#anyway on the floor sobbing. the story the concept. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kenjakusbraincum · 10 months

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Hi, i can’t help but request this because you write so beautifully.

So I just had the idea of a former ballerina being sacrificed to Sukuna. She does her work good and gracefully but she longs for old times where she was able to dance and feel like she’s flying again. So she does it in the evening in Sukunas garden. He of course notices and as culture lover he is he makes her his personal dancer. And a cute lil love story forms from this scenario.

I would be so thankful if you form this to a proper story because i don’t have enough imagination. Love your work

Thank you for the compliment! I apologize in advance for my butchered descriptions of dance scenes and hope you like what I came up with anyways <3

Swan Lake

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 6.3k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader but the words maid, whore and bitch are used, true form! sukuna, bullying, fluff with a very brief and soft smut scene at the end!

Sukuna doesn't care where his servants come from. People get offered to him all the time, and he takes them when he feels his palace is understaffed. And that happens quite often, considering how eagerly Sukuna gets rid of his servants for the smallest inconveniences. His staff is disposable to him, having no value beyond the services they provide him with.

So he doesn't know about your past. He doesn't know you were once an esteemed entertainer. He doesn't know that you were touring the world, sharing your art with audiences of all different classes and ranks in society. He doesn't know you were once the star of the stage, hypnotizing people with the fluidity of your movements in rhythm with the music. He doesn't know you were snatched from fame, taken against your will and brought to him to pay your capturer's debt. You're not sure he's even properly looked at you, much less heard your capturer tell him who you are. You were that worthless to him.

Now you are but a maid. You spend your days on your knees, mopping blood soaked floors. At night, you share chambers with dozens of other servants. Privacy is a foreign concept in Sukuna's palace. You are not entitled to it even in the bathroom. Everything is shared for the servants. There's no space for you to even try to indulge in your beloved profession, even as a hobby. Except...

The garden. Most servants are in bed, prepared to sleep, but your eyes linger on the windows. In every way, going to the garden would be to your own detriment. Losing sleep was dangerous, it could lead to getting caught slacking off, or being ratted out about it. And the consequences for that... well. One could only imagine it wouldn't be a simple slap on the wrist.

Still, you longed for this. The work you did during the day drained you, it was repetitive and soulless. You weren't made to clean floors. You were made to dance, it was your destiny. Since childhood, you don't remember a period of time as long as this one, where you haven't had the opportunity to enjoy your passion. Tears stung your eyes as this revelation found you. Every day, you could feel your life slipping through your fingers. You were alive, but your energy, your liveliness, your personality, all of it was dissipating in the pools of blood you were forced to clean.

''Can you be quiet? Some of us are trying to sleep.'', a servant who sleeps in the bed next to yours snaps you out of your thoughts. You are sobbing. You apologize quickly, and snuggle in bed, trying to muffle the noises against your deflated pillow.

But sleep just doesn't take you that night. You grow more and more frustrated, as time passes and you toss and turn in bed. Eyes wide open, fixed to the window across you. The garden lures you, calls for you. Damn it. You have to try. This is not much of a life anyways, you think. Sooner or later Sukuna or Uraume would find faults in what you're doing anyways, and you'd be served for dinner. You don't exactly have a lot to lose.

Sneaking out of the chambers is easy. You spent your whole life on your tippy toes. No one moves in their sleep as you cross the room, open the door and slide through the crack. Quietly, you make your way around the mansion. Outside, you're greeted by a light summer breeze. The garden is eerily peaceful, lit by the moonlight in this late hour.

You start to warm up, hopping, circling your neck, swinging your legs. Feeling the stretches in muscles you forgot you had. The grass tickles your legs as you splay across the ground and reach for your feet. Then stand and shift your weight to your toes, feeling out how rusty you've gotten in the time you've missed out on practicing. It's not too bad.

So you start out slow. The music plays in your head and you mouth silently, counting the rhythm. Your eyes are glued to the ground, you're trying not to trip and fall on the uneven surface. Your movement feels as smooth as it did before, but you can't see yourself in the mirror to check your form. You close your eyes, surrendering to the cadence of your motions. The music carries you, and as you turn into a poised second arabesque, time seems to slow. It's only a moment, but when you turn back to continue...

Slam. So hard you start to fall back, but his arms catch you around the waist. If you weren't scared out of your mind you would've wondered how did he even show up there without you noticing. But of course, he's Sukuna. You look at him with eyes so wide you think they may fall out, and he stares back with an amused smirk. Then he bites the air in front of you, clanking his sharp teeth together, and you scream in response. His hand flies to your mouth in an instant and he shuts you up.

"Quiet now. You wouldn't want to wake your colleagues up, would you?", he tilts his head, observing your terrified expression. "Or do you want everyone to slack off with you tomorrow?"

"I-I won't slack off I promise!!!", you panic, hands shaking as you bring them up in a defensive stance. Tears pool in your eyes as you stare death in the face. He is... weirdly beautiful, lit by the moonlight. And he holds you sturdily, but gently. It doesn't hurt. And he doesn't seem particularly mad.

"Is that so?", he asks. There's a smile on his face, but it feels dangerous, threatening. Like everything else about him. "Then just what do you think you're doing outside at this hour?"

"I was- I was dancing -", you stutter, struggling to form coherent sentences. Why are you so close to him? You're pulled flush against him. You can almost feel his -

"I didn't know I had a dancer in my ranks. Why didn't you say so?", he says, and surprisingly lets go of you.

You're so sure he's playing with his food. You're so sure he's going to slice you into pieces. You've already crossed so many lines, broken so many rules. You look to the ground, only now remembering eye contact with him was strictly forbidden.

"Speak.", he growls, audibly irritated by your refusal to reply.

You didn't think he was genuinely asking. What the hell are you supposed to say? Why didn't you say so? Maybe because you wanted to see the light of day again? "I ... A lowlife such as myself has no place speaking to your Highness.", you duck your head low in an apologetic manner. And he seems satisfied, smiling playfully again. Except you don't see it, you feel it. Sukuna's presence pulls the most demeaning, self-depricating things out of people's mouths.

"Humble.", he comments and walks a couple steps around you. He's huge. "Go on then, dance for me."

You stand frozen. It's not that you're ashamed... you've performed for audiences bigger than you ever could've imagined. But the weight of his stare is harder to bear than that of hundreds. And the stakes are higher than ever. He has to like it, or else...

"Dance!", he orders sternly, and crosses his arms over his chest. So you give it your all. Remembering where he interrupted you, you get back into position and start. Dance. Your life depends on it, doesn't it? Well if there's one thing you can do to save your life it should be this.

But it's not like before. Fear seeps into every muscle in your body, and your movements are unsure. Every jump is fleeting, every landing shaky. Tears blur your vision, and it's so hard to keep your breathing steady when you're struggling not to cry. But you're a ballet dancer, you were trained to endure. You finish the variation, cross your legs and gracefully bow.

Sukuna watches intently with narrowed eyes, like a predator stalking his prey. You can't see the sly smile on his face, but you can feel it.

"I apologize, your Highness.", your voice trembles. "It wasn't my best."

Sukuna huffs in amusement and waves his hand dismissively. "Go to sleep.", he orders.

You bow before him again, and quickly turn back towards the mansion. You don't feel relief from his piercing stare until you disappear behind a corner in the hallway.

You can't shake the feeling when you're back in your bed, snuggled in the sheets up to your eyes. You just survived a close encounter with Sukuna. And he must've liked what he saw at least a little bit, if you're still alive.

The next morning, you wake up and start getting ready for work with the other servants. The bathroom is busy, and as there's little else to do in the servant circles, gossiping starts immediately.

"Did you hear the scream last night?", the servant taking up the sink next to yours says, tapping foundation into her skin.

"Screams come from Sukuna's chambers all the time. It must be a new pet getting used to him.", another one replies. You shiver.

"Everyone knows how that sounds. This was different!", the two maids exchange a look.

The second rolls her eyes. "So, he killed someone. Nothing new.", she shakes her head.

"No. Uraume would've called someone to clean it up immediately.", the first servant continues. You really, really wish they would just drop it, until... "Hey you.", she turns to you. "Your bed was empty last night, did you hear anything?"

Your blood runs cold. "I was... feeling sick. And went to the bathroom.", you say quickly. "I probably couldn't hear... over the sound of throwing up."

"Hm.", both of them look at you now. "Well you look sick too.", one of them says. "Be careful with work today.", then they finish up and leave. You breathe a sigh of relief and finish up getting ready.

The next few days pass spotlessly. You don't cross paths with Sukuna. But some nights, you feel his presence in the garden. You stretch and practice simple movements in the bathroom, when no one's around. And the variations, you save them for the garden. At night. The only time you feel alive, the only time you feel like yourself. Human. Free. You think you might just get away with no one knowing, but then...

He walks past you and another maid while you're scrubbing the floors in the hallway. Both of you freeze as he passes by, assuming a submissive position and greeting him. You pray he won't notice, pray he won't know you by your voice, but he stops. Right by you, and then there's a moment of silence. He lifts his foot, touching your chin, and nudges you to look at him.

"Oh.", you watch his stern expression soften. "It's a shame for a talent like yourself to waste away on their knees.", he says. You look to the servant next to you, and she mouths a silent 'what?' as she turns her head in your direction.

You swallow your shame. It's not the first time you had to in front of Sukuna. "Its an honor to serve you, your Highness, even if it's on my knees.", you say.

Sukuna hums. "What a good servant you are.", an amused smile graces his face once again. "Well, get to rubbing then.", he nudges your face back downwards with his foot, and walks away.

You and the servants keep rubbing intensively, until he's out of sight and a couple minutes have passed. Then she grabs you by your shoulders and gives you a look that is both terrified and angry. "You did what with Sukuna?", she asks.

You frown, offended. Why does everyone in this mansion immediately think of that? "He knows I'm a dancer.", you say simply and look back to the floor, rage brewing in your chest.

"When did you do it. Was it you screaming? Oh my god it was!", the revelation hits the servant and she puts her hands on her cheeks, looking at you in shock.

"It wasn't me!!", you lie, agitation showing in your voice.

"Does he really have two dicks?", she asks.

You drain the washing rug and smack her in the face with it. "You disgusting pervert, how dare you ask that about your master!"

"You hit me! Whore!", she smacks you back, but harder, and her rag is full of dirty water.

"I'm not a whore!!", you cry, and wipe your face with your dirty, wet hands.

"Dancer. Yeah right, I can only imagine!", she throws the wet rag on you, and it sits on your lap, soaking you in the nasty liquid. "And you're a liar too! How shameless!"

"What is this commotion about?", a voice calls from the back of the hallway, and you turn around with teary eyes. Uraume looks like a blob of white in your vision, nonetheless they're recognizable.

"Tell them! You hit me, you little bitch!", the servant slaps your shoulder. You don't have it in you to fight back. The injustice pains your heart, and you can't bear the embarrassment.

Uraume smirks, noting your disheveled appearance. Your whole uniform is soaked now, even your hair. There's a pool of water forming around you as the liquid seeps out of the rags. "Clean this mess immediately. Master will be notified of this issue.", they say, and walk past the two of you.

The servant looks at you with contempt burning in her eyes. Then spits in front of you. "Clean.", she says, takes the rag you hit her with and starts cleaning.

Sukuna sees you that evening. He sits on his throne, head in his hand, and looks down on you and the other servant. He hides his inner smile, the joy he takes in executing power over others. And it's you again. He asks what this is about, and the servant wastes no time pointing her finger at you, saying you hit her first.

Sukuna's critical stare turns to you. ''Is that true?'', he asks, scanning you from head to toe, noting the state you're in. He's not particularly happy to see you like that.

You timidly nod, admitting your fault in the situation. Your stare is fixed to the ground, where dirty water drips down from your soaked clothes. You smell, and look like a rat, all of that in front of Sukuna. You wish the ground would swallow you whole and spare you this humiliation.

But he knows you. You've captivated him. Otherwise he wouldn't have cared to ask if you have anything to say in your defense. You tell him, omitting the details of her perverse question, you simply say she was slandering his holy name.

Sukuna moves, leaning his elbows on his knees. You care about his name? How lovely. So what is this slanderous thing his servants fought about?

Silence. You and the servant exchange uncomfortable looks. If there was one thing the both of you could agree on for the day, it was that repeating it in front of him was too vulgar. With that, Sukuna quickly grows bored with the situation. When he raises his hand, both of you flinch, expecting immediate punishment. However, nothing happens when he flicks his fingers. You're dismissed.

Quickly, both of you scurry away, leaving the throne room and going back to your jobs. The rest of the day is harrowing. The rumor spreads among the servants quickly, and you are the butt of every joke. You hear whispering and giggling behind your back, and everyone's stares linger on you as you go about your day. The culmination happens next morning, when the servants are getting ready in the bathroom, and the insults start getting more direct.

''Show us how you dance for Sukuna, why don't you?''

''Did you take both at the same time?''

''He didn't like you very much if you're still working as a servant.''

And then everyone goes quiet. When you turn around, you see Uraume at the door, their eyes fixed on you. ''Come.'', they say quietly, and leave without waiting for you to catch up. Well, it seems your punishment is due. You gladly leave the bathroom and follow them down the hall, anything is better than spending another second with the other servants. But now that you think of it, where is the servant that shares your punishment? Have you even seen her this morning? Or after the meeting with Sukuna at all?

You turn a couple corners, and stop at the end of the hallway. Uraume opens the doors to a room, and ushers you inside. What is this? It's furnished. Modestly, but... You open your mouth to ask a question, but you're quickly cut off.

''Make yourself at home.'', they say, and turn their attention to you.

''What about my things?'', you ask, looking around the room, then back to Uraume.

''You won't need them. Do you have good table manners?''

''Uhh.. yeah... I think.''

''Great. You dine with Master Sukuna tonight.''

''Huh!?''

''Your outfit is on the bed, be ready by sunset. I'll come to pick you up.''

Then the door closes and you're left alone in your new room. This isn't what a punishment should look like. Not when a beautiful kimono waits on your bed. Not when there's a barre fixed onto a mirrored wall, and there's a box on the ground, and when you open it, you find pointe shoes. Multiple pairs. He didn't know what size to get you. Ribbons, a sewing kit, glue, scissors... everything you need to break them in. Under that, a simple black leotard and a wrap skirt. By all means... this looks more like a reward.

You try everything on, find the perfect pair of shoes, and test them. It's not a big room, but there's enough space for you to practice with the bar. For the first time in so long, time passes quick. You're doing something you enjoy. It feels like in a blink of an eye, your shadow gets long on the wall opposing the window, and you have to get ready for dinner. You put the kimono on to the best of your ability - you don't have the opportunity to wear it often as a servant, being usually restrained in a uniform. And then reality hits you. Sukuna wants to have you over for dinner. This... is this a date? Unless he was planning to eat you, but you suppose he wouldn't have bought you shoes and furnished a room specially for you if that was the case... Come to think of it, what are you eating tonight?

Uraume knocks on the door, and takes a long look at you when you open. They fix your collar and nod, taking off down the hallway and expecting you to follow. They lead you to the dining room, vast and expensively furnished. You hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You only let your eyes explore for a second, before you fix them back to the ground and lower your head in Sukuna's presence.

''Your Highness.'', you bow in his direction.

''Master from now on.'', he says, and stands up to greet you. Master. You've only heard Uraume, and occasionally his pets, when he'd walk by with them, call him this by this... less formal title. He towers over you as his hand touches your shoulder, urging you to turn around. You follow obediently, making a circle and displaying your outfit.

He hums in approval. "Suits you much better than a cleaning uniform.", he says, and pulls your chair out for you to sit. You mutter a quiet thank you and sit down, already overwhelmed by the interaction.

He sits on the other side of the table, facing you. You can't bear the intense eye contact, and the silence that spreads across the room. Your eyes are fixed to your hands in your lap. ''Don't be shy now. I didn't invite you to sit there and be quiet. I reserve such duties for my pets.'', he breaks the silence.

''Master. Sharing a meal with you is a privilege, and I want to thank you for that. I'm not sure I'm deserving of it, though, and how my company may be of use to you.''. The kitchen servants scatter around the table, bringing food and pouring drinks. Various appetizers decorate the table, and only now do you notice you're hungry. You shyly pick the foods that catch your eye the most.

And your humility draws out a smile from him. ''You are an artist. And I am a man who takes great joy in consuming art.'', he says, and taps his finger against his glass, watching you pick. He's getting to know you, through your taste in food.

''I didn't know that about you.'', you say and look to your plate. You feel your hand shaking as you reach for the cutlery. You know Sukuna is judging every move. He was in your territory when you were dancing, now you're on his. And he will recognize the smallest mistake.

''Oh.'', his tone changes. It sounds like he didn't particularly like that comment. He finishes chewing. ''Did you take me for a savage?'', he narrows his eyes. More food is brought to the table, plates come and go quickly as the conversation progresses, and the tension grows.

You stutter, reading his volatile mood. ''I've only heard rumors.''.

He huffs in amusement again. ''I've heard rumors about you too.'', he says, leaning into the table. ''To be fair, I was asking around.''. So he took interest in you. ''They say you were the best there was, until you got captured.''

You chew slowly, taking his story in. He continues. ''They asked about you. Asked if I knew where you are. I said no.''. Sukuna watches as you grow visibly distressed by the mentions of your team. ''The best there is? What a wonderful prize. I'd rather keep you to myself.''. Oh. So that's what this is about. He gets off on the thought of owning you, the best there is, just for himself. You curse whoever told him about you. ''You showed me your worst, and mesmerized me. I want you to show me your best. Dance for me. Convince me you're worth my patronage.''.

The servants bring the main dish, and your head droops, stare fixed into the finely decorated red meat. You touch it with your cutlery, feeling it's texture. Sukuna eyes you as you cut a slice and bring it to your mouth, expectantly waiting for your reaction. You chew slowly, savoring the taste, but your expression is puzzled. ''What is this?'', you ask. And to make sure it doesn't sound like you're unhappy, you cut another slice. Truthfully, the food is incredible, but... you can't quite place the meat.

Sukuna bares his sharp teeth in a grin. ''Veal.''.

The conversation steers into a different direction then, and you quickly forget about how powerless you felt just moments ago. Sukuna is nothing like you've imagined him. He's right, you did take him for a savage. After all, everything you've heard about him pointed to a monster, who only took pleasure in wreaking havoc and destruction. Now, you find him to be eloquent, knowledgeable, and quite sophisticated. In a way, he appears similar to the other people you've met through your job. But way more powerful, and with it, way more intriguing.

Once again, time passes quickly, slipping through your fingers. The dinner is over, and you're facing Sukuna at the door. He seems to be pleased with your company, if you can read his face at all. ''Should I consider my offer accepted?'', he inquires. ''Everything will be provided for you. You just have to dance.''.

Well, it doesn't sound half bad, does it? You're not sure if the terms of the offers convinced you, or his presentation during the dinner. It might just be him. He made you feel you wouldn't be a jester, but a respected entertainer. And not for just anyone, but for a man as thoughtful and cultured as Sukuna proved himself to be. ''For you, gladly. Master.'', you smile at him. And he smiles back, taking your small hand into his, and planting a soft kiss to your fingers. You bow to him, wish him a good night, and you part ways.

Later, in your new bed, you find yourself replaying the interaction. Tracing his features in your memory. It's the first time you've had the chance to observe him, without fear of consequences. And he was beautiful. So elegant in the way he dressed and carried himself. Like a true king.

From then on, life in Sukuna's mansion is a game. Sukuna courts you in his dining room, feeding you delicacies from all around the world Foods that are hard and expensive to come by, that you've never heard of before. He courts you with the things he allows you to do, and the gifts he gives you. You dance and eat and walk around his garden and library. You don't dine with him every night, but when you do, rest assured that a new outfit is waiting for you in your room when you get back from practice.

And you court him on the floor, with feathery leaps that leave him on the edge of his seat, and dizzying turns that force him to focus all four eyes on you. You court him when you finish the variation by bowing before him, on one knee, a breath away from where he's sitting. And when you look up at him, he sees a lover rather than a personal dancer. Even though he's never touched you, or pressed his lips to yours.

There is love in the foods he picks for you specifically to enjoy, and there is love in the way you let him watch you practice. Even if you mess up, misstep and fall out of rhythm. Even if you stumble and fall in the most unceremonious of ways. There is vulnerability in letting him see you fail. It only happens a handful of times, but when you slip before him, you feel more naked than you would ever feel with your clothes off. And the relationship that the two of you foster grows intimate, despite the formal distance you keep from each other.

And that distance closes in, one day when Sukuna is there during a particularly nasty fall. You yelp when you hit the ground, and reach for your ankle, checking for injury. You only notice Sukuna when you feel his hand on your shoulder, and his brows furrowed in worry as his head looms over you. Your eyes meet for a moment, and you're hypnotized. Then you look away quickly, feeling your face heat up from the closeness.

''It's nothing.'', you say, and look down.

''Sure?'', Sukuna asks and stands up. You nod, and he offers you a pair of his hands, to help you stand. You take them, and he hoists you up effortlessly. And now you're face to face with his chest, and you're still holding his hands... ''That should to for today.'', he says, and when you look at him, there's a tender smile on his face. It sounds like a suggestion, but you've learned Sukuna is subtle about giving you orders. You nod, dust yourself off and untie your shoes.

That night, you recall his touch on your skin. Long fingernails ghosting over your shoulder, sending shivers through your whole body. You never expected Sukuna to have it in him to be gentle. But, that wouldn't be the first time he's broken the mold you thought he fit. And now in the cold of night, you find yourself craving him.

The next time you're invited to dinner, the tension is almost unbearable. ''Aren't you a sight to behold?'', he tells you when he welcomes you into the room. He always gives you compliments, but tonight they weigh heavy on your heart. You look across the table and curse every plate and glass that stands between the two of you. You look at him with quiet longing, and you think he knows. Because his smile is victorious, almost teasing. And when you accidentally hit his leg under the table, you start to credit it less to his size, and more to him deliberately crossing into your space. Subtlety is not a word you ever thought you'd attribute to Sukuna, but it seems this is the way you've established communication. You resist the instinct to remove your leg apologetically. So they stay touching.

Unfortunately, this little interaction slowly turns your brain into mush. By the last bite, your hand is trembling and you know you don't have the precision to pick up the last piece of food with your chopsticks. So you leave it on the plate, and wait for a moment when Sukuna is at least a little bit distracted, to attempt eating it again.

But such a thing doesn't happen. Today, he looks at you like you're the food on his plate. "Come on, eat it.", he nods in your direction. You can't read his expression, but it seems benevolent.

"I'm so full.", you make up an excuse.

"Just one strip.", he nudges your leg under the table, and you flinch, cheeks heating up.

"I.. I think I'll combust.", lies.

"I'll be offended.", Sukuna plays along with your game.

"Ah...", he wins, and you pick up your chopsticks with shaky hands. But as hard as you try, the little piece of food keeps escaping you, traveling through the plate.

"What makes you so flustered today?", he asks. "Is it the leg?". You blink at the plate, and feel your face going as red as the wine in your glass. "Come.", he waves his finger at you. You lean into the table, used to following his commands. And in no time, he is looming over your plate, one hand picking the last piece of your food with his chopsticks, and the other gently taking hold of your chin, nudging your mouth open. You part your lips obediently, and he places the bit onto your tongue, never breaking eye contact. His face is mere centimeters away from yours, observing you as you chew.

And the moment you've swallowed, and opened your mouth for air, he seizes you in a kiss. Slow, as he tastes your lips, and lets you adjust and catch up with him. He feels you go tense with the initial shock, then relax in his hold and kiss him back. His tongue brushes past your lips, and you think you'll sink right through your chair, and into the earth beneath the floor. The taste, the smell of him, so expensive and intoxicating. If this moment could last forever -

Foolish you. So much stress and tension, and you barely notice how quickly it passes. , how quickly his lips leave yours. His eyes scan your face, making sure you're alright, and then he's back in his chair. "There.", he says, "Have something to be flustered about."

That night, you think about his lips, slipping away from yours and moving to your neck, collarbones, shoulders. Not stopping until they've explored your whole body and touched your soul.

In the meantime, you practice your chosen choreography to perfection. And when you're standing in his throne room and awaiting the music, and your deciding performance to start, it's the first time in a while that you recognize feeling nervous. Uraume is there too, and his other disciples and guests. But he is the only one that matters. The only one your life depends on. Although the times when your life was truly on the line are long gone, Sukuna is still your patron, and now it's your turn to either satisfy or disappoint him.

The music starts, and the nervousness wanes as you start dancing. Sukuna's gaze is heavy, critical. He's seen you do this times and times already, but now it's final. Now, he's telling you, ''Bewitch me.''. Now, you're joining it together, one seamless show just for his enjoyment. And with every spin, you keep your eyes fixed on him. Enticing him with your movement, seducing him.

And for once, time passes quick for Sukuna as well. He finds himself lost in your dance. In your quick glances, in the way your body moves, contorts, withstands your weight on your tippy toes with so much grace and fluidity. You make it look easy. You nail the landing you failed so many times before his very eyes, perfectly, effortlessly. He almost wonders if you fell intentionally when he was watching you. And he's captivated. By the end of your performance, you earn his smile. You earn the clap of his hands, you even earn his standing ovation. The king himself, honoring you with the highest form of praise.

''It takes quite a performer, to entertain a crowd all by oneself.'', he comments later, over dinner. ''You've convinced me. You're worth keeping.''

''And when I can't dance anymore?'', you ask.

''You'll still be able to eat with me.'', he says.

At the doors, he bends down to kiss you again. You anticipate it, and accept it, kneading your hands through his hair. He asks if you're tired, and you shake your head no. He asks if you want to come with him. Yes, please yes, you've wanted to for so long. You almost thought he'd never ask. Again, his face lights up in a victorious smile.

He walks you through the halls, to his quarters of the mansion. Vast, and decorated with various works of art. They hang on the wall, or stand on the cupboards in forms of statues of various sizes. Sukuna likes to collect things, if that wasn't evident by your presence in the mansion.

''You're dragging behind. Did you have a change of heart?'', he asks, and extends his hand towards you. You step closer, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. You're standing at the doors of his bedroom.

''I was just admiring the interior.'', you smile at him, and take it upon yourself to cross the doorstep. His bedroom overlooks the garden, through a tall set of windows, little plants sitting on his windowsill. And his bed is massive. You think it could fit four people of your size. But then again, Sukuna is not a normal sized person. Your hand finds the mattress, testing it's sturdiness. And when you turn around, he's right behind you. Towering over you, and forcing you to look up at him, like the king he is. But you're not scared. You have no reason to be.

''Lay down.'', he orders, but his voice doesn't sound stern. Still, you obey, climbing into the bed. And he follows, letting you ease into the pillows only for a moment, before he settles above you, urging your legs apart. You welcome him, finally feeling the closeness you've been craving for so long. His body, big enough to enclose you completely under him, so carefully pressed against yours. Light enough not to hurt, but heavy enough to establish power. To give you what you want, what you've craved for a very long time.

He never lets you forget whose grasp you're in. He folds your smaller body with ease, adjusting you to his liking. And you let him, trusting him with your body and pleasure. He takes you gently, slowly, making sure you're comfortable in the process. You feel so full of him, but it's not enough, not enough until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. You feel up his muscled arms and back, wrap around him, pull him closer with every stroke, every swipe of his lips against yours. Sukuna draws the moans out of you with practiced thrust of his hips, hitting spots inside you you didn't know existed. In no time you're seeing stars - his four eyes, never leaving yours as you come apart.

And Sukuna is stoic for the most part, but by the end of it, even he is loosing his composure. Hungry moans slip past his lips, his brows furrowing as he concentrates, trying not to let out too soon. You encourage him, babbling sweet nonsense into his ear. This flustered Sukuna, completely engulfed in the chase of his own pleasure, is as close as you've come to seeing a god. Moments later, his hips still, and you feel his muscles tense as he reaches completion, deep grunts filling your ears like the sweetest music.

You lay in his embrace, and trace your fingertips over his tattoos. Your stare is fixed on him, as he tells you various anecdotes from his long lifetime. You enjoy the opportunity to admire his beauty from up close. His eyes, so unusually benevolent as they stare outside the window and turn to you from time to time, to check if you're awake. The curve of his nose, the glimpses of his sharp teeth, his strong, masculine jawline. He is an art piece on his own.

After a while, he notices you struggling to stay awake. His hand on the back of your head nudges you to lay on his chest. He whispers you a good night, and runs his hand through your hair as you drift off. It's been a long day you've dedicated entirely to him, so he finds you worthy of this special treatment. After all, it isn't often that someone claims the title of both Sukuna's personal dancer and his lover, much less in the same day.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #soft sukuna #sukuna x you #see i love ballet. i even know a little bit about ballet #but WRITING ABOUT IT?? HELLLLLP #i just didnt know how to incorporate terms specific to it so everything is super vague #tons of dialogue in this one too!!#and the first fic i write where sukuna genuinely considers reader to be his equal and not a subhuman pet lol #it was fun to consider how he would act with someone like that #the dining scenes and the whole courtship thing? 100% inspired by hannibal.#dont ask me about it or i will write an essya

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nonbinaryeggrolls · 1 year

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Battle of the Larynx I

Miguel O’Hara x afab!reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Synopsis: Having Spider-Man as a boyfriend was becoming increasingly more difficult, and his reoccurring absence is tearing you apart

A/N: hi y’all! ik ive been so MIA with my stories lately. if im being honest sometimes i just don’t have ideas for new chapters or how to continue in progress stories, but hopefully i can get some more done soon! but for now enjoy this quick Miguel O’Hara story cuz i am OBSESSED with this man atm

Inspired by Battle of the Larynx by Melanie Martinez!

Warning: smut (fingering), toxic relationship, ANGST (yk i fucking live that shit), neglectful Miguel, LONG ASS CHAPTERS

MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

You knew what you were getting yourself into when he told you. You knew the nights that laid ahead for both of you filled with his crying and screaming after a failed mission led to a loss of innocent life. You knew the days would consist of hours holding your breath wondering if he was alive or not, and finally exhaling when he arrived there at your doorstep; battered and bloody but still, he was there. That was really the only promised you asked Miguel to keep— be there. You could handle him leaving randomly and not coming home until 2 in the morning, it was his obligation as a hero and that came before anything else. But he also took an obligation as your partner to be present when it mattered most, and according to him he cherished that concept with his life. So if that was the case why wasn’t he here now?

Miguel had been gone for 5 days now, longer than he’s ever been gone for. Five days of nothing, no calls, texts, emails, even an owl with a note would’ve sufficed at this point but he chose to leave you in the dark yet again. You touched up your mascara in the shiny elevator door reflection as you prepped yourself for the celebration party you and your art school classmates planned after you all landed the animation internship. What was supposed to be a chance for your friends to finally get to know Miguel was clearly turning into yet another evening third wheeling other couples. Another night of watching girls curl up with their lovers while you downed a spiked lemonade to forget about yours. This was the 26th time Miguel had abandoned an important event with no notice whatsoever (yes you’ve been keeping track). It started with simple things like picnic dates or small get togethers, then his absence gradually became more impactful. Missed family dinner’s, birthdays…anniversaries. Disappearing for days on end with no check ins, it was becoming torture. It was becoming increasingly obvious that people started to question whether or not you even had a boyfriend, and slowly you did too…

To Miggy 🧸:

please tell me you’re coming tonight, you know this means a lot to me Miguel

4:23

can you just call me and let me know youre alive at least????

4:49

i hope youre chaffing in your suit asshole

8:14

The elevator door opened letting you onto the top floor of Alchamex, it was pointless checking but you always did anyways. You crept your way into his office hoping to see his usual tired figure slumped over in his chair, ready for you to nag him like you usually do to take a break and eat something, but the only thing occupying the space was scattered papers. You looked through his window that towered over the Nueva York city streets trying desperately to hold back the tears that were fighting their way out.

“Y/N?”

Y/N: “Jess! Im- Im really sorry.” You turned your head only slightly so she couldn’t see your puffy eyes.

Jess: “Y/N, you’re part of reception you know you can get in a lot of trouble being up here without authorization.”

Y/N: “I know I know I just…I thought Miguel be here.” You mumbled between hiccups that came up from you failing to hide your sobs. Jess wasn’t stupid, it didnt take a genius to know what you were upset about, or who you were upset about, “If you um… if you see him can you just ask him to come home please.” Working through your sniffles, you wiped your face with your sleeve and made your way out of the office before she even had time to respond

Jess sighed feeling a twitch of anger brew inside her towards the young man, she scowled and muttered obscenities under her breath as she dialed Miguels number…

The next week came and you missed the party entirely, the calls from all your friends and colleagues went unanswered. Honestly, your self esteem couldn’t take another embarrassing, lonely entrance into an event that Miguel was supposed to accompany you too. Another endless night of sympathetic looks and pity hugs.

The clock read 7:48 pm when you arrived home from work, another day of taking calls and booking meetings for a man that wasn’t even there half of the time. With a heavy sigh you set the bags of groceries you had in hand down in order to get your keys out of your back pocket. The space was dark and cold when you walked in, it had been for the last week. You stocked the fridge with your new groceries then before taking a quick shower and finishing your nightly routine. You were in the middle of applying your night cream when you heard a loud thud causing you to finally leave the bathroom. In the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of a tall dark figure emerging from the window. You let out a shriek managing to fumble everything in hand as you scrambled to find your pepper spray.

Miguel: “Woah woah! Relax it’s just me! it’s me Y/N!” Usually you’d be used to Miguel’s late night window entrances but it had been so long since you last saw him you forgot he even did it. He turned on the living room light revealing his tired and bruised figure. He was still dressed in his spider suit, the suit you excitedly spent hours on your ipad drawing and redrawing to get the perfect design; now you hated the sight of that thing.

Y/N: “Miguel?”, seeing him gave you relief knowing it wasn’t an intruder, but the anger that’s been stirring in you for the last 2 weeks slapped you back to reality. Silence filled the space between you two, neither of you taking the initiative to speak first. It took 2 weeks for him to come back and you weren’t going to wait another second waiting for him to find the balls to say something.

Miguel: “Y/N please wait!…” he pleaded when you turned away and slammed the bedroom door behind you. You plopped down onto your mattress, you were exhausted and couldn’t stand to look at his face anymore, but you felt the empty bed space behind you dip with his weight.

Miguel: “Congratulations on your internship cariño, I knew you’d get it…” No response. “I…I got this for you. Y/N?” If you turned around you’d see the small gift wrapped box he held in his hand but you were motionless. This new silence terrified him. The possibility of you finally giving up on him made his heart sink a little

Miguel: “Y/N I’m really really sor—

Y/N: “Just shut up Miguel, shut up already…” you finally spoke through gritted teeth, “You’ve never cared about a single thing that I care about, if you did then you would’ve been there like you said you would but you weren’t! SO JUST FUCKING SHUT UP!” you sobbed and curled your legs closer to your chest

Miguel: “I know you’re angry at me… but Y/N I really am sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t call you or text you. I’m sorry it took Jess calling me to make me realize how terrible I was being. I should’ve been there to take you to your friends party, like I promised I would. I wanna be someone you can count on and trust but I’m screwing it all up.”

At this point Miguel had already stood up from the bed, you could feel the floor thump as he paced back and forth trying to find the right words to say to you. You couldn’t help but peek over at him, he looked horrible with his head in his hands and blood and dirt still caked on his suit. Regardless of how angry you felt towards Miguel you always took pity on the poor man. He loved you with everything he was and everything he wasn’t, all he wanted was to be everything you ever needed, but you were the first woman he had ever been with since Dana and Gabriella passed. You knew loving you was like learning to walk again.

You called his name in your soft voice. His head shot up, you were finally facing him with your arms open inviting him in for a hug. Miguel practically jumped from his seat and into your arms. Words couldn’t describe how good it felt to feel your touch and even though he smelled like ash and rubble you felt exactly the same, practically crying as you melted into his hold

Y/N: “I thought you were dead Miggy, you can’t keep putting me through this I can’t take it.” He settled deeper into your embrace and rested his head into the crook of your neck

Miguel: “I know, I’ll be better for you…” You felt his lips latch onto your neck and pepper you in small kisses, “I love you Y/N. I love you so much.” He groaned against you, pushing his stiffened member against your groan and pulling out a desperate moan from your lips

Y/N: “I…I love you too Miggy…fuck!” You screamed has he drove his thick fingers into your already soaking cunt. Every curl and thrust against your plush walls pushed you closer and closer to your edge.

You cried against his shoulders. There were times when the space that was wedged between you two felt infinite then dwindled every time he came back home to you.

It was euphoria, to feel him with you again.

But every high has to come down at some point.

The sound of arguing pulled you from your sleep. It was 2 in the morning when you rolled over to see a space where Miguel was originally sleeping beside you. It wasn’t unusual for Miguel to wake up in the middle of the night to work at the kitchen table or yell to Jess about some other spider variant that messed up a mission; one named Peter seemed to come up very frequently. However it seemed like this specific conversation went on for a fairly long time, you could even begin to here Miguel’s voice shake with whoever he was speaking to.

You slipped on a new t shirt from Miguel’s drawer since the clothes you previously had on had been ripped to shreds. His voice became more and more clear as you made your way down the hall

Miguel: “Do you already have an idea on who it could be?…Fuck. Okay, I’ll *sigh* I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose in a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

Y/N: “Youre leaving again aren’t you?” Your voice startled him out of his sulk.

Miguel: “…Jess suspects there’s a spider variant that’s purposely letting anomalies run loose in other dimensions. I have to handle this Y/N...”

7 hours, it took 7 hours to fall into the same old routine. It was honestly amusing at this point, all you could do was laugh. How stupid you were to think things could be any different. How stupid you were to think that HE could be any different.

Y/N: “Are you fucking serious?!” You shouted

Miguel: “Y/N Stop it, not right now please. I need you to just go back to bed and let me—

Y/N: “Let you what?! Let you leave me and come back anytime you find it convenient? How long are you gonna be gone this time Miguel, a month this time? Do you even care about the promise you kept to me? Or do I even cross your mind when you’re out there dimensions away from home playing hero for everyone else but me? This isn’t a hotel Miguel, this is our home! At least that what it fucking used to be!” You fumed. He towered above you but that didn’t stop from getting in his face, “It’s not fair Miguel! You don’t get to leave me alone for weeks and come back and fuck me thinking that’ll make it all better! You have to be better!”

Miguel: “You need to stop acting like you’re the only person in my world that needs my attention! I’m not a monster for putting the safety of the multiverse first. Im sorry I can’t be here to rock you to bed and give you a kiss goodnight all the time. Sometimes we have to put personal matters on the back burner Y/N, it’s called responsibility!” He gathered his phone and the rest of his belongings off the kitchen table

Miguel: “I have enough to worry about as it is, having you and Jess blowing up my phone to go to some party with people I don’t even know doesn’t he—

Y/N: “What?” Your tone was softer and started to become laced with hurt, it was evident in the way your voice started to shake, “Jess called you that night and it took you a week to come back?”

Realization of what he just said settles in and it makes his brows furrow in frustration and both himself and you. When he looks over at you with that same stupid emotionless face he always has you can’t help but boil with anger. His nonchalance towards your problems made you curl your fist until your knuckles turned white

Y/N: “No you’re not a monster, but you are an ASSHOLE for making me believe you could balance work and me! Why are you even with me if you can’t—

Miguel: “This conversation is over, I have a job to do and youre keeping me from doing it.” He cut you off harshly, dismissing your concerns yet again.

Y/N: “I never asked you to sacrifice your obligations! I said from the beginning that being a hero comes first, just make some goddamn time for me now and then! Why Miguel? Why do I have to beg you to see my family at Christmas?! Why do I have to beg you to meet my friends or give me an ounce of attention?! Why do I have to ask you to care about me?!”, This was frustrating him too much, your lack of understanding was infuriating. Miguel had to leave before he said something he might regret. He turned away from you and your manic sobbing and made his way to the window seal without another word, afraid that he might damage things worse than they already were by speaking

Y/N: “If we switched places I wouldn’t DARE treat you as terribly as you treat me—

Miguel: “WELL YOURE NOT ME! YOU SIT AT A DESK AND DOODLE ON A FUCKING COMPUTER! YOUR CAREER IS A JOKE, A CHILD COULD DO WHAT YOU DO. YOU CONTRIBUTE NOTHING TO THIS WORLD, I DO.” His nostrils flared and his eyes burned red with anger, “SO DONT YOU DARE SPEAK ABOUT MY LIFE LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT, WHAT IVE HAD TO SACRIFICE JUST TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT IN THIS WORLD!”

Y/N: “GOD. YOU ARE SUCH A CUNT!”

Miguel: “AND YOURE A REPLACEMENT!”

Miguels eyes widened and his rampage instantly stopped. You couldn’t believe the words that had just left his mouth, and honestly he couldn’t either. He didn’t mean it at all, he wanted to take back those words as soon as the left his mouth, he just wanted to leave. Why didn’t you just let him leave? He wouldve been right back. The air was thick and uncomfortable, your combined heavy breathing was the only thing filled the space between the two of you.

Miguel: “I…I’ll be right back.” There was a shakiness in his voice and in his movement when he stepped out onto the fire escape.

Y/N: “Dont come back. If you leave tonight…don’t come back Miguel.” You spoke in a tone barely above a whisper

Miguel: “We’ve said things we don’t mean…I’ll be back later to fix things.” His suit integrated onto his body and he leapt off of the building ledge. A blur of blue and red was the only trace he left behind.

The truth was out now, how Miguel really felt towards you. You were never a first priority or even a second or third, you were nothing but a soul to fill the space where something else was missing. His wife, his daughter, you never tried to stand in their place or become what they were to him, but now you knew that’s the only reason Miguel kept you around. You were his vice

Your heavy cries carried throughout the apartment as you laid in bed cradling the maroon cardigan that was in the gift box Miguel got you.

The spider society headquarters was empty and calm, but the office at the top floor was anything but. Miguel sat atop of his hovering platform brooding in silence in front of his computer monitors, It’d been like this since he arrived. Miguel was always stern and reserved, he never held a conversation with anyone other than Jess or Lyla so him being fairly quiet was normal. But for Miguel to not say anything at all was strange, and it didn’t take long for others to take notice of his behavior shift since leaving your apartment

Margo, Peter, and Jess were the last people at headquarters, after a long day of interrogating potential rogue variants the crew was finally successful and able to apprehend Spiderman on Earth-3360. What will happen to the young man wasn’t decided yet but catching him was a cause for celebration. The group sat around the cafeteria table sharing empanadas and Soju for a few minutes before they went back to their own universes

Margo: “Yeah Ive been in his office all day with him and Lyla and he’s barely said 2 sentences, he wasn’t even mean during interrogation. It’s like he didn’t have it in him to yell. I think he’s depressed or something.”

Peter: “I thought he was always depressed, that’s like his thing isn’t it? That’s why he’s not funny.” He joked and finished off the last empanada

Jess: “I don’t know but I need to get home, my back is killing me and I can’t deal with The Grinch any longer.” She said taking letters hand to help her up from the chair.

The group said goodnight to each other, Margo logged off and Jess went home to some much needed rest, honestly this line of work seems too dangerous for a pregnant woman. Peter made his way up to Miguel’s office, who he knew could hear the entire conversation thanks to his enhanced hearing.

Peter: “You know they’re right Miguel…” he shouted up to Miguel who was brooding on his platform

Miguel: “About what?” he asked in a condescending tone

Peter: “About you, you don’t think we’ve noticed you moping around all day. Do you wanna tell me what the deal is so you can stop pouting?” he swung onto the platform and took a seat next to Miguel, crossing his arms and sitting firm in place waiting for Miguel’s response but he was met with silence, “Is it the rogue variant? Cuz we’re not gonna let this happen again…”

Miguel: “No.”

Peter: “Miles? Gwen? Ben?”

Miguel: “No it’s none of them.” He turned his attention away from him and focused on organizing the handful of papers on his desk

Peter: “Then what is it? Is it Y/N?”

Miguel: “Did I say anything about Y/N?! Why even bring her up?!” He snapped, it was exhausting having to work and act like every terrible thing he said wasn’t weighing on his mind. Miguel couldn’t even interrogate the variant with losing focus, having to have Jess switch him out is gonna remain one of the most embarrassing points in his Spider-Man career. Peter was never a first choice for a sounding board, but it was only going to get worse for Miguel if he didn’t turn to someone for advice, because Lord knows he was terrible at handling relationship problems on his own

Miguel: “I said something bad, really really bad Peter…” he confessed. He took a seat in the chair next to him

Peter: “Do you wanna be more specific?”

Miguel: “I told her that her career was a joke. Then I called her…a replacement.” Peters eyes widened, he knew Miguel was capable of harsh words, he’d seen it first hand with Miles but this was unexpected. Especially with you, the girl he fawned over and practically stalked at work until you made the first move.

Peter: “Shit, Miguel. That’s really messed up…Did you mean it?” He asked

Miguel: “No of course not! I didn’t mean any of it, I was just frustrated. I’m not the bad guy for prioritizing my duties! She just wasn’t listening Peter, she wasn’t understanding any of what I was saying or where I was coming from. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Peter: “So why did you say it?!” Peter exclaimed

Miguel: “I DONT KNOW!”, He slouched over in his chair and cradled his head in his hands, his own words made him sick to his stomach. How he urged to tell you how guilty he was for what he said, for never being there, for making you feel like you didn’t mean anything, “I just wanted her to be quiet, everything she was saying was right but it made me feel guilty and awful. I wanted to make her feel worse than I felt. God I’m so fucking dumb…”

Peter: “You know I’m not good with this, it wasn’t long ago that I was a sad piece of shit too with a partner at home who basically couldn’t stand me. That being said, I also know that when it feels like nothing you say can make up for everything you said, and you said A LOT, maybe too much. I would never say something like that, that was insane…”

Miguel: “Peter…” he said through gritted teeth

Peter: “Sorry sorry, that being said when it feels like there’s nothing you can say that could make up for everything you said, a simple apology means more than you think it does. A real apology Miguel.” Peter looked at him, he didn’t need words to know that Peter was basically tell him to finally get his shit together.

Miguel: “What if she doesn’t accept it?”

Peter: “She will if you mean it…”

Passing buildings were a blur to Miguel, he was racing home so fast he couldn’t even focus on anything around him. While he swung from structure to structure he planned out every single thing he’d say to you, how he’s sorry for failing you in this relationship and he’d change for the both of you. He even tried to remember if there was still cinnamon in the spice cabinet so he could make you your favorite comfort drink, champurrado.

Miguel soon landed on the fire escape outside your apartment, you made a habit of leaving the curtains open for him so he could see if you were up or not and now it was an involuntary part of your routine. He peeked inside and saw you sleeping peacefully on your bed, hoping to come join you he tried to open the window but it wasn’t budging.

‘Had you locked it on purpose?’ He thought to himself, no you couldn’t have, you always left in unlocked for him. But when he saw the book you had used to block the window from being moved he panicked. Miguel knocked on your window, frantic and desperate

Miguel: “Y/N! Y/N! Unlock the window!” He pleaded. His knocking stirred you out of your sleep and you sat up in your bed, your puffy eyes on full display. When you finally looked over at him you were emotionless just as he was to you, it terrified him seeing you look at him with no longing or affection

Miguel: “Let me in…please cariño”, he begged

You were so tired, you were so tired of wondering why your boyfriend left you to question his love for you and now after tonight you know why. You stood face to face with him, the window still a barrier between you and him. It ate away at you but you couldn’t stand another night asking yourself why you weren’t getting the love you deserved. You had your answer and you didn’t need Miguel around anymore, not if you were going to be another substitute for what was missing.

Miguel: “Y/N…Y/N please wait!—

You closed the curtain in his face and went back to bed but it didn’t stop his knocking and pleading, begging for you to let him in and mend what he broke. It continued for an hour until you were convinced he eventually gave up and left. Him being gone finally gave you a chance to break down once again into your sheets, but Miguel sat on the fire escape listening to every choked out sob and hiccup you let out. Every painful cry the he caused you and now he wondered if he’d ever be able to fix it.

#across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #peter parker #into the spider verse #spiderman #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #hobie brown #miles molares #atsv

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 2 months

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Wait I thought of something for the commentary meme. I want to know about the baghralina backstory for the roleswap fic! Who broke up with who, and why? Was Alina deliberately getting back at Baghra with banging Aleksander or was that just a delightful bonus? Etc

Re: this fic!

So for context this is what Alina tells Aleksander about the amplifiers and knowing Ilya. Basically, she met Baghra at the same point and just conveniently left that out I think she probably met Baghra first— who in this AU would've been around the same age, therefore young, impressionable, and lonely at that time— while Mal's still alive and they're both on the run. Alina confesses to her some of what's happened. They bond a bit, Baghra lets slip who her father is, and that he’s something of a miracle worker even for Grisha. But beyond some #vibes, that’s the end of that

Time skip, Mal dies. Alina comes back to beg Ilya Morozova for help, and is like, I’m a friend of your daughter’s. (Ilya is like. I have a daughter? she has friends?)

He is intrigued by her sob story, and more specifically her power being anomalous, and he offers to help in what ways he can. (I think it looks like their interests are aligned for a bit because his experiments, leading up to making the big three amplifiers, apparently do involve resurrection) Alina stays with them for some time. This is where there’s a burgeoning romance between her and Baghra. I think it’s a bit more intense on Baghra’s part, frankly, Alina is kind of on the rebound here

I don’t think it would have ever gotten to like admittance of feelings, but they’re probably like sneaking off into the woods to make out

Things sour when Ilya gives her an amplifier instead of actually resurrecting Mal. Alina takes it as an insult and steals his research, this pretty much results in the end of any relationship with Baghra too. And Baghra herself is ostracized even more within her own family because she introduced Alina to them, who stole all their stuff and probably like sunbeam torched their floor rushes or whatever lmao.

I think some decades later they have a chilly reunion somewhere in like Os Kervo or something after Alina’s already established herself as a saint and Baghra’s set in her transient lifestyle. That definitely results in a resentful hook up. Alina makes a cursory pillow talk effort at real reconciliation, and offers to take her back to the Little Palace. Life is so much easier there. But she probably also lets slip that crossing the Scorched Sea would be easier and Baghra is Very averse to the idea of being used by Alina again— which is 100% how she views how things went down before. So she basically just bails before morning without a word while Alina’s sleeping lol

So you could say Alina broke up with her? But Baghra refused to like mend things. They both mutually view the other as an untrustworthy cold hearted bitch.

Anyway also this bit:

Baghra is definitely projecting here. The way she makes this entirely about Alina— her ex!! When really Aleksander is mostly attracted to the concept of like stability, wealth, and plenty. He does have preconceived notions about Alina, and is more susceptible to her because Baghra offers so little in the way of like emotional support or kindness. Like there is very much a hole in his life he's quietly hoping Alina will fill, but that's a little to the left of what Baghra's saying. She's more just telling on herself here and how she was feeling about Alina when she was very, very young

Re: Aleksander, I don’t think Alina is hooking up with him particularly to spite Baghra, but she’s power tripping on it a little bit. Like it’s less about Baghra’s reaction or her ever knowing rather than the principle of the thing

She does enjoy twisting the knife though, and definitely has a cruel streak (see: how she handles Nikolai when Aleksander shows up and becomes her new favorite) so once Baghra shows up to try to warn Aleksander away, she particularly enjoys being the one to separate her from her son, and keeping him entirely under her thumb

But honestly her primary motivation is just that like… he’s clearly super into her and it’s an easy way to manipulate him. Also she’s just bored and he’s the shiny new thing

#director’s cut asks #grishaverse #shadow and bone #baghralina #alarkling #i ramble sometimes #all the bendy punctuations #a string of words #fic meta #I do want to return to this AU ever and write other moments from it. maybe I’ll sneak it something for battleship

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threadsdemiseif · 6 months

Text

Made by @sapphirestones09

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AUSGHSJSGDKSHSI

CRYING SHITTING SOBBING

TYSM FOR THE FANFIC, I AM FLOORED

Note: It took an embarrassingly long time to find the submission post. Cons of being tech averse. First fanfic? Yey? English isn’t exactly my first language, and some sentences may sound weird and also punctuations are my enemy. Was supposed to be just a drabble, just a take on the “The Incident” nothing too fancy. It was supposed to be straightforward and simple but then 2.7k words.

During this time the story didn’t even start and there are a lot of details that I may have missed, and plot points are not addressed directly. The fic maybe embarrassingly incorrect when it comes to the events and the interpretation of characters. I know…but I did it anyway.

This is just purely written with no certain Doctor MC in mind but gained inspiration by asking myself “What would a psychopath in “love” do in this situation?”

***

You have never been a romantic.

Although there are times that you convinced yourself you are.

People describe romance and love with words that when put together only sounded like ancient language to you. Foreign. Alien. You drowned yourself in poetry, art, songs, movies, books, you consumed all kinds of media you can get your filthy hands on that emphasizes that kind of ideas, all that work and yet the concept remained an enigma to you. Try as you might it seemed like there is a buffer in your brain causing the words to become static and incomprehensible. Like wisps of smoke and childhood bubbles that pass through your hands when you try to catch it.

People seemed to revolve themselves around it though, becoming the center of their worlds. You? You only saw yourself as an outsider when it comes to this subject. You witness the people you tolerate spinning themselves dizzy around it until they collapse, vomit, and destroy themselves in the process.

You like that. Not romance no, you like the aftermath of it. The chaos left in its wake that you can’t help but marvel. You are curious, intrigued, determined to understand the nature of it and see if you can truly bend it to your will.

How odd your interests are…

And so your experiments began, you engaged yourself for a time. The people around you were more than happy to, it’s a wonder how humans quickly drop to their knees at the sight of a pretty face. Never quite understanding the kind of wretchedness hidden beneath. You instantly learned the system, a smile there, a touch there, a wink, a reassurance, a kiss, a bite, and they are wrapped around your pretty finger.

It quickly got boring. Frustration building inside you. All this time and you still don’t understand it. Everyone says its fun, fulfilling, gratifying in a way that resembles the feeling of jumping from a skyscraper. It overcomes all types of high that you can get from pills and drugs. It’s exhilarating. Maddeningly so.

You want that. That type of feeling. You want to understand it and judge it. If it was truly as amazing as they said it is. If it was worth the wars that waged for it. The lives lost in the name of it.

You want to know the ruin. The hurt. The despair. The madness.

But alas, monsters can’t love, can they?

If that is so, then what is it that you are feeling now?

Why is it that when you look up to their face marred with insanity and tears, do you feel that your heart skip a beat. They look good with hate twisting their soft and gentle features. They look so adorable as their eyes become wet and red with tears and blood. They look so delightful when they sob and growl as they continue to bash your kneecaps.

You are supposed to be feeling pain.

There is a theory you read that when humans experience so much pain beyond their limits of tolerance the person does not feel it. Stimuli overriding the nerves and senses that the person just becomes so numb to it.

Maybe you crossed the threshold of it already as you just feel the lightheaded.

Does the theory even apply to you?

Afterall, you never even thought of yourself as one of them. You could always look beautiful enough. You could always mimic their behavior to the best. You could replicate the twinkle in their eyes and yet. There is always something wrong with you.

You’re only a mess of organs. A casket made of flesh. A jumble of limbs. All to contain nothing but raging madness. You feel it sometimes. Licking the part of your brain and whispers, tickling you with thoughts so vile you can’t even understand it half the time. But sometimes it screams and during those moments you contemplate bashing your head on a rock and watch as blood and brain viscera scatter like red fireworks.

But you don’t feel the madness right now. Pleasant numbness coating you in warmth and comfort.

You can’t really remember what happened that lead to this situation. Them above you, ramming a steel chair on your lower half. Did you even fight back? Did you injure them? Did you curse at them first or did they?

No, you don’t want to think about that, you just want to revel in this moment on how they look so lovely covered in your blood. Yours.

How beautifully tortured they look right now.

So beautiful as they look broken, so so broken by your hands.

You stare at them determined to commit the image to your memory. You will your synapses to work, embedding them to a part of your mind that not even the sickness would touch it.

They were supposed to be another pretty thing to play with. They were so cute and foolish enough to be swayed by your words and touch. Just like the rest, it was so so easy.

And yet here you are underneath them on the cold hard floor covered with your warm blood. Instead of defeat or rage, it is ecstasy that fills you. A sense of pride swells inside. This feeling so exhilarating, gratifying, making you giddy with the excitement.

Is this the love the people spoke about? Then you can understand it now, like puzzle pieces placing themselves until a sense of completion fills you.

You never felt like this before. So whole. So full.

For a moment you are not broken. You are not insane. You are not a disgusting mimicry of everything that is wrong with the world.

You want more. You need more. More...more…

More of what?

More of them.

Of their hate, their ruthlessness, their violence, their cruelty.

Give them all to me, Deziree…

I’ll take it all.

Give me everything that is wrong with you and I’ll kiss it, cherish it, nurture it.

Thank you for existing Deziree, now I don’t have to be alone.

Now, I have someone I can drag with me to the pits of hell.

A siren blares in the background. Shouts of composed terror echo outside. Loud enough to pierce through the cloud of your deliriousness. It seemed to have the same effect to Deziree too as their eyes began to shine with clarity. Horror, regret, disgust, quickly replacing the ferocity of their wrath.

No!

You will not this moment to be over yet! For the first time you felt your heart soar, you felt complete, a sense of belongingness together with them. You can’t let it be over so soon! You simply can’t.

Along with the clarity, the madness began to whisper again. Its tendrils crawling their way to consume any resemblance of sanity left from the previous moment. It offers a way to make the most out of the moment. A way to bind both of you for life. A perfect ending for this absolute freak show.

Your stomach tightens pleasantly. You felt your spine shiver in excitement. Electricity tingles down to your- oh you can’t feel your toes anymore. Nevermind.

Mustering up your strength, your bloodied hands reached over to their face.

Eyes on me.

Only me.

Their attention is now back to you. And you feel complete again.

Oh, how far have you fallen?

You give them a weak smile to which they reciprocate with a blank stare. Mind racing, rationalizing what just happened, remembering the moments that lead them here. Just how did things get this bad? The ever loving Deziree…

You can see them shivering, are they cold? You were the one who’s meant to be cold, considering the blood loss, you are certain you’re going to die if left to your own devices. Well, if that will be the end, why not have some fun.

Your hand slides down to their arms. Their muscles underneath taut with tension and through the stormy expression you can see as clear as day the gradient of emotions. Madness, rage, confusion, love, tenderness, all hues of suffering flicking from one to another. You could sit here all day and watch them in reverence.

They have never been more beautiful as they are now.

Your hands connect with theirs, your smile widening even bigger as your fingers intertwine. You’d be blushing like a fair maiden if it wasn’t for all blood gushing out of you. If your head would have been any clearer, you would question the absurdity of the situation, but its not. It’s filled with chemicals actively trying to keep you alive. The kind that makes you high in glee.

You would also have half the mind to check your own condition being on the brink of death. And you would remedy that immediately. You’re far too smart to be killed aren’t you?

But not this time.

There is nothing as important as you and him in this little corner of the world you marked with red.

His eyes track your movement with the accuracy of a hawk. Then finally, you place his hand around your throat. You’re now a willing prey, baring their most vulnerable to a bloodthirsty predator.

There was no need to wait, their hands immediately applied pressure on your neck. Their fingers that previously held warmth and care now ice cold and harsh. It squeezes your carotid veins, blocking your air until you feel yourself turn blue in seconds if it wasn’t for the blood loss. They grit their teeth even more as a small moan spilled from your lips. Did he take it as a sign of pleasure or pain? You would lick your lips if he could, but you could only manage a pained smile.

“Disgusting. Evil. Vile. Why?! I loved you! I trusted you! And you used me! Ruined me!” they sob.

There were no thoughts in your head. Not a whisper of regret or remorse. You are only staring at him, pupils blown at how beautiful he is under the alternating blues and reds from the window. You now choke and as survival instinct begins to kick in and you thrash. You dig your fingers into their wrists in an attempt to let you go.

You know this is futile and this can cause even more damage to your neck than it already has. But still your body moves in self-preservation. Your mind and body disagreeing in the most beautiful way. You are dying no doubt about that, but by the Gods do you feel so alive.

You feel the precious air being taken away from you. Your blood rushing to your head. Your life slipping away at their hands. It makes you appreciate these little things when you are on death’s door.

Your body begs them to stop, trying to pry away their hands, to push them away from you. You feel the heat of them against you. Your body screams for mercy. But you don’t and you will never want that now, don’t you?

Please don’t let go.

Please hold me.

Please kill me.

“You deserve this. I did nothing wrong! The world will be better without you. I hope you burn in hell,” they spat.

You wheeze as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The lack of oxygen and blood finally hitting you as you feel your consciousness ebb away.

A bang echoed the walls of the room from the door opening harshly, footsteps and harsh voices goes in. The weight on top of you was then pulled away, you whimpered at the loss. Practiced and efficient hands began to land on you to check on your condition and at the edge of your vision, see that they had restrained Deziree a few feet away from you.

Face planted on the red floor as they thrash against the restraints of police, their voice panicked but their bloodlust evident from the string of curses they release in your direction. The officers are successful in putting them in their place.

You are promptly carried away. The paramedics dons a concerned expression as they talk ensuring to keep your consciousness awake. You close your eyes only replying in tired hums. You don’t have to look at yourself to see that you’re all levels of bad for seasoned healers to panic.

And even though you can’t see, you feel the people’s righteous fury and sympathy for you like water. From the officers to your neighbors who watches from the sidelines parched and in need of some new gossip to talk about. You can already pinpoint their thoughts, their sadness, relief, worry at how such a young thing was already subjected to the cruelty of such a harsh world.

The human mind is truly such a wonder. People will determine who received the most injury, who is more sympathetic, unnecessary details that help them fuel their own beliefs. Twisting it to suit their own narratives. You can hear them talk words that will end up being printed by tomorrow’s newspaper. And that made you sneer in amusement inwardly.

Because they have never been so wrong than equate you to a pitiful little victim.

It was a good thing the old lady next door was fond of gossips. You made a show of yourself spilling your relationship problems acting all teary and vulnerable, not-so-subtly hinting that you may be in possible danger. So, when the crash and fight started you were sure they were the one who called the police on time.

The strangling part was seriously a last-minute plan, the blood loss making you all loopy and droopy. The police force has body cameras attached to them. Meaning that they have caught Deziree strangling a person on camera. A person who in addition, mutilated your legs you might need it amputated and end up a cripple for the rest of your life.

You shrug. You’re plenty resourceful. You can imagine the opportunity it presents.

Mutilation, strangulation, and the other deeds of Deziree will be revealed in the court. Even if they plead not guilty, the evidence will stack upon them one by one, drowning in proof that you orchestrated like an elaborate game of chess. There is such a thing we call as falsified truths.

Deziree will be hated, scrutinized, their entire being skinned and every part of him will be laid bare for others to see and judge. You mentally calculate and figured they’re going to prison for 10 years give or take. 10 years of living in hell that you personally decorated.

You can taste their pain already. Their expression falling at the verdict of the judge. People cursing their name both inside and outside the bars. And even when they are alone, they’ll never be rid of you. Making sure that their thoughts will always be haunted by the image of you. You only you. What a pretty mental cage you put them in.

There was no regret or remorse as you allowed yourself to smile.

Not one of pleasure nor pain.

It is simply a smile of victory.

Deziree came close, but it’s not enough. They’ll have to become stronger, smarter, better. You needed a drive, you needed them to improve to beat the game you have designed. They might go to prison but you’re far too smart from thinking this is all over. They’ll come back, you know they would.

You inflicted just the right amount of pain for them to persevere. Not too much that they would give up and think that this is all pointless. Not too little that they won’t grow from this. Every factor of this event, taken into account into your pretty little head, all for what?

For an elaborate game of course.

A game that will not begin until later. But you don’t worry, after all patience is truly a virtue especially in this sense. Even though you’re already achingly awaiting the moment.

The cards are dealt, the stakes are ready, and the table is prepared for all the players that will be involved.

You’re already buzzing with excitement. You wonder what they will become. What kind of monster have you created? What kind of chaos and destruction will they bring? How much will be left of you when they’re done? Or will there be any left?

How you long to see it already.

Them in their full potential to end you.

Ah, see, you can be a romantic after all.

#submission #thread's demise #li : deziree #Myrr Answers #the doctor #interactive fiction #if game #if wip #FANFIC

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writtengalaxies · 2 years

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Hey there, how would Murdock, Warfstache and for a less murder happy option dr.iplier react if their s/o after a small accident (dropped a plate, knocked a mug over, bumped into a table and a lamp fell sort of accidents) seemingly just breaking down crying out of nowhere. Admitting that it was the death anniversary of a family member and they'd been trying to hold it together but couldn't anymore? (I hope this is okay. this got looooong. Love your work!)

Oh my gosh. I love these when I see them pop up on other blogs, this makes me so excited to do my first one, thank you anon! (And for anyone who is going through those emotions, especially as we slip towards the winter months for the Northern Hemisphere, I hope these anniversaries pass with a little extra kindness for you.)

Murdock

The man is usually the one to shrug off the weight of someone else's sorrow. To him, a death is just another art piece he's crafted, and the pain anyone who knew the poor sod he took care of doesn't matter.

But his partner? You, crying in such heartwrenching agony? He had read your body language earlier in the day, knew something was wrong, but this stabs into him cleaner than any of his knives.

He'd draw the black-out curtains, pull you into the most comfortable nest of a bed he can. The sunglasses, gloves, long coat...all of those are set aside so he can hold you, opening himself up to the vulnerability he only shows you, so he can figure out how to soothe a pain he's never felt before.

He never liked that plate anyway.

Wilford

Wilford's grasp on death is loose at best. He's much better at confronting the concept head-on, with a supposed "Death" happening in front of him, or convincing someone to not thing too much on their own.

A death he hasn't witnessed, hasn't had a hand on, one that's happened and he can't do anything about? It settles into him a little deeper. It calls out back towards the part of his mind that is buried deep down, the part that still recognizes himself as The Colonel. He fought in the Great War, after all. Had lost plenty of friends that way.

That part of him remembers how to comfort. Soft words, assuring you that it's okay to cry. To miss them. It's rarer to see the less intense, less frenetic side of him, but it's there, his hands holding yours, encouraging you to tell him all about the person you miss so dearly.

And if by the end, he's gotten you telling stories that make you laugh, well. That's just fine by him.

Dr. Iplier

Death is a part of life.

His job, as a doctor, is to try to make that part of life come as far down the road as possible.

It's unfortunate that sometimes, you still see far too much of it. It's very possible, especially as a doctor, to become numb to the pain and hurt, to the sorrow of others as they grieve.

When you knocked over your mug and spilled coffee all over the floor, he paused in the midst of getting his own breakfast. You normally chided him of his caffeine pill and coffee diet, but had been silent this morning. And now you were sobbing over something that would have usually made you sigh in frustration.

Sometimes the clinical explanation that happens in the moment is the best response for someone grieving. But an older pain like this? Well, the hospital would just have to deal without him there today. He joked about his bedside manner being lacking, but there was the comfort of him doing his best to distract you in every way. If that meant constantly getting you to talk, to focus on anything else, to keep your mind occupied until the weight was a little less heavy, then he'd be happy to do it.

#stab happy #shooty patootie #I don't have one for the doc oops #my writing #wilford warfstache #iswm murdock #murderplier #murdock iswm #ahwm wilford #markiplier wilford #iswm wilford #markiplier egos #dr iplier #death mention #askbox and you shall receive #nova headcanons

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darthmaclunkey · 4 months

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I meant to write down my thoughts about this film like 3 weeks ago but kept forgetting lol. anyway spoilers for the film below the cut

I'm so glad I went to see this. I was interested in the concept, but tbh I was mostly going to see it because I like Daisy Ridley, and I was looking forward to seeing her in a new role. my partner tagged along with me because he'll see anything, but wasn't super keen. and we both loved it. it's so lowkey, understated, and so beautifully observed. it's also much funnier than I think the marketing makes it out to be - our screening wasn't too busy (3pm on a sunny saturday), but there were a lot of laughs. tears, too; my partner was pretty much sobbing at the end.

more than anything, I think it's one of the most relatable films I've seen. once upon a time I was a numb, depressed & antisocial woman working in a dull office actively fantasising about death, but not actively suicidal. sometimes i think about dying really nailed that limbo - where you're thinking about being dead, thinking about being an artfully-arranged corpse (a pretty corpse; a tragic corpse) in a remote forest or hanging from a crane, but not actually thinking about the method of dying. not really wanting to die, because, functionally, you're already dead. you're quiet, you're unsettling, you're not sociable, people don't notice you. they stopped noticing you a while ago. when you do step out of your comfort zone, you're always thinking: what happens when they see the real me? what happens when they find out who I really am? and instead of sometimes i think about dying becoming a cutesy boy-gets-girl-out-of-her-shell story, as a lesser film could be, we see how Fran does fuck it up, and ultimately hurts the one person who has seen her - and yet he still chooses to extend empathy and kindness to her.

Daisy Ridley really nailed the character of Fran, her performance full of subtle little facial expressions and stiff, considered movements. the most relaxed we see her is in the back half of the film when she spends her whole sunday rotting on her sitting room carpet, only moving to turn onto her side, or to get the beam of sunlight out of her eyes as it tracks across the floor - and then it's monday, and she gets up and ready for work, stiff and curled in on herself again. then we have the beautiful scene where she bumps into her old coworker at the cafe, and we see her perched on the edge of her seat, frowning, bag clutched to her chest, unable to reach out and comfort the woman she's known for years but never really known.

Dave Meherje was great, too, as Robert, Fran's new coworker, someone very sure of himself but also someone with a lot of grace, kindness, and patience. I was reminded - and my partner was too - about my own relationship, although in a less extreme way than we see in the film. I saw much of myself - melancholic, moderately antisocial, physically withdrawn - in Fran, just as my partner did, and I saw him - generous, empathetic, patient, someone who can talk to anyone - in Robert. thankfully our relationship (seven years strong) works out a bit better than Fran and Robert in the film, but I was reminded of the sweetness of finding someone who sees you and accepts you for who you are, someone with the depth of spirit to show you empathy and understanding. the final scene, where Fran confesses (and pretty much says the title of the film) her inner thoughts to Robert, and he just embraces her, and the camera pans out to show the office around them full of greenery from the forest where she so often dreams about her own dead body - I found that so moving, so beautiful. not a happy ending, but not a sad one; an understanding one. an empathetic one.

it's also a deeply funny film, something I didn't expect from the trailer and promo. Rachel Lambert & the cast really nail that experience of working in an office, being stuck in a stale, beige room with a group of people you'd never choose to spend time with otherwise day in, day out, on repeat. every character felt like the protagonist of their own film. I know I've worked with every character in that office. the inane banter and weird rituals of the office are so well observed, from the stilted, formal joking over microsoft teams to the icebreaker questions in the all-hands meeting. the scene where Fran has to play the murder victim at the party is also hilarious - her awkward, uncomfortable death pose in the bath, the way her voice croaks and pauses as she comes up with her story ("acid....in my stomach?") and the way the other guests stand and watch in dumfounded silence for a moment before laughing and applauding, having seen, for a second, something that clearly unsettled them; a glimpse of the darkness inside the quiet, mousy girl who never talks.

it also looks gorgeous - the PNW scenery is a whole character in its own right. every shot, even the office interiors, is carefully framed and composed.

my main takeaway, walking home from the cinema, was catharsis. I remembered what it was like being 20, working an admin job in an office where I typed up reports from cassette tapes that other colleagues had dictated, feeling nothing, fantasising about being hit by a car on my walk home. (I am better now, I cannot stress that enough). I felt seen and understood. it's hard to be human. it's hard to be someone like Fran, but it's even harder to be someone like Robert:

It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate It takes strength to be gentle and kind

tl;dr great film. watch it.

#darthbingusposting #it'd be my fave film of the year if I hadn't seen the holdovers in january

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404-art-found · 2 years

Text

ramblings and lots of art of an Upturned AU: What if Traveler was a creature. a critter, even. normal guest behavior

very grateful Tumblr upped the image limit. because there sure are many images

[massive upturned spoilers + this is a long post in general]

[edit: that bar is there so any previews for this post don't show the first image]

this is in order of when it was drawn so it's MASSIVELY out of order timeline-wise and some of the early comics are outdated story-wise but they're cute/funny so they're staying in. I think it's very funny how you can see the moment I gave him silly little bunny ears.

(also note: in the image with the three critter-travelers in harnesses, the one on the left belongs to @/kasprawn39, and the one in the middle belongs to @/MicrowaveSentry on instragram. the critters are being introduced to each other <3)

anyways,

AU in which Sobbergritch gets his hands on the Traveler and turns him into a monster. creaches him. gritches him, even. transmorgifies him into a rabbit kangaroo thing. To mock Ik about ripping his only friend away from him, he shipped the Traveler's hat up to him, which was what finally broke Ik and made him flee the inn.

For a couple weeks, Sobs experimented on the Traveler, before giving up when the storm knocked out power once and for all, and tossed him down to the bottommost levels, where he'd hopefully be eaten by horrible nightmare guest-monsters. unfortunately for Sobs, the Traveler is very durable and scrambles out through the top of the elevator, climbing to safety. and they keep climbing. Because down is bad in their broken mind, so they go up, no matter the fact they're in terrible pain. He uses "attack first, ask questions later" tactics for survival

They remember a voice, one that makes them think of safely but also hurt and betrayal, and they know they'd once wanted to descent the inn. But he doesn't remember much else outside of emotions associating to concepts.

The Morning races down the elevator shaft before he can leave (or just as he collapses on the ground floor, I haven't settled on which)

(My dear dear followers. you have no idea the sheer amount of happy little headcanons I've crafted for myself about the Morning where they're dumped in Afterlife Two: The Cooler One where all the souls who never got to live full happy lives can exist in peace before moving on at their own pace. This idea is not exclusive to this AU)

He wakes up in a field, and it's beautiful, but the whole This Is New And Therefore Threatening mindest makes him on edge. He staves off rest in favor of scuttling about, just so happens to hear Ik calling out for someone, anyone, and darts over.

Cue them recognizing Ik has their hat, trying to wrestle it from him, and failing, because they feel bad hurting him and they're too weak to do much other than flail and gnaw. He follows Ik, who doesn't recognize him as the Traveler, and instead believes him to be some guest who hates him for what happened to the inn.

They travel together with no particular destination in mind; they find others, and the empty husk of a town (helpfully Morning-provided so all these sad miserable souls can enjoy living), which is immensely eerie but the few dozen guests + Ik are too drained to question a place to live. The Traveler regularly flees people at first, deeming the place a danger but also offering shelter, and becomes a cryptid alongside several other confused and angry/scared creature-guests. Ik still tries to befriend him and make him feel safe. Few people are too happy to have Ik around, recognizing him as someone who clearly knew something was up with the inn, yet sent them down to their demise anyways.

The guests were partially turned back to normal, depending on their state of mind. Some more human than others, with people retaining some shred of Sobbergritch's experimenting on them, while those still completely out of their mind without a true sense of self (like the Traveler) didn't change. There are 'growing pains' if/when they recover, but it's a long time before that happens to Mr. "exhausted 40 year old man in a 20-something year old body who hasn't felt safe in over a year and can't remember the last time he slept well".

Shrimp recognizes the Traveler as the Traveler. Ik does not. He feels awful when he does realize, and finally gives him his hat back. mmmm. reunions!

I have many more thoughts about this AU, but this is the gist of it. fun fun times all around

#thoughts #my art #the upturned #the upturned mr #the upturned shrimp #the upturned sobbergritch #ikabod kee

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sunder-soul · 4 years

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first of all your work is AMAZING- like damn that smut? 👀 but anyway- i’ve had this concept for awhile imagine that reader was the one who made the design for the dark mark for tom riddle? like y/n is an artist and likes to draw, paint, all that jazz, and she saw the symbol in like her dreams or something and decided to draw it. and then tommy boy sees it and takes a liking to it like, “...i could use that-“ i don’t if this is a weird ask or not but i thought it was interesting. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

So this has been in my inbox for so long bc I just couldn’t crack how I wanted to tackle it and then yesterday BOOM I had an idea so here I am!! Hope you enjoy 💖

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Consume

Summary: Reader looks into Tom Riddle’s tea leaves on an unlucky day in Divination. Something looks back.

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: none.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’ve heard of the domino effect before, but never has it been so grimly demonstrated to you than in that exact moment standing in front of the entire Divination classroom with the only spare seat left opposite Tom bloody Riddle.

It started (or at least, as far as you can tell) an entire week earlier when you’d walked in on Ophelia Greengrass sobbing in the fourth-floor girl’s bathroom during second period. Up until then you’d not spoken more than half a dozen words to Ophelia across your entire time at Hogwarts, but it had felt wrong not to say anything – and as it turned out, Ophelia had been in dire need of someone saying something to her. She’d been dating Lestrange for a little over three months and by the sounds of it things were not going well.

So of course you’d comforted her as best you could but it was hardly surprising when she tentatively approached again you the next day, and the next, and the next, and then every single day for an entire week there had been a new horror story until yesterday you’d finally had enough and told her that she should break up with him.

That, of course, was why he’d confronted you in the corridor that morning on the way to Charms, angrily accusing you of losing him his girlfriend. And that was why you and Lestrange had been caught by Peeves with a watering can full of Bulbadox juice brandished gleefully in his spindly hands.

Which was how you both ended up in the hospital wing for the entirety of first period, Lestrange with boils all over his face and down his back, and you with them on your hands from where you’d managed to shield yourself.

You’d left Lestrange behind complaining loudly as the matron peeled back his school shirt, sprinting all the way up to the Divination tower at breakneck speed, throwing the trapdoor to the classroom open and scrambling inside, the trapdoor falling shut behind you, the very final domino.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” you gasp as you spin around to face her. “Peeves caught me and Lestrange!”

The class snickers.

“That’s quite alright, quite alright…” Cassandra Trelawney says, deep and ringing, “we have not yet started, take a seat with Mr Riddle and we shall begin…”

You freeze. Riddle…?

That’s when it hits you.

Lestrange always sat with Riddle in Divination.

And you’re so late that everyone else already has partners.

You turn to see Tom Riddle sitting at the back of the room looking at you with a polite but blank expression on his face. The class giggles again. The vast majority of Hogwarts students are at least somewhat in love with Riddle – beautiful, intelligent, polite Riddle, orphaned and poor but refined and successful. Better yet he barely speaks to anyone, leaving a lot of empty space of endless possibility for people to fill in with their personal daydreams.

He scares you.

Those horrible boys that hang around him remind you of flies hanging around rotting meat. And if they’re the flies, that makes Riddle…

You grit your teeth and step forward, weaving between the other tables and snickering students to take your seat, dropping your bag to the floor and eyeing the tea set on the small table apprehensively.

“Begin your readings!” Trelawney calls.

You frown and turn to Riddle questioningly. “We’re doing tea leaves?”

“Tasseography,” he corrects smoothly, leaning forward and picking up the burnished copper pot with one hand and pouring steaming tea into the little china cup in front of him.

You blink at him silently. There’s something manufactured about his face that you can’t put your finger on.

“Shall I go first or would you like to?” Riddle asks casually, pouring you a cup, too.

“I don’t mind,” you mumble, looking away.

Riddle sets the pot down and picks up his cup in long, elegant fingers, lifting it to his lips. “The instructions are on page seventy-nine,” he says after taking a sip, looking around the room disinterestedly.

You pull out your book and find the right chapter and scan the first few paragraphs as Riddle finishes his tea, sipping absently at your own, and by the time he finally hands you his cup your heart rate has finally returned to normal from running up eight flights of stairs.

“You have a scattered-type formation,” you say, checking it against the diagram on your page, “and it’s north-west oriented.”

“Mhmm,” Riddle says noncommittedly, his dark eyes level on the parchment before him as he takes notes.

You lean forward over Riddle’s cup and frown as you compare it to the pictures in the book. “That looks like shepherd’s crook,” you say, pointing to a cluster shaped like a pinched hook, “which means… either the responsibility to protect, or the exertion of power and authority over a group of people.”

Riddle scoffs very lightly, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he continues to write.

Something about it had clearly struck a chord with him, but you pointedly train your eyes back on your book. “Oh,” you frown, checking his cup again. “Or it’s the old glyph for seven.”

Riddle stops writing. You look up curiously at the sudden lack of his quill scratching evenly on his parchment to find him perfectly still, his eyes on your face. “Seven?” he repeats, tone distinct.

You nod and push your book around to show him. “The number seven used to be drawn like that, too.”

Riddle’s eyes drop to the page and linger there for a moment before he resumes taking his notes – though his expression is much more preoccupied than before.

But something in Riddle’s cup has caught your eye. Beside the shepherd’s crook/number seven is a lump of tea leaves so distinct in form that it’s almost comical – the round of the cranium, the square of a mandible, and gaps in the leaves to indicate two eye sockets.

“Oh,” you say in surprise, pulling your book back around. “Wow, that’s pretty clearly a…”

You trail off, frowning. You’ve noticed the tea leaves below it, the long twisting trail that leads directly into the skull’s mouth. A cold, creeping feeling is curling in your stomach as something about the image before you seems to move, you can almost see the thing writhing, it almost looks like a…

“How are we going?” Trelawney asks, suddenly right beside you.

You jump, looking up at her in panic. “Fine,” you say quickly.

She lifts her brows, assessing you thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she says, before glancing at Riddle. “And you?”

“Fine,” Riddle echoes smoothly. But he’s not looking at Trelawney.

He’s looking at you.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The image worms into your thoughts like a deep root, twisting into places you don’t expect to find it and spreading itself out more and more. The dreams are first, and then the nightmares, and finally the night terrors. The skull hovers before you, its pitch, hollow eyes bore into you, the snake coiling endlessly with its fangs yawning wide.

Something about it is cold and evil, some sort of strange perversion of an ouroboros, the eternal snake broken by the skull’s mouth.

Consuming it.

“What is that?”

Your head snaps up from your parchment feeling like you’ve just been jolted awake from a deep sleep, and it takes you a second to process the sight of Tom Riddle before you, his eyes fixed attentively on the parchment strewn on top of the essay you’re supposed to be writing.

He’d caught you drawing it for the hundredth time.

“Nothing,” you say hastily, sliding it away under a book. “Just a doodle.”

Riddle’s eyes flick to yours. There’s a cold rigidity to his expression that you don’t like. It’s a coldness that feels horribly familiar.

For a moment you almost think he’s going to force you to show him, but after a long moment Riddle looks away and he’s gone, disappearing off further into the library. You exhale in relief and pull out the parchment again.

Drawing it made the thoughts go away for a bit, like manifesting the horrible thing distracted it from its need to live in your head. You lift your quill and carefully write a single word next to the skull.

Consume.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The parchment goes missing the next day.

You never prove that he took it, never even mention it to him, but Riddle’s eyes have a cold glimmer to them when he catches your eye in Divination next, the smallest curl to his lips like he’s daring you to bring it up.

The dreams abruptly stop.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

When you see it next, it’s in a photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet beneath a terrified headline, a spectre hovering just like it had in your nightmares at school years prior. Except this time it’s real. This time it’s above the burning remains of the family home of a prominent Muggle-born politician and Voldemort’s name is a shadow on everyone’s lips.

You stare at it on the page, the snake writhing in ink, the black, hollow eyes of the skull, and you think about Tom Riddle’s cold smile watching you from across the classroom, his manufactured beauty, the boys that hung around him like flies around rotten meat.

He’s named it the Dark Mark.

655 notes · View notes

zukka-dyke · 4 years

Text

a concept:

when zuko goes back to the fire nation, after ba sing se and before the day of the black sun, mai sneaks into his room every night and they sleep together. not in a sexual way, they’ve both come to the conclusion that neither of them are at all into the opposite gender, but the idea of being together, just the two of them, for the rest of their lives, well that seems better than being in a loveless mariage with someone that they don’t even know.

that’s the thing, about mai and zuko. they love each other, they really do. just not in the way that people want them to love each other.

because of this, this love, this solidarity, mai sneaks into zuko’s room in the palace every night, and she lays with him until they both fall asleep, and she comforts him when the nightmares come.

the nightmares still come, of course they do. mai thinks it’s something about being back in the palace, being in the room that he was in when his life changed forever, every single day. she was there, on the day of the agni kai, she saw what happened, she can understand why zuko still dreams about it.

she dreams about it too.

so they both still have nightmares, zuko almost ever night and mai maybe once or twice a week. it’s still too much; no kid their age should have as much trauma as they do.

but they have their trauma, and they can’t get rid of it, so when zuko wakes from his nightmares, mai wakes too, and they brew a pot of tea and sit together on the balcony, soaking in the night time breeze and refilling their cups until there’s no tea left. then, they’ll go back to bed, and mai will lay with zuko until he falls asleep, and then she’ll go back to her own room, right next to ty lee’s, and they’ll keep up the charade for another day after that.

the night before the day of the black sun, zuko is more restless than usual. mai can tell; he’s usually still in sleep, but that night he tosses and turns until mai herself gets fed up with his constant motion and pulls his restless limbs towards her body, purposefully cuddling someone of her own acord for what may be the first time in her sixteen years of life.

she doesn’t see zuko at all, the day of the eclipse, and when she sneaks into his room that night, all that’s left for her is a letter, no prince in sight.

and mai- mai is mad. she’s mad because zuko didn’t tell her, and they promised each other that they wouldn’t keep secrets, and if he’d just told her, then she would’ve gone with him, and then they could still be together.

not be together be together. mai might not have loved zuko like that, but he was her best friend, and she did love him, and her heart aches with the idea of him being gone.

people think that ty lee is her best friend, mai herself tells them that ty lee is her best friend, and she tells them that zuko is her boyfriend because that’s what’s expected of her.

but that’s not who she is, not really.

so she reads zuko’s letter, and then she reads it again, and then she runs down the hallways with it grasped tightly in her hands, and she fligs open the door to ty lee’s room and she sees her friend there, drinking a cup of some herbal tea, and she holds her cup just like zuko does, with her pinky fingers balenced on the bottom, and mai sees her and she breaks. she manages to fling the door shut behind herself, and gives ty lee enough time to shoot her a concerned look before she collapses to the floor and sobs, actually, really sobs.

she hasn’t sobbed like this since zuko was banished.

ty lee is concerned, of course she is, and she’s on the floor with mai in a second, prying the letter out of her trembling hands. she reads it, and then she’s crying too, albeit softer and quieter than mai.

with shaking hands, ty lee pries mai up off the ground and onto her bed, and they sit there together, crying, for who knows how long.

mai gets over it, she thinks. she’s pretty sure that the avatar will win the war, when it comes time, not that she’d ever say that, so she thinks that zuko will survive, even if she won’t. she hates the idea of her living while he dies, and really, living without zuko isn’t really living anyways.

but she makes due. without zuko to share a bed with now, she shares with ty lee, the two of them staying up late with their pot of sweet, herbal tea, and their pinkies resting on the bottoms of their cups.

mai is the little spoon.

(they don’t talk about it)

then she gets the letter from her uncle. the hawk arrives at the window of ty lee’s room, early in the morning, and together they run until they find azula, mediatiting alone in one of the pavilions. when they get to the boiling rock, mai tells the other two to stay on the airship, and she goes into the prison and she finds her uncle, who takes her to zuko.

mai tries to fight. she tries to play the part of the girl that she’s supposed to be, hreatbroken by the betrayal of her love. but really, the only tears that she’s crying are that of relief, because zuko is alive, he’s alive, and that’s enough for mai. to know that he’s doing what he set out to do, that’s enough for her.

and later that day, when she sees him fighting with the water tribe boy up on the gondola, sees that sparkle in his eyes, that all too familiar look, she knows that he made the right choice.

now she has to make the right choice too.

so she stops the guards. she knows that azula will try to kill her, but she means it when she says “I love him more than I fear you,” and that’s enough for her. she’s willing to die if zuko gets to live.

but then ty lee saves her. and they both go to prison, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, because they’re together, and zuko is safe, and mai can finally rest easy knowing that zuko is safe, and so is ty lee, and everything will be okay.

they break out of prison within the week.

mai doesn’t really know where they should go from there. she’s been around the world, but she really doesn’t know where she and ty lee, the daughter of a fire nation noble and an ex circus performer, will be welcome. after a week of camping around the fire nation, they reach the earth kingdom boarder, and mai can see the coastline, maybe a day’s walk from where they are. they still have some money, just enough for two ferry tickets to kyoshi island.

the girls don’t welcome them at first. they take one look at them, their pale skin, their fire nation eyes, and they arrange themselves into fighting stances, but mai bows so low that her nose brushes the ground and ty lee does the same beside her and for the first time in years she takes the knives out from under her sleeves and lays them on the ground in front of her.

she’s unarmed, unprotected, and honestly afraid for her life, but ty lee’s there next to her, and there’s a little voice inher ear that sounds suspiciously like zuko saying “breathe mai, just breathe” and so she does.

the warriors take them in, promise them a meal in exchange for their story. after that, they’ll decide if they get to stay longer.

and for a minute, mai is tempted to lie, to say that they’re just travelers, just refugees hiding from a war that they don’t want any part in.

but zuko always told her to be honest.

so she is.

she tells the warriors everything, from meeting azula and ty lee at school to being gay. one of the girls asks her if she and ty lee are a couple, and they both go red in the face but mai finds that she really isn’t against that idea. she tells them about ba sing se, and how sorry they are for stealing the uniforms, and she talks about zuko coming home, and the nightmares, and then him leaving all over again.

she tells them about the letter.

she tells them about boiling rock, and saving zuko, and ty lee saving her, and then she talks about prison, and camping, and the smallest, dimmest hope that they’d be welcome here.

and they are.

after hearing her story, and giving them dinner, the warriors welcome her and ty lee with open arms and warm hearts, and mai has the most amazing month of her life training with the warriors and spending her every waking moment with ty lee, and time passes so quickly that before she knows it it’s the night before the comet and she’s taking ty lee on a walk along the beach, and then they’re kissing under the stars.

the comet is horrifying, and the sky is red, and mai hates herself for not being with zuko, but she and ty lee are safe on kyoshi island, and they stand with the rest of the warriors on the beach and watch silently as the comet comes and goes, and mai and ty lee are alowed to have the war paint and armour on, for real, for the first time.

word reaches the island the next day that ozai has fallen, that zuko and azula went up against each other in an agni kai, that zuko is set to be the next firelord, and mai knows that they have to go back to caldera.

some of the warriors come with them, and mai’s hands shake for the entirety of the ferry ride, but then she’s there, and she sees the same water tribe boy from the prison, and a girl who looks just like him, and another girl in green, and a kyoshi warrior who the girls tell her is named suki, and a bald kid who can only be the avatar, but she doesn’t pay attention to any of them, just follows the water tibe girl’s directions and grasps ty lee’s hand tight in her’s as they fly down the hall, towards the infirmery.

towards zuko.

they get there, and zuko is standing on shaky legs, trying to get his arm through the sleeve of his robe without pulling too much as the skin around his injury, and ty lee stands in the doorway, a respectable distance away, while mai crosses the room and says, just a hint of her usual snark in her voice,

“need any help there?”

and zuko turns, and he smiles, a real, full smile, a grin even, and it’s something that mai hasn’t seen on his face since they were children, since before his mother died, and mai can’t help but let a smile sneak onto her face as well. she guides his arms through the sleeves, and notices that he smells like ink and the sea.

“so the water tribe boy then,” she murmurs, and zuko goes red as a tomato but doesn’t deny it.

“so ty lee then,” he counters, and ty lee goes red where she’s still standing in the doorway, and so does mai, but neither of them deny it either.

it’s over, mai thinks to herself that night, laying in an unfamiliar palace guest room with ty lee curved around her. it’s all over.

zuko will be firelord, and ozai will be in prison, and azula will finally get the help that she needs. mai and ty lee will go back to kyoshi island, and they’ll train with the girls, and open a flower shop, and they’ll come back to visit zuko sometimes, in the palace, with his friends.

mai will learn that the earth kingdom girl’s name is toph, and the boy from the prison, the one that zuko smells like, with the boomerang, his name is sokka, and his sister is katara, and the avatar is aang.

she’ll become especially close with suki and sokka, suki because ty lee will become a warrior, and even though mai is just an honerary member she still holds the girls near and dear to her heart. sokka because he’s one of the only other people in the world who knows what it’s like to love zuko the way that mai does, and mai will never, ever take that forgranted.

610 notes · View notes

opalescient · 4 years

Text

haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he’s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA 😆💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #fic rec #beautiful #writing #ao3 fanfic #daisuga #kuroken #bokuaka #tsukkiyama #kagehina #third gym #iwaoi #fic #reference #hq

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strawberrysoup · 4 years

Text

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 6

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 2.9K

chapters: 6/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.

notes: slightly shorter than my usual, but i needed to get some stuff fixed up. if ya’ll like my stories please consider donating to my ko-fi— a bitch is poor lmao

Steve swept you up in his arms and turned to deposit you on the landing upstairs, evidently trusting the others to keep you contained for a moment. There was an audible scuffle going on in the den, Bucky would be heard growling from outside—snapping at someone who made the mistake of asking how he’d gotten out there so fast? Tony was growling at Peter who looked seconds away from begging for forgiveness.

“You guys made it safe, I’m happy to see you Nat,” Steve drew the redhaired woman into his arms and sighed in relief, but you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement; honestly you were having trouble thinking, your brain clouded with the sudden onset of absolute and uncontrolled panic.

The moment the black-haired man had been pulled away by the delta currently stomping back up the stairs, clarity had returned to you like a slap in the face. The golden fog that obscured your vision immediately dissipated and just as quickly you’d been overwhelmed with gut wrenching fear. You didn’t actually remember kicking Steve in the face or making a break for the stairs, but evidently you had and you cursed your hindbrain for running towards the stairs—you should’ve jumped straight out the window; you had a better chance at out running Bucky and whoever else was down there than the two alpha primes and their surrounding packmates.

Before you could even take a step towards the still wide-open window, the black-haired man appeared with a green flash and wrapped around you tightly. “Shhh , pet, no. No windows for you, darling, come now—back to your nest.”

In a moment of truly unusual harmony, your consciousness and hindbrain agreed that the bed was the last place you wanted to be. That wasn’t your bed, the omega hissed tearfully, you’d never made a nest—that wasn’t yours. It could barely be called a nest, even. There hadn’t been any careful consideration regarding the placement of the pillows and blankets, there were no articles of clothing or soft items that had been scavenged or stolen to elicit a feeling of safety or comfort. Worst of all was the way it smelled. Obviously, it didn’t reek, the mix of individual scents wasn’t a bad conglomeration, but your hindbrain whined at the unfamiliarity. This wasn’t your pack’s scent.

The cohesion was jarring, and you groaned. Regardless of the reasoning, your hindbrain was aware that you didn’t get to have a pack and that reminder always hurt. It desperately desired one, but an omega’s primary objective was survival.

After all, you in all of your fully conscious state knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never have a pack—it wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting at this point in your life. You were too old to be regressed into the type of omega that packs wanted, your body too badly reliant on the chemical reactions produced by suppressants after fifteen years to stop taking them. At your age, to be found by a pack meant death.

They would get sick of trying to fix you. You’d die from quitting the suppressants cold turkey. They’d beat you for disobedience until your body gave up. You were nearly thirty and that was ancient for an unbound omega and you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially an old dog who was bound and determined not to be taught.

“LOKI!” Bucky bellowed as he stomped past Steve and the redhead on the stairs, looking three shades past furious.

The man holding you let go very quickly after that, spinning you away and moving to intercept the furious delta with an equally unpleasant expression. Why couldn’t you have just fucking kept it together upon meeting Bruce—that blood in the water, shark nosed asshole, if you had reigned in your panic there was no way he could’ve scented you through your suppressants. Steve was a different story, but if you’d been quick and calm you probably could’ve made it.

You scanned the room quickly; Bruce was on the bed, checking on Wanda. Bucky and Loki were on the floor fighting, half entangled with Peter and Sam who were doing their best to put their own fight aside to keep the deltas from killing each other. Steve was still halfway down the stairs with the other redhead, talking to her quietly. Tony was—

“Okay, princess, okay,” Tony was wrapped tightly around you from behind, carefully keeping your head braced between his chin and shoulder when you tried to thrash. “This isn’t fair to you, you’re way too fragile for this right now. Put your head here, breathe with me.”

“Please let me go,” you didn’t realize you were crying until you spoke, words coming out in sobs. “I don’t want to die like this, please—”

“You are not going to die, little love,” Thor sounded so sad from where he came to stand in front of you. “I’m not going to bond you, not while you’re so upset. But the results of the tests Bruce ran showed that you are in danger. I cannot allow that and no matter how angry you are with us, we will not let you suffer needlessly.”

“I’m not suffering! I swear, I swear I’m not suffering I’m, I’m happy! I’m happy living my life the way I have been. Please, let me have the choice, I want to be alone, it makes me happy!”

Trying to explain to a literal God why you deserved personal agency was an exhausting business, especially when said God was as condescending as Thor. His indulgent and sad smile was nearly enough to tip you over the edge, but there really wasn’t a point in getting angry—he obviously couldn’t even fathom the concept that what he was doing was wrong. It’s not like you could do anything anyway, you weren’t built for violence but for running away. Every bone in your body vibrated with rage; the injustice was overwhelming.

For fifteen whole years you’d been just fine. You would’ve continued to be just fine, if it weren’t for some super nosed freaks crossing your path. What were the odds of the only people in the world who could scent you from beneath more than a decade’s worth of suppressant use would have a cabin in Quebec that you happened to clean—and run into said people because they happened to show up early; an incredibly unusual situation.

It made you think about Mrs. Hunt. She’d only called to give you a heads up because of the last time, when the homeowner had tried to assault you even while he’d thought that you were a beta . You wondered how long it would take her to realize something was wrong; it was getting late and you’d yet to return her cart despite telling her you’d be there shortly.

The real question would be whether she tried to help or not once she discovered your presentation. She could try to help, try to stick them with omega theft, but they could claim civic duty like Peter had earlier. Besides, that was contingent upon her wanting to help you considering you’d lied to her for so many years.

“You’re so distressed, won’t you let me purr for you?”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare take away—”

“Little love, please—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t even know me,” you spat, turning to address the room at large. “What kind of fucking superheros are you? Let go of me! Let me go!”

Tony sighed and hefted you up into his arms, one wrapped around your torso while the other hooked under your knees and pinned you carefully across his body. You struggled uselessly against his strong hold; he wasn’t as strong as Thor or Steve, but his bicep was massive next to your head and you could feel his muscles through his clothes as he walked to the bed.

“We can’t, princess,” he murmured into the side of your head as he lowered both of you to the bed, sitting propped against a mass of pillows in the corner. “We’ll never find an unbound omega in your age range again. Plenty of omegas have been offered to us, but they’re all practically children. You’re our last chance—”

“There are plenty! You said plenty! Pick the oldest who wants to be in this fucking shit show and leave me alone!” Everyone tensed when the tone in your voice approached a shriek.

“We’re not taking an omega who’s not even legal to drink—”

“That alpha is like eighteen!” You tried to gesture to Peter, who gaped at you like you’d wounded him, but your arms were still pinned tightly to your sides.

“Peter is twenty-four, actually,” Tony spoke with mirth when Peter jumped onto the bed and crawled until he was pressed against Tony’s side and your back. “And before you ask, Wanda is twenty-six.”

“We’re so lucky to have found you,” the alpha half purred, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. “We’ll make you happy, happier than you are now.”

“It’s gonna be a rough start,” Bruce laid down in the nest a few feet away, welcoming the woman you recognized as the Black Widow into his arms when she slithered into the bed. “We have to balance your hormones, or you will die. You wouldn’t have lasted another year on those suppressants.”

“Death would be a reprieve,” you hissed shortly, freezing when the tone of the room immediately changed.

All attention was suddenly on you, Bruce still making direct eye contact with those sad puppy eyes, “I know that feeling, sweetheart—”

“We will do it another way then,” Thor interrupted, sending Bruce a quieting but loving look. “I said I would not bond you while you are in distress anda I will never break a promise to you. Open your mouth, this will be quick.”

Steve seemed to sigh in response and followed to stand next to the other prime, “I lost my chance. You’ll help her?”

Thor leveled the shorter blond with a careful look before nodding, both showing signs of deference and affection and respect that you did not care for. The rattle of a belt prompted Tony to turn you, setting you carefully between his legs while continuing to hold down your arms with what could appear to be an affectionate bear hug. He even linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as you tried to squirm.

“No. No, no no no, that’s disgusting, I won’t—”

“Shhh , I’ll do all the work little love, all you need to do is swallow.”

He was jerking his cock carefully, a flick of his wrist near the head catching your eye. That was a dangerous weapon, the same way you’d come to learn Steve’s was and you had no intention of letting it anywhere near your mouth. You clamped your lips shut, teeth grinding.

“Stubborn,” Peter snorted a laugh and you would’ve snapped at him had his hand not dove between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick lips of your cunt until he found your clit.

You had to stop yourself from screeching, the head of Thor’s cock directly in front of your face. “Very. Come on now, open up.”

The fingers pinching your nose shut came as a shock, you’d crushed your eyes shut out without realizing it and they snapped open when your face was assaulted. Steve was kneeling on the bed, carefully cutting of your air supply with one hand and stroking your head with the other.

“Come on, precious, you’ve gotta breathe,” he stated softly, smiling when you were forced to pull your lips back to gasp for breath—until he realized your teeth were still locked together. “Really ‘mega?”

The next thing you knew his thumb was shoving against your molars, literally prying your jaw open. There was no way to fight it without hurting yourself, especially once he wedged his thick thumb between your top and bottom teeth. You barely had a second to anticipate the horror before an unnecessarily large cock found it’s way between your lips.

You tried to shriek, your brain finally catching up to the whole series of events, but it was no use. His scent was overwhelming and his dick stretched your lips, your jaw forced completely open. Thor groaned, a triggering noise as he very carefully pressed forward until your mouth was completely full and he was settled against you tongue.

“Suck for me, little love, just a little,” he grunted, just barely working his member between your lips while his huge hand stroked the rest.

It took a surprisingly small amount of time for a massive load of cum to shoot into your mouth. It was thick, and the way that Thor growled immediately made your pupils blow wide like you’d done a line of coke.

Your body went lax immediately and you swallowed on instinct when a hand gently rubbed your throat. The fuzz in your brain was the result of arousal, a brutal orgasm that rocked your body at the sound in combination with your body’s sheer delight at the taste of alpha cum. Somewhere you realized that was disgusting but the haze in your brain made you more focused on the hand between your thighs rather than the indignity.

“Man, this shit ain’t fair,” Sam complained, panting from the exertion of trying to prevent Loki and Bucky from killing each other. “They get to cuddle and we—Hey! Quit that, man!”

“All of you stop fighting,” Steve’s alpha order was brutal and effective.

The sounds of scuffling from behind Thor stopped immediately and there were huffs and snarls and low grumbles but the nest started shifting all around you. You were dropped back to lay against Tony’s chest, having inadvertently swallowed the entirety of the god’s massive load.

“She’s so cute,” Wanda cooed from somewhere to your left.

“We’ll need to go over what we’re doing from here,” Steve sighed once everyone had settled, still watching your dazed expression with a small smile. “But let’s just… nest for a bit, okay?”

The word nest triggered something in your half alpha-cum stoned brained and you looked around the den with a displeased expression. It was a terrible nest; all of the pillows and blankets were in weird heaps and the scent was so wrong. You didn’t really want to nest here, your hindbrain grumbled in agreement, but you’d fix the damn thing. You whined and wriggled until Steve gave Tony the go ahead to stop fully restraining you.

The bed was incredibly soft, which was an upside and crawling across it was like sinking your knees into clouds as you collected the soft heaps of blankets and pillows as you went. You wanted everything off so you could start from scratch, brain muddled by the wrongness of the current layout. You wanted to wash the sheets, the pillow cases, the blankets, all of it. The scent wasn’t right.

“Help her.” It was a quiet request from the Black Widow, who’d also started shifting around to remove the items. “She doesn’t like it like this.”

It was easier to get everything pushed away and in neat piles with the packs’ help, everyone immediately moving to help organize the pillows. You only snapped at the blond beta—Hawkeye, your memory supplied— once for putting a soft blanket on the pile with the not soft blankets. He immediately gave an apologetic burr to which your hindbrain purred back instinctually; evidently a good reaction.

“Why does she like Clint? They haven’t even spoken.”

“She doesn’t like him, she snarled at him!”

“She hasn’t purred at anyone else!”

“Shut up, fuckin’ idiot.”

The noise you made was one of discontent and disdain, the arguing deltas immediately quieting. You didn’t argue with the chirping growl that meant displeased omega, not in a real pack where the goal was to keep omegas pleased and docile. Somewhere your brain reminded you that this wasn’t your pack but the alpha hormones filling your blood and confusing you and yet somehow all you could focus on was whining and pushing at pack members to get them out of the way as your rearranged; clicking your teeth grumpily when you were handed a blanket instead of a pillow or vice versa.

You found yourself being corralled back into the corner, where Natasha and Wanda immediately wrapped themselves around you. Thor had found Bruce and settled beside and settled near your feet where you’d built an intricate nest wall of pillows and blankets. Two of the deltas, Tony and Loki seemed to be glaring at each other—even as Tony laid himself completely on top of the other and they both relaxed into comfortable holds.

It was interesting, watching the pack dynamics as they moved between each other. Clint wrapped around Natasha from behind the same way Carol found her way behind Wanda. Peter had weaseled his way into curling against Loki’s side while tossing a leg over the man’s hip, subsequently laying it over the backs of Tony’s thighs. Sam, Bucky and Steve all found their way into a neat grouping on the bed closest to the stairs, piled as close to the subsequent piles of superheros as possible.

There was some sort of pattern beginning to form in the back of your brain but you were still too confused, too sucked into your own omega hindbrain by the overwhelming introduction of alpha hormone to your system. Instead of following the thought through to the end, you found yourself warm and comfortable and full and falling asleep tucked between the groupings of presentations as if it wasn’t totally, 100% against your will.

content warnings: forced cum eating, chemical manipulation, dead dove: do not eat

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #carol danvers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #bruce banner x reader #clint barton x reader #peter parker x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #sam wilson x reader #dark!avengers #dark!AU #pocketful of posies chapter 6

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years

Note

Could you please make a continuation to With a Cherry on Top? The concept was interesting.

Yes, yes, I am alive, but idk for how long. Anyways hope you like this

tw: nsfw-ish, abusive relationship, obsessive behavior, coercion, alcohol use, shitty family dynamics?, sexual assault, reader has a son now so the timeline is 1 or 2 years after the first part I guess

Part 3

Perhaps this sort of life wasn’t meant for you. The light flowery dresses falling down up to your very ankles were nice and pretty, but mostly impractical. The jewells adorning your neck were shiny and heavy on your skin, but so cold and suffocating, and as much as you wanted to take comfort in the fact that you were finally safe and sound, you couldn’t deny that you were living with the most dangerous predator. You could always feel his burning gaze on your frame like a constant reminder, a stinging sign of ownership more painful than any lasting brand. His fingeres lingered on your shoulder before drawing you in for a sloppy wet kiss too rough to be called sweet and too desperate to be called punishment. It wasn’t hard to see exactly what your “lover” wanted, and it wasn’t adoration, passion or even validation - the man desired a home. Not just a big empty mansion with freezing walls and closed windows, but a warm cozy space he could his own. But the way he expressed his needs was flawed.

Albert was strict and demanding, obsessed with perfection he could never reach himself so all hopes ended up falling on your shoulders. The bussinessman didn’t stop at anything to remind you just how lost and helpless you would have been if not for him. And you knew that his words were wrong, he was nothing but a coward in the way he had tricked and forced you to be his, yet your heart still ached each time the cruel man treated you like a pet he had been gracious enough to take in and feed. The locks were tightly secured, there were cameras everywhere and any attempt to escape only resulted in more misery and pain than you could bear. And even if you managed to pass the golden gate you still had nowhere to go back to, no one willing to listen to your story when it was your word against a millionaire’s. You couldn’t raise a child all by yourself while on the run. You had grown attached to the innocent soul you were suppossed to hate and you were paying the price with your freedom.

Even now, on the third floor, you could hear his heavy hulking steps up the stairs and the deep husky voice haunting your nightmares every night he had his hands wrapped around your body. You quickly closed the door to the room your son slept in, the small creature unaware of what his mother was about to experience, and you put on your best neutral expression. After a few prolonged torturous minutes Albert stood in front of you in all his wealthy glory, reeking of expensive whiskey and cigarette smoke, eyes dark as the sky at midnight. His cold lips found your neck and his arms circled your hips, pulling you closer, stealing the warmth hidden in the thin fabric of your clothes.

“I missed you.” He was drunk again. His breath was a mix of alcohol and mint, his mouth exploring yours as he rubbed his hard groin into your lace-covered thighs. “You look so cute like this.” The man whispered as his prying hands cupped your breasts through the thin material of your pink blouse. You tried to hold back your tears and be brave for your child, you couldn’t let him know the type of a deprived monster his daddy was, so you muffled your sobs. “You are the perfect little housewife I knew you would be, and you are all mine, darling.” Albert muttered softly into the crook of your neck, yet it felt mocking, patronizing and disgusting. He placed small kisses along the feverish skin, leaving a wet trace behind. “Now be a good little slut for me and drop your panties off.” The bussinessman almost hissed, his voice suddenly stern and distant, sending sharp shivers down you spine pressed into the wall.

“I hate you.” You replied, on the verge of tears again, shaking when you reached to pull your underwear down. The order was humiliating and left you feeling exposed despite the layer of fabric still protecting you from the lustful demon ready to devour you whole with his gaze. You watched in silent horror as the man ripped apart the beautiful dress and threw it aside. He always managed to ruin everything pure and chaste you possessed no matter how insignificant it was. “Silly little girl.” Albert chuckled darkly, pulling on your ponytail until you cried out in pain and arched your back. The man took in the pretty sight of your mascara running down, messed up by the big salty tears on your red cheeks. “You should know by now your feelings don’t matter, darling.” He smirked teasingly as he dug his nails into the soft flesh of your back. The sound you knew way too well of a metal belt falling down echoed through the ceiling. You were trapped between his arms and the hard concrete. The millionaire stared at you, motionless. “So shut up and take it.”

There are many four-letter words you could use to describe your marriage. Love is not one of them.

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #male yandere x you #yandere concept #yandere oneshot #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yancore #yandere love #this turned out bad but oh well #life is life

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fotiathymos · 3 years

Text

Idk if I'll ever draw the Gueira and Meis prequel story comic I have in my head but here have snippets I wrote of it and tell me if it's any good lol

uh warning its kinda long, three separate moments and not written like a book as I am more so plotting out how I’d draw it or envision things. Also has a lot of Gueira crying. Like he’s always crying. I’m sorry Gueira.

Meis grumbles and ups the volume on their music. Staring into their mirror, make up dark and black and bad. Angry singing along with a brush comb and then using the same comb to tease at their hair violently. Hair visibly comes out. Their bedroom window bursts open due to the wind. Meis jumps, startled.

The dust storm is rolling by hard and Meis notices the stable door open in the backyard. Their eyes go wide and quickly climb out their bedroom window running towards it.

(Continue in color)

Meis runs inside the stable closing the doors behind them and the storm gets worse. They glance around and count three horses, Ophelia is outside of her stall yet everything else seems fine. They sigh with relief. Meis walk over to Ophelia. "Did you open the doors again cause you were nervous?" Meis pats the horse's nose. Their hand leaves a dust print on the horse. Meis crouches down to look at themselves in a mirror nearby thats leaning on the floor.

Meis is covered in dust and their hair and make up all messed up. They grumble a bit and smudge their eyeliner down their cheek.

Through the mirror Meis sees a foot from behind them poking out of a hay stack.

Meis bolts up. Their first instinct is to kick the hay, hard.

Gueira screams. Followed by Meis screaming. Every single horse starts acting up.

They both are screaming at eachother at the same time.

Meis, "Who are you?! How'd you get here? Get ya fuck out of here!!"

Gueira, "Wait! Wait! Please don't kill me! I can't stand up! They kidnapped me! I had no where to go!"

Ophelia is pushing herself to get in front of Meis. Meis steps aside and the horse goes right for Gueira. Gueira lights his hands on fire and reaches out, "Please no!" Ophelia panics backwards. Meis gets in front of her this time. Gueira's still lying on the floor with his hands aflame, he doesn't attack.

"You’re fuckin’ Burnish! You stupid Burnish! Everything here is flammable don't even fuckin’ dare!" Meis screams and suddenly Gueira has a bucket of liquid tossed on him. His flames don't go out but are duller. He hugs his legs to himself and the light glow of flames surround his body. "I'm.. I'm not in control of this. But I.. won't.. I won't burn the place down.." he stumbles over his words as his body shakes.

Meis stops and takes a better look at Gueira and sees how distressed he is. They calm down Ophelia then look back towards Gueira.

"You're just a kid."

Gueira sniffles, “I’m not a kid!” The flames brighten.

“How old are you?”

“Just turned 16.″

“Thats a toddler. How’d a toddler get into my backyard?”

“I don’t need this from someone looking like that!” Gueira motions to Meis, still covered in dust, half teased hair, shirt torn and barely on and smeared make up. “How old are you?!”

“Gonna be 17 in two weeks.”

“Also toddler!” Gueira points and grins at Meis, his flames disappear for a moment.

“I’m pretty much an adult!” Meis waves their hands in the air. Then stomps a foot towards Gueira. “And you still haven’t answered me!” Ophelia acts up again as Meis is yelling again. Gueira recedes back, nervous.

“Please don’t call Freeze Force on me..” Gueira hugs his legs and hides his face.

“You’re in the wrong place then kid. My pa is training in Freeze Force.”

Gueira’s head shoots up, eyes wide.

Meis plops a seat down next to him. “I’ll hide you for the night though.” Meis leans their arm on their knee and rests their head on their arm. Eyeing Gueira carefully.

Gueira stares at Meis, tears forming but trying not to cry again. “Seriously?”

“I’m not gonna call the feds on a kid.” Meis pulls the nearby mirror close and starts fixing themselves up. “You're lucky my pa didn't catch ya, you'dve been swiss cheese.”

Gueira hides his face into his legs and arms again. “Can you just help me get home.. I don’t recognize any of this place.”

“Sure. Probably for the best you head out after the storm. It gets extra hot after a sandstorm passes ‘round here, even at night. Where you live?”

“Uh, near the Liberty apartments.. maybe you could just point me to a bus or I could hitch hike.. somehow.” Gueira is talking into his arms.

“...I don’t know of that apartment building. Most places near here are just horse people’s homes.”

“...horses?” Gueira’s head peeks out.

Meis points at Ophelia. “That?”

“I know what a horse is!” He glares at Meis. His expression softens as he looks down towards the foor. “Am I not in Miami?”

“Miami?” Meis stops what theyre doing and whip their head towards Gueira.

“Yeah!” Gueira looks happy.

“You mean like Florida?” Meis’ expression is really confused.

“Yeah?” Gueira looks concerned.

“You’re in Texas, kid.” Meis finishes fixes themselves up and pushed the mirror away. Gueira is silent for a moment.

“...how?” Gueira looks back at the ground again.

“I should be asking you that.” Meis pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “You ran from the Foundation real far you got lost, huh?” Meis takes a drag and doesn’t look too concerned till suddenly Gueira’s shaking again. Meis lowers his cigarette. “What.. happened to you, kid?”

Gueira squeezes hard on his own legs. “They...they just bagged my head and threw me in a van. I didn’t know where they were taking me. They talked about the other city states but.. but how'd I get into the middle of the Burnish desert lands..”

Meis frowns. “We’re not in the middle of the Burnish desert lands. we’re in human civilization.”

Gueira starts crying again and leans back towards the hay. His flames grow. Meis panics and grabs Gueira away from the haystack.

“Can you stop that!” Meis grips onto Gueira’s shoulders. “You are surrounded by tinder!”

“I won’t burn things! I swear!” Gueira yells back at Meis through his tears.

“You’re currently on fire!”

“And you’re not burnt are you!?” Gueira screams it this time. Flames spark off him. Yet Meis is still unharmed. Meis finally notices how they’re grabbing Gueira and the flames are on their arms as well.

“See!” Gueira grabs Meis’ hands. “I’m not some monster, please. I’m just... just a kid.. like you said.” Gueira stutters through tears more. Lets go of Meis’ hand and falls backwards into the hay. The hay is unaffected as the flames around Gueira’s body persist. Gueira goes back to hugging his knees and crying. “Please don’t turn me in.. I just.. I didn’t want this.. I..”

“Okay, Okay hey!”, Meis moves towards Gueira. They hesitate reaching out towards him. Then Meis touches Gueira’s shoulder again. They take a moment to register how the flames aren’t hurting. Gueira’s still crying and hiding his face. Meis then grabs Gueira’s other shoulder and pulls him into a hug. Gueira’s surprised.

“I’m not turning you in. I promise, okay. You can stay here as long as you need.” the focus is on Gueira’s face as his scared eyes soften and he hugs Meis back, tightening his grip and starts sobbing into Meis’ arms.

---------

Both of them are laying on the stable floor, smoking lazily. Meis is letting Ophelia nibble at their hair.

Gueira takes a drag on his cigarette and coughs it up violently. Meis laughs a little. Gueira huffs, "You know,” cough “I always thought it funny how my parents can.." .....he sighs.... "..could look at me and not see I'm gay."

Meis ignores the hidden implications in Gueira's words. "Heh. My family sees me all the time looking like this and still thinks I'm a cis male."

Gueira shifts to face Meis and takes another drag of his cigarette, blows out smoke properly. Meis looks a little proud. "Yeah but you don't know what you are anyway." Gueira picks Meis' hair out of Ophelia's mouth.

Meis ponders a moment.

"I'm.. I'm an unlit match in a haystack. Full of potential to destroy it all but stifled and buried alive."

Gueira raises an eyebrow "Poetic. Is that a song lyrics of yours?"

Meis laughs, "Hoho-noooo. You think I'm that kind of song writer?"

"It's just... if you keep talking like that you'll catch the Burnish from me." Gueira snickers and puts out his cigarette on the barn floor.

Meis smiles falters, "I always thought those things weren't human. I mean.. not that you're a thing. Or not human.." Meis turns to Gueira now. "You can't catch the Burnish.. right??"

Gueira smirks "Come closer and find out for yourself."

Meis flicks Gueira's nose.

"Oooowwwwwwyyeeeee"

Meis puts out their cigarette and stands up, dusting off themselves. "I better get back before Pa comes pounding on the barn door looking for me." Meis kisses Ophelia on the nose and pats Guiera's head, ruffling his hair. Gueira doesn't bother to fix his hair and mutters under his breathe "fuck that guy"

Meis pulls a match out of their pocket and flicks it into a nearby haystack. Gueira rolls his eyes at the gesture, unamused.

---------

Gueira's talking fast and stifling sobs. "It's so lonely and so crowded. It's feels like my head is inside a fire. Numbing and loud. These voices just talk constantly, scream at me to burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. They’re real. They’re my thoughts. But I don’t like them. And I don’t want them to be real.. I.. I understand why the Foundation wants me. But what do they want with me.. why did they choose me. They make me want to burn you alive, Meis." He sniffs and Meis seems unfazed at the concept.

" ..just consume you.. in all of this fire.. all the flames in me."

Meis reaches out to grab Gueira's hand. They're both still not looking at each other. Just staring at the barn on the floor.

"I'm an unlit match in a haystack, Guiera. Maybe I just need to be set aflame."

Gueira starts crying harder. "You don't want this.. you really fucking don't."

Meis drops Gueira's hand and grabs his face to look at him sternly. They’re both facing each other now. "You don't speak for me. I could be a Burnish!"

Between sobs "You don't need this."

"Burn."

"Stop it"

"Burn for me Guiera."

"Shut up"

"Burn me alive"

Gueira pushes away and stands up. "Stop it! Stop it! You don't want this! You don't need this burden! It's useless! It's just trouble! It's just crying and running away and ..and.. I could get you snatched up and killed! Why do you even care about me!!"

Meis slowly stands up. "So we're not talking about the fire anymore, huh?"

Gueira's tears are little fires. He's shaking and trying to hold himself by wrapping his arms around his body in a grip. Legs wobbly and feet shifting to try and stay standing up. Meis doesn't approach him. A gentle smile appears on their face and they reach out a hand.

"Burn."

Gueira closes his eyes tight and suddenly bursts into flames. The flames stay around Gueira’s body and don’t spread.

“Breathe in the fire for me, Gueira!” Meis holds out their arms. “Burn properly!”

“It burns my throat!”

“Scream!”

“I can’t! I’ll really explode!” Gueira opens his eyes to look at Meis. Meis looks excited.

"Burn this whole barn down!" Meis’ eyes are wide and is grinning big.

"You're losing it too now. You're not even Burnish and you're a pyromaniac." Gueira looks concerned for Meis.

"You think I care about this place?" Meis’ laugh is almost evil.

"You care about Ophelia! I'm not gonna burn her house down just cause I'm being whiney and having a break down! You sound like them. Don’t make the voices in my head external! You shouldn’t encourage this!” Gueira’s yelling and the flames aren’t stopping. His hands are in fists and close to his chest, holding back.

Meis walks up to Gueira and puts a hand on his cheek. Their voice is calmer now. “You need to actually let it all out. You need to burn or it’s all going to eat you up inside. Just scream and burn all your fears away.”

Gueira’s eyes shut tight. His hands open up and to his sides as flames burst around him. Two flame like horns are above his head. He screams. His eyes are enflamed and he glares at Meis, smacking Meis’ hand off his face.

“You want fire?!” Gueira practically growls and smoke comes out his mouth. Meis is smiling big. “I hate you Meis. I can’t stand this fucking barn. I smell of horse shit.” He’s throwing flames with every sentence. Meis doesn’t move away still. Gueira’s anger starts leaning into his sadness. “I can't just be lazy around here forever on you. Just because I'm scared. Just because I’m so fucking scared!” Gueira roars flames. “I always felt so fucking useless and lazy. I was always a burden on somebody. And I ruined everything for my family, their hopes, their dreams, all their money went to their goddamn useless hospital child. I ruined everything for them! I ruined my own dreams! I can’t even kick a fucking football!” Gueira’s sobbing. “I already lost everything. I can't.. I can't even have you, Meis. When I know this will all be lost too."

------

ono/

#boop merps #uh uh do i put in the tags #im gonna #promare #guiemei #guiemeis #idk ship names bro im tired and hungry #my ideas are too big for my hands and full time job so if anything #you got this at least #even if i dont make comic #or whatever it is i end up making

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