they were near enough to leap safely onto a massive boulder that had damaged the warp pad. Planting their hands on the rocky surface, they positioned their feet against the stone wall. With a small groan, they exerted force, tipping the boulder off the warp pad with a muted boom.

Gracefully landing on the warp pad, they stood with a tap of their foot on the large crack that marred its once-blue surface. “Fixable,” they muttered before turning away, embarking on a journey down the path lined with thorns of roses. As they advanced, the thorns began to disperse, revealing a vast depression in the Earth. Processed stone enclosed the area, leading to a grand gate, its star-shaped design guarding the entrance to a massive pool of glittering water—the foundation of the Crystal Gems. Adorning the pool’s center was a statue of their leader, frozen in the act of shedding tears that sustained the pool. They rolled their eyes. “How modest.”

They began a cautious circuit around the fountain, their sharp eyes scanning for any potential threats that, logically, should not have been present. Yet, prudence dictated an extra layer of caution. They couldn’t dispute the wisdom in that, so they meticulously traced the entire circumference of the pool, their fingers grazing the smooth, white stone wall. Satisfied that there was no imminent danger, they retraced their steps back to the warp pad.

Once standing on the blue device, they gracefully crouched, reaching behind to summon a viscous green substance from their cracked gem. Grimacing at the goo’s uncomfortable texture adhering to their fingers, they pressed on, generously applying it within the prominent cracks marring the pad’s surface. After a patient wait of a few moments, the green substance began to emit a soft glow, seamlessly melding with the blue material. Soon, the cracks healed and vanished from sight. A triumphant smile curled on their face as they nodded in approval, crossing their top pair of arms with a sense of accomplishment.

Content with their work on the warp pad, they returned back to the fountain, casting a final, scrutinizing gaze over the area before finally focusing on the shimmering water. Seating themselves on the bottom steps of the pool, they dipped their clawed feet into the water. A delightful tingling sensation coursed through their limbs, prompting a soft smile to grace their features. With a serene expression, they closed their eyes as a cascade of white light enveloped their form, their consciousness seamlessly returning to their respective owners.

Star’s eyes fluttered open, finding Painite seated beside him. Sensing a subtle hesitation in the other gem, Star extended a comforting hand towards Painite. However, he froze right before making contact, a sense of horror seizing him as he peered at his arm. Beneath the sleeve of his jacket, red armor was manifesting on his skin.

Corruption.

The realization jolted Star, and he quickly shook away the disconcerting feeling. Refocusing on comforting Painite, he laid a hand over the other’s, adjusting his sleeve to conceal the emerging corruption. “It’s okay,” Star reassured, his voice steady despite the underlying worry. “Trust me, I’ve healed myself in this pool before. It works.”

Painite hesitated, voicing his concerns. “But what if it doesn’t?” He paused. “What if it does?”

Star furrowed his brow. “Isn’t that a good thing if your crack gets healed?”

Painite nodded. “Yes, but it also clears the path for the corruption.” Star had momentarily forgotten about this aspect, and a wave of regret washed over him. Painite turned to him, a serious expression on his face as he took his hand away and stood. Star mirrored the movement, standing patiently, though an underlying tension crept into his demeanor.

“Star,” Painite began, and the Sapphire straightened, anticipation tingling in the air. “If the Quartz is unable to be convinced to heal me, or if she can’t heal me, I want you to poof me.”

Star’s stance faltered. “What?” Confusion seeped into his voice.

“Poof me,” Painite repeated casually, as if discussing the weather. “I want you to poof me if the corruption cannot be healed, even if it hasn’t fully taken over yet.” He paused, allowing Star to absorb his request. “I have seen it take over gems. I do not wish to experience that pain.”

Star stared at Painite for a moment, his mind racing to process the gravity of the request. “I-I can’t just poof you, Pain! I-”

Painite cut him off, his tone firm and resolute. “Star, I was an incredibly powerful gem during the war. I was stronger than the Beta Kindergarten’s top Jasper. If that corruption fully takes over, then I can be a serious threat to you. I can shatter you, Star. When the time comes, and I trust you will know when, I want you to poof me. Got it?”

A long moment hung in the air, the weight of Painite’s request sinking into Star’s conscience. Though justified, the idea still pierced through him with a painful realization. Painite’s unyielding gaze demanded a response, compelling Star to make a decision. With a heavy sigh, Star nodded. “Okay… Okay, I will,” he said, his voice laden with a sense of vulnerability. Painite acknowledged the response with a soft smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good. And when you do, make sure to keep me close, okay?” Painite requested. Star nodded in solemn agreement. Painite reciprocated the nod before turning his attention back to the shimmering water.

“Good luck,” Star murmured, his eyes fixed on Painite, who took a deep breath.

A beat of heavy silence enveloped them, and then Painite dove into the pool, disappearing beneath the glittering surface.

[dc-and-arfrona]

Again

Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1k+

Based of this prompt: We all trust the wrong people because they tell us exactly what we want to hear. We trust them to have the power to destroy us.

Masterlist

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Gotham City buzzed with life and whispered secrets, the perfect backdrop for [Y/N]'s encounter with Bruce Wayne. Drawn to his enigmatic persona, they found themselves captivated by his charisma and the allure of his wealth. But [Y/N] knew better than to trust appearances alone.

"We all trust the wrong people because they tell us exactly what we want to hear," [Y/N] reflected, their voice filled with a hint of cynicism. "We trust them to have the power to destroy us."

Little did they know that fate had orchestrated a meeting that would test their beliefs. At a charitable event, [Y/N] found themselves face to face with Bruce Wayne, the charismatic philanthropist and infamous playboy.

Bruce's gaze locked with [Y/N]'s, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was something different about him, a depth hidden beneath the surface charm. It piqued [Y/N]'s curiosity, igniting a spark of fascination.

As they engaged in conversation, Bruce skillfully wove words that resonated with [Y/N]'s desires and aspirations. His understanding of their innermost dreams made [Y/N] wonder if he possessed the power to truly destroy them.

Days turned into nights, and [Y/N] found themselves drawn deeper into Bruce's world. Yet, doubts lingered, echoing the cautionary whispers of the past.

"We trust them to have the power to destroy us," [Y/N] mused, haunted by their own words. "But perhaps there is more to this puzzle, more than meets the eye."

Bruce, too, was aware of the dichotomy between trust and destruction. He had seen the darker side of humanity, experienced loss and betrayal firsthand. But [Y/N] awakened a glimmer of hope within him, a chance to redefine the boundaries of trust.

As their relationship deepened, [Y/N] dared to open up to Bruce, exposing their vulnerabilities and fears. The walls they had erected slowly crumbled, revealing their shared scars and insecurities.

Bruce, too, let down his guard, baring his soul to [Y/N]. The weight of his secrets and the responsibility that came with his alter ego, Batman, threatened to consume him. But in [Y/N]'s presence, he found solace—a refuge from the shadows that haunted him.

In the wake of their blossoming connection, a storm loomed on the horizon. Secrets and revelations threatened to fracture the trust they had painstakingly built.

"We all trust the wrong people," [Y/N] whispered, their voice laced with vulnerability. "But perhaps trust is not solely a gateway to destruction. It can also pave the path to redemption."

As the truth unraveled, [Y/N] discovered that Bruce's intentions had never been as black and white as they seemed. Beneath the guise of the billionaire playboy, he carried the weight of Gotham City on his shoulders, fighting a battle that transcended the boundaries of their relationship.

The power to destroy that [Y/N] had feared was not wielded with malicious intent, but rather with the noble purpose of protecting the innocent and upholding justice. Bruce's dual nature, a complex tapestry of darkness and light, shattered [Y/N]'s illusions.

Together, they navigated the storm, clinging to the fragile remnants of trust. In the face of adversity, they discovered that trust was not an all-or-nothing game. It was an evolving dance, a delicate balance of vulnerability and forgiveness.

As [Y/N] and Bruce stood amidst the rubble of their shattered illusions, they realized that trust, although vulnerable, could also be a catalyst for growth and transformation. Their connection had weathered the storm, emerging stronger and more resilient than ever before.

They learned that trusting the wrong people did not define their future, but rather highlighted the importance of discernment and resilience. In their union, they found solace and strength, embarking on a journey that would forever intertwine their lives, challenging the notion that trust and destruction were inseparable.

In the aftermath of shattered illusions, [Y/N] and Bruce embarked on a journey of healing and rebuilding. The foundation of their connection had been tested, but the spark of trust still flickered within their hearts.

Both [Y/N] and Bruce understood that repairing the damage would take time and patience. They delved into the depths of their souls, unraveling the complexities that had led them astray.

Together, they confronted their fears and insecurities, sharing their vulnerabilities with unwavering honesty. Through each heartfelt conversation, the shattered fragments of trust began to mend, piece by piece.

As the trust grew stronger, so did their bond. [Y/N] discovered the profound depths of Bruce's dedication to justice, witnessing the relentless drive and sacrifices he made to protect Gotham City. And Bruce, in turn, saw [Y/N]'s resilience and unwavering support, understanding the strength they brought into his life.

They stood side by side, not only as lovers but as partners, united in their shared purpose. Their love became a force that defied the odds, pushing them forward even when the path seemed treacherous.

As the months passed, [Y/N] and Bruce found themselves transformed by the power of trust and redemption. They had come to realize that trust was not synonymous with vulnerability alone but also with the potential for growth and healing.

Together, they embarked on a journey to make a positive impact on Gotham City, utilizing their unique strengths and perspectives. Bruce's wealth and resources merged with [Y/N]'s passion and determination, creating a formidable alliance against the darkness that threatened their city.

They became beacons of hope, inspiring others to rise above their own limitations and trust in the potential for change. Their shared vision sparked a movement, illuminating the paths of those lost in despair.

In the quiet moments, when the weight of their responsibilities grew heavy, [Y/N] and Bruce found solace in each other's arms. They reveled in the simple joys of companionship, cherishing the unbreakable bond they had forged.

"We trusted each other despite the risks," [Y/N] whispered, their voice filled with gratitude. "And in that trust, we found redemption and the power to heal."

Bruce held [Y/N] tightly, their hearts beating in sync. "Together, we have the strength to overcome anything. Our love has transformed the power to destroy into a force that rebuilds and inspires."

And so, [Y/N] and Bruce continued their crusade against the darkness, their trust and love intertwined. Guided by their shared values and unwavering devotion, they stood as a testament to the redemptive power of trust, forever changing the lives of those around them.

[thecameronchronicles]

Rendezvous

TW: Language. Degrading Language. Smut. Cheating. TrophyWife!Reader x Rafe. Dom!Rafe. 

SUMMARY: A Christmas dinner held at the Cameron's leads to a continuation of your forbidden affair with Rafe. 

WORD COUNT: 1900

REQUESTED

🎄I love love love your writing so much there’s something about rafe x Trophywife!reader that I love so much so could you do one where reader’s husband works for Ward so they’re invited to the Cameron’s Christmas party and reader and rafe are having an affair and they both sneak out to wards office 🎄

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS AND SUPPORT! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FIC! 

Rendezvous

From the moment he met you, he had looked at you the exact same way. A come hither stare held behind faded cobalt irises of intrigue and purpose. It was a gaze only worsened by the curiosity and need for rebellion behind your own wondrous expression. For that intense meeting of eyes across any room, it took only a handful of interactions before eyes trailing skin altered to fingers. Trysts exchanged from fantasy to reality in being acted beneath the noses of those who would find such betrayal taken to heart. But where his father would only look to him with disapproval, it would be your reputation at risk as you didn't belong to this set group of people and more than any of those working any event such as the Christmas dinner tonight. But with your beauty and quick wit, you were a catch to any man. Especially those who'd given up on love and married solely to keep their bed warm at night. Yet the idea of being a trophy wife no longer hung heavy when you had someone like Rafe to exercise such tensions. 

Beginning dinner as a dutiful wife, adjusting your husband's tie and wiping the remnants of any perishable item of food from his ignorant neglect, your focus turned to Rafe rather quickly. It was lucky such a stare looking back to you had gone unnoticed as it had always been set with such intensity. A parting of lips fading into a clenched jaw and a descent of his eyes to your ensemble left little to the imagination of what was in his mind. But the thrill of it all was too enticing to motion him away. It was also too exhilarating to fathom long without needing to act.

You excused yourself through the collection of guests and towards the first room you were certain would be vacant. A final validation of him having followed you pulled your lips to a smirk as the door gave way beneath your hand and you closed yourself off to everyone but your taboo lover.

"Do you think he even reads any of these?" You asked as your fingers ran over the spines of the books set in the far shelf. The confirmation of a closed room came in that of the chime of a locking mechanism set into position at your back. That smirk returned across your face as Rafe had suddenly turned you to face him. 

"I don't give a shit about anything but getting you out of this dress and onto your back so I can show you why wearing no panties was both a mistake and a wise decision.." Your brows lifted in curiosity to how he knew such a detail as you had kept his touch and bay and your legs connected as a lady throughout the entire night. But your expression would question him in such silence that he was prompted to answer. 

"I know every inch of your body…I know when my girl's wearing something she shouldn't…" He pressed his body into yours , a hand climbing up the slip of your dress and to your hip, as you couldn't help but inquire about his words.

"I have a ring on this hand that suggests I don't belong to you, Rafe…" You countered him, the hand you'd set on his chest, having now been directed to his belt. 

"This same hand. Wearing his ring. Wrapped around my cock. Gripping my sheets. When I make you come like only I can." He spoke slowly, but with pride and lust gradual behind every word. 

"You're mine in every sense but legal. But I've never been one to care about those things…" He explained, your hand led to his rigid shaft as you took the hint and began to screw around his smooth skin. 

But your motions were stilled as he took a fistful of your hair and led you at an angle. 

"I know you're already dripping for me baby. I don't have the luxury of that yet. So either bend yourself over that desk so I can fix it and fuck you like you've been asking for all night…" He led his second hand to your lips, his thumb tracing the bottom plump of a lower half of your mouth.

"Or accommodate me." He motioned a single bob of his head as you obeyed. Collecting enough spit to lubricate him, you brought him out of his dress pants and to the air before indulging him. 

"Now…remind me why I put up with the little show you put on of being a dutiful little wife for him…" His grip tightened as his lips widened to a smirk of the arrival of such dirty words in the tip of his tongue. 

"But a whore all for me." You nodded, ghosting his lips with a kiss before moving to your knees. 

"Do you look up at him the same way?" He questioned with the hand furthering a more aggressive grip through your now disheveled tresses. 

"No." 

"I bet you never have to worry about being quiet with him, either…can't even feel him between your legs because I stretch you out too much?" You bobbed your head in agreement. 

"Then convince me why I shouldn't beat him to a pulp for touching what's mine by keeping yourself quiet using my cock. Bonus points if you cry pretty like you always do." You swallowed hard to what you knew he would expect out of you, before you took him behind your parted lips. Lipstick matching the crimson of your cheeks having now slipped as evidence to his shaft while you took him further down your throat. An immediate rejection was ignored by you both as the retching only acted as motivation for you both. 

"Such a good little slut bruising your knees for me…Crying for me…" Be illuminated to such evidence. 

"But you don't deserve to come yet. Keep. Going." You continued, taking him deeper and faster as he moaned over you. Your eyes, the same ones he commanded to remain to him, had observed the ecstasy you granted him. Never had a sight been so beautiful then watching him feel such a way because of you. The way his jaw clenched in pain but his eyes screwed closed in pleasure has been ethereal to bring such a man of power to such submission. 

"So fucking good…come here." He groaned behind clenched teeth. The grip remaining in your hair brought you to your feet. 

"Pull your dress up yourself or you know I'll rip it in two…" He scoffed. "Good luck explaining to him why your knees are so bruised, your voice is all raspy, and your dress is torn…" He pulled your hair back to where he could lead your eyes to his. Although the nearly upside down angle made you dizzy, the expression of approval was worth the discomfort. 

"Does he ever ask?" Rafe questioned. "Or are you this willing for him too that he doesn't have to?" You pulled the fabric of your dress high enough to reveal yourself to him. 

"Do you fuck him like this?" He asked, your fabric gathered by his hand as he plummeted into you. Your body was forced against the desk. A certainty of marked hips left as a distant thought and temporarily forgotten to the pleasure it allowed. 

"If he did then why do you need me?".

"Because nothing feels like you…I want you-" 

"You want a lot." He altered his cadence to patronize you. "You wanna come. You wanna be eaten out. You wanna be fingered." 

"I need you."

"Because?" 

"Because nobody can make me come like you…."

"But he tries?" You nodded as he clenched his jaw at the thought. A harsh slap to your ass made you shoot a gaze to the door set beside you both. 

"Oh you poor little housewife. Needing to come but your husband doesn't even know how to touch you. Lucky for you, your boss's son knows exactly how…"

"Yes…" You breathed quickly as his fingers came to your clit. Teasing fondling made you squirm beneath him. 

"But do you think you deserve to come on my cock if you let his inside you?"

"He's my husband-" He bent your neck to face him, lips against yours with aggressive speech at the ready. 

"But I'm the one who makes you come. So who the fuck deserves you? Hmm? You think he does?"

"No."

"So why are you with him? Why does he get to touch you?"

"Because he's…"

"Because he takes care of you? In every way but what matters-"

"Rafe…" You whined. 

"You know why I give you what you don't deserve?" 

You could only groan as his fingers and cock worked in perfect sensations to make your toes curl within the closed edge of your heels. 

"Because I deserve it. Because I don't bend you over that table or make you come when you know I could in a second's time all while he's too stupid to recognize how it sounds or looks like. And I'll keep making you come. Because we both know you're mine." 

"Yours…" 

"Say it again." He ordered with a smack to your ass. 

"Again!" He ordered. 

"Yours!" 

"Then come for me. If you're mine. Come all of my cock." You focused on his touches and thrusts to allow the ecstasy an easy route against your initial reservations to prolong the moment. 

"Nobody can hear you over that fucking music. So stop holding back and ride against me like the whore you are for me." He pulled your hair tighter, thrusted harder, and brought you to that edge swifter than ever before. Your eyes screwed closed as he grunted behind you. 

"Yes! Just like that! Clenching so desperate-" His hand wrapped around your breast as he continued his endeavors through your high. Overstimulation of further thrusts made you grip onto him tightly. But his own pleasure sent him bending you selfishly over the desk. 

"Take it baby. Take it like I deserve." You allowed him to use your body as he always had. The battering pulsations of his ambition granted once again. Just as you would next time. 

"Good fucking girl." He groaned, a perfect orgasm converting his expression to the contours you favored, before he pulled you back to face him. 

"I'm leaving him, Rafe." Your words stilled his fingers over his belt. 

"What?"

"I wanted to tell you on Christmas…" You bit your bottom lip before closing the space between you. 

"It's the last Christmas I won't be in your arms."

"It's the last Christmas you'll be able to wake up walking…" He threatened sex as you grinned widely. 

"Then it gives me something to look forward to. Even if I don't deserve it." You teased, leaving him once fixing your appearance, offering you both the belief you could be together. Whether it was true had yet to be seen. But at least you had this recent rendezvous to hold you over until then…

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @belcalis9503

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[kysukioshi]

Concordia

Neteyam x fem!Na’vi OC

summary: a tale of love, redemption and betrayal; Neteyam and Tsuk'ami, two Na'vi from rival clans share a past forged in the innocence of a childhood friendship. Tensions between their clans rise as they strive to rewrite a destiny that fate has woven for them.

warnings: this story may contain violence, smut and swearing, so if you're not comfortable with those topics, please don't interact.

Story Masterlist

………………………………

Part Three - Veiled Portents

Tsuk’ami was always told she was a dreamer. She always focused on the irrational, the fairy tales and the myths, and how easily it could be her weakness. She was told she should wake up, and focus on the realities everyone had to face in order to survive—especially since she was the future of Soluna; the next generation.

At some point in her teenage-hood, she put her reading and writing hobbies aside. The judgement from her clan’s elders was too much for her to swallow. But as she got older, she embraced it.. kind off.

She hid her writing cloths and papers, but she no longer felt embarrassed to admit it to herself. She crafted vivid narratives, intricate stories of the resilience of the Na’vi people, the wars and the ages of peace, as well as some romance. One thing in particular she was proud of, was her character Txi.

She liked to think of Txi as her alter ego. Txi was brave, and she was a strong leader that led her people to freedom and peace from the external threats.

Txi was the embodiment of Tsuk’ami’s aspirations. Those desires were not only about her fantasies of fighting in a war, they were also about her mother. She wanted her mother to know Tsuk’ami’s limits— to see how much Tsuk’ami was actually capable of.

Now that Tsuk’ami met Neteyam, her deepest desire reignited itself again, making her curious to all the secrets and stories other clans had to share.

Her clan had its traditions, which consisted of the people knowing only about their clan. The knowledge wasn’t limited only to the leaders, and she knew she couldn’t wait that long to find out. She also knew where such informations could be kept.

…

In the middle of the night, Tsuk’ami slipped out of her family’s hut, trying to go unnoticed as she walked to her mothers study chambers— guided by the curiosity of her mother’s extensive collection of historical tomes and scrolls.

She moved the linen door flap, walking in and carefully, as if not to leave evidence, looking around the room. She crouched near a section of a shelf, which had ‘confidential’ written on stone above it. She cautiously looked through the neatly arranged scrolls and papers, her fingers tracing over each title as she worded it quietly.

Her hand brushed over a certain scroll, the wood handle old and dusty, with an engraved ‘narratives of the neighbours’.

Tsuk’ami became frustrated as she began to read. The first few segments of the long texts spoke only of customs and bygone eras she had already heard of. But as she dove deeper into the lengths of the scroll, she delved into accounts that spoke of conflict and alliances.

“The Tipani tribe, always stood protectors to the borders of many clans they bordered. Their domain veiled in the mist of the treetops. Their resilient tales bore stories of great craftsmanship, which had helped these people fight like true warriors, and succeeded in many wars. The alliance between the Tipani and Soluna were always helpful both ways. Soluna had provided them with passage, as well as supply pathways for their own, personal use.”

She ran her fingers over the additional, unimportant parts of the text

“Unfortunately, due to disputes and let downs, both sides decided to end their long term partnership, and Soluna declined any further supply chain support.”

“But what then?” Tsuk’ami whispered angrily. Those were no answers to her. What could have prompted them to cut their connections?

She scrolled through other texts, all until she found one titled ‘the lost tribe’

“The Omatikaya tribe had once had all eyes on it. Their borders held beautiful nature within them, which is why they were called what they were called; Omatikaya— blessed by Eywa. They had always been spiritual leaders, powerful and smart healers. Many of their leaders even rode the great Toruk. They had amazing supplies of food, as their grounds were rich with minerals and other supplements that produced good quality foods.

The Omatikaya, however, chose a wrong path. Their opportunities to prosper washed away as they let a demon enter their lands, mate their royalty and lead them. Although Tsyeyk te Suli lead wars and even rode the great Toruk, he still should have not been elected for Olo’eyktan.”

Tsuk’ami’s eyes were wide. That was it? Even after such information she was left in a cusp of revelation. Jake Sully, she thought. Neteyam’s father. She still answers, closure. She threw the scroll down as frustration welled within her.

How was Jake Sully allowed to the Omatikaya? What had changed their minds?

...

Neytiri’s footsteps were quiet in the echoing halls of the hallow hometree. She walked to the communal hut, moving with pride, as she always did. Her shoulders were pushed back, tail high, and braids neatly placed behind her ears.

She walked through the beaded doors, the elders standing to greet her, their gazes respectively turned towards the floor.

She walked around the round table, stopping at her eldest son’s side.

Neteyam’s gaze followed his mother, watching her sit right beside him. They shared a meaningful look, knowing both of them hated being there. Jake had left that hate club a couple years back, as he had gotten used to spending hours on end in that room, on that wooden chair, with those same babbling elders.

“Neteyam” he heard his mother’s soft voice, whisper quietly under the loud chatted “I know it is draining, but we must focus”

“Sorry” Neteyam murmured before he sat back, his ears perked at the never ending conversations that just didn’t concern him for some reason. He would care, if they were speaking about security problems, or patrol arrangements, but the words shared between the elders were everything but that.

“How affective do you believe our systems are?” And elder, Lefpa asked, turning towards Jake. “I understand we were offered new arrangements, by Anurai.”

Neteyam became interested

Jake sighed, “I believe their terms were far too vague, odd.” He began “I do not trust such ill-defined requests. I have seen where such agreements led, with the Soluna.” Neteyam’s ears twitched

“I agree. Such things require careful consideration” Futep spoke, his boney and skinny fingers tapping on the wooden table they sat at.

Neteyam had a list of the elders he hated. It was a special little place he kept somewhere in his heart, and that way always remembered. Futep was on the top of that list. He was always the most persistent when it came to Neteyam’s training and evolving into a grown, capable man. But never in a parenting, caring way. Neteyam had realised Futep was always furious with the fact that a ‘demon’ sat at the head of the council meeting table. He did everything he could to make Neteyam suffer through his training, so he can prove to everyone how a child through whose veins flows blood of a demon, is harder to train and excel.

Neteyam, of course, proved him wrong, so Futep searched for more ways to discreetly make him and his father and siblings suffer. His excuse was “your father signed up for this life, he, and you, must face our traditions and customs”

Everything he did, everything he said, annoyed Neteyam like nothing on Pandora. His constant finger tapping, throat clearing. The way his whole face sagged. The way he spoke slowly, with his chin facing the ceiling.

“What about the sightings. On the Soluna borders. Does it not concern us?” Lai spoke “they must be plotting something new.”

Jake looked to Neteyam “I had sent Neteyam to investigate the matter. Apparently it was a bug in the system” Jake didn’t pay much mind to it, but Neteyam’s head became loud.

“Were the sightings substantiated?” Futep turned to Neteyam, his fingers interlocking as he gazed at the boy. All the elders gazes were now on him.

Neteyam’s ears began to ring.

…

“Tsuk’ami must you interrupt me now?” Deyla looked up from her reading, her head still facing down. “I hope it’s important.” She finally put her scroll aside, now fully looking up at her daughter.

“Has father returned?” Tsuk’ami’s voice was questioning, as she spotted her father’s gear neatly placed on the against a wall. Her question was answered, as she caught a glimpse of movement at the entrance of her parents’ alcove.

She saw her father, a genuine smile breaking across his weathered face. “Paskalin” he exclaimed warmly, opening his arms to welcome her with an embrace that enveloped her in warmth and familiarity.

Her face lit up. Her father’s returns always brought much ease—understanding, to her.

Their embrace lingered for a moment longer, before her father, Kxeku, pulled back gently, a twinkle in his eyes at the sight of his daughter. “What are you up to?”

Tsuk’ami’s gaze returned to her mother. “I was hoping to visit Vitraya Ramunong today.” She explained. “Ah, the call of the forest” her father teased, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“A ritual is being performed at the tree of souls today.” Deyla informed her “I am afraid you will have to pick another day.” Her mother smiled softly returning the scrolls to her lap.

“What about the other one?” Tsuk’ami’s ears fell back, understanding of the consequences that might occur from that question.

Deyla’s brow furrowed slightly, “Which one?”. Her father’s gaze fell on her “the one at the borders?” His tone was questioning, and at it, her mother’s eyes widened “far too close!” She exclaimed

“I know” Tsuk’ami nodded, respectfully, understanding her mother’s concern “but I know you of anyone would understand. The great mother intends to show me something. I must hear.. I must see.”. At her comments, Kxeku had a considerate look on his face, as if seeking permission from his wife.

Deyla’s protective instincts clashed with Tsuk’ami’s eagerness “Your father may be more lenient,” she conceded “but that is dangerous. Those parts of the forest.. they are unforgiving.” She acknowledged.

After moments of silence, and her mother’s quiet concentrations, she looked up at her daughter again “with caution.”

Filled with a mix of gratitude for her mother’s guidance and bubbling excitement for her impending adventure, Tsuk’ami respectfully thanked her mother before swiftly departing toward the forest’s edge. Her heart danced in anticipation as she ran trough familiar paths that led to the lush forest

The animals she crossed paths with, sights and smells she encountered on her way to the tree, all fit her spirit. It was as if she always left a trace of herself wherever she went. The sunlight filtered through the canopy, painting her face with soft, warm hues.

As the sight of the tree of souls, she halted.

The colossal tree stood, surrounded by vibrant life of beautiful flowers and plants, hit by the colours of the sunset sky, making it even more eternal.

The expansive branches reached skyward, its bioluminescent roots hanging from its tops. It carried a tranquil energy, a silence and a peace.

It had her heart racing, and her neural queue already awakening its soft glow. She walked quickly with excitement.

…

Neteyam soared through the skies astride his ikran, the bonded flight carrying them over the vast expanse of the forests he now regularly kept watch on.

It had been peaceful for quite some time.. days, perhaps. At least for what he remembered. Days meant nothing to him. Time as well. It was all the same.

But ever since that interaction with Tsuk’ami everything was pretty boring at the borders. Not that he missed having problems, or her at that, he just appreciated the fact that she listened to his advice to not come so close to the borders, not just for her safety, but for the sake of the clans relations.

But of course, as it was in Neteyam’s life, everything he was thankful for or everything he grew comfortable with knew to quickly wash away.

As he was enjoying the wind clashing in his face and throwing his braided hair back as he rode the waves of the sky, he had to look down, and he had to catch the sight of a lone figure, standing, not so close, but not so far from the borders.

More precisely, it stood at the Tree of Souls. And even more importantly, that Tree of Souls wasn’t just like every other one. It was the one that Soluna and Omatikaya didn’t quite yet decide who it belonged to.

Sure, it was on the land of the Soluna people, but it was also gifted to Omatikaya, many years before their rivalry began.

That way, Neteyam didn’t really have to go down there and talk that na’vi away, because they were on their land, but he also had to because it wasn’t their property.

He circled above, watching with slight annoyance. The responsibility of the inter-clan dynamics often weighted on him. Yet as much as he wanted to stay open minded to the fact that those na’vi are maybe good people, they were killing him with their curiosity.

Irritation started prickling at him. They were ignorant, dismissive. But those were his personal sentiments speaking. His eyebrows furrowed as he gripped onto the handle on his ikran. He had to face the potential challanges that laid ahead.

With a sharp inhale and an even sharper exhale, he guided Wamey to a steady descent. They landed on a tree top, far enough for the person to not notice him, but close enough for him to get down and even closer.

He manoeuvred with ease—as if he was born doing it. But as he did, his moved became slow and sloppy as he found out who he was dealing with. It was a shift, a realisation, but it was also anger.

He was furious with her. She was most definitely the only one making problems in that damn clan. It was her third time messing up, and his third time cleaning it up.

He wrestled with conflicting emotions. One part of him wanted to walk on over there, and say all of it to her face. Scare her away, make her never come back, because quite frankly he didn’t want the sight of her anymore.

But did he? Because in the midst of his approach, he stopped, stuck behind tree, observing her unusually slow and careful moves. She was headed to one of the glowing roots of the tree, her tswin in her hand.

It was a sight for sore eyes. She looked peaceful. The light from the tree cast an otherworldly illumination of the lights on her features… perfectly. She was focused, didn’t even notice his presence.

He also had to admit. She looked beautiful. But that didn’t mean anything to him, right? He thought many girls from his clan were beautiful. Although not beautiful inside out, because he hadn’t found that girl just yet. But he was still allowed to think that.

He thought that about his mother, his sisters. About the girls that giggled and watched him leave everyday for work. The girls that talked to him during the big feasts, the girls that he thought were his true love when he was younger. Even the girls he kissed when he got drunk, and those he brought to his secret spot, using them for his release of stress—for his pleasure and need.

And just because he was a tad bit curious about her, didn’t mean he would let her do what she wanted. Right?

But as Tsuk’ami connected, and looked to be deeply focused, he couldn’t stop her. Not that he didn’t want to, but it was forbidden.

In her mind, images that ran painted beautiful scenes, usual things the great mother showed her. They were always vivid tales and songs of her people, living happily, in harmony surrounded by laughter, light.

But this time, there was an eerie sound ringing somewhere in the back of her mind. It reminded her of the dream. Scars inflicted upon the land appeared before her, disturbing scenes of death and distraction—disharmony that extended beyond. The web of life in the forest was interwoven, distorted.

She saw her clan, burning in flames. Trees ripped apart by strong winds. She heard screams. Cries. A cry—Heartbreaking cry.

“embrace the truth, for within it lies your path. you will carry the bridge. navigate it. see it” an unnatural uncanny voice spoke “the answers are close. look back.”

Tsuk’ami fought to regain control. She managed to reach for her queue, without really seeing it, and rip the bond apart. The weight of the visions clung to her, as she stumbled back a few steps, her back colliding with the solid frame that stood behind her.

The unexpected impact made her jolt and turn, Neteyam reaching to steady her, quickly removing his hands as he did. “What the fuck happened?” His eyebrows furrowed

She looked back, regaining her composure, recollecting her memories. Turning her gaze back at him, she narrowed her eyes “what are you doing here?”

“You knew I would come.” His voice was low and harsh “you keep doing this to make me come back.”

“What are you talking about? This is our land!” Suki stood her ground, meeting his skepticism resolute stare

“The tree belongs to us.” His arms folded defensively

“Spirit trees do not belong to any clan.” His remark sparked anger within her, her eyes flashed with frustration.

He sighed, rubbing his temples “I understand what you mean, but it is how both yours and my clan decided to divide things.” He spoke softly, trying to make her understand “if that wasn’t the case, imagine how many fights would occur if na’vi from both clans visited same trees at the same time.”

Suki lowered her gaze as she processed the information he gave her, but she quickly shot back “why should I believe that this tree belongs to Omatikaya?” Her brows scrunched together “your clan always manipulates for their own agenda.” Suki’s hands fell on her hips as she had a bitter look on her face. “Besides, my mother let me come here. She would never let me even near something that belongs to you.”

Neteyam scoffed “because your people always let their pride blind them. They use every opportunity to gain an upper hand and pretend things never happened” his temper rose the more he spoke

Their voices clashed like opposing currents. It echoed in the clearing around the glowing tree, where usually silence absorbed all life. Yet now, it was only dicord that unfolded.

Tsuk’ami didn’t have an answer to his words. She read about the Omatikaya, yet nothing was said. She was never thought of such things, and she understood that maybe, Neteyam was right. Her people probably hated their history, so they hid it, changed it.

After a moment of silence, Neteyam’s stern voice shifted the atmosphere “what did you come here for?” He wasn’t curious, he didn’t seek her answers so he could comfort her, he wanted them so he can scold her and go home for the day. She was always on the move, always looking to avoid home, or perhaps those were more of her tricks. She just wanted to mess with him.

“None of your business.” Tsuk’ami’s tail swayed as she tried to act brave.

He could see cracks in her coldness—the usual insecurity she carried. Of course, he didn’t acknowledge it, he just wanted to get to the root of the issue as fast as possible. “That so?” His head rolled back “It very well is my business when I’m the one who has to deal with you avoiding the consequences. There are rules you have to follow.”

“I am under no obligation to share with you why I come to the Great Mother.”

And she was right, he knew that. He considered her response, his head tilting to the side. He stood there for a moment, looking at the tree behind her “what happened there…?” His voice was softer

Tsuk’ami looked back, her ears lowering at the sight. “I don’t know.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper “I heard something… a voice. Something about bridge.. my path.”

Her answer was unclear, but it was one he could work with. He understood she had probably seen something horrible, the way she stumbled in shock and shook as she looked back.

He knew those kinds of visions all too well—but not from personal experience.

His younger sister, Kiri had always had them. Ever since she was born. Even stronger than Tsuk’ami. She would face nightmares, flashes of visions during the day, weird experiences when connected with the Tree of Voices, and even many health scares, when she would pass out out of nowhere, or have awful seizures.

So he knew how to deal with those things—he grew up doing it.

“Okay come here” he walked to the tree, but after a couple steps he realised she wasn’t following

“I’m not going there”

He rolled his eyes “don’t be a baby.”

She thought about it for a second, before she crossed her arms and walked up to him. They sat next to the tree.

“Whatever you saw there, it was probably important,” He began “a message, from the Great Mother.”

“I know.” Tsuk’ami, though still tense, responded, acknowledging the branches of the tree.

“You clearly didn’t understand it well enough and you must try again.” He explained, his gaze a mixture of determination reluctant camaraderie.

“No.” Tsuk’ami stood, waving her hands around. “I’m not doing that for some time”

“One day, you’ll do it anyway. So why not now, when it’s still fresh.” He stood up with her, trying to set his tone reasonable.

She hesitated, weighing the offer. It lasted a few silent moments, where she battled it.

“I’ll do it with you.” Neteyam’s voice suddenly broke her bubble, and she turned her gaze to him, questioning what he was offering. “I will connect at the same time.” He said

A tense pause hung in the air as Tsuk’ami grappled with the proposition. She was taken aback. Summoning her resolve, she looked up at him again, with a slight nod. “Okay..” if we must, she was going to add.

Despite the lingering tension, he grabbed onto a couple of the branches, holding onto his tswin in his other hand, the pink tendrils already dancing with anticipation.

Tsuk’ami followed his lead, holding her own queue close to the branches as if she waited for him to it first. And he did. But before she could follow, she took a moment to admire his face. His pupils dilated, and his mouth fell agape, before he pulled himself together, waiting for her. She shook out of her state, closing the distance of her whip and the tree.

She was immediately sent back, not conscious like Neteyam was, and it freaked her out. She was, now without warning, surrounded by fire and destruction. This time, she was sure it was her clan, but it was destroyed beyond recognition. People ran, but they were like shadows, and she couldn’t make their faces out. She began to panic— frowning and mumbling something as she shook, but she heard a faint voice “stay in it” ranting those words over and over again. She realised it was Neteyam.

She kept walking, stumbling over debris and dead bodies, and it made her shiver. At that, she almost gave up, but she kept going. “What do you want from me.” She looked up to the red sky, begging for answers “I don’t understand”

As she said it, everything became louder. The cries, the ringing, and it stood like that for a moment. When it stopped, Tsuk’ami was surrounded by darkness, and everything fell to a single cry. It was soft and high pitched, but heartbreaking. She looked around, but saw nothing. “Tell me about my path. How must I help?” she spoke into the void, but as she heard something, like a word almost spoken, she was shoved right out of that state.

She stood disoriented, her eyes widening as she noticed the branches shining like flickering lights. The usual steady glow seemed to falter.

“Neteyam” she turned to him, hoping he had answers to give her, “what’s happening with it?” She was eager to know. Did she cause it? Is it dying?

Neteyam was already staring up at it. He didn’t answer, but a hint of concern coloured his features. He knew he only had seen that scenery once— when his sister failed to connect to a Spirit tree of the Metkayina people. But this was no where near the same situation as that.

The silence suddenly broke “I’m done” Tsuk’ami stumbled back a few steps “I never asked for this. I’m not involving myself in these- these visions! And stupid riddles!” She yelled, throwing her arms around hysterically “if the Great Mother wants to tell me something, she can speak clearly.” And with that she stormed off.

That definitely wasn’t Txi speaking. Because in reality, all Tsuk’ami wanted to do was somehow save the world that was dying before her eyes. It’s what Txi inspired her to be. But this was just her fear—fear that she was doing something wrong. Fear that she wasn’t cut for that job, even though she fantasised about it.

Neteyam just watched, a silent witness to the turmoil that was within her. The forest went still, silent, the lights stopped, all as she walked away. And Neteyam saw it, he noticed. He recognised it.

_______________

Sooo Neteyam is learning something new about Tsuk’ami, and it concerns him more than he would like to admit!!

Btw sorry it takes me so much time to complete a chapter, I try to make everything fit perfectly for what I have planned in the future. (Things change quickly) loll

[atinycafe]

BENEATH THE SURFACE — ch 02 [lullaby]

PROMPT; mermaid!reader literally gets robbed by ateez and then falls in love w them after like they didn't just steal from her??

FEAT; pirate!ot8!ateez x mermaid!reader (slight joong + wooyoung focus)

IN THIS CHAPTER; reader in her yandere era?? stalking them FOR MONTHS and shit like girl.. we know you aint doin all that 4 ur necklace.

WRD COUNT; 4.4k

NOTES; this chapter is a little boring but i promise u the next one is gonna be better, they're finally going to meet her!! i just need to build up a little base

TAGLIST; @cookiechristie @zozoziwa @hiraii-gf @satsuri3su ; lmk if you want 2 b added!

Determined, the mermaid resolved to shadow the ship's every move, refusing to sever the only connection she had to her long-lost village. It was a decision driven by an unyielding desire to reclaim the stolen relic that served as a tether to her past.

With a fluid grace, she trailed behind the vessel, her iridescent tail propelling her through the depths of the sea. Each stroke brought her closer to the ship, bridging the gap between her present reality and the memories of her past.

The mermaid's heart ached with the weight of her loss, and she knew that surrendering the pursuit would mean severing the final thread that bound her to her origins. The stolen artifact, her necklace, held not only sentimental value but also the last remnants of a life once cherished. Letting it slip away would be an abandonment of her past, a betrayal of her own identity.

The gentle sway of the ocean currents softly calming her heartbeat, a vivid flashback swept through the mermaid's mind, transporting her back to the fateful day when tragedy befell her tranquil village. The memories surged forth, like an untamed tempest, enveloping her senses in a maelstrom of emotions.

[flashback] The once serene waters, teeming with life and harmony, transformed into a frenzied tableau of chaos and despair. The air crackled with tension, filled with the palpable fear that gripped the merfolk. Panic spread like wildfire as the sea witch unleashed her sinister powers, setting in motion a harrowing chase that would forever stain the mermaid's memories. The thunderous sounds of orcas' mighty jaws echoed through the water, reverberating with bone-chilling intensity. Their relentless pursuit, driven by the witch's dark command, sent shivers down the spines of the fleeing merfolk. Desperation mingled with the salty breeze. As the mermaid's parents, their hearts burdened with love and protectiveness, frantically sought refuge amidst the tumult, their hands trembled as they gently placed their cherished baby girl into the waiting jaw of a majestic tiger shark. Their voices quivered with urgency as they begged the creature to carry their precious child far away from the encroaching danger. The water around them hummed with their fervent prayers, intermingled with the scent of brine and the metallic tinge of blood. Neptune's mother, a guardian of the seas, recognized the gravity of the situation. With a sense of purpose, the benevolent shark embraced her role, guided by an instinctual compassion that resonated deep within her. The current surged, enveloping the young mermaid in a protective embrace, whisking her away from the imminent peril that threatened to consume her world. But the wicked sea witch, driven by an insatiable malice, refused to relent. With a savage determination, she lunged forward, her malevolent presence staining the waters around her. Her dark tendrils thrashed violently, blurring the vision of those who witnessed her onslaught. Bubbles erupted in a frenzy, obscuring the view, as the witch's assault left an indelible scar upon the infant Neptune. The phantom touch of the octopus-like sucker imprinted itself beneath his right fins, a haunting reminder of the treachery that forever altered their lives. Amidst the wreckage and anguish, Neptune's mother emerged as a beacon of solace and resilience. She cradled the orphaned mermaid, nurturing her with tender devotion, as if filling the void left by the loss of her family. Gratitude blossomed within the young mermaid's heart, a poignant symphony of love and appreciation that resonated within her being. Yet, despite the solace she found within the shark's embrace, a bittersweet longing lingered, aching for the embrace of those she had lost. [end of flashback]

To this day, the mermaid carried the weight of unanswered questions upon her heart, for the reason behind her village's targeted destruction remained shrouded in an enigmatic veil. The whispers of the ocean currents offered no solace, leaving her to grapple with the haunting mystery that had cast its shadow over her past.

Was her village merely a casualty of the sea witch's insatiable hunger for power? Or did the cruelty that descended upon them hide deeper, more intricate secrets? The mermaid yearned to unravel the truth, to unmask the hidden motives that had robbed her of a cherished home and loving community.

But despite her unwavering determination, the mermaid's quest for answers proved to be an elusive pursuit. The ocean's depths guarded its secrets fiercely, refusing to yield the truth she sought. Neptune's mother, her beloved guardian and guide, had long since departed, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. Only Neptune, her loyal companion and dear friend, remained by her side, their bond forged through shared experiences and a sense of kinship.

So absolutely not.

Her resolve to reclaim her lost necklace remained unyielding.

It was more than just a piece of jewelry; it held the memories, the love, and the very essence of herself. The necklace was a tangible link to her past, a testament to her identity and the life she once knew.

The pirates carried on with their shipboard activities, blissfully unaware of the enchanting presence lurking beneath the waves.

Hongjoong, the captain of the ship, stood at the helm with a weathered tricorn hat perched upon his head. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, his eyes unwavering in their focus. Clutching a tattered map in his rough hands, he skillfully guided the vessel through the treacherous waters, leading his crew towards their desired destination.

Their destination lay on the horizon—the fabled Dawn Island, nestled in the vast expanse of the East Blue ocean. It was a treasured haven for the weary sailors, a place of respite and opportunity. Specifically, they aimed for the bustling port city of Foosha Village, a vibrant hub where they could engage in trade, restock their supplies, and recharge their spirits. The allure of the village's quaint charm and the tantalizing promise of new culinary delights worked like a balm on their frayed nerves. The pirates, weary from their arduous journey, found solace in the thought of savoring delicious meals that awaited them there.

"Mingi! Look! I can load this cannon with one hand!" San exclaimed, his laughter blending with the rhythmic creaks of the ship. He swiftly moved across the deck, loading cannons with ease and engaging in playful banter with his fellow pirates, occasionally disrupting their routines.

Mingi grinned and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Hyung, stop being a showoff! You're so distracting, you're gonna get us in trouble!"

San winked at Mingi, mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Come on, Mingi! Where's your sense of humor? A little banter keeps the spirits high, doesn't it?"

Yunho flashed a playful grin, and sarcastically joined in. "San, you're soooo talented. Captain will be so thrilled when we fall behind schedule because of your antics."

San chuckled, his voice carrying over the ocean breeze. "Ah, Captain Hongjoong can handle a slight delay. Besides, who can resist a bit of fun when the sea is calm and the wind is on our side?"

As their playful exchange continued, Hongjoong couldn't help but join in, his laughter resonating across the deck. He leaned against the helm, observing his crew with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, appreciating the camaraderie and lightheartedness they displayed.

In the midst of their tasks, Yunho and Mingi, the dependable members of the crew, worked tirelessly. They flexed their muscles as they hauled heavy cargo and repaired worn-out rigging.

Jongho and Seonghwa stood on the quarterdeck, engrossed in a conversation. The youngest of the crew couldn't help but voice his suspicion about the sudden disappearance of his beloved strawberry jam. He glanced over his shoulder at the slumbering figure of Wooyoung, nestled in a hidden corner of the ship.

"Hyung, did you see the empty jars of jam" Jongho asked, his eyebrows almost meeting as he frowned. "I bet it's Wooyoung again, he always does this."

Seonghwa chuckled softly at the youngest's whines, his gaze shifting to where Wooyoung lay, blissfully unaware of the conversation surrounding him. "You know, Jongho, it wouldn't surprise me. That boy eats so much, I wonder how he manages to stay so slender," he remarked, his tone filled with both admiration and slight bewilderment.

Jongho mumbled something about a "metabolism of a sprinting cheetah". He excused himself from the conversation with Seonghwa and made his way towards Wooyoung's peacefully resting form.

With each step, the wooden planks creaked softly beneath his weight, the ship's gentle rocking lulling him further into a state of tranquility.

Jongho knelt down beside him to reach out and lightly pat Wooyoung's shoulder. "Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up," he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "I heard you might have a clue about the missing strawberry jam. Mind sharing your secret stash?"

Wooyoung stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open, a sleepy and confused glint in his eyes as he focused his gaze on Jongho. "Huh? Strawberry jam? Can I have some?" he mumbled, his voice filled with drowsiness.

Jongho let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes playfully. "You still have the guts to ask me about second servings? I should throw you overboard," he teased, standing up and reaching for a bucket of ice-cold water.

Wooyoung's eyes widened in alarm, his drowsiness instantly fading. "Wait, wait, Jongho! Don't you dare!" he pleaded, his voice laced with panic.

A mischievous glint danced in the boy's eyes. With a playful smirk, he splashed the freezing water onto Wooyoung.

A high-pitched scream erupted from Wooyoung's lips, echoing across the vast expanse of the ocean. "What the heck, you jerk! What was that for?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and irritation.

Jongho couldn't contain his laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "Relax, Wooyoung! You had some jam on the corner of your lips. I just wanted to help you clean up," he explained, his grin widening mischievously.

Wooyoung stood up, inching closer to Jongho.

Sensing the impending retaliation, Jongho swiftly ducked down, evading Wooyoung's attempt to land a punch. He chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "You'll have to be quicker than that, hyung," he taunted, relishing in the lighthearted banter between them.

The mix of laughter and screams they let out resonated through the ship, mingling with the gentle rocking of the waves.

Yeosang sighed at the noise.

With his keen eye for detail, he meticulously adjusted the sails, his focus unwavering. He moved with grace and precision, fine-tuning every aspect to harness the power of the wind. His nimble fingers danced across the rigging, ensuring each knot was secure and the sails caught the breeze just right.

Although the pirates noticed Yeosang's uncharacteristic behavior from the night before, they chose not to pry or question him. They knew that if Yeosang was acting differently, there must be a good reason behind it.

San, however, couldn't help but pout as he had glanced at him coming out of his room. He still held a hint of bitterness over the fact that Yeosang had taken the necklace he had found. It was a fleeting feeling, quickly replaced by the bond they shared as brothers, but San couldn't resist a playful jab.

"Hey, Yeosang, still hanging on to my treasure, huh?" San teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You better make it up to me."

Yeosang chuckled softly, his gaze meeting San's. "Don't worry, San. I'll make it up to you soon enough. Just you wait."

Yeosang's unwavering faith in the little mermaid resonated deep within his bones. He had an unshakable belief that their paths would cross again, and when they did, he vowed to embrace her in his arms, ensuring she would never be left out or forgotten.

With each passing day on their journey, Yeosang found solace in the thought of their reunion, drawing strength from the belief that destiny would bring them together once more.

Yeosang knew that when the time came, he would introduce the mermaid to his crew, sharing the admiration he held for her. He imagined their awe-struck faces and the warmth that would envelop their hearts in her supernatural presence. I mean, she was a mermaid! That's crazy!

In the quiet moments aboard the ship, when the moon cast a soft glow upon the ocean's surface, Yeosang would gaze out into the vast expanse, his heart brimming with hope and anticipation.

With each passing wave and each whisper of the wind, Yeosang's conviction grew stronger. He was prepared to be patient, knowing that their reunion would be worth the wait.

In the embrace of the moonlit night, the pirates scattered to find solace in their own designated havens, seeking respite from the day's adventures. The deck grew quieter, enveloped in a serene ambiance, save for the presence of Mingi, the steadfast navigator, and Wooyoung, the night-owl cook and surgeon.

Mingi leaned against the ship's railing, his eyes fixed on the starry sky, lost in deep contemplation. The gentle breeze rustled his hair, carrying with it a sense of tranquility. He took a deep breath, allowing the night air to fill his lungs, grounding him in the present moment.

Wooyoung, with his culinary skills and healing touch, prepared a small feast for himself and Mingi. The aroma of freshly cooked meals wafted through the air, mingling with the salty scent of the ocean. Wooyoung's nimble fingers danced across the ingredients, infusing each dish with a touch of magic.

As they sat on the deck, sharing a meal under the moon's watchful gaze, a comfortable silence enveloped them. The soft murmur of the waves provided a soothing backdrop, lulling them into a state of calm. They relished the flavors and savored the nourishment that the food brought, a temporary respite from their demanding lives as pirates.

But then, a delicate whisper echoed from beneath the boat, carried by the gentle currents. Mingi and Wooyoung froze, their senses on high alert. Their hearts quickened, and a creeping unease settled in the pit of their stomachs.

The voice grew louder, a melodic siren song that wove its way through the night air. Mingi's hand instinctively reached for his flintlock pistol, while Wooyoung swiftly finished his drink and swallowed the dried meat in his mouth. They exchanged a knowing glance, a silent understanding passing between them.

Wooyoung stood up, grabbing the nearby coiled cord and tossing one end to Mingi. With deft movements, they secured themselves to the ship, attaching the cord to their waists, a lifeline in the face of the unknown. They knew the dangers that lurked beneath the ocean's surface, and they were prepared to face them head-on.

As the haunting melody persisted, fear gripped their hearts. They were well aware of the legends surrounding mermaids, of their captivating voices that lured sailors to their doom. The cords provided a sense of security, but the trepidation remained, gnawing at their resolve.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, the enchanting song continuing to echo through the night. Mingi glanced at Wooyoung, uncertainty etching lines of concern on his face. He hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to speak.

"Do you... do you still feel like yourself?" Mingi's voice was barely a whisper, his words laden with both fear and curiosity.

Wooyoung met his gaze, uncertainty flickering in his brown eyes. "Yeah," he replied softly, his own doubts lingering. The ethereal voice had a soothing quality, unexpectedly unraveling the knots of tension in their bodies. It was not the deadly allure they had anticipated.

Confusion swirled within them, mingling with the fear. The melody had an unexpected effect, a bittersweet enchantment that called into question their preconceived notions. They remained tethered to the ship, their grip on reality and their identities tested by the alluring song.

As the haunting melody continued to resonate, Mingi and Wooyoung found themselves in an unexpected state of vulnerability. They were caught between the unknown depths below and the allure of the melodic voice above, unsure of what lay ahead.

"Fuck, why is it not working!" the mermaid suddenly whined, cutting through the sweet melody.

Wooyoung and Mingi exchanged puzzled glances, taken aback by the unexpected interruption. They listened intently as the mermaid's voice grew louder, her frustration evident. It seemed she was conversing with someone, or something, else.

A mix of confusion and amusement washed over the pirates, their initial fear fading into disbelief. The tension that had gripped their hearts moments ago dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of incredulity. They had never anticipated such a comical turn of events in the middle of the ocean.

With newfound lightness in their spirits, the pirates sat back and listened, relishing the absurdity of the situation. The mermaid's continued complaints carried on, becoming a source of entertainment amidst the vastness of the sea.

"Neptune, stop asking me to try harder, I'm literally trying my hardest," her frustrated plea echoed through the night air, her voice filled with desperation. Water splashed around her as the shark bumped into her side, a silent witness to the unfolding drama. Neptune, the instigator of this scheme, had pushed her to use her voice to manipulate the pirates into returning her necklace. But what he failed to comprehend was the truth behind her soothing voice— the tragedy of her village's demise, which had occurred when she was but a young baby, had shaped her vocal cords into an instrument of solace rather than manipulation, not allowing her to unlock that trick as she was never thought how.

The following night, the deck was empty except for Wooyoung, who sat cross-legged on the figurehead of the boat. A bowl of rice and pickled radish rested between his thighs. Earlier that morning, he had informed the rest of the crew about their encounter with the mermaid.

Each crew member listened intently, their faces reflecting a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Hongjoong, representing the team, voiced his doubts, suggesting that it might have been a mere trick of the wind. However, Mingi and Wooyoung stood firm, their conviction unshaken.

Amidst the reactions, one crew member remained unfazed— Yeosang. Wooyoung, with his keen eyes, immediately noticed the unexpected blank expression on his face. If Wooyoung didn't know him so well, he might have mistaken it for Yeosang's usual calm demeanor. However, their long history together, having joined Hongjoong's crew simultaneously, told Wooyoung that something was amiss. He knew that Yeosang's passive expression concealed something deeper.

He had made a mental note to speak with Yeosang about it later.

Perched atop the colossal mermaid sculpture at the ship's bow, Wooyoung sat with anticipation, his legs swinging freely above the vast expanse of the ocean. The empty plate, which once held his meal, had been pushed aside, forgotten. Now, his focus was solely on one thing.

He was waiting.

He was waiting for her.

Wooyoung's insatiable curiosity always drove him towards the unknown. His adventurous spirit had led him to convince his best friend to join a pirate crew on a whim, simply because it intrigued him. He thrived on the rush of adrenaline that came with exploring uncharted territories, making the discovery of a mermaid all the more enticing. The mermaid captivated him like nothing else before.

His longing to see her, to hear her voice, was undeniable, even if he hesitated to admit it. The enchanting melody she sang had a profound effect on him, leaving him feeling weirdly relaxed, both physically and mentally. It was as if her voice possessed the power of a potent sedative, lulling him into a state of tranquility. For someone plagued by insomnia, this was a blessing.

Despite his usual struggles with sleeplessness, Wooyoung had succumbed to slumber within minutes of her departure. The experience was surreal, awakening at dawn instead of his usual sleepless nights. It was a peculiar sensation, but one that he yearned to experience again, to immerse himself in the tranquility her voice had bestowed upon him.

From the sculpture at the ship's bow, Woo called out into the vast expanse of the ocean, his voice carrying in a hopeful whistle, "Are you here, little mermaid?"

Silence greeted him.

He sighed softly, disappointment tingeing his words as he murmured, "Well, what a shame, really liked your voice."

As Wooyoung reached for his plate and cup, preparing to make his way back to the kitchen, a gentle, familiar melody floated through the air. The sound caught his attention, freezing him in place. A smile curled on his lips as he chuckled softly, leaning against a nearby pole. He closed his eyes, basking in the blissful moment, allowing the enchanting melody to wash over him, "Well hello there.."

Unbeknownst to Wooyoung, his captain had quietly approached from behind, and as the younger brother glanced over his shoulder, he exchanged a knowing look with him. Wooyoung mouthed the words "Told you so" before closing his eyes once more, fully surrendering to the allure of the melody.

The captain, who had purposely remained awake that night, wanting to uncover the truth behind the "mermaid's" voice, had been engrossed in his own activities in his cabin. Surrounded by maps and deep in calculations, he was determined to approach the situation with a rational mindset.

However, the silence was broken by the arrival of her voice, causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. The captain's features softened as he listened to the mesmerizing sound, unable to deny the sheer beauty that emanated from it.

Feeling a peculiar sensation coursing through his body, the captain had removed his glasses and had rubbed his eyes, attempting to shake off the sleepiness that had unexpectedly enveloped him. Perplexed by his own reaction, he couldn't comprehend why he felt so inexplicably... good. Driven by curiosity and a growing sense of enchantment, he'd left the confines of his cabin and ascended the stairs, emerging onto the deck beneath the open sky.

As the gentle breeze caressed his hair, playing with the strands that fell across his forehead, the captivating voice grew stronger, reverberating in his ears. Drawn toward the source of the melody, the captain approached Wooyoung, his footsteps guided by an invisible force that compelled him closer.

Seated at Wooyoung's feet, the captain succumbed to a strange sensation of weakness in his legs, as if they could no longer support his weight. He gazed up at his crewmate, his eyes reflecting a mixture of awe and longing. Never before had he encountered a voice so sweet and captivating, and he yearned to catch a glimpse of the face behind that enchanting melody. However, the darkness of the night shrouded the ocean, rendering it as black as coal, obscuring any chance of visual contact.

"Just who is she," as the captain mumbled his question, his voice filled with intrigue and wonder, Wooyoung sensed the longing in his words. Sympathetic to his captain's curiosity, he chose to join him on the floor, nestling his head on the captain's shoulder. The two men found solace in each other's company, the sensation reminiscent of the times they would indulge themselves in the hazy pleasure of stupefied cigars. In that moment, with the melodic voice still resonating in their ears, they allowed themselves to bask in the soothing atmosphere, finding comfort and a rare sense of tranquility in each other's presence and the strong winds.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the mermaid's nightly serenades became an integral part of the pirate crew's routine. At first, each encounter with her ethereal voice had left the pirates astounded, experiencing a range of surprising sensations. Seonghwa even cried the first time he heard her. But as time went on, they grew accustomed to her presence, eagerly anticipating her arrival as the sun would begin its descent. They would gather on the deck, where they had laid out blankets in preparation, creating a cozy space to listen to her enchanting melodies.

The mermaid's songs had woven their way into the hearts of the crew, becoming a source of comfort and solace. Imagining a night without her voice felt strangely empty, leaving a void that only her captivating melodies could fill. The pirates had come to rely on her music, finding respite and a sense of peace within its soothing embrace. A bond was created.

In the waters underneath the pirate boat, the shark curiously turned his belly up to the surface and glanced at the mermaid beside him. "I still don't understand why you do that every night," he inquired, his voice gentle and inquisitive.

The mermaid, captivated by a seashell she had torn off the boat, averted her gaze and sighed softly. "I don't know either," she confessed, her eyes fixated on the small, imperfect shell that shimmered with a mesmerizing light. "Maybe one night, I'll manage to make them jump from the boat."

Neptune let out a disapproving "you don't even believe that yourself" and shifted back to his normal position, casting a side-eyed glance at the blushing mermaid. Surprised by her sudden change in demeanor, he gasped dramatically. "Why are you blushing, oh my God?" he teased, eager to uncover the reason behind her embarrassment.

With her face heating up, the mermaid swiftly turned around, her long locks serving as a shield to hide her flushed cheeks. In a slightly muffled voice, she pleaded, "Leave me alone! He said he liked my voice, okay?" She couldn't help but feel a mix of delight and self-consciousness at the memory of the tan boy's comment months ago. The urge to share her voice with him and the crew had since consumed her thoughts, leaving her perplexed about the strange pleasure it brought her. Sometimes, lost in her reverie, she would accidentally bump into the boat, jolting her back to reality and causing her to hurt her head.

She yearned to hear more of their praises, to catch glimpses of their conversations about her when she sang. The soft words exchanged among the crew sent a thrill through her, tightening her stomach with anticipation. It was an indescribable sensation, the feeling of being acknowledged and appreciated by someone other than Neptune.

She couldn't deny the rush of satisfaction that coursed through her when she caught fragments of their conversations. It was validation, a confirmation that her voice held power over their hearts.

The mermaid's confusion and lingering infatuation puzzled her, and she couldn't quite comprehend the emotions swirling within her. The mere thought of the tan boy's appreciation for her voice filled her with a mixture of exhilaration and insecurity.