#but this is close to what he looks like in my soul

[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter two of ten

wc. 2.6K

prologue | part 1 | part 3 [soon!]

The air in the room became impossibly thick as Gojo’s voice echoed through the hideout, his presence overpowering everything else. The tension was suffocating, your heart hammering in your chest as you stood frozen in place. Satoru Gojo—he was here, and from the look in his eyes, there was no mistaking the anger simmering beneath the surface. For the first time, you felt a tremor of fear—not just for yourself, but for what would happen next.

Suguru Geto turned slowly, his calm demeanor unwavering despite the sudden arrival of his former best friend. His dark eyes flicked toward Gojo, and for a brief moment, something flickered between them—na unspoken recognition, a history that hung between them like a heavy shadow. But Geto didn’t seem surprised. If anything, it was as if he had been expecting this.

“Well, well,” Geto said, his voice low and smooth, as if he were welcoming na old acquaintance. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Satoru.”

Gojo’s eyes never left yours, his piercing gaze locked onto you with na intensity that made it hard to breathe. The weight of his presence pressed down on you, making you feel like a child caught in the middle of a storm you had no control over. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the words stuck in your throat. What could you even say? That you had chosen to leave Jujutsu High, to abandon everything you once knew, to follow the man who stood before you?

“So,” Gojo said, his tone biting, “you’re joining him now? Is this what you really want?”

His question was sharp, cutting straight through you, and you couldn’t help but flinch under the accusation in his voice. He wasn’t just angry—there was something else in his eyes, something deeper, something that almost looked like hurt. But that didn’t make sense. Why would he care? He had rejected you, brushed you aside like you didn’t matter. So why was he here now, standing in front of you, as if your decision had somehow affected him?

“I… I made my choice,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper. You stood straighter, trying to summon the strength you had felt just moments ago, before Gojo had arrived. “This is what I want.”

But even as you said the words, a flicker of doubt crept into your heart. Was this truly what you wanted? Or had you been so desperate to escape your pain that you’d latched onto Geto’s ideals without fully understanding the consequences?

Geto stepped forward, his presence grounding you as he spoke with the calm authority that had drawn you to him in the first place. “She came to me of her own will, Satoru. Don’t you see? She’s tired of being part of your broken world. She’s found something better.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, and you could see the muscles in his neck tighten as he took a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. His gaze flicked to Geto, and his voice was low, dangerously so. “You think you can manipulate her like this, Geto? Just like everyone else who follows you?”

Your breath caught in your throat at the accusation, and something inside you twisted painfully. Manipulate? Is that what Gojo thought this was? That you were too weak, too naive to make your own decisions?

“I’m not being manipulated,” you said, more forcefully this time, the frustration bubbling up inside you. “I chose this because I believe in it. I believe in what Geto stands for.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped back to yours, and for a moment, the weight of his stare was unbearable. “Do you really?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more measured. “Do you even know what he stands for? Or are you just running away from something you don’t want to face?”

His words cut deep, because somewhere in your heart, you knew there was truth in them. But you couldn’t admit that, not now, not when you had already come this far. You were trying to move forward, to leave the pain behind. But Gojo, with his relentless gaze and piercing questions, was forcing you to confront everything you had been running from.

“I’m not running away,” you said, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to carry. “I’m tired of… of being nothing. Tired of trying to live in a world that doesn’t care about me. With Geto, I can be part of something real.”

Gojo’s expression darkened, and he closed the distance between the two of you in na instant. His hand reached out, but instead of grabbing you, his fingers curled around your wrist gently, holding you in place as if daring you to pull away.

“You think Geto cares about you?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “You think he’ll give you the life you want? He doesn’t care about people like you—he uses them. That’s how he operates.”

You tried to pull away from him, but Gojo’s grip was firm, not painful, but strong enough to keep you there, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was something raw in his expression now, something vulnerable that you hadn’t seen before. His usual playful, carefree mask was gone, replaced by a seriousness that rattled you to your core.

“He’ll break you, just like he’s broken everyone else who’s followed him,” Gojo continued, his voice soft but relentless. “And when he’s done, he’ll toss you aside. Is that really what you want?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for the first time since you had made the decision to leave, doubt fully seeped into your chest. You had thought Geto’s ideals offered freedom, a place to belong, but Gojo’s words made you question everything. Was Geto just using you? Was this really your escape, or was it just another trap?

Before you could answer, Geto’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Let her go, Satoru.”

Gojo didn’t move, his eyes still locked onto yours, but you could feel the tension between the two men grow heavier. Geto’s calm demeanor was still intact, but there was a steeliness in his gaze now, a warning.

“This isn’t about you and me, Geto,” Gojo said quietly. “This is about her.”

“And she’s made her choice,” Geto replied, his voice smooth but firm. “Let her go.”

Gojo’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if this was the last chance he had to reach you. “You can come back. You don’t have to go down this path.”

Your chest tightened, your thoughts spinning in every direction. You had come this far, had left everything behind. But now, with Gojo standing in front of you, his presence so overwhelming, his voice cutting through your resolve, you didn’t know what to do.

You could feel the weight of Geto’s gaze on you as well, though it was calmer, more patient, as if he knew what decision you would make. But did he? Did you?

Torn between two powerful forces, you stood there, caught between Gojo’s plea and Geto’s promises. This was the moment of truth—the moment that would define the rest of your life.

But which path would you take?

The silence in the room was deafening, the air thick with tension as you stood between Gojo and Geto, the two forces that had pulled you in opposite directions since you left Jujutsu High. But the weight of your decision had already settled in your heart. Gojo’s words, though laced with concern, had only deepened the wound he had inflicted on you from the start. He had broken you once—shattered your heart with his rejection—and now he stood there, pleading with you as if he could somehow undo the damage. But it was too late for that.

You looked down at the hand gripping your wrist, the heat of his touch sparking emotions you weren’t ready to feel. The words he spoke weren’t enough to erase the pain, the months of being invisible in his eyes. He wanted to protect you now, but where had that concern been when you needed it most? His sudden care felt like a cruel afterthought, too little, too late.

With a deep breath, you pulled your wrist out of Gojo’s grasp, stepping back from him. The look in his eyes twisted something inside of you—there was hurt there, masked beneath his usual confidence. But he had already broken you once, and you couldn’t allow him to do it again. There was nothing left for him to shatter.

“I’ve made my choice,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended, but firm. You looked at Gojo, holding his gaze, even though it was painful. “You were right… maybe I’m running from something. But I’ve already run too far to turn back now.”

The silence that followed your words felt like the calm before a storm. Gojo’s face shifted, the tension around his eyes tightening, his jaw clenching. He didn’t speak immediately, but the weight of his disappointment was palpable, pressing down on you like a physical force. His usual carefree mask was gone, replaced by something much darker, much heavier.

“Is that really what you want?” Gojo asked, his voice low, the sharpness in his tone cutting through you. “To throw away everything? To follow him?”

The anger simmering beneath his calm exterior finally surfaced, and you could see the battle raging within him—his protective instincts clashing with the hurt of your choice. But there was no going back now.

“Yes,” you said, your voice stronger this time. “I’m following Geto. There’s nothing left for me at Jujutsu High.”

Gojo took a step forward, his expression hardening. “You think this will make things better? Geto will—”

“He can’t break me,” you interrupted, your words laced with a rawness that surprised even you. “You already did that.”

The room seemed to freeze after that. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something—regret, maybe—crossing his face. But it was fleeting, gone before you could truly understand it. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, relaxed for a moment before tightening again.

There was nothing more to say. You had laid bare the truth. Gojo had broken you in ways he didn’t even realize, and now you were too far gone to be saved. You weren’t the same person who had walked into his classroom with a gift and a confession. That person was long gone.

Geto, who had been silent through the entire exchange, finally stepped forward, his presence calm and steady. His dark eyes flickered between you and Gojo, and though his expression remained neutral, you could feel the satisfaction radiating from him.

“I told you, Satoru,” Geto said softly, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “You can’t save everyone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. But then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet space.

You stood frozen for a few moments, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Gojo was gone. You had pushed him away. It was over.

“Are you sure about this?” Geto’s voice broke through your thoughts, gentle but laced with a warning. “Once you walk this path, there’s no going back. Not even for you.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. The decision had already been made.

“I’m sure,” you said, turning to face Geto fully. “I have nothing left to lose.”

Geto’s eyes softened slightly, and for the first time, you felt something close to comfort in his presence. It wasn’t warmth or kindness—it was the understanding that came from someone who had already walked the same path you were about to take.

“You’ve been broken before,” Geto said, almost thoughtfully, “but that means you know what it’s like to rebuild yourself.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded. “Follow me, then.”

Without waiting for you to respond, Geto turned and began walking deeper into the hideout, his presence commanding as always. You followed without hesitation, your steps feeling heavier but more purposeful. Each one took you further from the life you once knew, the person you once were.

As you walked through the dimly lit corridors, you couldn’t help but think of Gojo one last time. His face, his voice, the way he had looked at you with both anger and something close to care—it all lingered in your mind like a ghost. But that part of your life was over. Gojo had his world, and you had chosen yours.

Geto led you into a small chamber, sparsely furnished but enough to serve as a living space. “This will be yours,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “For now.”

You nodded, setting your bag down in the corner. The room felt cold, unfamiliar, but there was a strange sense of comfort in that. This was your new beginning, no matter how difficult or dangerous it would be.

Geto lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching you closely. “You’ll train with us,” he said, “but more importantly, you’ll learn what it means to truly live outside the constraints of the world you’ve known.”

His words were heavy, and you knew that what he was offering wasn’t just strength—it was freedom, a chance to create something new from the broken pieces of your life. It was dangerous, yes, but you had already risked everything to be here.

“And remember,” Geto continued, his voice softer now, “this is your choice. No one can take that from you.”

You met his gaze and nodded. “I won’t regret it.”

Geto’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he stepped back. “Good.”

With that, he left you alone in the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

You sat down on the edge of the small bed, exhaling slowly. The silence was heavy, but it was different from the silence you had known at Jujutsu High. This silence wasn’t filled with the weight of invisible expectations or the pain of rejection. It was simply… empty.

For the first time in a long while, the emptiness didn’t scare you. It didn’t hurt.

Because now, for better or for worse, you were free to fill it with whatever you chose.

And you would.

As you sat there, your mind quieted, and a sense of determination settled over you like a cloak. There was no turning back now. You were following Geto’s path, and in doing so, you were forging your own.

Gojo had broken you enough already.

There was nothing left for Geto to break.

notes: Guys~ thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! <3 if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

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[v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e]

Louis + his ways of saying "I love you" to Lestat

"Is this an offer, Louis? Have you come back to me, as lovers say?" His eyes darkened and he looked away from me. "I'm not mocking you, Louis," I said. "You've come back to me, Lestat," he said evenly, looking at me again. "When I heard the first whispers of you at Dracula's Daughter, I felt something that I thought was gone forever --" He paused. - The Vampire Lestat

There was so much I wanted to say to him, to ask him. Yet I couldn’t find the words really, or a way to begin. He had always had so many questions; and now he had his answers, more answers perhaps than he could ever have wanted; and what had this done to his soul? Stupidly I stared at him. How perfect he seemed to me as he stood there waiting with such kindness and such patience. And then, like a fool, I came out with it. “Do you love me now?” I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. “Yes,” he said. - Queen of the Damned

He grew reflective again and very sad. It almost hurt me to look at him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but that would only have made him furious. "I love you," he said softly. I was amazed. "You're always looking for a way to triumph," he continued. "You never give in. But there is no way to triumph. This is purgatory we're in, you and I. All we can be is thankful that it isn't actually hell." - The Tale of the Body Thief

I came towards him, planted my hands on his desk and looked into his face. "I was so sure you would understand this. And by the way, I wasn't born a monster! I was a born a mortal child, the same as you. Stronger than you! More will to live than you! That was cruel of you to say." "I know. It was wrong. Sometimes you frighten me so badly I hurl sticks and stones at you. It's foolish. I'm glad to see you, though I dread admitting it. I shiver at the thought that you might have really brought an end to yourself in the desert! I can't bear the thought of existence now without you! You infuriate me! Why don't you laugh at me? You've done it before." - The Tale of the Body Thief

"Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply. "Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say." - The Tale of the Body Thief

I stopped. I put my arm around him. I held him close to me. “I’m Lestat,” I said in a low voice. “Your Lestat. I’m the same Lestat you’ve always known, and no matter how I’m changed, I’m still that same being.” “I know,” he said warmly. I kissed him. I pressed my lips to his and I held this kiss for a long silent moment. And then I gave in to a silent wave of feeling, and I took him in my arms. I held him tight against me. I felt his unmistakable silken skin, his soft shining black hair. I heard the blood throbbing in him, and time dissolved, and it seemed I was in some old and secret place, some warm tropical grotto we’d once shared, ours alone in some way, with the scent of sweet olive blossoms and the whisper of moist breeze. “I love you,” I whispered. In a low intimate voice, he answered: “My heart is yours.” - Prince Lestat

I couldn’t believe I’d heard right. I stared at him as helplessly as I had in the hallway of the townhouse when I’d first seen him, trying to grasp what he had said. He leaned close to me, and he put his hand on my arm. “ ‘Wither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people’; and because I have no other god and never will, you shall be my god.” - Prince Lestat and The Realms of Atlantis

When I was finally led down the stairs, Louis came with me. In the darkened passage before my resting place, he embraced me and held tight to me, his lips pressed to my ear. I was aware of my hands moving over his hair, embracing his neck, drawing him ever closer, in a way I had never done in our long years in New Orleans. We joined in the posture of lovers, brothers, fathers with sons. “I love you with my whole soul, and I will always love you,” he confided to me. “You are my life. I have hated you for that and love you now so much that you’ve been my instructor in loving. And believe me when I say you will survive this, and that you must for all of us. You will survive because you always have and you always will.” - Blood Communion

[evanescencelovrr]

You have a tough week at work

hey yall—tough ass week here. i needed to write this cute fluffy moment with reader x simon x price ughhh. my poor heart is mush atp. enjoy!! pls like comment and reblog to share the love <3

notes: she/her pronouns used, lots of fluff & reader struggles for acceptance affection. Lovie, lovebug, love nicknames are used.

I think after a long week and shedding tears over a tub of ice cream—Simon & Price decide you’ve had enough.

First you come through the front door frowning, your usual scowl and eyes twitching from the lack of sleep. Your neck sags, shoulders hunching from the heavy bag and responsibilities weighing on you. You feel like you’re never enough.

Immediately Simon rounds the kitchen corner, not hesitating to take your shoulder bag off—lengthy fingers curling around the strap. You could see the warm lamps are lit, the fireplace on and going which never failed to make you feel at ease in tough times. The flames roared with life.

You trace your eyes to look up all puffy eyed and your nose red—most likely from just crying in frustration. You stiffen up for a moment at him seeing you like this, and faintly you could hear Price cooking in the kitchen. It smells of warm food.

“Lovie, give it up.” Simon said gently—much gentl(er) to you than he would with anyone. His brow was raised and he’s got that scolding look to him.

One that told you to bite down on any resistance.

So you did, too tired to fight and knowing it would be useless. You give the bag to him, and Simons’ hunky form maneuvers to the couch, where he placed it down. His mask if off, wearing sweatpants and a longsleeve knit you got him. His rugged features glow softly in the fire light, oranges and yellows lighting his irises.

Price then calls out from the kitchen, “Is the love bug back already from work?”

“Aye, I got er’.” Simon responds gruffly—turning around when he heard you groan.

There you were trying to take your shoes off, bent over and fingers sluggish working the laces. Damn thing wouldn’t undo itself. Tears sprung up in frustration, finding the simple task so demanding and exhausting. And it didn’t help every muscle protested in pain.

“Lovie—“ Simon closes the distance with his house slippers and holds up upright by your elbows.

“I-I can’t do it.” You say weakly, frowning. Apart of you feels like you needed to “adult,” better—but this week? This week was a mess.

You hear a clank from the kitchen.

“Lovie, come, none f’that, yea? Let’s get you sorted.” Simon briefly caresses your cheek with warm tender fingers, and you find yourself aching for more when he pulls away, round wide eyes gazing.

Simon doesn’t miss the look you gave him and knows. He knows what you need. He gently leads you to the couch, making you sit. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed and places one behind your back to support you, and occasionally hearing your sniffles.

“I’m sorry—“ You begin to say, voice shaky and on the verge of sobs. You felt guilty for making them care, but then again it was their job as well. They looked out for you, you looked out for them.

Simons heart aches as he hears you. The woman he knows who is determined, strong and wise is now hurting. Vulnerable, cracked open. He knows what this must feel like, since he did too at some point of his life.

It was a hard choice—sharing how you felt. And be found himself appreciative of how you let him take care of you tonight. He was determined to put your stressed soul at ease, doing whatever you asked for if you did.

So, his warm voice floated in, as deft fingers loosened your shoe laces, gentle warm eyes peering up at you from under his brows.

“Lovie, its a’right. A big man like me can untie y’er shoes, no?” Simon says lightly, lip lifting up slightly.

That earns him a swift grin from you despite the tears and your chest warms. You know Simon could do a lot more. It was so secret anymore who he was, his past, and Price as well. His large hands slide under your ankles, supporting it up into his lap.

Price then turns the stove off and you hear soft padding. Simon slips off your shoes and tosses them aside—his attention immediately back onto you. He could care less of the shoes. He wanted-needed to know if you were okay.

Price wiped his hands on the rag—his face falling when he saw you, his love bug all teary and crestfallen.

“Dove, let me make you a cup of tea.” Price said firmly, without question. He knows you must be a bundle of nerves and felt frazzled. A nice tea outta do it, he thought. Inside, he was worried.

He worked with ease at the kitchen, tall form hardly needing to stretch an arm up to open the cupboard. He already reached its height anyway.

Immediately he steeped a bag, a nice peppermint tea. In your cute little mug you always loved—the one with pink and white fluffy clouds, with golden stars painted and the moon. He found himself warming at the sight—you.

You were everywhere and he loved it. Little remnants.

He returned and Simon got up to sit next to you, a hand rubbing your back. He softened at the sight and crouched down in front your resting form. He saw the eye bags wearing you down, the redness of your eyes and how irritating the skin was from all the rubbing. Most likely wiping your tears off.

He could see the frown lines, the way your eyes had glossed over in exhaustion.

He felt even more concerned—maybe even livid at the way work had drained you. Nonetheless, his priority was you, not blowing up because of your work.

“Love bug, d’ya think you could sit up for me?” Prices’ warm voice said, one large hand holding your cute mug, the other resting on your knee.

You gently nudged your head in acknowledgement—which was resting on Simons shoulder. All warm and content.

You moved to sit up and uncurled your legs, warming at the sight of Price holding you mug.

Not just any mug.

And the tea you loved too.

Tears sprung up again and you grabbed at the mug, holding it.

“Lovie—“

“Love bug—“

They both said immediately at your tears.

“I’m okay…just overwhelmed by your support.” You managed a small smile, eyes flitting to meet both their concerned ones.

Simon had his brows furrowed, an arm slung back behind you. But now he moved to lean in, a hand touching your back again.

He nodded, meanwhile Price continued rubbing your knee in a comforting manner, thumb drawing circles now.

“Love, you have nothing to apologize for. We know its been hard for you lately.” Price said in a soothing low tone, brows raising. He lowered his head to get a look at you—although not staring holes into you.

He watched as you drank your tea, sighing in relief.

“I-It was.” You began, “I lost track of time and missed some deadlines at work. My Boss has been upset.” Your voice cracked as you explained, and the tears sprung up.

Both of them knew how late you were staying at work, and to hear your inconsiderate Boss only add fuel to the fire was maddening.

Simons�� chest puffed out, taking a breath in—and Prices’ eyes flashed momentarily, only to soften when he spoke to you.

“Just let it out lovie.” Simon said softly, a large hand brushing your hair aside as you cried. Tears dripped down and Simons calloused hand cupped your cheek, rubbing them away. Gently. He wasn’t used to this—but with you, it came so naturally.

There was this feeling in him you reached deepest. It only amplified in moments like this. He didn’t even know he was capable of being gentle still, yet you brought it out in him.

Price patted your leg softly, “Easy love. Let me get you some good food in that tummy. I made you your favorite.”

With that you look up at him as he arose, and Prices’ eyes crinkled underneath with his warm smile. His heart melted—a mixture of concern and care as your eyes were watery and half lidded. He reached a hand to cup your jaw, stroking the tender skin before gliding to the kitchen.

You sniffled and leaned into Simons arms, needing warmth and comfort. Immediately he accepted—no questions asked. He didn’t stiffen up the way he would when you first met him. He let you in completely, loving you the way you did to him when he was lost.

He knew you needed someone to lean on. Both physically and mentally.

“Love, we got this, aye? You jus’ let us do the big work. Don’ worry bout’ bein’ big. And doin’ the big things.” He would whisper soothingly into your hair, a large arm wrapping around your shaky form.

It curled around you so easily, and you closed your eyes, cheek nuzzling his chest. He softened even more, hand reaching up to wipe your face.

But before he did, he made sure to tilt your head up so he could get a good look to clean it.

“There she is.” Simon whispered, affectionately.

He heard Price shuffle back and you gave a soft smile—although weary.

The rest of the night was spent with Price feeding you, even if you complained about doing it.

Simon held you, your back to his chest while he figured he could learn to braid your hair. Halfway, as Price fed you a spoonful, perched onto the coffee table—Simon grumbled and spoke up.

“Lovie, you ave’ such nice hair—I don’t want to be an arsehole, but how in the hell do you manage it?”

Simon whipped the braid over your shoulder so you could see it. Price held the spoon up, cocking a brow at the braid—to which Simon glared.

What you saw had you laughing. It suddenly bubbled out—chest shaking and smile breaking out. Hair was sticking out, untucked properly in the braid. His tension was off so it looked like some braids were bigger than the other, and he fumbled with the hair tie which was slipping off.

“Lovie.” Simon whined roughly—although he couldn’t lie, seeing the lights on in your head again and the way you laughed—it had this man crumbling.

And Price—Price looked proud. Almost like: I knew we’d get her back. His smaller eyes were wide in joy, drinking in the way your shoulder scrunched and lips stretching.

“Simon—this is so sweet.” You say, sighing. God, laughter really was the best medicine, you thought.

And with that, Simons fingers began gently prodding your side to tickle you. You squirmed and hands scrambled to hold his broad shoulders—once again laughter pouring out like bubbles.

Price grinned, a lip quirking up, as he set the bowl aside, “I’m tryin’ to feed her.” But he was enjoying this well enough—

“Oh come on old man, you like this.” Simon teased, his voice slightly shaky as he tickled your squirming form.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay! Okay!” You stated, panting, and face red. You were still smiling, leaning to the side and holding up your hands with the widest grin at Simon.

“Good, lovie?” Simon asked.

“Good.” You repeated.

——

Lets just say, HR received multiple complaints from “two” anonymous sources who relentlessly called over and over.

It piled up until both got what they wanted—your Boss suspended for verbal harassment and having employees work overtime.

When you heard the news—you were glad and relieved. Didn’t need to deal with him ever again, you thought.

As you hummed and blasted your music in your headphones, tucked away in your room for the night, both Simon and Price grinned at each other.

[iomoru]

Hihihihihihi this is my first request in tumblr☺️

Could I ask for wanderer x reader as pucca and garu (pls don't feel too pressured to write its jst a silly request)

☁︎ Chasing Clouds☁︎

A/n: ofc anon! I'm really sorry for the late reply I didn't notice because there were so many people that kept liking/reblogging my other posts, plus I was very busy with school work too (school is so stressing I might just jump off somewhere ngl)

Genre: Canon! Verse (?), Garu! Wanderer x Pucca! Reader, G!n Reader!, Fluff, Flustered Wanderer, Tall! Reader, Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, Reader is a few inches taller than Wanderer, Scara is called Wanderer, Second Person, Proofread

Summary: You're head over heels for Wanderer, constantly chasing him around Sumeru with boundless energy and affection. Despite his attempts to escape and his grumpy attitude, you never back down, determined to win him over. After catching up to him, you give him a tight hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving him flustered and speechless—much to your delight.

Sumeru’s busy streets were no obstacle for you. Ducking and weaving through the crowd, you had one target in sight, your grin widening as the person ahead of you quickened their pace. Wanderer might’ve been faster, but you always enjoyed the thrill of the chase.

"Wanderer!" you called, a teasing lilt in your voice.

The sound of your voice cut through the din, and you caught a glimpse of him tensing, his head snapping forward like he hadn’t heard you. He picked up speed, and you bit your lip to stifle a laugh. This little game of his never got old.

Determined, you matched his pace, slipping past confused merchants and scholars who stared after you with wide eyes. You couldn’t blame them—there was something ridiculous about watching someone so desperate to escape you.

"You’re not getting away that easily!" you called out, amusement ringing in your tone.

Wanderer glanced over his shoulder, his glare sharp as ever. "Why do you keep following me?" he snapped, though the frustration in his voice only made you more amused.

You kept your eyes trained on him, enjoying the slight challenge as he darted down an alleyway. For a moment, he disappeared from view. But you knew him well enough by now. With a grin, you took a shortcut, climbing up a stack of crates and bounding onto a nearby rooftop with ease. The familiar weight of your vision glowed faintly as you leaped down and landed smoothly in front of him, cutting off his escape.

He came to an abrupt stop, nearly colliding with you as you stood tall in his path. His eyes widened for a split second before narrowing again, irritation flaring in his expression. "You again?" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in that characteristic way that made him look more like he was pouting than actually angry.

"Missed me?" you asked playfully, leaning in just enough to see his frown deepen.

Wanderer’s eye twitched. "Do you ever get tired?" he muttered, his gaze flicking up toward the sky as if asking for patience from whatever higher power might be listening.

You shrugged, completely unbothered by his tone. "Not when it comes to you."

He groaned, the sound low and drawn out, like he was truly suffering through some kind of endless torment. "Why do you insist on bothering me? Haven’t you got anything better to do?"

"Maybe." You beamed at him, rocking on your heels. "But this is much more fun."

His response was a scowl. You’d grown used to that look by now. His arms stayed crossed, his body tensed, clearly prepared to dodge or bolt if you tried anything. Not that it mattered. He could never outrun you, and you both knew it.

With a quick step forward, you closed the gap between you two and, without warning, wrapped your arms around his waist in a tight, affectionate hug.

"W-What are you—?!" he stammered, going rigid in your arms. You could practically feel his soul leaving his body in sheer disbelief.

"Just showing some love!" you said brightly, completely ignoring the look of horror on his face. "You should get used to it by now."

"Let go!" he hissed, trying to pry your arms off with little success. His attempts only made you hug him tighter, grinning into his chest.

"Nope!" you replied, savoring the warmth of being so close to him, even if he looked like he was ready to burst into flames from sheer embarrassment.

"You're impossible," he muttered, though the heat in his voice had ebbed into something more resigned. Wanderer’s hand twitched, as if debating whether to push you off more forcefully, but you could tell he wouldn’t.

"And you're wonderful," you chimed, leaning your head on his shoulder for a moment, letting the affection settle between you.

He stiffened again, his gaze averting from yours as if he could pretend this wasn’t happening. "You’re insane," he muttered under his breath, though the usual sharpness of his tone was gone, replaced with a quiet, defeated sigh.

You just smiled, not minding his comments at all. With a playful hum, you decided it was time to pull away—at least for now. Wanderer looked visibly relieved when you finally let go of him, though the slight flush on his face was unmistakable.

You leaned forward before he could react, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. It was so fast he barely had time to process it, his body freezing up the moment your lips made contact.

The look of pure, unfiltered shock on his face was priceless. His eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words but failing completely. The tips of his ears turned red, and you had to stifle a laugh.

"See you later!" you chirped, turning on your heel and taking off before he could recover.

Wanderer stood frozen for a long moment, his hand slowly rising to touch his cheek where you’d kissed him. His face remained flushed, his expression torn between disbelief and frustration. But deep down, somewhere behind the layers of annoyance, there was a flicker of something softer.

Not that he would ever admit it.

A/n: Requests are closed now again, I only did this one bc I didn't really notice it plus it's prolly stuck in my inbox for a long time now

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 8 | An Aeon

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

Previous | Fic Masterlist | Next

When you wake up, your mind feels kind of fuzzy. Almost as if you were missing something.

“Something the matter?”

You felt your soul leave your body at the sudden voice causing him to laugh. Snapping your head to the side, you noticed it was the man from before. The one who erased your death- wait, your death? And that was when it hit you. You couldn’t remember how you died or the pain that you felt. It was like-

“It never even happened?”

You gave him a weary look, causing him to chuckle softly at both your expression and how you were acting.

“There is no need to fret, you know? I am not going to hurt you.”

“What- what are you doing here?”

You ended up ignoring his lighthearted words and gestured to the library. You were still on the couch, and the book you were holding had fallen to the floor.

The man mused to himself, his smile light and warm.

“I suppose it was quite rude of me to task you finding my name.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because my name hasn’t existed in the sense that you know of.”

“…I don’t understand.”

Sunday turned a little and patted his lap. Despite not remembering your death, you did remember how you met him. So you crawled to him, moving some of the cushions in your way and laid sideways, your head nuzzled comfortably in his lap which allowed him to run his fingers through your hair once again.

“My name is Sunday, and I existed not too long ago. However, my reign was short lived thanks to that Emperor. And to worsen my pride, he went and erased my very existence by taking out everything that had any relevance to me.”

“Sunday…?”

You let his name roll off your tongue. The name wasn’t familiar.

“So you fought and lost against the Emperor?”

“I did. I suppose I wanted to see if I still existed somewhere. Anywhere. Though, if I don’t even exist in the Emperor’s library, well, then my name wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Why did you fight against him?”

“For my own beliefs. Much like everyone else.”

“What exactly are you anyway?”

“I’m just Sunday. An older brother. A friend. A leader of sorts. And someone who failed in the end.”

“How are you here now then?”

Your voice was soft as you spoke and when Sunday looked down at you, you wondered how someone so angelic could look so sad but still have that soft smile on his face.

“I guess you could say I got lucky with how supposedly died… if shorter terms, I became an aeon.”

“An aeon…huh? And what was that kiss you placed on my forehead? Ever since you did it, I have been having trouble remembering some things.”

“A kiss on the forehead erases pain and misery, so I kiss your forehead, however, a kiss on the forehead can also erase memory. I suppose…, I just didn’t want you to remember the pain you felt when you died.”

“Why?”

Sunday smiled at your question, “because I wanted to, do I need any other reason?”

You hummed at his answer, your eyes glancing back to the library door. You don’t remember closing, maybe Blade did?

“So now that I know your name, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Well,” Sunday started, “you still want to go home, don’t you? Find a way to do that.”

“But how? I kind of died the last time I tried.”

Sunday shook his head as he tried to keep himself from laughing, “don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way. And don’t worry about the rest. If you do die again, I’ll simply erase everything all over again.”

You nodded to his words, but yawned once more, despite sleeping for so long, you were still so impossibly tired which was when Sunday gently bent down to kiss both of your eyelids.

“A kiss to your eyelids, to erase your tiredness.”

And it was true, the sleep that was beckoning gradually left and just as you were about to say something to him, he was already gone. Your head was no longer on his lap and instead rested on a bunch of cushions, and just as you were about to sit up, the library door opened.

“You’re still lying down,” Blade said, an obvious hint of annoyance rested within his tone causing you to frown at him as you sat up.

“I was getting up,” you argued which caused Blade to roll his eyes.

“Whatever…, are you planning to stay here all day princess?”

Huffing at his attitude, you stood up while completely forgetting about the book you had been reading, “I get it, ok? I’m leaving right now.”

Stomping your way out of the library, Blade followed not so quietly after you.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the couch, did we?”

“Oh shut it you…,” your voice trailed off when your stomping slowly slowed to a stop as you looked out to the field where there were a few people riding horses.

A new idea soon forming in your mind.

“Blade.”

“What?”

“I want to go horseback riding.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbun @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[writteninlunarlight-years]

The Things I Wanted To Say

This is part two of the story Things I Wish I Got To Say. This is another old one that I must have deleted when I purged my account when I went on hiatus.

You were like any other demon in hell. You were cold and calculating, standoffish and stubborn. It was cute, but I wouldn’t tell you that to your face. I knew you had your set ways in life, and I had mine. I never thought the day would come when I would never see that familiar smile again. Something so cherished in my time by your side that I refused to forget even in my new life.

I thought surely Charlie's magical ideas would never be actual or possible. However, her smile and joy were so contagious that I returned to that hotel countless times to help her achieve her dreams. See, when I died the first time, I was being attacked; in my defense from the attacker, I killed them, and I was cast to hell. It's an odd thing to be considered a sinner, but I wouldn’t change it for the world, especially since I got to see you all those days.

What hurt the most when I left hell wasn’t the sword to my chest or the ringing in my ears. It was knowing I would never see that smile again. That was the worst part of it all, honestly. I got so used to the sound of your static, the buzz of your voice, the joy hanging off your arms.

I still remember when you taught me how to dance. I was horrible at it, I know, but you made me feel like I was the best at it all the same. You made me feel the best at a lot of things, from dancing to cooking. You even let me write scripts for you a time or two. 

I still laugh when I remember how I told you ‘I Know’ when you confessed your love for me. Would you believe me if I told you I was just scared you were lying to me? Yet when you held me close after saying it, you washed all those worries away. I was fortunate to be there with you.

I sometimes still wish I listened to you that night when you begged me to run away. Maybe had I listened, I would still be by your side or have seen your smile. Yet I didn’t. Would you like to know why, my love? Because the thought of you dying without me was too heartbreaking to handle. I couldn’t imagine a life without you, yet here I was, making you live without me.

When I arrived in heaven with Pentious, everyone was shocked. These two angels were there, Emily and Sera. One sure looked more happy than the others. However, Pentious and I fought to make Charlie's dream a reality here in Heaven, too…I know she saw me up here when she visited last. Did she tell you I was alive and well?

Do you care I am alive and well?

I wish to see you again, my love…maybe one day, you will be redeemed as well.

To: My Radio Demon

From: Your Doe

A loud banging was heard at my door. I rushed to cover up my desk, and as I made my way to the door, I straightened myself out, whipping my eyes from the tears I let out. Charlie had brought me the letter that Alastor had written in my absence, and I felt compelled to respond even if he would never read it. Opening the door, I see the young Seriphem Emily standing before me with a bright smile. “OH, Y/N, YOU NEED TO COME WITH ME QUICK!” 

I laughed. She was always so happy when a new batch of hotel residents was redeemed. She always wanted Pentious or me to be there so we could help them adjust to this new life. “Em, please I…I have had a long day…How about you ask Pentious to go instead.” Though I hated to see her frown, she nodded in sad agreement. I closed the door and returned to my desk, looking at the two letters next to each other. When would Charlie be back to give this to him? Would he even read it? Does he hate me for dying? 

As thoughts swam through my head, I recounted the years since my arrival here in Heaven. Looking at all my new photos of my time and journey here, I wondered if my old room in Hell still had those photos from my time there. Charlie said Alastor wouldn’t let a soul into my room once I was gone. 

It took a lot of arguing and convincing to get the angels on Charlie's side even after we appeared here in Heaven. Yet I couldn’t be more proud of the progress all of us have made. Smiling, I let more tears fall. I missed you so much. As I let the dam of emotions release, I heard another knock at my door.

I hoped it wasn’t Emily, though I have always been kind; I knew my current temper would rival my old self in Hell. “EMILY GO AWAY I CAN’T GO OUT NOW!” 

I had so much sorrow and pleading in my voice that I hoped she understood. Yet the knocking continued, only growing more frantic. I sighed, not even bothering to clear my desk as I made my way to the door. Em had often seen me cry over Alastor, so why would this time be any different? 

As I opened the door, time seemed to freeze, to stop dead still. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A new wave of tears and emotions overran my being, and before I knew it, I was jumping into Alastors' arms.

“Hello, dear, long time no see. Did you miss me?” He spoke so clearly, with no static or radio edge. It was odd at first, but it made no difference; the man I loved was standing before me here right now. “Alastor! You are here! How? What?” As I spoke, I pulled away and saw he no longer sported the Red and Black of his typical look. No, he looked ethereal, angelic. Alastor had been redeemed, The Alastor, overlord, and soul owner was redeemed. “Well, my darling, it took a lot of work and quite a few freeing of souls to make this happen.” He smiled, but not the strained, forced smile; it was a regular, normal smile. I felt so at peace; my Alastor was back.

“Oh, Al, you did all of this for me?” He nodded his head, pulling me back into him once more. This time, over his shoulder, I could see a smiling Charlie, Pentious, and Em at our reunion. Pulling me back to face him, I yanked him into the room and closed the door. “Al, we have so much to catch up on; there is no time to waste.” A warm chuckle left his chest as he held me once more. We had all the time in the world now, safe from hell, contracts, and everything that wasn’t our pure, happy love.

I finally have the chance to tell him all the things I wanted to say…

[noobsoconfusing]

‘heartworm’_hamzahthefantastic

tired and sleepy conversations with your boyfriend who doesn’t shut the fuck up .

fluff, suggestive talk about martin, family ideas, cuddling in bed, established relationship.

>_<

one thing you noticed about your boyfriend is that he has many things inside his head, a raging –almost painful– need to tell you everything he is thinking about, and while you thank him for the trust, you can’t help but wonder if he analyses the things he says out loud before verbally vomiting them.

“y/n, are you awake?” hamzah’s voice came out soft and groggy, his low tone dragging in a whisper made you open your eyes almost so quick that it hurt.

“hmm, yes.” you replied, adjusting your sight to the dark room.

“do you…wanna talk?” he shifted on the bed, turning his body to face yours. he had a small smile as he looked at you. you felt warm.

the way his hair was messy, and his face so naturally familiar to you felt almost dreamy.

hamzah’s big sleepy eyes made your heart feel like a cooker bomb. weird comparison but to be honest you could almost feel the way it was going to explode anytime.

and god, you love him so much. unexplainably so damn much. he thought the same of you.

“cant sleep, huh?” you asked, getting closer to his body under the covers, but then you felt how one of your cats, probably blue, squealed. he was probably sound asleep between hamzah’s body and yourself, always looking for warmth. the protection of his cat parents

“mmm, nope, not really.” he sighed. “have so much stuff going on, you know? inside my mind, i mean.” he admitted, one of his hands travelled to your face, and he stroked your cheek only to feel some sort of contact. “so fuckin’ pretty, huh, you’re my pretty girl..”

you leaned into the touch like a needy pet, and he couldn’t help but smile, heart feeling full.

“whats inside your mind, hamzah?” you asked curiously.

although you were extremely tired and sleepy, hamzah always came first to you. soul intimacy was important, not only sex, and you wanted to know what was bothering him or keeping him awake at such indecent hours.

“you. always.” oh. “like, for real, y/n, and i don’t wanna sound obsessed, even though yeah, i am pretty much obsessed with you–,” he paused to swallow. your heart felt so heavy with a feeling you couldn’t quite describe, but only hamzah made you feel. “i am always thinking about you.”

to be reciprocated, to be seen. hamzah made you feel seen, as he pretty much matched your deep feelings for him. –oh, y/n, you match my freak!– his voice filled your head. so nice.

“i feel the same way” you bluntly said. “each day i feel like we have been dating for my whole life, because this crazy funny feeling never really goes away.” by that you meant, the exciting feeling of expectation and young love.

first love.

he giggled, low tone. “right! i know, it’s like, okay, like i feel like i am a kid in love, you know? all silly and nervous around you, but at the same time i feel like we have been married for ages!”

to be reciprocated, to be seen. to be in love.

“i love you, hamzah.” you admitted, your voice suddenly softer.

and he didn’t reply, instead, he lifted the covers all the way up till they were engulfing your bodies, the closeness was comforting, and his arms moved around your frame until a hug was crafted. so perfect and tender. his body was like a boiler, providing you of heat, almost like a heat pad for cramps… but man sized.

he looked at you, big round eyes silently speaking, hoping you hear them, –god i love you, i love you so much you’re my fucking world, i wanna spend my whole damn life by your side.– silent confession.

instead, he says;

“have you ever had tapeworms?” hamzah asks out of the blue.

you blink. blink twice. then three times. and then you sigh, remembering your boyfriend was just, well, just like that. it didn’t ruin the atmosphere though, you enjoyed… whatever the fuck he was trying to say.

“hmmm, i don’t think i have had tapeworms, no” you answer snuggling up to his bare chest.

hamzah hums. “it’s fine, me neither by the way, i just asked ‘cause whenever i think of you my heart feels like it’s got a tapeworm inside of it…”

silly, you thought. lovely.

“yeah. i think i know what you mean.”

“i think it’s in the way we match each other so fucking well, yeah? i never thought i could find a person that just… loves me… for what i am…” he said and you felt your heart skip a beat.

your eyebrows furrowed. “elaborate.”

“for instance, you’re my friend, but also my girlfriend, but also my wife, but also my best friend, and not only that, you’re also like, my life partner, you know?”

ugh, stupid fucking feelings. you felt so deeply about hamzah that your heart felt like it could burst out anytime.

“hey, i love you so much it’s almost overwhelming.” you admitted, melting into his touch. “for so long i thought nobody would ever notice me or listen to me or even just, be my friend. or try to take the time to understand me…” your voice lowered at the end of your sentence.

he groaned at how close you were. satisfaction, of course.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n.” he kissed the top of your head. “like, i also thought that martin would be my only friend forever, as scary as it sounds.” he laughed and you did too.

“hey! martin’s nice!” you defended your friend.

“i mean yeah, i love him too, but it’s different. not in the way i love you, and i know he doesn’t love me in the way he loves mandy.” he explained.

“yeah, i know.” you laughed sleepily, as you leaned onto hamzah’s body. it helped a ton that he slept shirtless because you liked the raw closeness.

“martin is cool, but if i had never met you, i would have blue balls and an empty heart!”

“and gay allegations, still.” you added, laughing.

“but most importantly blue balls..” hamzah said serious, with a sigh.

“huh?!”

“i can’t fuck martin. i can’t make love to martin, though, just think about it.”

“dude…” you said, trying not to burst out laughing out loud.

“i have thought about it, but only before meeting you, it’s just weird!” hamzah explained, with a nervous smile on his face.

“you don’t have to think about that, hamzah!” a smile creeped up on your lips. an awkward one.

“right, i know.” he defended himself-, “i don’t think about it anymore, i was just a lonely man before you, though.” ah, you knew that.

every time they could, mandy and martin made sure to tell you how much of a loner miserable man hamzah was. a painfully single dude. even the slushies would be constantly commenting jokes about it.

“because you’re weird that’s why…” you joked and he clicked his tongue. “that’s why i love you”

“you know, before you; it was my hand, lotion, tissues and me against the world.” he listed as if it was a great accomplishment.

as if it was something super fucking serious. to be fair, it was very serious to him.

“no video?” you joked. it felt so nice and genuine to talk about silly stuff like this with your man.

he stopped to think for a second. “nah, just my imagination. always imagined you though, even before meeting you i always imagined someone like you.” he kissed your forehead.

“wow, how romantic, it’s almost as if you’re not talking about beating your meat.”

as you both comfortably joked and laughed, a nice silence filled the room.

hamzah pulled you closer, which you thought was physically impossible, but still, your body thanked his devotion for physical affection.

his low voice broke the silence.

“y/n…”

“yes, hamzah?”

he sighed, holding your waist close to his own. you could feel him, feel him merging with your body, but it was nice, not really anything more than intimacy.

“i can’t wait to have a family with you.” he said, the weight of the confession leaving his chest felt so good.

your eyes opened wide. and you stuttered to reply.

“we are a family.” you said.

the cats, him, you. yeah, a family as god intended, right? but still, you knew what he meant. and you wanted it too.

“do you think we’ll be good parents?” he asked, the tone in his voice indicating he was being honest, being hopeful. he hoped for you to say yes so badly.

you thought for a moment…

“i think we’ll be okay, hamzah.” yeah.

“we’ll be okay, love.” he said, but it was almost as if he was trying to reassure himself.

hamzah wanted a big family, and he liked thinking about caring for the little humans you’d create together.

and the room filled with silence yet again, as you heard his calm breathing, you realised he had fallen asleep. the comfort of his embrace made you fall asleep as well.

hamzah felt so safe with you, so understood. never judged at all. he said weird stuff, but you always had a smile on your face. never grossed out by him, never angry, always loving.

it was nice. to be reciprocated, to be seen.

the heartworm inside his heart wiggled happy, eating his flesh and leaving a trace of only you.

>_<

hope u liked this. i did. heh.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

This is also me shamelessly submitting another request alongside my very NSFW one: could we get Raphael being there while Tav gives birth?

Tav paced back and forth, hands resting on her swollen belly. Each time a contraction tore through her she would grimace, bend forward as much as possible, and bear it with whatever dignity she scrounged up. When the pain passed, she’d resume pacing.

“Mistress,” said the Infernal physician, “perhaps you should lay down -”

“No,” barked Tav. “I don’t want to lay down.”

“So you intend to wear a trench into my floors instead?” Drawled Raphael.

“Yes,” replied Tav, glaring daggers at him.

“Mistress,” the physician tried again, “it would be easier for both you and the child if you -”

“I’m not bloody laying down,” growled Tav. “I’ve been laying down for the last three months of pregnancy. I need to move around or I’m going to cut this baby out of my stomach myself.”

“You won’t change her mind,” Raphael said lightly, “she’s a stubborn creature. She’ll do things her way until she simply cannot any longer.”

The physician sighed, rubbing her eyes.

Tav’s waters had broken several hours ago – much to poor Haarlep’s horror. Raphael was away on business at the time, but as soon as word reached him that his first offspring was about to be born, he’d burst back into the house, physician in tow. The birthing room had been ready for a few days, Tav slightly exceeding her due date, so the three had sequestered inside. Now it was simply a waiting game. The physician hovered nearby. Raphael sat in a plush, comfy chair, seeming to all the world as indifferent and relaxed as usual. Only the occasional twitch of his tail gave away his potential anxiety.

It felt like the entire House of Hope, even every wailing soul within the walls, were holding their breaths. Teetering on the edge of anticipation for the ushering in of a new era: the birth of a prince.

“Ah…!” Tav stopped in her tracks. Hissed as fresh, furious pain wracked her. Different, sharper than before. It didn’t fade. “I think…argh, I think he’s coming…!”

The physician touched Tav’s belly, felt lower, between her thighs. “Yes. You’re open enough. I feel his head. You need to get into the water.”

The physician helped Tav out of her sweat-soaked nightdress and in to the bathing pool of hot water. Raphael watched intently, his onyx and ember eyes never blinking, as Tav – teeth gritted – eased herself into a sitting position, knees up and apart. The water and its soothing magic helped, but the baby wanted out, now. Demanding, just like his father, and damn was she feeling it.

“Gods…he finally decides he’s ready and he’s just going to…to rip right through me…” Tav panted. Curled her fists. Cried out as a violent contraction signalled the end, and the beginning.

“Start pushing,” instructed the physician. Tav groaned, a sound that morphed into a dull scream. Raphael stood up, crossed the room, standing close. His tail thrashed wildly but his expression remained neutral. Tav gave him a foul, pained look.

“This is your fault,” she snarled, slapping her palms on the sides of the bath. “I’ll kill you for this, I swear it.”

“Of course you will, darling,” purred Raphael.

He was not indifferent to her suffering, she knew. Part of him enjoyed it. That she was agonising to bring their – his – son into life only made her pain taste sweeter. It was the simple truth of Raphael’s nature. Something Tav had accepted long ago. Birthing this baby was the scariest thing she’d ever done, scarier than coming to terms with how she felt for a diabolical devil, that she was willing to give him her soul and her heart. Even facing down the Netherbrain didn’t compare. She was hurting and she was frightened, but Raphael was there, strong and assured and steady, and Tav knew she could get through it.

Not without one Hell of a fuss, however.

“GET THIS DAMN THING OUT OF ME!” She bellowed between screams.

“Keep pushing!” Yelled the physician.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Tav roared back.

“Push, Tav,” Raphael intoned. Commanded. “Let our son’s life begin.”

Eventually, amidst the blood and pain and chaos, it did. A wrinkled, wet and wailing infant was placed on Tav’s chest and she, exhausted and delirious, loved him instantly and irrevocably.

“Healthy,” declared the physician, “and strong. Very strong.”

Tav tiredly adjusted her baby, who latched onto her nipple and began to suckle. His thin, ropey little tail curled. Raphael looked down at them, smug and preening with pride. He would never be the type to offer her his hand to squeeze for comfort, or become overly emotional and adoring of his new son, but he was there. He stayed. And those things mattered more to Tav than her pride would ever let her admit.

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Feysand  Rating: E  Tags: Smut, Angst, Necromancy & Resurrection, Ghosts & Haunting, Morally Gray Rhysand, Silver Fox Rhysand, Dark Magic, Halloween, Breeding Kink, Beast!Rhys, Biting Summary: Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”

Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”

Her spine stiffened. Prick!

(Or, what would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?)

Read the epilogue on AO3 now! Snippet below the cut.

The chattering of Rhys’s family drowned out the nib of his pen scratching across a spare bit of parchment.

He was slow to join them as a matter of habit, so used to taking cover behind the fortress of his mahogany desk that the thought of squeezing onto one of the long leather couches that dominated his study with them hardly crossed his mind. Set apart from them, he preferred to listen, skimming the reports handed to him at the top of the hour rather than taking part in the easy conversation that usually followed their weekly meetings.

It was easier this way.

It… had been easier this way.

It had been easier because, eons ago, he had learned that he could only appreciate the wicked gleam in Nesta’s cool blue eyes or the gentle slope of Elain’s smile from a safe distance. He’d never managed to dull the knife of envy that sank between his ribs whenever Cassian pressed a kiss to his mate’s temple. Whenever he sat behind this desk late into the night, studying ancient manuscripts and steadfastly ignoring the pair of shadows escaping to the furthest reaches of the garden—the midnight rendezvouses that Elain thought were a well-kept secret. 

It cut too deeply, looking into the Archeron sisters’ happy faces and catching a glimpse of—

He shook his head, clearing away those maudlin thoughts. 

It had been easier, but it wasn’t like that anymore. 

He let out a measured breath and glanced up from his paperwork.

And there she was.

In the small crowd that made up their family, she cut an unassuming figure—a slender, pale form perched on the middle of the couch nearest to his desk, hardly more substantial than the slip of moonlight pouring in through the tall windows that lined the back wall of the study. 

Feyre.

His body and soul seemed to gasp her name whenever he laid eyes on her these days, collapsing into a state of astonished, breathless reverence. 

Six months had come and gone since her resurrection, but time hadn’t inured Rhys to the sight of her. Quite the opposite: every glimpse he got—Feyre, perched on a stool in front of her easel; Feyre, laughing with her new friends from the Rainbow; Feyre, crossing the street in the rain; Feyre, scrunching her freckled nose in concentration as she buttered her toast every morning—made him hungrier for the next.

As always, his heart battered his ribs at the sight of his mate, reaching for her. Irrational jealousy writhed through its chambers, snakelike and possessive, as the moonbeams kissed the amused crinkle of her nose and silvered the spill of hair over her sweater-clad shoulder.

He watched her closely, captivated.

——— Continue on AO3!

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All (Alternate Ending - Different Character Death)

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; violence; guns; injury; main character death; a violent Ghost

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

Had someone ask for a different alternate ending where another character dies so here it is :)

*This picks up from part 13 in italics*

The moment the video stopped, you locked eyes with Simon. Your puffy eyes made him internally broken, but his facial expression hadn't changed, and you didn't know if he was upset that you had gotten revenge for cheating on you... or if it was something else. You wanted to say that it meant nothing. That you were drunk and fucking mad at him... but you couldn't say shit with the tape still over your mouth.

"I have to say, she sounds.. so damn good. Doesn't she?" Jax teased as he asked everyone in the room. Even with Andrei not responding, since he was the one who had his tongue on you, Jax smiled at Simon like he had won or something, "How does it feel?" He walked and stood behind Simon as he leaned down so his face was almost next to his, looking at you, "Tell her." He demanded.

Simon's eyes never strayed away from yours as you continued to cry. The look on his face hadn't really changed, but his eyes told you exactly how he felt. The regret that ran through his soul.... he wished he could been a better man; a better husband. You didn't deserve any of this.. yet you stayed. You had wanted to work on your marriage even after the ugly truth came out. It was his fault, and he would forever kill himself over it. He would be grateful if you ever forgave him, promising to give you the entire world and more after he so much tore yours apart by cheating.

"I love you," he lowly said, making you cry even more. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart... for everythin'."

"Satisfying, isn't it?.. Finally realizing your mistakes?"

Simon finally tore his eyes away from you and looked at Jax, "Let her go."

He paused, acting as if he was thinking about something, "I thought about it," he teased, "but see... I can't do that. She's knows far too much... much more than our girl Williams," he joked - a terrible one that made both you and Simon shoot him the deadliest glare.

Jax stood up straight and walked over to you, cutting the ropes that freed you from the chair and snatching off the duct tape on your mouth. For a slight second, you almost thought he was going to let you go before he yanked you up by your hair to stand. A whimper left your mouth as the pain ran through you.

"Let her go," Simon told him again.

He chuckled deeply, "We're just getting started."

Suddenly, loud popping noises sounded from the other side of the door, making you jump. Jax - in a panic - swiftly snaked his arm around your neck in a headlock position, pulling you close to him as Andrei and the other guards rushed out of the door to go see what had happened. More gunshots rang out, almost deafening your ears. Simon continued to look at you, the chaos not even phasing him. At least on the outside... on the inside, he was worried. Half secretly thanking whatever god there was that Johnny saw the damn text, but half nervous about whose shots were going off.

Then there was an eerie silence that loomed over the room before heavy footsteps walked closer to the open door. There was more than one set, and you almost began to panic at who was going to walk in there until you saw Simon's friends.

"Let her go," Price commanded, his weapon pointed to Jax.

A menacing chuckle left Jax's mouth, "I will shoot her," he said, pushing the barrel of the gun against your temple, making you whimper.

"Let my wife go Jax," Simon said, making the man narrow his eyes at him.

"No," he growled, "You're going to suffer just like we did! All of you! I will kill every single one of you!"

"Then let's talk 'bout it," Johnny chimed in.

Jax threw his head back a little as he laughed, "Talk about it?.. we're done talking. Your nation should have talked about it four years ago! But now..... now you will pay," he quickly glanced at you, holding that evil smirk as always. He then pointed the gun at his own temple, throwing off the team.

It was hard for any of them to take a shot at him as he swayed you and his body in sporadic moments. Now, 141 were excellent soldiers; the best of the best, but they weren't going to risk taking a shot only for it to hit you instead of the target.

"Don't have a shot Cap," Kyle whispered.

"If you shoot me, she will die," Jax said as he leaned his head to be side by side with yours, "Your choice.... Cap'n."

Another beat went by as he continued to sway you so a shot couldn't be made. Simon and you looked at each other the entire time as he tried to free himself over and over again. But it was no use. He wanted to hold you; to take you away from there. Instead he felt his eyes water slightly and nervousness.

They all continued to try and get the man to lower his weapon, but the more they talked, the more aggravated he got. And the more he spoke, the more they realized who was behind all of it.

Makarov.

That alone made them even more worried.

You even begged him to let you go, but he shouted for you to shut the fuck up, making the men tighten their grips on their guns. He was getting tired of talking.

"Say goodbye to your wife..... Lieutenant" he teased as his arm wrapped harder around your neck.

Time slowed down. It was like you could feel Jax’s energy as his finger started to pull the trigger, and you suddenly felt……… free.

"I love you," you said to your husband before closing your eyes.

"No no no-" Simon barked before a single shot rang out in the room.

It was the last thing you heard. The last thing Simon said before all you saw was darkness. Jax had pulled the trigger, making the gun go off, piercing his temple. Because his head was aligned beside yours, the bullet wasted no time going straight through your head as well, instantly killing you both.

"NO!" Simon shouted as Price and Johnny rushed over to the fallen bodies of you and Jax while Kyle cut away at the ropes that freed Simon from the restraints.

The second he was able to stand up, he leaped out of the chair and all but pushed the other two men out of the way to kneel on the ground, hovering over your limp body.

"Wake up, sweetheart. Wake up. Wake up," he said as he checked for a pulse. Even though Johnny had already done that, he did it again. When he didn't find one, he should have stopped there; should have let you go. But no, he began pressing on your chest with his hands in an attempt to do CPR as if it was going to revive you somehow.

"Ghost," Johnny tried stopping him, but he wouldn't listen.

John tried pulling him away, "Simon-"

"No! She's not dead," he continued to do CPR on you. The lone tears that began to fall as he looked down at your lifeless body caused the men to look at each other in true sadness. They wanted to stop him, but even they felt the pain flow through their hearts at seeing you lay there on the cold floor.

“Please, god no. No,” Simon whispered when he finally gave up, pulling your body into his chest as he hugged you tightly, “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin sorry, love.” He continued to hug you, thinking for some reason that hugging you would keep your body warm and safe, even in death.

Eventually, when the medics and police came, it was a whirlwind of chaos that engulfed everything from the prostitution ring upstairs to the crime scene in the basement. As your body was placed in the black bag and wheeled outside, Simon followed the coroners all the way until they loaded it into the back of the van. It was then that Simon felt like he could take a long and painful deep breath that still struggled to come out. It was like he had been punched in the lung with an iron fist.

"L.T.," Johnny said as he walked up to him, making him finally tear his eyes away from the van, "M'sorry."

He didn't say anything back as he looked at his comrade. He didn't even know if he could talk at that point. The only thing he could do was stare at the sergeant for a moment before giving a quick nod and walking off, leaving his friend behind looking at him with sorrowful eyes.

******************************************************

"How's your week going, Lieutenant?" the chaplain asked Simon.

He softly nodded as he rubbed his hands on his jeans, "Fine."

Fine.

It was the same word he used in almost every session he attended since your death. He knew it was going to be a requirement that he had to attend before he could go on any mission... especially one that involved finding Andrei - who escaped during the incident -, Makarov, or whoever else was involved. But it still didn't make it any easier. He was nothing of fine.

The night after the incident, he went home... home to the apartment, and he drank half a bottle of bourbon before he couldn't take it anymore; he trashed the entire fucking place. He was lucky the neighbors hadn't called the police on him. He was so amped up yet so exhausted that he passed out on the couch, only to wake up and see the damn mess he had made the next morning.

When Kyle came over to check on him that evening, he was beyond embarrassed at the state the place was in, but Kyle - just like the rest of 141 - knew he needed time to heal. So he helped him clean up everything before deciding he'd stay the night just to keep his friend company. The same cycle continued as Price, Johnny, and even Ava and her husband checked on him during the next month or so.

But when he eventually got cleared to head back to work after a few more months, Simon was out for pure blood. Blood that was meant for Andrei.

"Ready?" Price yelled, asking the team as they geared up to land in the drop zone of their next mission.

While Kyle and Johnny responded, Simon only nodded, focused on everything around him. They had been tracking intel for a couple of weeks before Laswell informed them they had a location on Andrei. And it was finally time to capture him.

The skilled soldiers descended onto the ground, their guns drawn as they made their way carefully into the building. One by one, guards were taken down silently, a few getting stabbed in their throats as Simon used his knives for more intimate kills.

But when they busted through the door, finding Andrei shocked and off guard, Simon couldn't help but feel a rush flow through him. His fingers tingled slightly, his heartbeat somewhat calmed down but sped up at the same time, and his feet moved faster than his mind could comprehend before he yanked Andrei up to his feet.

An evil smirk settled on his lips behind his hard-shell skull mask as his eyes narrowed at the shaken man, "Remember me?"

The look on Andrei's face was the complete opposite of what he had just half a year prior. That nonchalant look, the confidence like he won a prize cause he had been with you sexually, was all replaced with fear. Simon couldn't help but remember the video - that was now destroyed because he didn't want anyone to see his wife that way - and he felt a deep chuckle escape his throat.

"Tell me again.. how good did my wife sound?" he said in the most menacing tone that even 141 had never heard him sound like.

Andrei gulped, his eyes widening before Simon sent a forceful punch to his face, instantly knocking him out. The loud crunch of his jaw snapping was heard in the quiet room as his body went limp and fell to the ground.

************************************************************************

"Where's Makarov?" Price asked Andrei for the second time.

141 had taken Andrei to an unknown location - a building that was used to keep prisoners before they were taken by the CIA or other agencies. Andrei had been tied up the same way Simon was the night you died, and fuck was he enjoying it more than he should. The amount of punches that landed on Andrei's face from his fists would have had anyone else squirming at the sight. But none of the guys flinched when another cracking sound echoed in the room.

Simon sometimes wished he didn't have to be this way; violent. No doubt he had killed many men in his career, but it was always work. A quick shot from his sniper, a knife to the chest of an enemy. But this?.... this was different. Every time he punched him, he would see your dead body, the night he asked you to marry him, the tearful eyes from when you told him you wanted a divorce, the moment you told him you loved him before Jax pulled the trigger... all of it.

"He asked you a question," his deep voice grumbled as he leaned over to be face-to-face with Andrei.

His face was bloodied and bruised to the point that his eyes barely could open, and his lips were beyond swollen. But even then, he tried to smirk up at the men, "You might as well kill me. Nothing I say will get you closer to Makarov," he coughed, a little blood spilling from his mouth. Simon growled before hitting him once again in the nose. It had broken after the first punch, but he didn't give a shit.

After they all knew Andrei probably wouldn't say anything else, Simon left out of the room, pulling his bloodied skeleton gloves off his hands as he walked outside. He pulled out a box of cigarettes, taking one of them out, along with the lighter. He swore he would stop smoking a long time ago, and for a while, he did. For five years of your marriage, he hadn't smoked once. But he couldn't help but pick the habit back up after your death.

As he smoked, he glanced at the wedding ring on his finger. He refused to ever take it off. It was one of the many things that he kept to remind himself of you; of your love. He knew he would never love anyone again the way he did with you, and in that moment the only thing he cared about was avenging your death.

I thought I teared up on Simon's death in that other alternate ending but I think this one hurt a little bit more. Let me know what you all think about this ending :)

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 16: Shibuya Incident: Gate Closed

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 1.8k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, mostly platonic, you're really just part of the story

Masterlist | Next

You've heard enough to know that Tsukumo Yuki dislikes the Jujutsu world. Meaning that it's already big news that she's shown up in the first place, but it also means she most probably had a plan. You don't blame her. Jujutsu society is messed up.

" The next stage of humanity lies in breaking away from cursed energy." 

" No. It lies in optimizing cursed energy." 

Yuki and whoever is hiding away in Geto's body appear to not agree on the matter.

She turns, shrugging at Yuuji, who raises a hand.

" Uh. I don't understand either of those." 

" I thought you gave up on that plan 12 years ago after Zen'In Toji died." 

" That's what I told Geto, yes." 

You blink, your eyes turning to your best friend in question. She believed people with promising talent like him and Toji were the solution for a curse free world? Interesting.

For now, you'll have to stay focused in finding the technique that will defrost the stranger's technique. 

Once again, you're lucky. Just like before with octopus man, you can for some reason use the stranger's technique to your advantage.

Admittedly, you've messed around with snow before, but you've never used it to defrost anything, to undo or create ice. But then again, there's a first time for everything, right? 

Both Geto and Yuki explain their ideals. Yuki doesn't see the use of optimizing cursed energy, considering Japan would be a monopoly in that. Other countries wouldn't just stand by and watch. It would create a war. Whoever is hiding in Geto doesn't seem to care. He just wants cursed energy to take over in it's best form. Doesn't matter if it's through people or cursed objects. According to him, his ideal is a spec in the darkness. According to him, he should've let 'chaos consume around him beyond his control'. He had been limited, but now he had extracted the technique to do so.

At once, Yuki turns to Yuuji.

" There was a curse named Mahito, right?! The one whose technique could manipulate souls!" 

" That guy just absorbed him." 

Yuuji sounds awfully nonchalant while Yuki is obviously distressed. Her eyes widen at his words.

" Seriously?!" 

Geto leans down, pressing his palm to the ground. At once, a symbol shows on the ground, also appearing in the sky. It looks eerie.

" Tengen's barrier? No, this is..." 

" You have my thanks Yuuji. Curses cease to improve once they've been absorbed by curse manipulation. Your fight with Mahito is what really matured him." 

" What did you do?" 

Yuki is rightfully not in the mood for Geto's round of approval.

" I remotely activated Idle Transfiguration on two types on non-sorcerers that I had marked ahead of time."

As Geto continues to explain, you finally get the gist of unfreezing the icy technique, summoning the cursed energy in the form of water all around you. As well as that, their cursed energy weakens. Probably because of the wound they healed when Choso's Piercing Blood cut through their palm like that.

The stranger's eyes widen as you manage to free yourself, freeing Sukuna soon after and the rest as well.

" What's the matter Uraume?" 

Geto looks over at Uraume, who is looking utterly scandalized as they watch you.

" L/N Y/N. " 

You raise a brow. L/N? Now who is that?

" Sorry, I'm not game for talking right now." 

With that, you sweep Uraume off their feet with a strong gust of water, using their own cursed energy against them. Sukuna laughs, the sound loud, causing several of your allies to turn to you in question.

" Hah! Finally." 

You raise a brow at your best friend, he sends you a side eye back.

" What? You took long. I knew you could do it." 

However, the fun ends after that. Due to Uraume's weakened form, their cursed energy disappears into thin air. 

Unbothered, Geto continues speaking, explaining how he's been working on this for over thousands of years. He calls today 'the world of the future'. You don't need to wonder on it for long.

Within a moment, he has reached through Geto's curses, and summoned a lot of them at once.

You gather the rain which had fallen around you, crating the water circle in a steady flow around you.

Sukuna takes a step back, shifting closer to you.

His body language a clear message. 'Stay close to me.' 

Admittedly, you weren't planning to leave.

Everyone is surrounded by curses at once. You glance around you in concern, noticing just in time to see Geto holding out the prison realm mockingly to Yuuji, adding that he's expecting great things from the boy.

Unbeknownst to you just yet, a notice from Jujutsu Headquarters is released.

1. Geto Suguru is confirmed to be alive, and has been sentenced to death once again.

2. The suspension of Itadori Yuuji 's death sentence is revoked and the execution is to be carried out immediately.

3. Yaga Masamichi shall receive the death penalty for inciting Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru and causing the Shibuya incident.

4. Gojo Satoru has been deemed an accomplice in the Shibuya incident and is thus permanently exiled from the Jujutsu world. Furthermore, removing his seal will be considered a criminal act.

5. Special Grade sorcerer Okkotsu Yuta is appointed Itadori Yuuji's executioner.

[ This is where the series ends. Continuing from this point means manga spoilers!]                              Manga spoilers for this chapter: chapter(s) 138

Some time passed. Not much. Maybe five minutes. The cursed spirits were a distraction.

" I'm sorry for not acting sooner. I wasn't sure on what to do...."

Geto escaped. His cursed spirits are all over Tokyo. Satoru Gojo is gone. Nanami and Nobara are dead. 

If anything, you all lost. And horribly so.

On top of that, you have no idea where Megumi is currently.

You shouldn't have left him in that street in Shibuya. You hope Toge found him.

You suppose it's not Yuki's fault. If anything, you blame the higher ups.

" ...The situation had reached a point where I thought I should just keep an eye on things. At least temporarily... Have you realized I'm not necessarily on your side? I'm just a humble beauty who wants to eradicate cursed spirits from the world. By way of apology, my comrades and I will take responsibility for delivering those kids who were there. It's about time I confront Tengen. 

What will you do?"

You don't know. Originally, you just wanted to go home. On top of that, you haven't felt as homesick as you do right now. 

However, you can't. You know so. You have to help. They've taken you in after all, cared for you like you had always been one of their students. You owe it to Gojo sensei at least. You have to help get him his freedom. Going home comes later.

Sukuna glances at you. He knows you better than most people. He understands what's going through your head, how you work. He still has to catch up to what's been going on here. On who Ryomen Sukuna is. On Yuuji's story. On your own. However, he can't find it in himself to care. He figures he'll figure it out. You could be one of the curse users in this universe, and he'd still follow you. All the people he cares about are in your universe anyway.

Silently, his hand reaches out to hold your own. You glance up, but his expression is the same as always. No emotion shown on his face. You know he's reassuring you though. He'll stick by you, no matter what.

You give him a small smile, before looking at Yuuji.

" Yuuji, we'll follow you. " 

Sukuna lets go of your hands, crossing his arms over one another as he looks at the boy he recognizes as his twin brother.

" No."

You blink in surprise. Sukuna raises a brow.

" The fuck you mean no?"

Yuuji shakes his head, eyes flitting over the visible injuries on you.

" I've already nearly killed Y/N. I don't want that to happen again. You two should continue to figure out how to go home. If you help, your chances of dying only increases."

" Yuuji, no, that literally wasn't you. Ryomen Sukuna tried to kill me. Not you.-"

" Don't be so angsty. It's stupid, and pathetic. We're not weak. And we're here anyway so we might as well help. Besides, I trust our classmates to manage bringing us home."

Yuuji sighs.

He should've expected this. You never seemed to listen anyway, and why would your best friend be any different?

" Y/N-"

" No. None of that."

You're glaring at him.

Yuuji sighs.

 Of course, you and Sukuna end up joining him.

-

Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe

Gojo Satoru's eyes widen beneath his blindfold, taking the weapon his student is holding.

" He lost it?"

" Don't think so. Rather the portal seemed to reject it. It was weird, considering it was clicked onto the Chain when he fell in. "

Fushiguro Megumi is a bit bloodied up, but still standing and ready to go yet again. Gojo is proud of his students. They've all grown quickly, jumping opportunities and often being able to take on things much bigger than them. It was rare for them to ask for help, especially for Megumi and Sukuna.His beloved angsty teenager students who would much rather get sucked into a portal towards some other place than ask their beloved sensei for help.

Gojo can't help but smile, causing Megumi to grimace.

" What're you smiling about?"

" Can't believe my dear students have finally decided to come ask for my help." 

Megumi sighs.

" Don't ever tell Sukuna I did...."

Megumi trails off, eyes on the table between them.

" I just want my friends back. Even if they're annoying."

Gojo smiles.

" Wouldn't dream of it. Go visit Shoko, leave it to your sensei."

Megumi shakes his head, wiping the blood of his forehead.

" I'm fine. Let's get Nobara and Yuuji." 

He prefers your touch to Shoko's anyway. Not that he'll ever tell you though.

[ A/N: We're in the manga : D. Never expected people to like this tbh. Glad you do tho. 

ALSO I have finally decided. It's a (your) Sukuna X you, Megumi X you (maybe I'll make a bonus epilogue with (your) megumi X you. No promises on that though.)

Lastly, the sweet romance stuff is mostly reserved for the epilogues bc we're mostly following the canon story line.]

The Anomaly Taglist

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda @sh0uk1 @nymphsdomain @suppeepsandweebs @sweetchimpeaches

[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Photograph Lurker! Hwang Hyunjin/Monster Lover Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

*dead dove do not eat, very dubious consent/pussy_cock_rim pump

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"I look crusty," you grumbled, turning on the filter. 'Snap' a picture was taken. It was cute. A cheeky duck face with the view of the window behind you. "Pretty," you thought, staring at the picture a bit longer. Your fingers grazed the window at the lurking figure at the edge. You wouldn't have noticed it if you weren't editing that one fine day, but since then, it has always attracted your gaze.

You licked your lips and took another photo, a casually up view with your lashes batting on the screen. You knew the figure could see the exact pose you were making, you wanted them to see. You sighed, wishing they'd be bolder, maybe show you a glimpse of their face but you knew that wouldn't happen. You lay in your bed, chest raising and falling at a languid pace, you wanted them to keep staring, keep watching your body.

One that you used to avoid looking at in the mirror until their presence made you feel wanted. You didn't care who they were or what they were. They could be a shadow soul, a perverted virgin ghost and you wouldn't give a fuck. You grazed between your inner thighs, purposefully sending shivers down your spine, you wanted them to know that your body was quivering for them.

Hyunjin gulped, watching your sensual grazes. In his eyes, you were an angel. Pure and devoid of all lust. In his mind, you're his little highness. A muse so regal that he wouldn't dare to breathe in the same air as you. He bit his lower lip, wanting to worship your body within his palm. Wanting to slick your skin in balm just to watch it glisten under the lights. His cock grew hard but he dared not touch it, his pleasures can only come from you.

An orgasm so pent up that he knew it was bound to break, but today is not that day. He can control his desires. You sighed, getting off the bed to switch off your lights. "For shame," you murmured, wishing the figure would just come in and rail you like in your fantasies. You have always had a niche for horror. Instead of fearing the monsters, you always wondered why the directors gave them a long tongue if not for eating someone out.

Plasmic ghouls, demonic tendrils, a dragon, or even Scylla from the Greek mythos. The rosters of monsters you'd easily give consent to are concerning. However, you're couldn't help but feel aroused. Imagine a monster beneath your bed, slithering up to consume your leaky slick or maybe a monster with the urge to breed your stomach full with offspring. It was endless and alluring. You burrowed your face into your pillow, clutching a plush between your arms as your mind filled with erotic wet dreams.

"I'm doing it," you huffed, grabbing your Polaroid camera. Today was the day you wanted to see if you could lure the figure closer to you. You stuffed your journal into your bag, pens, stickers, and glue all packed up for your little escapee. Hyunjin watched you leave the house, his eyebrow furrowed at your enthusiasm, "Are they meeting someone?" He murmured, following close behind them.

Hyunjin tied his hair back, his stray bangs framing his face perfectly. It was odd to imagine a man like him being a stalker but if you knew his story, you'd think otherwise. Hyunjin sighed, popping a strip of gum between his lips, "My angel, why do you keep me on my toes?" He chuckled, watching you go around and take pictures. He knew he'd be in some of them by coincidence, but he couldn't help but be proud whenever you would snap a picture with him directly behind you.

'Holy fuck, he's hot,' you thought, staring at the person behind you in the photos. Hyunjin looked nonchalant, his expression icy and cold but warmth instantly tingled between your thighs. You bounced on your heels, keeping the photos in your bag as you found a bench to rest. You looked around you and saw no one, you were sure that your privacy was secure when you opened your journal and started to decorate it.

Messy kiss marks, harsh scribbling of hearts as you portrayed your desperation onto the paper. Hyunjin stood behind you, his gaze glued to the back of your head. You continued your little scrapbooking before picking a flower by the side of the bench. "He loves me," you whispered, tugging off the first flower. "He loves me not," you said, tugging off the next. Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows, 'Who's he? Do they have a crush on someone?' He thought, anger filling his senses at the thought of another person touching your skin.

Marking your flesh, he couldn't have that. You're his. "He loves me," you said, tugging off another petal. There were only 4 more petals left. You tug off another, and another and another until you reach the last petal, "He loves me," you giggled, taping the exact petal into your journal. Hyunjin clenched his jaw, his eyes empty and cold.

You held up and took a photo, you made a little heart shape when the camera took a loud 'Snap'. When the film was developed, you stared at it only to see the figure standing right behind you and his hands barely managed to wrap around your neck. Just as you were to turn around, Hyunjin covered your mouth, his palm laced with ground up sleeping pills. It didn't take long for the drugs to work and all you had to do was wake up.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

Pleasure coated your body the moment you grew conscious, your cunt felt full and tight, "What's happening?" You moaned, stirring awake. Hyunjin sat by the edge of the bed, your lower half bare to the chilling air, "Did you rest well, angel? I wanted to prepare your body for what's to come," he said, grazing your inner thighs. You stared between your legs only to see a toy you've never seen before.

Your cunt was so puffy and swollen that you almost didn't recognise it. Hyunjin grazed the pump, "This will make you sensitive, my angel," he said, staring up at you with a twisted grin. You arched your back, feeling the searing warmth of your cunt against your skin. It was wet, dripping and moist. You bit your bottom lip, "Are you the one who's been watching me?" You whispered, digging your nails into the sheets.

Hyunjin nodded, squeezing the pump in his hands, "You're such a beautiful person. The way you behave and smile and talk drives me insane. Everything about you drives me inside," he chuckled, gently kissing your thighs You clenched around nothing, your cunt plump to the brink of the pump, "Did you read my journal?" You asked, seeing the book wide open behind him.

He nodded his head, "My delusions crashed when I read it. My sweet little angel was so filthy. So deranged and corrupted. It was upsetting that I wasn't the focal of your desires until I flipped through more and saw picture after picture of a heart surrounding my figure. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you did. Your thoughts bled through the pages of that journal, angel," he chuckled, licking your inner thighs.

You mewled, gripping the sheets below, "Yes, I have. I craved you, sir. Please, break my mind?" You whimpered, your body tingling with pleasure you've never experienced before. Hyunjin moaned, "With pleasure," he said, his voice deep and primal.

"Fuck, hah, ah!" You screamed, the pump drove your sensitivity to the max with each thrust of his cock pounding your ribbed inner walls. You screamed into his shoulder, your nails digging into his back as you drew blood. Hyunjin hissed, your plump flesh engulfing his cock with a warmth he has never felt before. Your body quivered, mind barely coherent to think of anything else except the need to climax.

Hyunjin lifted your legs, forcing your body into a mating press as he drilled his hot veiny cock deeper and deeper within your gushing hole. Drool and tears coated your face so much that you couldn't tell the difference. Hyunjin growled, licking up your cheek in a sick desire, "Clench harder, angel. Don't hold back," he groaned, using his weight to thrust rougher at a merciless pace.

You screamed, clawing his torso as your body spasmed an orgasm. Hyunjin whimpered, biting his bottom lip so hard a trickle of blood dripped down his chin, "So tight, too tight," he gasped, holding back his pent up orgasm just to see you squirt. You sobbed out babbles of cries when he picked up the pace, utterly ruining your body and mind with the sheer need to claim you.

To etch this memory so deep in your head that you wouldn't to fuck any other monster that isn't himself. "Cum, cum, cum," he groaned, rubbing your plump clit in tandem with his through thrusts. Your jaw slacked into a silent wail as you squirted all over his lower half and yours. Hyunjin growled, his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs when his orgasm snapped within you.

Painting your ribbed walls with a thick heavy load of semen. Minutes go by and his cock was still pumping your canal full. A small bulge appeared beneath your belly button. A permanent claim over your body made his cock twitch in delight. You laid there and were satisfied with your sick fantasies coming true.

AMAB

Pleasure coated your body the moment you grew conscious, your rim and cock felt full and tight, "What's happening?" You moaned, stirring awake. Hyunjin sat by the edge of the bed, your lower half bare to the chilling air, "Did you rest well, angel? I wanted to prepare your body for what's to come," he said, grazing your inner thighs. You stared between your legs only to see a toy you've never seen before.

Your rim and cock were so puffy and swollen that you almost didn't recognise it. Hyunjin grazed the pump, "This will make you sensitive, my angel," he said, staring up at you with a twisted grin. You arched your back, feeling the searing warmth of your rim and cock against your skin. It was wet, dripping and moist. You bit your bottom lip, "Are you the one who's been watching me?" You whispered, digging your nails into the sheets.

Hyunjin nodded, squeezing the pump in his hands, "You're such a beautiful person. The way you behave and smile and talk drives me insane. Everything about you drives me inside," he chuckled, gently kissing your thighs You clenched around nothing, your rim and cock plump to the brink of the pump, "Did you read my journal?" You asked, seeing the book wide open behind him.

He nodded his head, "My delusions crashed when I read it. My sweet little angel was so filthy. So deranged and corrupted. It was upsetting that I wasn't the focal of your desires until I flipped through more and saw picture after picture of a heart surrounding my figure. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you did. Your thoughts bled through the pages of that journal, angel," he chuckled, licking your inner thighs.

You mewled, gripping the sheets below, "Yes, I have. I craved you, sir. Please, break my mind?" You whimpered, your body tingling with pleasure you've never experienced before. Hyunjin moaned, "With pleasure," he said, his voice deep and primal.

"Fuck, hah, ah!" You screamed, the pump drove your sensitivity to the max with each thrust of his cock pounding your ribbed inner walls. You screamed into his shoulder, your nails digging into his back as you drew blood. Hyunjin hissed, your plump flesh engulfing his cock with a warmth he has never felt before. Your body quivered, mind barely coherent to think of anything else except the need to climax.

Hyunjin lifted your legs, forcing your body into a mating press as he drilled his hot veiny cock deeper and deeper within your gushing hole. Drool and tears coated your face so much that you couldn't tell the difference. Hyunjin growled, licking up your cheek in a sick desire, "Clench harder, angel. Don't hold back," he groaned, using his weight to thrust rougher at a merciless pace.

You screamed, clawing his torso as your body spasmed an orgasm. Hyunjin whimpered, biting his bottom lip so hard a trickle of blood dripped down his chin, "So tight, too tight," he gasped, holding back his pent up orgasm just to see you squirt. You sobbed out babbles of cries when he picked up the pace, utterly ruining your body and mind with the sheer need to claim you.

To etch this memory so deep in your head that you wouldn't to fuck any other monster that isn't himself. "Cum, cum, cum," he groaned, rubbing your plump cockhead in tandem with his through thrusts. Your jaw slacked into a silent wail as you squirted all over his lower half and yours. Hyunjin growled, his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs when his orgasm snapped within you.

Painting your ribbed walls with a thick heavy load of semen. Minutes go by and his cock was still pumping your canal full. A small bulge appeared beneath your belly button. A permanent claim over your body made his cock twitch in delight. You laid there and were satisfied with your sick fantasies coming true.

[mi-i-zori]

Bad Puns

CoD - 141 x Snail (OC/Fem!Reader)

SYNOPSIS : Like Simon, Snail is a sucker for bad jokes, puns being her favourite - wich is something Johnny never fails to notice.

WARNINGS : None. But please read the Author’s Note below.

Author’s Note : Snail is an OC that can be read as a Fem!Reader - I do my best no to describe her too much, but may sometimes say that she’s small (height) and has long hair.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Johnny always has a hard time staying still. So whenever he feels like he’s got too much free time in-between missions, he likes to go on runs or, if the environment around the base he’s currently staying at allows it, hikes.

On rainy days, Snail likes to accompagny him. They both walk along each other, enjoying the smell of petrichor floating in the air and the quiet melody of raindrops on the surrounding greenery. His teammate is almost constantly stopping to gawk at anything and everything, going from insects or worms to rocks and leaves with funny shapes. Soap doesn’t mind - it’s part of her charm, and also a good source of entertainment to distract him from the chaos in his mind.

He stops for a moment to admire the view. From here, he can see the full expanse of the city below, surprisingly colorful against the cold, grey sky. He no longer hears the usual buzzing of the streets, nor can he see any soul rushing to escape the rain. He always forget how much he misses this quiet, peaceful kind of life. Closing his eyes, Johnny takes a deep breath, savouring the sharp coldness spreading through his lungs.

« Soap, look what I found ! »

Snail suddenly comes up from behind him with an excited grin on her lips. In her outstretched hand, a simple pebble sit, so tiny, grey and wet.

« It looks like a guitar pick ! » She says.

« Aye, it does. »

For a few seconds, they both stand silent, eyes fixated on his teammate’s discovery. Then she looks back up at him, and he can both feel and see the mischief that’s about to come.

« It’s for rock music ! »

Johnny lets out what is probably the heaviest and most amused sigh of his life. It only takes a second for it to become a chuckle as he resumes his hike. Snail laughs before catching up to him.

« Get it ? Rock music ? »

« Yeah, hen, ah get it. Good one. »

From the corner of his eye, he can see her beam at the praise, and he indulges in the urge to playfully ruffle her hair. Giggling, she darts off in the hopes of protecting her precious bun.

It doesn’t take long for her to be distracted by something again. This time, she noted the peculiar shape of a mountain ahead ; and Johnny joins her, triggering a long exchange of theories about how it came to be, and the reason of its current appearance.

With how many times they both get distracted from it, the conversation lasts the whole hike.

[dark-and-kawaii]

I miss Keiran….

Ah yes, Kieran. The bad boy. I’m not sure why I stopped talking about him. I’m sorry!!! I didn’t realize he was loved so much!!! Here you go <333 a little something for you and anyone else who enjoyed him!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

✧˖° Pairing: Omc x Reader

✧˖° Content: Slight NSFW - Kieran (he’s his own warning) - Sloppy Kissing - Drug Use To Heighten Sensitivity

✧˖° Notes: Tagging @reverieblondie since they’re the lovely human who inspired Rolan to be apart of Kieran’s story ♡ ♡

“Be a doll and open that pretty mouth of yours,” his nail gently scraped the underside of your chin before finding your lower lip and pressing against it, forcing your jaw to open, “that’s a good girl…”

You didn't dare move, you stayed sat on your knees in the center of the room. Kieran’s voice was oh so sweet, like a lullaby, but his words were threatening… Always so threatening.

He leaned forward- bending slightly so that his hot breath ghosted over your face. You could smell the scent of wine, a bitter, tangy aroma that was intoxicating in its own way, and then his thumb brushed across your bottom lip, dragging it down, making your jaw ache, as he pulled at the soft flesh, “keep your eyes on me, baby.” he purred, his other hand brushing your hair behind your ear.

Locking your eyes with his, your chest heaving as he stared deep into your soul… The tiefling held you there, his grip still on your jaw, as his thumb slid into your mouth. Your lips automatically closed around his finger and he let out a chuckle, “That’s my girl, suckle my fingers. Just like a little whore should~ I wonder how those pretty lips would look around my cock, hmm? Would you enjoy that, doll?”

Your cheeks burned a bright red as you tried not to choke on his finger.

Kieran hummed, his thumb leaving your wet lips, a small trail of saliva connecting you for a moment before breaking. Kieran licked the excess from his thumb before his lips were on yours. The kiss was rough, and sloppy, and the taste of alcohol was strong on his tongue. His free hand gripped your hair, pulling you closer, as his teeth caught your bottom lip, biting, and pulling.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, the sensation of his warm, wet muscle twirling and curling with yours, and exploring every inch. And as you're lost in the kiss you feel a small pill slip from his tongue and onto your own. You knew what it was, a pill that heightens your senses and increases pleasure, making everything on you just that much more sensitive.

You let out a needy moan, a sound you wished you could have stopped.

But you couldn't help it. Kieran had a hold on you. He knew how to manipulate you, make you want him. He made you feel things that no man should be able to do to a woman.

And as you felt him smirk against your lips, you knew he had won.

Once again.

The bastard had won.

Pulling away from you, Kieran licked his lips, chuckling darkly as he looked down at you. Your lips were red and swollen, saliva coating them, and your pupils were dilated.

Your thighs started to rub together, a burning need rising in the pit of your stomach. You hated how your body reacted to him. It was pathetic, yet you craved him, needed him...

You were his to do whatever he wanted with.

As he stood, he slowly began to peel away his jacket, “Now how about we have some real fun, lemme show you what that sad excuses of a wizard, Rolan never could.”

[what-have-i-unleashed]

toxic doomed kist but with mermaid-coded dust

i don't have any plot or scene to write, only ✨vibes✨

dust, numb with homesickness, yearning to return to the place belongs. but this is his reality now, wandering between universes with no end.

dust, "soulless", apathetic to people around him. he cannot connect with them because he doesn't feel like a real "monster". everyone else is so strange. and dangerous. and he doesn't feel like he can reveal to them what he is.

dust, hunted. someone is always out there to get him. because he's precious. because he's valuable.

dust, cruel, ruthless. he will grab onto whoever close to him and drown them, killing them slowly in his embrace. the only form of closeness he can fathom. everything he touches dies.

dust, voiceless, mute. the sound of his own voice is a distant memory. something precious he cannot get back.

dust, yearning in pain. the one he looks at doesn't look back at him. every step he takes is like a thousand needles. does being close to his light like a moth worth it? maybe just watching is enough. maybe a broken heart is the price to pay.

dust, sitting in a bathtub filled with water. slowly sinking himself in it. the water tap is still on. the water is overflowing and spilling on the bathroom floor but he doesn't care. drowning himself in misery with bottles of alcohol littered around him. his head is fully underwater now. everything is quiet. everything is blurry. a poor imitation of home but you'd take it, because the emptiness is eating at you. just stay there at the bottom, bottom of the pool, bottom of the bottle. and maybe you'd feel something right again.

and killer steps in. does he notice you yet? does he wonder how you can live like this, breathe like this? does he know what you are?

maybe you should kill him. your brother says, giving you a blade. kill him and free yourself. return home to me. to us.

and you hold onto the blade, waiting underwater like the predator that you are. you can just snatch him and pull him down to your level. drown him. give him the mermaid's kiss. the last thing he knows before he dies.

but you hesitate. because you love him more than you love yourself. so you emerge from the water. and you ask.

do you know what i am?

he knows, and he doesn't pull away. and you're filled with more love/LOVE than you ever have in your life.

you know anyone who eats mermaid will live forever? i want you to live forever.

and so you offer him your body. your "soul". consume me. live forever. i want to be in you forever.

and he will. because he's a selfish person. but so are you.

and you never say the word i love you to him. and you wonder to your dying breath, in the red-stained bathtub, if he knows. but you don't know what possibility would be more painful.

"If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight"

He says, "Ooh, baby girl, don't get cut on my edges I'm the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon"

And I've been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool For a while now, drowning my thoughts out with the sounds