#every time i think about pristin i weep. they could have had it all..... but pledis hates women (fromis9 I will GET YOU OUT OF THERE!!)

[blessyouhawkeye]

the success that the iz*one members in le sserafim and ive are having now is the success that should have happened for the ioi girlies in their post disbandment groups six years ago and i'll die mad about it

[little-diable]

Love's twisted embrace - Tommy Shelby

Y'all voted on this pairing, so I hope y'all like this! I adore writing historic fics (says the historian), I think it worked quite well with Tommy. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader's family is at war, fighting against Tommy's father. But while both are expected to hate one another, to strengthen their families, the two cherish their forbidden love.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, mentions war (nothing explicit), angsty because of the surrounding topics, set in the middle ages

Pairing: Historic!Tommy Shelby x historic!fem!reader (2.7k words)

Dearest Tommy,

Forgive me for the audacity of my quill as it dares to convey the tumultuous emotions that have become the very essence of my existence. In the darkest recesses of my heart, where secrets and desires intertwine, I find myself entangled in a web of affection, with tendrils as delicate as moonlight, yet as binding as a fateful spell. It is with the utmost trepidation that I dare to commit these thoughts to vellum, knowing full well the consequences that may befall our forbidden love.

As the ink bleeds onto this pristine canvas, I confess, my heart weeps with a sorrow so profound that it resembles the dirge of a soul trapped in purgatory. For you, my dear, have become the cursed temptation that consumes my every waking moment, as I tread the thin line between virtue and forbidden excitement. The mere thought of your visage, graced by the soft glow of candlelight, beckons my spirit towards a realm where darkness and desire entwine.

(Y/n)’s hands were trembling, rushing the words she wanted to perpetuate on the vellum. Her heart was pounding, ears focusing on the noises she could pick up on, the voices echoing through her parent’s home. She was filled with fear, scared that somebody would find her like this, writing a love letter to the man she had been in love with for months, years even. 

Their love was anything but enviable, a secret love, a love they couldn’t tell a living soul about. With their families at war, fighting against one another, (y/n) and Tommy were expected to strengthen their families, not to go behind their backs, to betray them. A foolish act of love Tommy and (y/n) could be killed for. 

Tears welled up in her eyes whenever she thought of Tommy, knowing that she’d leave her home this very evening, riding with her sisters and maids towards her father’s camp, the ruling lord that wanted to get rid of Tommy’s family, wanted to get his hands on their wealth, on their land, on their servants. A greedy man that only cared about himself, about all the riches this very life could offer him. 

In the hallowed halls of my mind, I find solace in the stolen glances and clandestine whispers we exchange, like a nocturnal symphony that resounds in the depths of my very being. Yet, beneath this enchanting facade, there lies a tempest of uncertainty, raging like a stormy sea that threatens to engulf my fragile heart. Does the echo of my affections find its way to your soul, or am I but a specter of fleeting infatuation, doomed to haunt the corridors of your thoughts?

It is the burden of these unspoken desires that weighs heavily upon my conscience, like the damning weight of secrets buried beneath a withering rose garden. In the grand tapestry of society, our love is a blemish, an aberration to be shunned and suppressed. But can the heart truly be tamed by the laws of decorum and propriety? Can it be so easily silenced, like a siren's song, when its melody resonates with the very essence of our souls?

The memory of the day where she had crossed paths with Tommy for the first time was still fresh in her mind, a day as clear as the night sky in winter nights. He had sparked a fire within her burning soul, had forced her to surrender, without having to speak one single word. It had been pathetic, a foolish woman offering her everything to the man she was supposed to hate. A man she had only felt love towards, not daring to move away from him.

He had robbed her of her honour within the first few days of knowing one another, she had begged him to touch her, to leave his marks on her trembling body. Sins the good Lord would make them pay for, souls burning in the fires of purgatory, of the eternal realm they wouldn’t be able to escape from. But she’d rather endure the pain of her sins than having to let go of the man she loved.

“(Y/n)? We leave soon, you need to come out of your chambers.” Her sister’s voice echoed through the hallway, forcing (y/n) to tense, eyes rereading the last sentence she had scribbled down. She felt her heart in her throat, choking on the words she still needed to write, finding solace in the thought of trusting one of her maids with the letter, knowing that she’d be the one to give it to Tommy. 

Alas, my dearest, the love that burns within me, with its ethereal flames and forbidden allure, knows no bounds. It devours my every thought, ravaging my spirit with a relentless hunger. Like a fading star, I find myself yearning for your presence, your touch, your whispered words of passion that echo within my fevered dreams. But I fear that these desires shall remain naught but echoes, mere phantoms of longing that torment my sleepless nights.

I beseech you, dear recipient of my heart's deepest affections, to consider the weight of my words, and to heed the echoes of a love forbidden yet irrepressible. In this world of shadows and secrets, where the flickering candlelight casts eerie silhouettes upon our shared desires, I dare to hope that you too harbour a flame that burns as brightly as mine.

Forever yours, in love's twisted embrace,

(Y/n)

……

Exhaustion clung to her body as (y/n) arrived at her father’s camp. The smell of mud, blood, and ale hung in the air, crawling up her nostrils without a warning, making the young woman choke on every breath she inhaled into her aching lungs. They had been on the road for hours, riding through the pain begging them for a break, needing to feel the ground beneath their feet. A silent plea they hadn’t been able to give into, knowing that it was too dangerous for so many women and only a few guards around to travel through this part of the country. 

“Come, I’m sure father wants to see us.” (Y/n) was dragged through the camp by her sister, clumsily following her with quivering limbs. She struggled to keep up, feet about to sink into the muddy ground, wondering how these warriors managed to survive in these conditions. Her eyes found her father’s from afar, taking in his dark eyes, the towering frame she had always feared, very well aware of the anger thumping through his veins. 

“There you are, just in time! Tomorrow we will win, we will kill Arthur and his foolish sons.” (Y/n)’s breath hitched in her chest, tears threatening to well up in her eyes at the mere thought of losing Tommy. No longer could she concentrate on her father’s taunting words, on the promises he spoke to them and to the Lord listening in on their every conversation. (Y/n) wouldn’t be able to survive without Tommy close, without the body she found in moments of weakness, the fingers stroking up her limbs, the lips speaking wordless promises she clung to. 

“Tonight we will pray. Tonight we will feast. And tomorrow we will kill. Kill in the name of our benevolent God, in the name of our honour, in the name of our family. We will own riches our eyes haven’t yet been able to admire. We will own lands far away from home, protecting our family from those that dare to move closer. And we will find suitable husbands for you to strengthen the name of our family.” Her father’s booming words cut through her skin like blades set to kill her, leaving marks on the body only Tommy was allowed to touch. Her throat tightened up, unable to reply, unable to mimic the joy filling her sister’s features, the excitement the young woman felt. 

“Excuse me, I am in need of some rest.” She spoke the words with a trembling voice, not waiting for her father’s reply, pushing past her sister. The cold air nibbled on her skin, embracing the woman that had to hold back her tears. She’d rather die than lay with a man who wasn’t Tommy, would rather disappear from earth’s ground than give into a loveless marriage. (Y/n) found no excitement in the future laying ahead of her, found no excitement in the thought of entering the bond of matrimony, at least not with a man who wasn’t Tommy. 

(Y/n) found her way to her tent, guided by one of the maids following her. The two women didn’t dare share any words, allowing (y/n) to sort through her racing thoughts. Should she run? Disappear with the night's shadow guiding her, allowing her to blend in with the darkness? Would she make it across the field, finding Tommy before the rising sun could drench the horizon in a colour as bright as the blood pouring out of wounds of fallen knights? 

“My lady,” her maid’s voice ripped (y/n) out of her trance. Her eyes flickered up to take in the features of her most trustworthy friend, the one that had been trusted to find Tommy, to give her letter to him. A small “Leave us” was whispered to the other maids, watching them hurry out of the tent, allowing the two women to exchange their secrets. “I gave him your letter, he misses you dearly. He promised that he’d fight for you, that he’d stay alive for you.” 

Tears rolled down (y/n)’s cold cheeks, hand darting out to grasp her maid’s hand. She wept in silence, clinging to every heavy breath leaving her, speaking silent promises only the howling wind could pick up on.

One prayer after another rolled off her tongue, he couldn’t die, he couldn’t. 

……

“(Y/n)?” She woke from her sleep with a gasp, eyes finding a pair of icy blue ones. A gasp left her, arms finding their way around his neck, pulling Tommy closer. His raspy chuckles echoed in her ears, hands finding her lower back, pulling her even closer.

“What are you doing here? Did anybody see you?” Her whispers were swallowed by the kiss he pressed against her lips, successfully shutting her up. (Y/n) felt her heart picking up its beat, roaring in her chest, hoping that he’d pick up on its call. 

“I had to see you, I won’t be able to fight for my life without knowing you still want me, without touching you one last time.” (Y/n) could only shake her head, murmuring a soft “It won’t be the last time” against his lips. She kissed him again, slowly laying back down on the fur covering the cold ground, pulling Tommy with her. He parted from her to unsheathe his sword, placing the weapon down on the ground. 

Her thin nightgown was pulled from her frame, naked body exposed to his darkening eyes, allowing Tommy to study the forbidden fruit, the body he shouldn’t touch and yet couldn’t stop dreaming of. It was a dangerous game they were playing, and yet neither Tommy nor (y/n) dared to stop. His cold lips kissed their way down her throat, leaving marks on her naked chest, on the breasts he kneaded with skilled fingers. 

“Oh please, promise that you’ll never stop touching me.” Her words were laced with desperation, forcing a few chuckles out of Tommy. It took him a few moments to reply, not daring to let go of her just yet, trying to prolong their hours together. 

“I promise that I’ll fight for you till God calls me from this life. I promise to defend your honour if I have to.” She couldn’t reply, weighed down by the severity of his words, of the promises he spoke before he undressed, showing his naked body to her eyes. (Y/n) had traced his scars numerous times before, listening to the stories they told, the stories filled with pain, anger, and confusion. A deadly mixture that left her heart clenching in her chest. But today her eyes couldn’t help but focus on the new scars gracing his body, the dark purple bruises covering his ribs, and the wounds that were tightly wrapped up. 

An unfamiliar kind of anger flushed through (y/n), anger directed at her father, at her brother, and the men fighting for the two. Tommy’s fingers found her chin, redirecting her gaze to stare into his eyes, getting lost in the bright blue that reminded her of places the bards sang about, places that knew no anger, no pain, no war. 

“I promise to love you till you no longer want me to. I promise to wed you, shall I survive the upcoming battle.” A sob wrecked through (y/n), lips finding his to silently communicate the gratefulness she felt. His skilled fingers disappeared between her thighs, finding her aching cunt, the arousal dripping from her. 

(Y/n) had to bite down on her lower lip, keeping herself from giving into the pleasure driven sounds wanting to escape from her flesh cage. He didn’t give her much time to adjust to his touches, the fingers she hadn’t felt pressed against her skin in weeks, needing to feel her wrapped around his cock. One of his hands found hers, fingers interlaced as he pushed into her, groaning into the crook of her neck. 

His thrusts were driven by their need for one another, by the pleasure filling their every vein, bodies trembling whenever they met. No words left the two, not daring to part their lips in fear they’d be too loud, catching the attention of those sleeping in tents close by. Their eyes spoke to one another, of the fear to part ways, not knowing what was laying ahead of them, of the fear to let go, not knowing if they’d ever be fortunate enough to share their bed again. 

Sweat was pearling on their foreheads, forming beads reminiscent of rosaries, praying to the God that listened to their every thought, to their every demand. Both wouldn’t last long, needing to give into the heat filling them, letting go with pleasure drunken features and trembling bodies. 

(Y/n)’s teary eyes didn’t dare flutter close, not wanting to miss the moments rushing by, the adoration swimming in Tommy’s pupils. A smile tugged on his lips as he met her gaze, staring down on (y/n) as he felt her walls flutter around his cock. He let go of her fingers to sneak his hand between their bodies, circling her clit, pushing her closer and closer to her high. 

“Let go for me, love.” His whispers gave her the final push, letting go with her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth drawing blood from her lower lip. His hips kept snapping against hers, driving his cock deeper into her tightness, set on chasing his own release. Tommy pulled out of her before he could let go, painting her thighs white with his cum, marking her in the most sinful way. 

The two were heavily breathing, eyes searching one another, slowly but surely realising that their time together was now coming to an end. No words were spoken as he cleaned her, no words were spoken as he redressed, tightly clinging to his sword. 

“I will see you again, either tomorrow when we’ve won the battle, or when your time on this earth comes to an end, we will be heaven bound.” One last kiss was shared between the lovers before (y/n) watched Tommy disappear, making her wonder if he had truly had just visited her or if it had been a dream, and nothing more.

[candiedspit]

Banana Daiquiri

It was summertime; hot tango and swedish malt. 

I was twenty five, a lonely space cadet with no return mission. I floated through the mist of pristine, magic light. I wore a cocktail dress to the corner store because I could. Artificial diamonds shuddered on my wrist while a thousand hot words licked the walls of my mind every single second. I was very alive most days. 

For work, I took care of Gem, a bright seven year old whose favorite color was a carcinogenic green. The kid was mute. And in lieu of a proper schedule–some of the families I’d worked for before treated their children as hostages to time, every hour had a name–I was given the simple task of entertaining Gem until her parents got home from work. 

This meant long walks to the playground, afternoon movies, aquariums, library trips. I liked Gem. Her long sheet of blonde hair which ran down to her stomach and flew in the wind. Her penchant for worms and dirt. I could tell she knew more than I did, picked up on the subtle tones of the universe.

Each morning, I picked her up from her house and we headed out. Out to the avenues. Out to run out fingers along the brisk voltage of morning. Out to the world. It was the third week of June. It had been raining on and off for several days. But at last, the skies were clear and the sun was beautiful, dazzling rays falling to the ground. Gem held my hand. 

Gem, it’s a wondrous morning, I said as we walked. 

I held her backpack on my shoulder. 

It’s the kind of morning you could weep over, I continued. 

The kind you dream about when you’ve been inside for too long, marinating in all of your perceived misery piss. The kind you didn’t think you’d ever see again. But here it is. 

I love the summers most because every horrible thing you did in the winter is gone. Every tantrum. Every snarl. Every shard of glass. Gone, gone, gone.

Eleven blocks. 

We walked until we reached Gem’s favorite park, the one with the long, twisted slide and sprinklers and swings. Gem let go of my hand and ran to the swings. I sat down on a bench and drank from my water bottle. After this, we’d go to get lunch. Strawberry ice cream. Soda, sandwiches sliced down the middle. And then maybe we’d saunter down the boardwalk and play some of the games they have there. 

I’ve always gotten along well with kids. I think I understand them. The bossa nova of the world, each little thrill and dissapointment. How you can feel gladness singe your fingertips. How the sun shines for the first time every time. 

How confusing the grown ups are. 

After work, I usually went to my favorite bar or called the man I’m seeing. Or both at once. It depended on how tired I was, how long the day had been. That evening, I went to the bar. On third street, it was a run-down bar that never had more than twenty occupants. I sat at the bar and ordered my usual; a banana daiquiri. The bartend asked how my day was. I said it was fine and left the conversation at that. I watched the small television above his head. A newscast about the bombings in Turkey and gasoline prices. All things that didn’t touch me. The universe only existed as I could see it. I got one more drink, paid and left. 

On my walk back home, the skies were bloodied and vicious and beautiful. Clouds ate at one another like twins in the womb. I was wearing a long blue dress. I felt like taking off my skin. I wanted the wind. I wanted everyone to love me. The buildings seemed enormous, metallic titans left to rot in the ground after some fantastic war. I was living in the land of zero, the peace spread across the land like a woman on a bed. 

I got home too soon. 

✴

Gem stopped speaking at around three years old. 

It was January and outside, snow filled the gaps of the city like glue. It dawned upon her parents as syrup spreads across the table–the silence. No babbles through the hallways. No requests for sippy cup. No mama. When her mother would urge her to speak, she would look into her face with her insect green eyes, and then look away. Gem’s pediatrician said she would grow back into speech. Had something happened? 

Nothing happened, her mother said. Nothing has happened. 

Gem had always concerned her parents. During holidays–out on the white, dense beach in Spain or with her many spritely cousins at Christmas–Gem preferred to play alone. She could never look at the camera when pictures were taken. And she had this–her parents called it a habit–habit of doing a sort of kangaroo hop when she was excited or nervous or anything at all. Sometimes she wringed her fingers in and out of crooked fists. 

 But the speaking was different. When Gem’s mother told me, she couldn’t stop herself from getting choked up. 

It was like we lost her, she said. Whatever stupid hope I had that she was simply an eccentric kid, that I was the idiot for not understanding the way she saw the world, was killed. And replaced with the fact that we had something on our hands we weren’t prepared for. 

When they finally got the diagnosis, Gem was five. 

Often in these cases, early intervention was key; but also, girls were typically diagnosed later than boys. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. And what mattered was what her parents were going to do next. Therapists moved in and out of the house like business men on a train. Occupational, speech, physical. 

But in the summertime, she didn’t have access to therapists. All she had was me and our little ventures into the world. I hoped I was doing good by Gem. That sunflower kid. That cartoon heart. All I could do was try to guide, be her compass in a dark terrain. 

I liked living two lives. 

One where I filled in the gaps and another where I fell through them. 

✴

Sometimes, I have strange thoughts, I told him. 

I was in the bed of the man I loved. And I was sure he loved me too. At least, at that moment. He was five years older than I was. But he was fun to be with. I liked spilling out in the dark with him. I liked his giant hands over mine. I liked surprising him.  

What kinda thoughts? He asked. 

I know what other people are thinking. I know what everything means. There’s an ultraviolet shimmer to the world and I can see through it, I said. 

It’s hard to explain, I continued. Happy neons. Dark, frustrated movements. An elevator dropping to the basement. How do you explain a yard to a kid kept in the attic? 

You’re a freak, he laughed and kissed my head. 

He didn’t understand. 

✴

I sat out on his balcony–he was one of those people who had balconies but never used them–at the end of a gigantic, African cigar; one of his favorite pastimes besides television. And me. It tasted like midnight, a rough kind of bark. Ash. I liked letting the smoke out so that it floated above the city like a warning of sorts. Beware, there are people who say they love you and don’t. Beware, there are peep holes even in Heaven. I was high on a pill he’d slipped into my mouth, something small and pink. In combination with the tar and the night air and the fact that I was naked, I felt like a kerosene bomb. I felt like a laughing serpent. A dirty thrill. I began to speak out loud, beneath my breath so that nobody could hear me. 

Not anyone besides you. 

There aren’t many people like us, I began. Not everyone can see the mess, the vomit and slashes of graffiti and stray dogs and doom, and smile. Not everyone can see that there are fairgrounds in a warzone. Not everyone can touch the music. Not everyone can hear the light from miles away. But we can, Gem. I think we are gods.

I think we are poets.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

R - Royalty

Written for @jaz-the-bard...Gondolin OT3

Words: 900

Pairing: Gondolin OT3

Warnings: Just a fairy tale retelling

When he had been but a boy, Tuor had been told marvellous stories by Annael.

Later, he would think that his guardian had made those up, emulating the tales of Men that he had heard throughout his life and believing that these tales would bring comfort to the young orphan in his care.

Fabricated as they might have been, Tuor could not deny that they had indeed been a source of great joy and that he thought of them fondly even long after having laid eyes on Annael for the last time.

As time went by, he convinced himself progressively that there were no such things as blindingly beautiful princesses and mysterious princes—the world was cruel, cold, and woefully devoid of the magic of his fragile youth.

Upon setting foot into Gondolin though, all the words of solace and helpless affection that had been offered to him like honey from the lips of one who was sorely missed came back to him in a flash of otherworldly lightning.

There she stood, stern and glorious, the daughter of the king—the princess of his earliest dreams. Her hair shone like gold and her face radiated with a strength that could only have been forged in the fires of grief and tempered by tears.

“Welcome,” the king spoke and Tuor bowed before that fantasy made flesh.

He wanted to weep, overwhelmed with gratitude and despair alike, and curl up at the foot of Turgon’s throne to chase the dreams he had been forced to bury too soon.

“You may walk freely in this land of mine.”

How could he? Every step he took seemed to remove him further from the harsh reality that had etched indelible scars and lines into his flesh.

Another came to him then—as dark and closed as the princess was bright and open.

“My prince,” Tuor whispered even before the stranger could introduce himself.

“Lo…Maeglin,” he said in a gravelly voice that made Tuor’s skin break out in goosebumps. “I am the king’s nephew.”

Of course, you are, Tuor thought, how could you be anything other than the daring, cunning prince of Annael’s stories?

He would watch them cautiously until his days were no longer paced by remote celestial bodies, floating somewhere beyond his reach, but by those two royal miracles—one as radiant as the sun and the other as alluring as the moon.

Surely, they were meant for each other and—between them—the world would be made anew.

“Tuor,” Idril hailed him one morning as the sun rose behind her as if summoned forth by its petty envy of her pristine pulchritude. “May I have a word?”

“Certainly,” he replied. He would have given her every word he possessed—even those he secretly repeated to himself in the dead of night, hearing Annael’s beloved voice once more echoing through this wondrous chamber his guardian had never seen.

“Maeglin,” she said with a minute ripple of unrest, “and I would be delighted if you would join us for a private dinner tonight.”

Tuor gaped at her for a moment before remembering his manners and bowing until his hair almost touched the ground. “It would be my honour, princess.”

“Stop that nonsense,” she laughed, laying a warm, white hand on his arm and pulling him up gently. “It shall be very confusing a meeting if you insist on calling both of us by our titles.”

“But…” Tuor stammered, unable to fathom what reaction would be agreeable to her.

“You may call me Idril,” she said softly, “and I am confident that my cousin would not object to hearing his name fall from your lips—he’s particular about it, and he delights in hearing it.”

“Delighting the prince would be my greatest pleasure,” Tuor admitted hastily and flushed upon seeing her smile brighten beyond what he had ever thought possible.

“I am happy to hear that,” she replied, “and I shall hasten to his chambers anon to inform him of the glad tidings.”

She gave him a last scintillating smile before turning to retrace her steps down an elegantly furnished corridor.

“My princess…Idril,” Tuor called breathlessly—he had not noticed how shallow his breathing had become until his pursuing steps made him feel light-headed and dizzy.

She turned instantly. “Yes?”

“What am I to wear to attend this feast?”

Cocking her head quizzically, Idril shrugged one shapely shoulder. “You may wear whatever you want,” she smiled, “for—if you are but half as devoted to our pleasure as you seem to be—you shall not worry about your garments for long.”

Before Tuor could question her further on that enigmatic statement, she had disappeared around a corner in a flurry of bell-like laughter and trailing robes.

Calling the old tales to mind once more, Tuor ran back to his chambers to mull them over carefully.

Maybe, he considered as he went through his pack in search of acceptable presents, Annael really did have foresight and superior knowledge—as one who had been sent to this place by divine intervention, Tuor was not in a position to dismiss any shred of help he could get.

Thus, he made sure that he would fulfil the part of the humble petitioner—prone at the feet of those noble characters—to the best of his abilities.

At that thought, Tuor smiled in giddy anticipation.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the next one...

@jaz-the-bard thank you for always submitting these delightful characters :D

Lots of love from me <3

-> Masterlist

[jinmukangwrites]

weep little lion man (3.5/14)

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Fandom: Jedi: Fallen Order | Survivor Rating: T Warnings: N/A Ao3 Notes: shameless plug, posted a very Cal whumpy one-shot and I'm very proud of it and I wanna promote it a little, consider giving it a try, anyways enjoy the new chapter.

Summary: After defeating Dagan Gera for a third and final time, the Compass ends up in Bode's hands without a scratch. He could go back to Jedha with Cal... but he's holding what he wants. He doesn't see the point in pretending any longer. He makes a split-second decision. Or: Bode's betrayal goes a bit differently.

~~~•~~~

The air is tight with tension. Not many have the chance, the honor of working directly under Darth Vader, but those who do have that honor also know it comes with great risks.

Lord Vader is angry. Every person in the Star-Destroyer can feel it.

Right now, he's standing at the front of the ship's cockpit, looking out the large windows that watch over Jerha's atmosphere. He's cleaned the broken and burnt parts of his suit with pristine replacements, making anyone who didn't know better think that he hadn't just walked out of a battle with a terrorist Jedi.

A Commander, some poor bastard everyone's already decided won't be alive much longer, walks into the cockpit with his chin held high. He stops a small distance from Darth Vader, looking all parts loyal and collected, but it's not hard to miss the tick in his jaw. He's nervous. Commanders after failed missions are always nervous.

"Any sightings on where their ship had gone?" Darth Vader suddenly asks, not turning toward the Commander quite yet.

The Commander swallows. "No, Lord Vader. They went into hyperspace before we could get a tracking beacon on them."

Silence filters around the cockpit, all except Darth Vader's intimidating and steady breathing, a few Lieutenants and pilots exchange tense looks.

"Cere Junda will not be so easy to find again," Darth Vader says. "She has proven herself capable of hiding where we cannot find her before. This failure must be corrected."

Not a single soul dares mention Darth Vader himself was the one who failed to kill her.

"Commander," Darth Vader says, turning finally to look at the tense man. "What of her Padawan?"

That throws everyone into a loop, though the Commander is more graceful at not showing it. "Her Padawan, my lord?"

"Cal Kestis. The ship they travel on was there, and sightings of most of the repeating crew. Except Kestis. What are his last sightings?"

A pilot quickly begins to search the Imperial databanks, it only takes a moment for him to stand up and solute Darth Vader before speaking. "His last confirmed sighting was on Coruscant, sir. He had infiltrated, posing as a prisoner, for known rebel leader Saw Gerrera."

"I am aware," Darth Vader says, tone darkening, and the pilot pales while others attempt to cringe away. The fiasco on Coruscant ended up with an Inquisitor getting killed. Darth Vader hadn't been happy about that one either. "What of unconfirmed sightings?"

"Um," the pilot clears his throat and returns to his computer before reporting, cautiously. "Koboh, sir. A backwater planet, there had been reports of a red haired Jedi with an orange lightsaber by troopers, but nothing any generals or commanders could confirm... As most of the troopers have died in the encounter..."

"How recent?"

"Days, sir."

More silence settles as five agonizingly timed mechanical breaths pass through the air.

"What is the bounty on Kestis now?"

Another pilot reads off a string of numbers. Most people in the cockpit can't help but be impressed by how many zeroes there are. "Though," the pilot continues, "the Haxion Brood has placed an independent bounty on Kestis that nearly doubles the Empire's."

"Triple that," Vader says, and the pilot's eyes widen in shock. "And make sure you specify I want him alive. I want every bounty hunter, every Imperial agent, looking for him, and I want him delivered to me in chains."

"But... but what of Cere Junda?" The Commander sputters.

"Junda has made mistakes with her previous Padawan," Vader says, "ones that she will not repeat with Kestis. He will be easier to find; his capture will bring her to us."

-o-o-o-o-

When the ping came that slicks bounty got updated, Caij was ecstatic at first.

She has just been thinking about the guy too, Sorc Tomo has sent more hunters after him right on their home base Koboh and she couldn't wait to tell him about them.

However, when she got on her datapad to see what the bounty had been raised to, she nearly fell out of the chair. Luckily, she has a reputation in the saloon and no one noticed, but at this point, she doesn't care if anyone walks by to see her currently leaning forward with her elbows on the table, eyes wide looking at the pad in her hands.

Yeah. Yeah, slicks bounty went up. Three times what it was before, and the Empire no less.

She sighs, leaning back on the bench while bringing a hand to her forehead. She sets the pad down.

Not only the Empire, but the contract was made under the Emperor's name himself.

Damn. Damn. What has slick gotten himself into?!

For once, she's stumped. She doesn't get stumped often, so that's saying something. Has her plan worked a bit too well? Has throwing the Jedi at hunter after hunter caused the Empire to notice how badly Sorc Tomo wanted the bastard and then want to get in on the action?

Haxion Brood bounty hunters are nothing compared to what can come from an official Imperial bounty. She can't believe her plan has backfired this royally.

She'll have to leave town. Leave planet. Give up on Kestis and leave him to his own fate. She can't be brought down with the guy. She knows the kinds of hunters that take bounties for the Empire. And with a bounty that high, she has no doubt that a certain one wearing Mandalorian armor has a pretty good chance of getting involved.

"Hey," she snaps at another frequenter of the saloon, that frog thing that doesn't shut up. "Get me a drink."

"Okay!" The frog thing says happily, shrugging and bee-lining for the bar.

She rubs her temples, trying to think. How much time does she have? Does the Empire know Koboh is a frequent spotting place for slick?

It's frustrating. The entire reason she wanted to hike up his bounty was so she can capture him herself and pay off her own Imperial bounty after getting the credits from Sorc Tomo. She can't believe she hasn't seen something like this coming, throwing everything out the damn window.

"Here ya go, miss!" the frog thing says.

She takes the drink. "Beat it."

"Okay!" the frog thing happily walks away.

She takes a big swig, not caring what's in it. So what's next? She doesn't think she can continue with her plan, not when she doesn't know where slick currently is. That ship he travels on left in a hurry a bit ago too, taking the saloon's owner with it. If he were here, she'd take him out now while there's no competition, but waiting for him to come back could end up being more trouble than it's worth.

She's in the middle of considering her options when the saloon entrance suddenly opens, revealing a frazzled looking Greez Dritus and that woman slick is so heart-eyes about.

She can't help but stare, looking behind them to see if there's a familiar bout of red hair, but she immediately discovers they're staring right back, and now walking toward her with purpose.

Hell.

"Caij Vanda?" The woman, skin as ashen as snow, eyes as hard as diamonds. They stop right at her table. Caij makes an effort to look as un-effort as possible, leaning back and crossing her ankles on the table.

"Who's askin'?"

"My name is Merrin, we have questions for you about Cal Kestis's bounty."

Caij dips her head slightly, allowing her to look for nearby exits without looking like she's lookin' for nearby exits. Her hand slowly goes to her hip where her blasters sit.

Hell. Did they find out about her plan? They couldn't have, she's not that careless.

"What about it?"

Merrin narrows her eyes, distrustful thing ain't she, but Greez steps in. "Look, all we need is one of his bounty pucks, and we'll be out'a your head tentacles."

Now that catches her off guard. Out of all conversations relating to Kestis's bounty, she wasn't expecting that.

"Now that's a request," she says carefully. "Mind letting me in on the juicy details before I decide if I'm gonna ignore you or not?"

Merrin's lips thin, but Greez quickly steps in. "Look, we know you've been helping the kid get a jump on those bounty hunters, and that you've been rewarding him for the pucks he brings back. We... lost track of him, and we think a bounty puck can help us find him. He might be in danger, surely you could let us use one to get him back. We can pay."

"What sort'a danger?"

Slick's friends stop and silently consider her question. She has'ta admit, she's genuinely curious. Slick couldn't have been captured already, his bounty had just gone up, and any dangerous hunters are sure to take a few days to get as far out as Koboh. However, even if he had be captured already, his friends working to find Kestis again could help her out, especially if they bring him back right into her hands.

Greez sighs. "Someone we trusted turned out to be someone we couldn't. He jumped Cal and took him captive."

"Empire? Brood? Raiders? Come on Dritus, I need the deets."

"None," Merrin snaps, looking frustrated. "He took Cal for his own personal goals. We think he took him into the Abyss above Koboh. We need the puck to be able to make sure."

Interesting.

Interesting. This could work for her.

She uncrosses her legs and stands up, startling them both to take a step back. She grins at them, showing her teeth. "Good news, I'm in."

"What?" Greez says dumbly.

"I'm in," she repeats. "I'm coming with. Pucks can be complicated to those first usin' them, and if you want it used effectively, I'm coming with. Don't even have'ta pay me. I like that Jedi, be a shame to see him stay missing cuz I didn't get involved."

"I do not understand," Merrin says. "You are not invited."

"Then you're not getting this puck," she says, patting her hip. "I'll go find him myself."

A lie. If they don't let her in, she'd much rather let slick stay in his situation while she skips out'a this side of the Galaxy.

Merrin and Greez exchange glances before Greez sighs in defeat. "A bounty hunter on the Mantis," he says, "what has the Galaxy come to."

-o-o-o-o-

"We got a puck," Greez announces as he enters the Mantis. "Came with a bounty hunter though."

Merrin watches Caij saunter into the Mantis. She moves her hips way too much, like she's constantly skating on ice. She bends at her hips and glances around the main room of the Mantis, peering down towards the cockpit and letting out a whistle.

Cere glances up from the holotable, Cordova at her side and BD-1 still connected to the system. Her eyes land distrustfully on Caij, but she gives a polite smile. "Thank you. However, we may not need you. BD-1 just picked up a signal from Cal's locator."

BD-1 boops happily as all sorts of data, coordinates, strings of numbers flash through the holo-projection.

Merrin approaches the table, though she keeps an eye on Caij, and watches as BD-1 finally pin-points the signal, but the air seems to be sucked out of the room as the location is revealed.

"That's an ISB base," Greez says, his voice disheartened.

"I thought you said the Empire wasn't involved," Caij said, placing her hands on her hips. Her voice has gone tight, her lips thin, eyes narrowed.

"We didn't think they were," Cere said. "The man who took Cal, he was a spy, but we assumed he abandoned the Empire to pursue his personal goals..."

BD-1 suddenly gives a string of beeps, and Cordova nods.

"It seems, Bode has a daughter."

Merrin considers the new information. He's never told her, or anyone, about this daughter to her knowledge, though Merrin knows Cal and Bode had gotten close during this adventure, often having private conversations with each other.

"What? You think he went back to Nova Garon to get his daughter?" Greez asks. "That could have been a lie, Cal could already be in one of their cells, waiting for the Inquisitorius."

"Perhaps not," Cordova says, pointing at a holomap BD-1 brings up. "His signal isn't coming from the holding cells, but from what appears to be on-base living quarters. He could be keeping Cal hidden while he gets his daughter prepared."

"Or," Merrin says, "it could be a trap to lure in the rest of us. Bode has already tried to kill us all by sending the Inquisitorius to Jedha, I wouldn't put it past him."

"Caij Vanda, yes?" Cere asks, and Caij nods her head slowly. "Could you show us the puck? If I'm correct, the puck should track Cal's DNA signature. The locator could have been taken from Cal's person."

Caij considers for a moment, then shrugs. She pulls out the puck and flicks on.

She frowns when nothing happens.

"Now that's odd," she says.

"No signal," Cere breathes.

"It's a trap," Merrin confirms.

"No signal means he's on Tanalor, right?" Greez asks, now sounding frantic. "How in the stars are we supposed to go there?!"

"Perhaps I can help," a new voice adds. Caij tactfully jumps out of the way as Zee daintily approaches the ship. Cere's eyebrows go up at the sight of her, and Cordova gives a thoughtful humm.

"You must be Cere Junda and Eno Cordova," Zee says happily. "It is a pleasure to meet you both, Cal has told me much about you. However... I could not help but overhear- or well, Monk could not help but overhear and then inform me. Cal is missing?"

She stops part-way within the ship, worry rolling off of her.

"Yes," Cere says. "Bode has stolen the Compass, and we believe he has taken Cal out of our reach to Tanalor."

Zee nods sadly. "How unfortunate. However, Cal is not completely out of our reach. After all, my former master and Dagan Gera had to have reached Tanalor before the Compass had been invented. Surely, if we look through Master Khri's research we are bound to find another way through."

"Fascinating," Cordova says, stepping towards Zee. "You are living history."

"Oh," Zee says, sounding a little flustered.

"Do you know where we can start to find this other way?" Cordova asks, stopping a few steps from her. She gives a sad sigh.

"No, Master Khri had wiped my memory banks before we parted ways. I'm afraid I do not know of any other way to cross the Abyss."

"But much appears to remain," Cordova says. "I have much experience with droids and programming their memory, would you allow me to search your memory banks?"

BD-1 hops off the table and rushes towards Cordova, climbing onto his shoulder and giving a string of encouraging boops.

Zee looks at BD-1 to Cordova, then shrugs. "Oh, why not. I am sure you will find nothing, but it doesn't hurt to try." She turns to Cere then. "I do not know of any way to cross the Abyss, however, there are many places within Koboh where Master Khri's research and teachings remain."

"Anything you have, Zee, would be very helpful," Cere says. "Merrin, would you join me in searching these locations?"

Merrin nods. "Of course."

"And what about me?" Caij butts in. She's leaning against the wall, looking entirely too bored. "Without a working puck I don't see the point in hanging around."

Merrin glares at her. "You said you want to help find Cal," she seethes. "You will help us find Cal, with or without the puck."

She opens her mouth to argue, but Cordova cuts in. "Actually, I was hoping to see if we could breach through the abyss to track young Cal. After searching Zee's memory, I will need your expertise. I am sure there's a way."

Caij looks unhappy about that, but doesn't argue.

Merrin doesn't trust her, but if they want the tracking fob, then there's no choice. She gives Caij a hard look, promising retribution if Cordova even has a single new scratch on him the next time they see each other. Caij looks back indifferently, but breaks into a grin. "Don't frown so much, sunshine, you'll get wrinkles that way."

Merrin glares at her. This is for Cal, she reminds herself as the party splits off, Cere and Merrin heading off to the closest accessible research location of Santari Khri's without needing the key that must be with Cal and Bode.

Once they have Cal back, safe and sound, it'll all be worth it.

[angryschnauzer]

Ok imma lil drunk rn but thats besides the point. Incant stop thinking about balconies. Back in my hoe~ing days I used to LOVE BALCONIES. And i cant stop.thinking about getting dicked donw by Henry on a balcony now

Darling, your wish is my command. Sorry this took so long

Room With A View

Summary: Whilst on holiday with Henry in Southern Italy, the sight of you on your hotel room’s balcony is just too much for Henry’s desires.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Oral Sex, Biting, Unprotected Sex, Creampie.

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites where all of my stories are posted as well. Masterlist got too big for tumblr so can be found on AO3

Resting your camera on the wall of the balcony, you looked over the gorgeous coastline as the sun was starting to set, the white walls of the town buildings shining bright in the oranges and pinks of the sky. A pollen drunk bee bounced from bloom to bloom on the bougainvillea vine that crept up the side of the building and around the balcony, and you watched as it slowly flew away. The warm breeze caressed the bare skin of your legs, your soft dress billowing in the wind as it moved gently around your thighs.

The sound of the shower shutting off brought your attention back to the present, a small smile forming as you thought to the leisurely day of shopping in the boutiques you’d done with Henry, followed by a rather impromptu game of basketball with some local kids in a courtyard when they’d recognised him and had invited him to show them a few moves. You had happily watched from the sidelines, after all your wedge sandals were hardly made for sports, but you had taken joy in seeing Henry work up a sweat despite his soft linen attire.

Upon your return to your hotel suite Henry had decided to take a shower before you went out for dinner, and as much as you’d have liked to join him, it would have taken you considerably longer to get ready afterwards, plus you wanted to get some shots of the sunset.

The view was stunning, snapping a few shots before glancing back at just the right moment to see Henry emerging from the small bathroom, towel tied dangerously low around his hips, skin still glistening as water droplets hung in his chest hair. You silently gnawed at your lip, squeezing your thighs together to try and stem the arousal that was rapidly growing between them, knowing that if you didn’t get the shots of the sunset at that very moment the sun would have set. You should however have known that they were going to be the last shots of the evening you would take, as seconds later his strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist and you felt his chest against your back;

“What’cha doing?” Henry’s deep voice held a timbre of mischief and before you could answer you felt his teeth nibbling against your bare shoulder. Leaning back against his firm body your ass nestled against his crotch and you could feel the tell-tale twitch that told you dinner plans were going to be later than expected. A deep hum of appreciation resonated through his chest, his hands slowly pulling your dress up as he started to fluidly rut his hardening length against your ass, his lips moving to your other shoulder where his sharp teeth started to playfully bite, the pressure increasing as he progressed.

Henry pulled his hips back just a little so he could lift your dress over your ass, a small whistle escaping his lips;

“You mean to tell me you’ve been walking around in this short dress with just this flimsy excuse for underwear on all day?” he hooked his finger beneath the elastic of your lacy thong, pulling it to the side before that same digit found its way to your lips. Another hum of appreciation rumbled through his chest as he found you wet, seeking out your clit and giving it a few circular strokes before trailing his hand down a little to push that finger into your velvet channel;

“Hmmmn, not quite ready for me yet”

Pulling his hand away he quickly spun you to face him, capturing your mouth for a fierce kiss before lifting you as if you weighed little more than a feather to let you sit on the stone surround of the balcony;

“Henry!” you hissed, knowing what he was planning as he quickly got to his knees. Those blue eyes sparkled like the sea that surrounded the peninsular, except there was far more danger in those eyes than the mediterreanan sea. Clinging to the edge of the stone wall you nibbled on your lip as he parted your legs and pressed soft kisses up your inner thighs, before taking hold of your underwear and with one swift tug snapped it at the gusset. His gaze only left yours as he took in your glistening petals, before the blue mischief was back upon you as his wide tongue swept through your folds. 

There was no way of being silent when Henry ate you out, his tongue was everywhere; wide and juicy, he didn’t hold back with his noises of appreciation at the feel and taste of you. For you your precarious position gave another element of excitement, and as you scrambled for something to anchor yourself on one hand found his still shower damp curls, the other grasped at the metal trellis beside you, the pink bougainvillea flowers resting against your hand as your fingers curled around the metal framework holding it up. The rub of his nose against your clit and the days stubble on your softest of skin helped to bring on your orgasm, his tongue deep within you as you soaked his face with your essence, the pleasure surging through you as he held you tight before pulling away just a little to grin at you. Sliding his hand between your legs he gently pushed two fingers inside you, before pulling them out and lifting them to your mouth;

“Taste how sweet you are”

Holding his wrist you took those fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his digits as you sucked at them. Looking down you saw how his towel had parted where his thighs were wide apart, his fat cock standing hard and proud from between the pristine white of the towel. With his fingers still in your mouth he stood and wriggled his hips just slightly to let the towel fall to the floor. Towering over you he made you feel tiny as you sat on the balcony wall, pulling his fingers from your mouth;

“Good girl. Now turn around and bend over”

There was no arguing or disagreeing, you wanted to do it and followed Henry’s firm command, gasping as he kicked your legs further apart and you felt the blunt tip of his weeping cock slide through your folds before catching on your empty hole. With a grunt he thrust into you, growling as your walls hugged his flesh so tight at the thick insertion parting your insides. 

“Oh fuck” you muttered, breathless as your body struggled to get used to being so full. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, each time felt like the first all over again, your body struggling to take his girth before it finally yielded and you felt pleasure like you’d never felt before.

Henry was a force of nature when he fucked you, the raw power in his body meant you had three orgasm’s for every one of his, your mind as fucked as your pussy would be from the amount of serotonin in your bloodstream where you would end up lust drunk afterwards. As he ploughed into your body you struggled to stifle the sounds of ecstasy bubbling from your lips, before with a grunt he pulled you flush with his chest, one hand wrapped around your ribcage as the other covered your mouth;

“So fucking good, your cunt feels so tight as you cum…” his teeth bit into your neck as his hips worked quickly, the pleasure pain signals hitting your brain drawing another orgasm from you as Henry started to chase his own. His hips slammed into your behind, the sound of flesh upon flesh making it painfully obvious to anyone within earshot what was happening on the shrouded balcony above them as they walked along the footpath below. Screaming into his hand you came again, and with one final thrust Henry pushed deep and you felt him release his thick load deep inside you. 

For the longest moment he just held you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders whilst still nestled deep within you, before he softened and pulled out, turning you in his arms to just hold you tenderly;

“Still want to go out for dinner tonight? Or would you prefer room service”

“Just give me a moment to clean up then we can try that seafood bistro we passed this afternoon”

A few moments later you had emerged from the bathroom having cleaned up best you could, adding a touch of makeup before stepping into the room and grinning at Henry as you shimmied out of the ruined panties and tossed them in the wastebasket in the corner. Grabbing your purse you smiled at Henry and hooked your arm through his as he paused;

“You don’t want to put replacements on?”

“Nope” you grinned at him, knowing the thought of you going commando would drive him insane for the whole meal.

“You wicked woman. We’re gonna need to get a table with a cloth on it so people can’t see my dick getting hard at the thought of your cum soaked pussy bare for me”

With a grin you pulled him out of the door, knowing it would be a quick meal and you’d be back fucking in the room sooner than you expected.

[wistfulcynic]

a farewell

Sometimes I look at my cat’s sweet face and think about how we almost didn’t keep him. I wasn’t working at the time and we weren’t sure when I would be again, and it was so impractical to consider adopting even one kitten much less two, and we’d already decided on his sister.

I decided, rather, on a pure black girl, and my husband as he always does acceded, but from the beginning it was plain he wanted the little white-pawed boy.

We calculated, on the way home from meeting them, all the costs of their food and litter and shots and neutering and toys and scratching posts, and we knew we couldn’t afford two. 

And then I said “But do you want him?” and Husband said “Yes.” This man who by nature never states outright the things he wants said yes, I want this kitten. 

And so we adopted two. 

Hugo was a tiny, timid kitten, smaller than his sister and far less brave. He hid under the tv stand and behind the sofa and in a box, until he learned that we would only rub his ears and his little face and never, ever hurt him. 

He had diarrhoea in those first few days we had him. We had to try to make him eat special food given us by the vet and when he refused it I wept, because I read on the internet that diarrhoea can kill kittens and I already loved him with every scrap of my heart. 

I roasted a pumpkin for him, a butternut squash in fact (the internet enriches us as well as terrifies, and this came highly recommended), and made him a purée to soothe his tummy and tighten his stools and when I offered him a spoonful expecting him to turn away I wept again because he didn’t. He lapped that spoon clean and looked for more and I swear by all that is held as holy that my baby kitten knew that orange mess would do him good, and so it did. 

He’s grown huge now, so much that we had to put him on a diet, but he’s still timid, running from the vacuum cleaner and strange people in his house. Still, you couldn’t ask for a better cat. He never uses teeth or claws in anger, scratches only at the designated posts and allows us to pick him up from time to time and squeeze him, even though he hates this. He loves rubs on his belly and on his face and he’s never once knocked anything off a table, though he will bite right through headphone cords if they are left unguarded. 

He sits in the bathroom with me and sometimes wees along in fellowship, and he loves to grab our hands with his sharp-tipped paws and pull them down to his head, purring like an engine. His fur is thick and glossy and his linen is pristine, little paws and chest always of the purest white. His whiskers are white too, and his little chin, and his eyes are huge in his pointed face. He’s the cutest cat, and the sweetest, and sometimes I look at him and think of what we nearly didn’t have, what we almost gave up before we realised it was such a treasure. And I don’t weep but I almost want to, unshed tears a right knot in my chest as I wonder what life my baby might have had without me. A nice one maybe, but no one could love him more than he is loved here in my house. 

(The above I wrote months ago, before we knew. Before we had any idea how soon we were to lose him. This second part I wrote tonight, with shaking hands and vision blurred by tears.)

And now we have to say goodbye. My baby, my beloved boy. He is leaving us too soon but he’s brought us more love in five short years than we would have had in fifty without him. My heart is broken and my tears won’t stop. My poor dear husband is crying too. There’s a unity in grief as there is in love. We loved him together and we mourn him together. We are stronger because we loved him. We are broken but not broken apart. 

Someday our tears will stop and we’ll remember him with fondness and not with pain. This is the nature of healing. It absolutely must be thus; if grief remained forever fresh humans could not survive it. But I hope this day won’t come too soon. He deserves a few more tears, my precious Hugo, my sweetest boo. And then he deserves the fond memories. 

Certainly, we will never forget him. 

(All this is to say that despite the kindness of strangers—for which we remain deeply grateful—my sweetest Hugo has to be put to sleep. Saturday the 5th of February, 2022, just three months shy of his sixth birthday. If you are reading this I hope you’ll take a moment to think of him, and then to hug your cats or dogs or any pets extra close and treasure the time you have with them.) 

[hyunverse]

how to hide a body | fushiguro megumi

✧ gender neutral.

✧ tags: angst, thriller.

✧ warnings: dead body, death, murder, mention of cheating, vomit.

✧ summary: everything in your life changes the moment megumi asks you how to hide a dead body.

fuck, fuck, fuck. those were the only words you repeated— no, you could comprehend in your head. everything happening felt so surreal that your head was empty. or maybe it was so full, you couldn't focus on just one thought.

the lake was calm, a contrast to your racing heartbeat. if the lake wasn't so hidden then maybe people would come here to fish. you're certain nobody comes here though, you did your research.

much to your dismay, the blanket covering the body slipped, showing the corpse's face. you looked down at the dead woman and winced. her eyes were wide open— no, popped out like fucking buttons, lips a light blue and her veiny neck was bruised. the bruises were all black and blue. she looked so fragile in your arms, her shoulder blades seemed sharper than usual. it must've hurt like hell, you thought. to be choked to death like that. you hissed when the image of getting choked and gasping for breath appeared in your head. not now. not when you're discarding the body. you decided to think about this mess later on.

carefully, you closed the woman's eyes with your gloved fingers. discarding her body would be impossible if she was staring right at you as if she's still alive, judging your every move. quickly after, you covered her face back with the blanket.

megumi on the other hand sat on a rock, eyes glued on the ground. just looking at your figure holding the dead body made his body run with chills. it's like that feeling when you know you're about to get tickled— the throbbing and the itch on your body. scared that the person will touch you. that's how he felt, chills ran all over his body, goosebumps on his skin.

fushiguro megumi has seen many dead bodies, but none he killed. he gulped. he killed her. he killed the woman in your hands— his girlfriend. was his girlfriend.

"i didn't mean to, i didn't mean to", he repeated in his head. as if repeating the same words would make it real.

truths are the things you make. truths aren't things that actually happened, it's something you make believe. however, it's not guaranteed your heart will believe in it. minds are easily deceived, but your heart isn't. right now megumi wishes he could just rip his heart out his chest. then take some stupid pills to quiet down his brain or something. anything to destroy this feeling in him.

you looked back at megumi to see his hands in his hair, ripping the pretty black strands you've always loved. his body heaved as he breathed.

a few days prior megumi had stormed into your dorm, where you were happily watching a show. he was panting, and he was sweaty.

"how do you hide a body?", he asked. you laughed, because you thought he was joking. the amount of times you binge-watched criminal minds with him must've gotten into his head.

but he was short of breath. you looked at his hands and saw the way his hands were trembling, and you instantly knew he did something wrong. incredibly wrong.

"she cheated on me y/n, she cheated on me", megumi kept on repeating when he brought you to see the body.

his girlfriend was laying on the floor of his dorm with her eyes wide opened, lips slightly parted. she looked like she had regrets. which she most probably did, what sorcerer doesn't die with regrets? most of them do, that's what the principal had said before. megumi's blood was under her finger nails, you could tell she tried to free herself.

when you think about it again, you realized that you could've just ran. run out of his room, back to yours and drool over fucking levi ackerman or something. or you could've reported to the police. anything that would get you of this situation.

love makes you do stupid, irrational things. you were in love. crazy lovesick. he was your darling, your angel— whatever you call somebody you adore. so you covered the body with a random blanket you bought in kyoto. you loaded the body into the boot of a rented car, with megumi crying in the passenger's seat. you drove miles away, ignoring the rotting smell of a corpse.

all for fushiguro megumi. how foolish is that?

"do you want to say goodbye?", you asked, immediately regretting your decision. megumi shook his head, not even daring to look your way. he fiddled with his fingers instead, his tears nearly slipping from his blue eyes.

okay then, you thought. you walked towards the edge of the water, and you swore you could feel the earth swallowing you down. perhaps it was your punishment, for covering up this murder. she was a cheater but she didn't deserve death. you knew that. it took all of your energy to walk even more, the earth swallowing you down inch by inch.

finally, you kneeled. you placed the body down, watching the water pull the body down, consuming her away. away from your sight. hopefully never to be seen again. you tossed her phone into the water, eyeing the electronic as it submerges into the water.

you took a deep breath, shutting your eyes close as you did so. you turned towards a weeping megumi, dusting dirt off your jeans.

"it's done, 'gumi", you muttered, "she's gone".

he simply nodded and got up from his spot, summoning one of his divine dogs. the two of you walked back to your rented car, the dog trailing behind to cover up your footsteps. in case anyone visits the place.

complete silence. the car was completely silent, quieter than a library. the scent of a corpse was still present in the car, so you hung up your air refreshener.

and then you drove. away from the madness. for good. in hopes that the further away you get from the lake, the more innocent you'll feel.

megumi sat cross legged on his seat, looking around in the car. his gaze fell on your hands resting on the gear stick. pristine and clean— if he hadn't known better he would've thought you just got a manicure.

his body moved before his brain did. softly, he put his hand on top of yours, caressing your soft skin. something in him fluttered. you didn't move your hand away so he left his hand there. gentle fingers circling your complexion.

as he cradled your hand he thought about your friendship. why didn't he like you instead? he squeezed your hand as he pondered. wouldn't it have been easier? things wouldn't end up the way it did if he chose you in the first place. you were always so nice to him. he tapped his pointer against your hand to the rythm of the song playing on the radio. megumi imagined your blood streaming throughout your body— something his girlfriend would never be able to do anymore.

curse his mind. he felt sick. there was heat bubbling up his stomach, up to his throat. a vile taste on his tongue. rushing, he grabbed a brown paper bag and threw up. vomit pouring out of his mouth the way you poured bleach on his bedroom floor.

hearing him throw up, you looked at him through your rear mirror. megumi's eyes met yours through the mirror too, only for a brief second before he felt the need to vomit again. you looked away as well.

figuring out how megumi felt wouldn't require a mind reader. you understood his gaze immediately. things will never be the same, not after the two of you saw what you were capable of. secrets would be kept but the friendship wouldn't.

all of that shit wasn't worth it, you monologued. what did you expect anyway? for him to pull you into his lap, kiss you senseless and tell you he loves you? that he had been in love with you since forever? for him to tell you that he's proud of you?

no matter how much you do for somebody, they wouldn't change their feelings for you unless if they want to.

✉ taglist (send an ask to be removed) : @aliteama @dearsukuna @cybergoo @hanniemilk @ariasann @soulasdarkascoffee @okusetomura @eidotheiapriv @maat-the-prescriptive @etoilezone @elipres @scarednekozz @iridescentkitsune

[eleanore-delphinium]

Lazarus’ Pit: The Demon Lost His Head

MATURE RATING

MENTION OF VIOLENCE

 Loosely related to: The Demon’s Head

When Damian Al Ghul reached the side of his beloved—Raven. She had exhaled her last breath a long time ago. All he could do now was hold her lifeless blue corpse in his hands. He did not understand and could not comprehend—no, it was simply denial—what has happened to his beloved Raven who was in his arms.

He was kneeling down on the ground, a hand resting on the back of her neck. Her head limp and eyes closed and lips so terribly blue, his other arm under her legs. She had died a long time ago, had he come a minute earlier; nothing would have changed.

Time felt awfully too slow for him at that very moment. And yet, he was so very aware of every breathing, moving thing or person around him. And it made the non-existent breathing and moving of his beloved’s chest so sickeningly deafening in his ears.

His lips opened, and his inhalation was slow. “I want them all dead.” He heard himself say, his head spinning. “No—I want their limbs pulled apart, and I want them to suffer.” He heard himself continue on.

“Yes, my lord.” An assassin in black replied.

The heat from the flames around Damian reached his skin.

For a moment, he thought that maybe the heat would warm the cold body in his arms. He pulled her closer, but she was still freezing. He looked up at the sky, imaging a life without the woman he was cradling. And soft splatters of water fall from the sky.

It was like heaven was agreeing: that a life without her, was not a life worth living.

The rain drops pick up, and it felt like pellets against his skin. The cold from the rain quickly settles against his skin, and a small part of him longed for the heat. And he pulled her tightly against him, trying to protect her from the rain.

“You’re already so cold—no more…” He whispered brokenly; his eyes closed tightly as his back arched to shield her from the rain. But her body was so stiff against his, and it just made his heart ache even more.

Behind Damian was chaos. There were orange flames licking everything, his assassins catching those who aren’t a part of the league. Dead bodies littered all around, some people trapped inside the flames. And there was a lot of screaming. And because the rain was strong, the flames were contained but not enough to put the flames out. And Damian screamed and wept. His screams mixed with the harsh sounds of the rain and the chaos behind him. His tears blending with the painful rainfall against his face.

Eventually the flames were quelled by the rain and the screaming of frightened people disappeared. And even the pellets of water weren’t as painful and strong anymore. In front of Damian, the eerily dark, empty and silent forest seemed to mock him.

He too, stopped grieving. He couldn’t even tell if his throat was hoarse from screaming, or if his eyes burned after weeping so much. All Damian knew was emptiness now.

His assassins were hidden, too afraid to even approach him in such a state. They could see very clearly how broken their lord has become. They could see that he had fully entered into the darkness. This was something they have wanted collectively, and yet they feared the day that it would come—of the change necessary—and here it was.

The day they had feared the most.

A death they feared more of happening then their master’s.

Raven was an existence to them that was almost rather vile. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, it was because she was quite the opposite that they recognized the danger. The implication. 

The weakness a Demon’s Head should not be having. And yet, it was also the same reason why they would go out of their way to ensure her safety. They could see clearly the kind of man their lord can be when she is taken off the equation. And they feared that kind of man even more.

Sometimes the assassins of the league would think that there really was no right or wrong between a Damian with or without his Raven. But they are Damian Al Ghul’s underlings, so of course, they would just follow. And since they knew he wanted her safe, following that would be easier than deciding who to fear more.

Him without her, or him with her.

Her clothes were no longer white. Her robes were always so pristinely white, thus she always stood out amongst the assassins with their black garbs. Now, it had the tinge of brown, and there was blood, dirt and rips everywhere, and mud on the parts that touch the ground. The assassins felt awful seeing her in that state. It was simply unfamiliar.

And Damian suddenly stood up. The air around him grew lifeless.

What would their leader do?

“Let’s go.” He said in such an empty tone. His voice is slightly different from what his assassins were used to.

His assassins reappeared around him. “Let’s return to Nanda Parbat.”

When Damian arrived at Nanda Parbat, the assassins who were not with their lord previously, upon seeing their lady’s lifeless corpse, understood the situation quickly. And they found that they were holding back their shivers of fear. Soon, the entire place was filled with lifelessness and trepidation.

“Prepare a basin of water, a wash cloth, sponge and every kind of essential oils we have.” Damian ordered as he continued to walk through his palace. The echoes of his footsteps are very eerie.

“Prepare the best silks we have too.” He added quietly.

He brought Raven into a room. “This was supposed to be my surprise for you.” He mumbled looking at the walls and decorations in the room. “I painstakingly prepared everything for you.” He mumbled, setting her down gently on the bed. He kneels by her side, holding her hand and resting it on his forehead. And he wept silently.

Her fingers were so stiff and cold against his skin. And it made his heart ache again.

Soon his subjects placed all that he asked for in the room. They did not say a thing about their own master kneeling on the floor by the side of his dead lover. And they quietly left just like how they entered-- in complete silence.

Minutes passed before he pulled away from her lifeless body. His heart ached as he tried to remove her clothes off of her. He was so careful, he had to be. He was so afraid he’d hurt her more. And when all the dirty clothes were off her, his eyes twitched at the bruises and wounds all over her body.

He couldn’t save her.

Silent tears fell from his eyes as his shaking hands reached out for the sponge and water with some lavender oils. He gently cleaned her with the sponge and dried her skin with the washcloth. And with all the dirt and blood off of her body, he could see even more clearly all the wounds and bruises.

He was late—too late.

But as he cleaned her, he had made up his mind. He has resources.

“You might hate me for this. But I am willing to take the consequences.” He slipped in a white silk dress on her. And he picks her up, his eyes full of resolve.

The next thing Damian knew was the brown walls of the cavern illuminated by torches. And the green liquid of the pool in front of him. He was very familiar with this place. He could hear the sound of the flickering torches around him, and the sound of breathing from his own lips.

The woman in his arms, must have been dead for a few hours now. The pool looked very inviting, despite its disgusting color.

“There have been a few people that the Lazarus Pit revived—and the consequences, my beloved, I am willing to take.” He stroked her cold cheek. “Forgive me.” His apology was simply lip service. He actually didn’t care if he would hate her. He wouldn’t care if she would not be the same.

A life without her—was really—a life he was not willing to live.

As long as her heart was beating, and there was breath in her lungs, then everything was worth it.

He kissed her forehead gently and then looked at the Lazarus Pit. His eyes were cold and determined. He took a step near the pit and continued on. His hold on her was gentle, her head resting on his shoulder. Soon the water was around his waist and he lowered her. He waited for a moment, his heart aching at having to fully submerge his beloved into the green liquid, but he cannot hesitate now. 

Damian kneeled and so Raven was submerged under the water, his head above the water.

He waited and waited. And it felt so long that it hurt.

She had already died because he was too late and here he was drowning her dead body. It felt like he was killing her ten times over. But he closed his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly.

And finally, he felt her twitch against him and arms wrapped around him. He quickly pulled her up by standing up. There was a lot of screaming from her, her entire eyes black.

“Raven! Raven!” He called out but she kept screaming. “It’s me!” And he felt a sting on his left shoulder. She had bit him hard, he was bleeding.

“It’s me.” He coaxed her as he patted her head. “It’s me.” He hugged her and she whimpered, teeth still on his shoulder.

“My Lord!” It was the familiar voice of a woman he had become friends with when he was twelve. The worry in her voice was so unlike her. He turned around, and for the first time, her face was not frozen in the expression that he was used to—indifference. Her facial expression matched the tone of her voice.

It was so clear on her face and in her tone, the fear and the pain she felt.

And when her eyes landed on Raven whose teeth were still on his shoulder, her body winced. She gulped down her messy thoughts. And suddenly fell to her knees.

“I should have been there!” She said her head casted down.

“Raven is perfectly fine.” Damian replied, and the woman before him, who was his shadow, his right hand—among other things, just clenched her fist silently.

“I should have been summoned back. I should have gone back.” She made her mind up. She shouldn’t have waited for a summon.

“Everything is alright. Raven is fine.” He caressed his lover's black hair. “You had a mission to complete. And my Raven-- my beloved Raven is completely safe.” Damian insisted as he continued to caress the hair of the woman in his arms who had growled at him like an animal.

“We will be alright.” Damian finally said as he walked out from the waters of the pit. The lady outside the pool silently kneeled with clenched eyes and fists.

Raven was never the same, but Damian welcomed the change with open arms. After all, she was still breathing and alive.

[dervampireprince]

I'm new to your blog, but I would like to request a piece of writing with a cis male vampire and cis male human, if you're willing. I would appreciate the human's POV, but whatever you would like is just fine. I'm not sure what kinks you're willing to write for, so maybe just something where the vampire is frustrated/angry at something and takes it out on his little human in the form of rough, possessive sex? Thank you. -Phantom

First, thank you for alerting me that my ask box had somehow closed on it's own, I definitely did not close it. Also, I have a pinned post that lists all my kinks as well as my squicks (what I'm uncomfortable with) and I don't write for anything that makes me uncomfortable. So this likely might not be anywhere as rough as you wanted because I don't like punishment or degradation or spanking or pain or anything like that. I do like possessive dirty talk and I'm not against rough sex, this just might not get as intense as you wanted. Angry sex isn't really my thing, I'd just feel like the one responsible for my dom's mood and get genuinely upset. But, definitely up for mlm and vampire content. Been a while since I wrote anything properly here (thank you tumblr for closing my ask box without my permission) so this might be kinda rough. You said human POV so I assume that means second person, when I write more reader-insert type things I use second person so I hope that's okay.

---

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You weren't even sure if he'd heard you as he paced along the stone floor, shoulders drawn up tight along his neck. "Perhaps you should try and relax, forget about it for a while, try to be less... tense."

A growl ripped from his throat as you gently placed a hand on his arm. He latched onto you in an instant, seizing your wrist in his bony fingers.

"I seem tense, do I?" His eyes were wild, usually pristine hair clinging to his eyelashes.

He walked your backwards until your back hit the wall, never letting go of your wrist as he drew closing, pinning your arms between your chests.

Fangs grinned down at your. "Yes, I think you can certainly help with that. Since my mood seems to be bothering you so much."

Before you could refute that you weren't bothered only worried, his hand moved from your wrist to your chin as he pushed your head backwards and up, fingers sliding against your lips and forcing them apart.

Your eyelids fluttered as his fingers pushed down on your tongue.

"You respond to quickly, little one. Though you'd better not expect this to be about you." He withdrew his finders, wiping them on your shirt, before unfastening his trousers. "My patience isn't at it's strongest right now, pet."

Hitting your knees too hard on the cold floor, it only took a second before his hand tangled into your hair and pushed your face into his cock. You could feel the heat of it against your cheek as he started to put against his face, trying to turn your head so you could take him in your mouth but his grip on your hair turned tighter.

He thrust a few times, loosening his fingers enough so you could take him in your mouth and only getting halfway down when the hands turned tighter again and he thrust into the back of your throat. He started talking to you and you tried to concentrate as your eyes watered and he just used your mouth to get himself off.

"Getting lost already, are we? Too soon for that. You need to get to work opening yourself up for me. Put your hand up, that's right, in here." He guided your hand to one of his trouser pockets. "Don't keep me waiting too long. If I end up coming in your mouth then I'm leaving you down here."

Your cock was already straining in your trousers but now it throbbed as you slid them down the best you could with both of your lover's hands firmly on your head. You circled your entrance and tried to suck in a breath, which mostly failed, before pushing a finger inside. All too aware of the moans above you that were growing louder as one finger became two and then three too quickly and you whimpered around his cock.

He stilled, panting and eyes locking onto yours. "You had better be ready for me."

You spluttered as he pulled out of your mouth, knees shaking as you tried to move but ultimately he had to hoist his hands under your arms and turned you around so your cheek was squashed into the wall.

"Hmm," His finger danced around your hole. "Not a bad job, pet. So eager to take my cock inside you."

He had said he wasn't going to be patient, and sure enough he wasted no time pressing into you as your grit your teeth and clenched your fingers as your nails scraped at the wall. He was rough and fast, his own much sharper nails digging crescent moons into your hips and you desperately tried to get some sort of purchase on the wall but it didn't matter as he was strong enough to just hold you up like this. You felt like your toes were hovering off the floor with every thrust as he pounded into you.

"No one would understand, would they? How you are for me. How you're only like this with me. No one else gets to see you like this. They can imagine all they want, but they don't get to see. They shouldn't even get to imagine it," He growled. "And you wouldn't be good like this for anyone else, would you? So responsive, so submissive, so eager to please me. Only me. My beautiful boy."

"Please, I can't," You tried to uselessly cant your hips as if that could have gotten any friction to your weeping cock.

"Go on then, pet, touch yourself. Touch yourself and remember who gave you permission. Remember who is the only one who gets to have you like this. My little morsel. My sweet boy. So, so sweet for me and letting me dirty him and rough him up just to please me. Just for me."

"Just for you," You choked out as after just a few thrusts into your hand you arched back against him, every nerve clenching and tensing, collapsing and sagging against him as he continued to fuck you. You were like a limp doll in his arms, but he just held you and pressed your further into the wall and he would keep you there until he was finished and satisfied. You had wanted him to end up relaxed, after all.

---

The idea with taking requests is for me to write short drabbles... This... got a little away from me... Also sorry for the conveniently placed lube trope, I got to into the idea of them just fucking against a wall in a random room instead of the bedroom and I can't do the 'and they fuck with no preparation' thing.

[scottfuckingreed]

It’s a Pogue Thing - Part Three

This is a JJ Maybank story

-

Warnings!: swearing and mentions of abuse

-

     I wake up alone. Not only without JJ, but also without Kiara. I’m confused until I smell it... breakfast? It can’t be. Throwing myself out of bed, I dress myself and prepare myself for the brightness outside this room. “Ah there she is!” John B smiles. Before I can even react. a bit of toast bounces off of my head. All I can do is shut my eyes. I’m not even a fully functioning human yet. “Thanks,” I slide my feet across the floor, all the way to the couch. “Nice sleep?” Kiara chuckles, handing me an ‘in tact’ piece of toast. “It was alright.” I shrug. Internally I feel giddy. “You looked like you were pretty deep into it,” she adds. I was. She’s absolutely right. “I bet she was,” the husky morning voice of JJ erupts as he comes out of the bathroom. “Especially after last night.” His words get linked with a wink, followed by my heart stopping. “Yeah I’m sorry about that guys...” I flash my eyes straight over to John B. I’m definitely overthinking everything. Why would anyone even think JJ and I would ever? We wouldn’t. I guess that’s not true anymore. Either way, I’m fully awake now. “I didn’t realize it would be such a dead end.” Kiara’s hand cups John B’s shoulder in attempt to comfort. The blend of pain and disappointment in his voice was radiating through him. I wish there was another way; an easier way. “We just need to look closer. I’m sure there’s something,” I lie. “Are we sure there’s anything to find at all?” I throw my bread at the jackass. “JJ!” Ki follows. “You’re just pissed ‘cause I’m being honest. I’m sorry John, but what are we going on again?” I decide to stay quiet. “It doesn’t hurt to look again-” “You guys do what you want.”

     Not fully sure why, I rush my shoes on and follow the boy storming away. I feel somewhat protective over him. It’s a strange feeling. “JJ! Wait!” I call, jogging to catch up with him. He hardly slows. The anger was pretty much radiating off of his body. “If you’re here to-” “I’m here because I agree with you,” he pauses and frowns. “Even if there’s nothing, we still have to try.” Saying those words aloud feels like betrayal. I wish I had the guts to say what I thought, just like JJ, but there’s a time and a place. And both of those were wrong in that moment. “It’s false hope.” His words are blunt. “I know,” I whisper. I smooth my hair back with my hands. “You- he needs this JJ.” As he nods, he rolls his eyes. “He’s my best friend Y/N-” “I know JJ, but you just need to be a little more sensitive.” Once again, he rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just can’t lie to him,” shrugging, I realize this will continue to go in circles. “Fine,” I give up. A little frustrated, I turn around and start walking back to John B’s. “Where are you going?” I turn around quickly. I can’t help but frown at him. Like a dog, I tilt my head slightly to the side. “I thought we could grab some breakfast?” “I- what?” “I can tell you’re pissed.” Wow. Is it that obvious? I guess I don’t hide my emotions very well. “We ate at John’s...” I don’t know if I want to eat with him right now. “No. I didn’t eat, and you threw yours at me. Come on,” he nods and walks away from me. That’s it? And of course I follow him. I can’t not. 

     The walk was too quiet. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it had the ‘do I speak now or not’ vibe. When we get to a table in a small cafe, I sit opposite him slowly. “You can’t be that mad at me...” He chuckles slightly. Then comes the smirk. I didn’t know a look could do so many things to a person. It makes me want to slap him so bad. It also just makes me smile. “I’ll buy the food?” He tempts. “Do I even want to know where you get your money from?” The top and bottom lip press together on the boy’s face. “Probably not, you’re a good girl,” he winks. 

     Food. The boy truly knows me. So once that glorious breakfast spread was displayed in front of me - those exquisite eggs, the beautiful bacon, that tasty ass toast - he was forgiven. No grudges. I don’t even remember why I was even annoyed at him. “Wow,” is all I can express. Only a very small number of things can make me speechless. This is at the top of that list. “I know, I’m amazing,” he nods with a smug look on his face. Even when he’s joking about it, he always looks incredibly pleased with himself. I wish I had his confidence... or arrogance. Which either one it is, it works for him. Which is an utter shame. 

     We both indulged in every bite. Our plates looked both new and pristine. I am entirely and completely stuffed, and yet - if someone offered it to me - I could probably eat more. Although, I would definitely be sick. “That was so fucking good,” I let out in a ‘little too sexual’ of a moan. “That’s hot,” he informs me. God he’s so annoying. “Don’t even try it, JJ,” I wave my fork towards him. My threat just causes his to smirk. “So, what do you wanna do now?” A pleading smile gleams across his face. It’s not like me to give in to such tendencies. I just cannot seem to help it when it comes to JJ. “You don’t wanna go back to your boyfriend’s?” I tease. “Not really,” he shrugs. “I need a break from all that crime shit for today.” I don’t blame him. I hate to say it, but it brings an awkward and depressing atmosphere. I do feel bad for John B, but it’s too much if it’s all the time. A break, as selfish as it sounds, is what I need for today.

      As I stand up from my seat, my eyes immediate lock to the next customers walking through the door. Topper and Rafe. All I can think to do is sit back down. Just before my body starts zoning out, I hear JJ’s voice. “What are you doing?” He laughs in confusion. I haven’t been very open about mine and Rafe’s ‘relationship’ at all. I hate to even call it that. They know that he was a dick, which is the biggest understatement of the century, and they know we had a pretty awful break up. That’s it. At least I wish that was it. 4 months isn’t long enough to heal after... him. It’s just not. He’s mentally, emotionally, and literally physically everywhere. I nod my head, hinting at him to turn around. “Ah.” Is all he says. Rafe sends an obvious smirk to Topper, before making a straight line towards me and JJ. “Hey beautiful,” my skin crawls at his words. He makes me so angry, but I struggle to find the words to say. “What do you want Rafe?” I let out in a harsh tone. I wish I could scream at him, and just call him out on every single thing, but I can’t. Fuck. “Just here for something to eat,” he raises his eyebrows and smirks, placing a heavy hand on JJ’s shoulder. He doesn’t even budge, just lets an annoyed smile spread across his face. Topper chuckles at his best friend’s revolting sexual innuendo. “Why are you such a little bitch?” JJ nudges Topper on his side. It was just a poke, but it sent Topper moving. “What did you just call me?” Topper moves back towards him. JJ shoots up out of his chair. “You heard me, I don’t think you can move much further up his ass,” I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Can we just go?” His eyes just stare into Topper’s, while Rafe looks proudly at his boy. “JJ...” I wrap my hand around his forearm and pull slightly. “Fine.” Just as I get the boy to move away from the scene, Rafe decides to make the comment, “Who’s the bitch now?!” As you can expect, JJ does a 180 and darts back towards the two assholes. A fist hits my ex’s face. 

“God JJ,” I raise my voice slightly at the boy, sucking in my sad emotions. If anything I’m annoyed at myself for not being to stick up for myself. It’s just so hard to see him, let alone hear his voice. And to communicate with him? It feels almost impossible. “Why are you annoyed at me?” He snaps. “I’m not, I just wish you’d know when to leave things alone,” I roll my eyes. “I’m not your bitch Y/N.” I ignore him. I know he’s not. I realise I am probably projecting my frustration out now, and taking it out on someone who is very easy to argue with. “No, you don’t even fucking listen to me.” I speed up my walk. There are several things I need to do; breathe is the first one, then probably punch something or someone, then cry. Crying sounds like a plan. Footsteps inch closer and closer behind me. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just-” “I know.” I stop him. If he asks that question, the question I have avoided since the break up, I will break down. Fragile is an understatement. I’m like a bird with a broken wing, or a dried out twig ready to snap. One little gush of wind and I’m done. I will break. “Did something else happen, with you and Rafe?”

flashback

I made a joke. That’s it. I was caught up in the moment, and made a joke that he didn’t find funny. I could tell. He didn’t shout. He didn’t even raise his voice. He just stayed silent. His face just dropped. He’s pissed. He’s pissed at me. There was no retaliation, solely because his friends were around. Topper was there. There were other’s there. Now there’s not. I’m fucked. 

“Look, Rafe, I didn’t mean-” “You didn’t mean it? All you do it fucking embarrass me! You always mean it!” He shouts. The rasp in his voice startles me, and instantly pushes the tears out of my eyes. I’m scared. I’m scared of him. I’m scared for me. “I was just joking around, I-I-I-I” I stutter. The words pause as I get pushed against the counter. The harsh corner stabs into my back, making me fall to the floor in pain. I sit quietened by the wind being pushed out of my body. My mouth stays wide in agonizing pain, but my scream is silent. There’s no weep. There’s not a cry. Just tears falling down my now heated cheeks. I take a deep inhale of breath. I have no strength, emotional or physical, to get myself off of the floor. I can’t... Not on my own. Rafe’s face sits in the sight of my blurred eyes, as he places himself in front of me. “I don’t know why you always do this baby,” his fingers, which were previously on harsh hands, caress my chin softly. A thumb wipes my tears. Instead of pushing him away like I should, I nuzzle my hand into his hand. I’ve made enough mistakes tonight. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. A set of lips go to my forehead. 

“Y/N...” A soft voice snaps me back to reality. That was early days. It wasn’t even bad then. I cough slightly. How awkward. “Did he hurt you?” He asks, in a tone I don’t know if I’ve ever heard JJ use. It was gentle and careful, and had meaning behind it. Despite JJ being an idiot, I trust JJ with my life. Literally. But this... I can’t tell anybody about it. Not a soul. “He broke my heart JJ,” honestly, I’m not sure if I lied to JJ or not. I don’t ever remember loving that guy. I must’ve. 

We head back to John B’s. Everyone other than Pope was still there. John was looking at the research his father gathered, and combining it with the little amount we’ve managed to find. Ki was cleaning his shitty place up. She’s way to good to that boy sometimes. Somehow, no matter how many times it gets cleaned, it’s always a huge mess. “Where did you guy’s go?” Luckily, with the long-ish walk back, we no longer look stressed. “We got breakfast,” I throw myself onto the couch. John B looks up from his pages and raises his eyebrows. “You never take me to breakfast!” He throws his hand over his heart, clearly in pain. “You’re not as good company as me John, just accept it.” “Did you pay for it?” Kiara asks. I immediately sit up, snapping my head to the boy as I realise. “You little thief,” JJ says before I can even speak. “No I-” “Damn Y/N, I must be rubbing off on you, finally.”

[novanekoma]

✫ home is where you are

✫ hawks/ keigo takami x reader

✫ summary: You were his home, the place he wanted to keep coming back to, and he knew that no matter what happened, where he went, as long as he had you, he would always have somewhere to call home.       ↳ loosely inspired by the song champagne problems by taylor swift

✫ status: complete

✫ genre: angst, fluff if you squint really hard and implied mature content, again only if you squint really, really hard

✫ warnings: it’s really just a bunch of angst, there is mentions of relationship insecurities and a slight mental breakdown, and implied threat towards the reader at the end, nothing intense though, and not by hawks, this is not a non-con or yandere fic, hawks is hella in love with the reader 

✫ word count: 2.3k

✫ disclaimer: BNHA, the music and any other assets used in this fic, DO NOT belong to me, all credit goes to their respective owners

✫ A/N: So…  taylor swift released the sister album to folklore and I was feeling angst today, and when I heard champagne problems, I cried and got inspired lmao. I hope you enjoy if you decide to read! 

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           For the first time in his life, Hawks felt nothing as he flew through the night sky. He couldn’t take comfort in the crisp air that raced through his feathers and tangled in his hair, he couldn’t relish in the freedom that came with flying, the one thing that usually made him feel so free. The brightly lit stars only served to fuel the nightmare he was living, as echoes of warm laughter ran through his mind, and memories of a familiar warm body clutching onto him as he shared the sky with you.

           But not tonight.

           Tonight Hawks was making the familiar trip alone, his arms were empty and all he could feel was the harsh cold of the night seeping into his skin. He wasn’t wearing his hero costume, instead the once crisp suit he had on was now wrinkled, the suit jacket missing, discarded somewhere over Tokyo, along with the tie you’d given him the week before. The buttons on his one pressed shirt were coming undone, the buttons unable to hold on with the speed he was flying at.

           And finally, the night was silent. The only sound being the harsh breaths coming from the broken hero as he attempted to catch his breath. Standing on a familiar building top, Hawks was able to see the entirety of the city, from the top of a home, the home you were going to share, he was blessed with the silence of the night, but provided the beautiful view of the bustling night life of Japan. He could see as people went about their night, he watched the friends that laughed as they walked towards their next stop, the couples holding hands and flirting as they continued with date night.

           He wasn’t sure which was worse, watching the happiness around him, or being stuck in his own head with only his thoughts as narration.

           He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to feel.

           He wanted to be numb.

           It was when he finally caught his breath, slumped against the bench you had forced him to bring up here, the one you made him promise to keep in pristine condition as this was your spot, you and Keigo’s. Where he didn’t have to be the #2 pro hero, where he could just be Keigo Takami, someone he had slowly been beginning to discover again, someone you had supposedly loved. Where you whispered to him that if he was ever feeling lonely, all he had to do is find the brightest star in the sky and he’d think of her, and know you were thinking of him too.

Keigo let out a deep haggard sigh as he flopped down on the bench, not caring about the stiffness that would surely come from laying on his wings. Brilliant stars lit up his vision and he felt his heart break all over again. He threw an arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to see the sky. The one where the two of you spent hours gazing at the constellations as you pondered any and every topic that crossed your minds.

           It was here where Keigo allowed himself to weep.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           You had been skittish the last few days.

           Keigo could always tell when you were nervous and when you were trying to hide something from him. Your calls weren’t as frequent and your texts were short and to the point, it was hard to get into contact with you when you were like this. It had been harder when you lived separately, but once you started living together, you had no choice but to confront whatever it was that was bothering you.

           Whether it had to do with Keigo or not.

           He had a way of making you spill what was bothering you, he was your boyfriend after all and it always hurt him to see you this way. Usually it took a bit of sweet talk and carefully placed touches before you were spilling your guts out, and you worked the problem out together, but not this time.

This time was different.

He could feel the difference in the apartment every time he got home.

No goodbye kisses or welcome home hugs, the air lacked the warmth you always brought into the room. In its place was an unfamiliar cold, half-hearted hugs and barely-there kisses on the cheek. Your hand pulling from his when he tried to link your fingers, and the I love you’s few and far between. You had a habit of telling him you loved him before he left for work each morning, as you never knew whether he would be home or not that night due to his hero work, and when he went to kiss you goodbye and say those words, they were filled with silence as you pretended to be asleep.

He felt hopeless, torn between wanting to beg and plead for you to share what was wrong and not wanting to push you until you were ready.

           But you were the only family he had, the only person who really, truly meant something to him after suffering with loneliness for so, so, long. You showed him the kind of love that he forgot existed, you reminded him who the man underneath Hawks was, the person he’d buried deep down for so many years.  

           You were his home, the place he wanted to keep coming back to, and he knew that no matter what happened, where he went, that as long as he had you, he would always have somewhere to call home. Slowly, surely and without realizing it, you had become his new dream.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           When you finally, finally, let him in on the problem, on the insecurities that had slowly festered and made a home in your mind, did Keigo understand.

           He knew you’d always been worried, publicly dating a pro hero, the #2 hero at that, was not easy. It was full of paparazzi whenever you were in public, and many at home dates (which neither of you minded), interviews and gossip blogs as everyone speculated about the person who had captured the most eligible pro hero bachelor’s heart.

It was even more difficult once the public found out you were the younger sibling of the hero killer Stain.

Now that, that had caused quite the uproar. While the commission had already been unsure of your relationship due to the charming and flirtatious, bachelor persona they had tried to give Hawks, but now he was dating a notorious villain’s relative? Stain’s sibling at that. They had a field day reprimanding Hawks, even going as far as telling him he needed to terminate the relationship and all contact with you instantly.

He didn’t listen.

You however, had different ideas.

You loved him so much, and felt awful about the trouble you were bringing him. You knew just how relentless the commission could be. But still… you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. Not when Keigo would look at you like you were the stars that lit up his sky, but even so, you knew, you knew that by choosing to stay with you, Keigo could lose everything.

           So you had tried to get him to break up with you instead, that was the reason for the cold shoulder.

           At least that way, that way it would be his choice to leave you, he wouldn’t be as heart broken.

           He’d be able to move on, with someone the commission and the public would accept. Someone who could stand by his side without all the insecurities and uncertainties, someone with a strong quirk, that could give him strong children, unlike you and your quirkless body. And in those heartbreaking fantasies, you imagined he would have found happiness, found someone who lit up his sky even brighter than you ever had, and was receiving all the love and affection he deserved.

           In a perfect world, maybe your plan would work, but fate had other plans.

           Keigo had come home early that day, picking up your favourite take out and flowers in hopes tonight would be the night you finally told him what was wrong, instead he came home to you sobbing in the bedroom, almost in hysterics as the pressure finally made you snap. The weight of the commission and the response of the public had gotten to you, the gossip magazines and random threats, the guilt you felt every time you pulled away from Hawks, every time you denied him a kiss, when you stopped yourself from saying you loved him back, finally taking its toll.

           Through it all, Keigo had stayed by your side. Letting you sob as much as you needed, letting you get out every emotion you needed to get rid of. He let you scream, cry, vent, and anything you needed, Keigo let you get it out of your system.

Through it all he would remind you that he loved you. No matter what anyone else thought, no matter who tried to get in his way, you were his home. The one who lit up his life and made every day worth fighting for.

And he was the same to you.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           After that day, you had bounced back.

           It had taken time, and a lot of communication and work, but things were good again.

           You still had moments of insecurity and uncertainty, and so did Keigo, but you both worked through it. Showering each other in love and support, working on that communication you both had problems with, and he found himself thinking how his sky got brighter and brighter every day you were in his life.

           Yours did too.

And when you and Keigo were lying in bed, your head resting above his heart, faces flushed and heads still drunk on one another, you had looked at him with eyes that held nothing but adoration, adoration and love for him. He felt an overwhelming warmth wash over every part of him, his wings twitching in response, brushing against your smooth skin, pulling a sigh from your lips as you smiled.

He suddenly found himself wishing on every star that would listen that you would never stop looking at him and he promised, swore to each star that was listening that he would do the same for you. And as you pressed your soft lips against his once more, whispering an I love you, against his lips, Keigo felt true happiness.

           That’s when Keigo knew, he knew.

           The weeks before you had been happier than he had ever seen. Keigo noticed a glow that surrounded you whenever you walked into the room, one that seemed to glow brighter whenever you saw him.

           He felt like he was drowning in love and he didn’t ever want to resurface.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           He didn’t see it coming.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

           “I… H- Kei… I… want, I- I can’t.”

           “I’m, I-, I’m so sorry.”

           Those stuttered words, the look of pure pain on your face as you rejected his proposal. That image was going to haunt him forever.

           The silent room as you ran from the party, the looks of pity from those who supported you, and smirks of triumphant from those who didn’t, were all lost on him as Keigo immediately flew out of there too.

           He was crestfallen, he couldn’t, didn’t understand what was happening as he tried to process the silent tears that streamed down your face. His own expression mirroring the pain clear on his face as he felt his heart beat painfully in his chest as his ears refused to process the last thing he thought he would hear tonight.

           It was only when your shaking hands pulled him to his feet, numb fingers pressing a familiar red feather, a feather that had been on your person the entirety of your relationship, in his hand did it really hit him.

           The champagne glasses that were waiting to be used for celebration crashed to the ground behind you as he lost control in his moment of shock.  

           You would have made such a lovely bride…

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           His wallet felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket, the photo he kept of you in there felt like it was made of lead. Your smiling face as he kissed your cheek, a red feather dangling from your neck as Keigo held you like you were his world. It all felt so heavy.

           Though, it was nothing compared to the weight next to it.

Keigo’s free hand slipped into his pocket, fingers tracing the delicate black box that sat in there. Nestled inside was the ring he wanted to give you, the perfect ring, you would have loved it. It was a combination of old and new, the diamonds coming from his mother’s ring, while the band was something he picked out himself. You were the one that showed Hawks that he could still be regular Keigo Takami, and that his past wasn’t something to forget or what his future was dependent on. All he needed was you.

His flipped open the box and his index finger immediately went to the inside of the band, fingers tracing the words inscribed.

           to my brightest star, you’ll always be my home

           And as Keigo laid there, numb to the world around him, slowly, he removed his arm from his face and looked up the stars once more.  

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           “This is what’s best for everyone y/n, can’t you see that? You’re the one bringing Hawks down, and we know you love him. But you’re just not good for him.”

           “As you know, we at the commission are very… fortunate to have connections in many, many, places and while Hawks may be the fastest hero, there are limits to his power, as you very well know.”

           “So, I think we can come to an agreement, yes? You want to keep them safe don’t you? You know what you need to do.”

           And as the Tokyo view faded from your vision, you felt the final crack in your soul as you left the only person that was truly home for you.

You needed to keep them safe.

           Letting the final tears fall, you took a deep breath, wiping them from your cheeks and pressed a hand to your abdomen.

© novanekoma 2020

[ourloveisforthelovely]

A Perfect Storm Part 2

Harry Potter Marauders Era-Post Hogwarts 

Link to Part 1 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

Songs in chapter: Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons. Mr. Brightside by The Killers

______

Weep for yourself, my man. You'll never be what is in your heart. Weep, little lion man. You're not as brave as you were at the start. Rate yourself and rake yourself. Take all the courage you have left. And waste it on fixing all the problems. That you made in your own head. But it was not your fault but mine. And it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?

Evan lightly elbowed Regulus in the side before stepping into the room. You didn’t look up right away. It was clear that you were used to Evan just coming in whenever the hell he wanted. Knowing the sounds of your brother’s footsteps, you most likely felt no need to see who was coming into the room.

“Y/n, we need to talk.”

Evan started. Your face immediately looked up from the sheet music that you were so closely studying. The moment that you met Regulus’ gaze, your mouth dropped. Over the past few years, you had been playing this moment out in your head.

And he was there...as he always should have been.

You didn’t move or make any facial expressions. Regulus looked just as he always did only a bit more exhausted and done with everyone’s shit. He was still the handsome man that you had fallen in love with.

You have to stop. You have to protect yourself.

The “strong” voice in your head spoke warily. As much as you wanted to run to him and throw your arms around him, you weren't about to. Because of him, you had fallen into a soul-sucking depression that you almost didn’t make it out of. He hurt you. Regulus was the one person that wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

“Wow, Evan you were right. That didn’t take long.”

Evan winced as Regulus shot him a scowl.

“I kind of told her that we should expect to see you soon and well...here you are.”

Evan explained before going to the couch and sitting down. Regulus kept his attention on his best friend.

“Evan, leave us. This is about to be awkward enough.”

Evan shook his head. He didn’t plan on leaving the two of you alone only to come back to see the two of you screwing each other. The older brother in Evan wouldn’t let him.

“I have been waiting for this moment a long time and I won’t be robbed of it.”

Regulus shrugged before turning back to you, his princess. You hadn’t changed at all.

She’s only grown more lovely…

Regulus thought as you stood up and crossed your arms over your chest. You weren't happy with him and Regulus could see it. If you started throwing things at him he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. You were hurt and it was all because of him (well, Ambrosia but Regulus would forever blame himself). The two of you were supposed to be married by now. You were both supposed to be happy with each other and have your own family. Regulus wasn’t supposed to be here begging for forgiveness for having a child with some horrible bitch that ruined your life.

“It didn’t take you long to come. One would think that as much as you claimed to love your wife that you would be home mourning her loss. Do me a favor, Regulus, go back home and be a good father to your daughter. Leave me out of it.”

Your words hurt worse than if you had given him the middle finger. Regulus blinked a few times before remembering that he could talk. He was not about to put up with this.

“You have to listen to me, Y/n. It was a love potion. She has been slipping me a love potion for the past five years.”

You started laughing hard at that before turning to Evan who was smirking as he lit a cigarette.

“Evan, you literally just said that.”

Evan shrugged.

“He’s telling the truth, sister. You know that, given the past few years, I wouldn’t take his side but Regulus drank veritaserum right in front of me. He isn’t lying.”

Your mouth dropped as it all made sense. Regulus’ sudden and complete infatuation with Ambrosia, the way that he just walked away out of the blue, everything. The knowledge didn’t stop the hurt though. Knowing that Ambrosia literally stole Regulus (with no input of his own) made you angrier.

That horrible bitch of a woman has literally ruined my life! She stole what was supposed to be both mine and Regulus’ future! I hope that she is burning in hell right now.

You knew that the thought was cold and if your mother heard it there would be the very real chance that she would smack you.

There was also the realization of just what Regulus was going through. Mad at him or not, you felt immense pity for your love. Your love...you could admit that. Regulus would always be your love. It didn’t matter how many men you went on dates with...none of them would be able to compare to the feelings that you felt for him. You could only imagine how he felt “waking up” from the effects of a love potion to find his life completely out of order and ruined. It was no wonder that he looked so exhausted and confused.

You didn’t know how to process all of the thoughts in your head at the moment. After spending so many years angry and bitter at Regulus, you didn’t know how to emotionally handle what you were hearing.

Moving to the window, you had to think about what to say. Regulus, meanwhile, moved closer to you. He was partially afraid that you would smack him but it was a risk that he was willing to take. Regulus was even willing to fight Evan if he needed to.

Regulus turned to his friend for a moment to see Evan’s reaction to everything. Evan was sitting with a burning cigarette in his hand as he watched like a hawk. His blue eyes were hyper-focused on his sister ready to jump in and protect you at any given time. Regulus gave him a simple nod. Had things been different, Regulus would have approved of Evan’s behavior. Today, however, Regulus wanted to tell him to take a pill and relax.

“Princess, I’m sorry for everything. You know that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I really fucked it up this time, didn’t I my dear?”

Regulus’ hand was on yours as you finally turned to look at him. It didn’t matter how nice it felt with him touching you again, you weren't sure where everything stood. Regulus didn’t seem to understand your confusion. Yes, he was apologizing, and that in itself was nice but were you mentally able to handle an apology and “everything would be okay?”

Your mind went to his daughter. Would you be able to look at this child? What if every time you looked at the kid you saw Ambrosia? It wasn’t the child’s fault, you knew this but that didn’t stop the pain of knowing Regulus’ daughter wasn’t yours. Would Regulus expect you to step in and love the child as if she was your own? The better question was did you think that you would be able to? You didn’t know. What if you did love the child? What if you fell in love with the little girl and something happened between Regulus and yourself? You would lose two people this time.

What did you know about being a mother anyway? Your mother was no pristine example of what a mother should be. She would shove Evan, Felix, and yourself off on nannies all the time. She only wanted to deal with the lot of you when it came time to show off how “good” the Rosier family was. How were you supposed to know what to do with Regulus’ daughter?

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you turned to face Regulus. His eyes were locked on your face.

Merlin, he is still so intense...

“Do you not realize how difficult this is for me? Everything about you has changed.”

Regulus shook his head. Nothing about him had changed. He just had a few added bonuses that he didn’t have before.

“Nothing about me has changed. It's like I just woke up and missed a few years of my life. I’m standing here apologizing for everything. You’ve changed too but I’m willing to accept some of the new changes. How do you think it is for me to see what you do for a living?”

You figured the modeling would come up.

“I make good money and I am really good at my job.”

Regulus’ face was dark. He hated the thought of people, like his brother, seeing you nearly naked in magazines. Regulus was immediately jealous. Those “beauties” were meant for Regulus to only look at.

“You show people your tits and ass. You’re supposed to be mine.”

Regulus didn’t mean for the comment to come out as cold as it did but it happened. Your mouth dropped, noticing Evan in the corner of the room putting a hand over his mouth.

“It was nice knowing you, Regulus.”

Evan muttered under his breath as you turned back to Regulus.

“You lost the privilege of putting your thoughts in when you married that bitch! You were supposed to be my husband!”

“Well, fuck Y/n, I am standing here trying to fix it and you are bitting my head off.”

You threw down the teacup that you were holding. The house-elf, Curly, came running in with her dustpan and little broom ready to sweep the mess up. She had become accustomed to you throwing things and needing to clean it up.

Evan jumped up. He knew that this conversation was going south quickly.

“Okay, time for a breather. Regulus, what did you expect? Do you think that Y/n is going to run off to play house with you? Y/n is heartbroken over this whole thing and you are foolish if you expect her to just get over it and take you back as if nothing has changed. Y/n, he is honestly apologizing but, as I said, you don’t have to just get over it. You need to heal.”

You nodded, silently thanking your brother. Regulus, meanwhile, was scowling at Evan.

“I don’t expect her to come and play house with me. I am trying to fix what I destroyed!”

Evan nodded.

“Now that we all understand each other...Y/n, what do you have to say?”

You opened and closed your hands a few times.

“I think we are all bat shit fucking insane is what I think. Regulus, I can’t talk to you right now. I need some time.”

You snapped before turning and storming out of the room.

You had been in your room for around 15 minutes when there was a soft knock on the door. Not moving from your place on your bed, you waited until the door opened and closed.

“Y/n, we need to talk.”

You internally groaned hearing your mother’s voice. She sat down on the bed beside you and gently stroked her hands through your hair.

“Yes, mother?”

You replied.

“Evan told me about Regulus Black coming to see you. There is something that I would like to say about that.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing where this was going.

“Let me guess, you want me to accept his apology and forgive him. If he asks me to marry him, I need to say yes because this is a smart match and you know that I still love him so very much.”

You didn’t see the annoyed expression on your mother’s face.

“Well, now I don’t have to say it.”

You sat up and shoved your now messy hair from your face.

“Mother, he left me for another woman. I don’t care if it was under a love potion or not. He also has a child with this woman. Do you realize how hard this is for me? Do you honestly expect me to love something that came out of that woman? How could you?”

Your mother rolled her eyes.

“Y/n, you can be so dramatic. You have both the king and queen of chess in your hands and do not seem to realize it. This child is a girl and essentially has nothing to offer the Black family. You, my dear, can give Regulus a son. The Black family needs an heir to continue alone. We both know that Sirius and the werewolf won’t be able to produce that..unless something extremely unusual happens. Everything is on Regulus. No matter how adorable the little girl is, a daughter’s only real purpose is to be married into a well-to-do family.”

“Way to make me feel special, mum.”

You muttered as your mother gave you a displeased scowl. The last thing that you really wanted to think about was how sexist the pureblood world could be but here it was thrown in your face again. You knew what was expected of you and so did Evan (even though he didn’t seem in too big of a hurry to do anything.) You had it in your mind the Felix would be the one that would continue the Rosier bloodline. Evan was too busy and proud being a death eater. He didn’t even seem interested in any woman or man that came his way.

“You know that I am right, Y/n. As I said, you hold both the king and queen of chess in your pretty little hands. Maybe you should put them to use.”

(meanwhile)

Regulus stormed back into Grimmauld Place ready to kill some poor unfortunate soul should they get in his way. Walburga sat in her reading room and looked up when Regulus dropped onto the couch across from her.

“Well?”

Regulus was fuming. He had expected the conversation with you to go better than what it did. You essentially telling him to fuck off, was the last thing that he expected. Had it been years ago, Regulus would have been able to charm you with a few bats of his eyes. Today, however, there was no such thing.

“What do you mean, well?”

Regulus snapped in his mother’s direction. Walburga put down the book that she was holding.

“You know perfectly well what I mean, Regulus. How did it go with Y/n?”

Regulus snorted.

“A fucking disaster of epic proportions.”

“Mind your language in this house, son. Now, what happened?”

Regulus groaned. He really didn’t want to think of what happened again. All that he wanted to do at the moment was find a bottle of fire whiskey and go the fuck to sleep.

“She hates me.”

Walburga rolled her eyes.

“You’re so dramatic, Regulus.”

Regulus sat up straight. The rage that was going through him over the lingerie modeling was about to come flowing out like a volcano and his mother was going to be the innocent villager that was in the way of the lava.

“She’s a lingerie model now. Mum, she is showing off things that only I am supposed to see. Do you think that I enjoy knowing that other men are looking at her breasts? The answer is no. I begged her to forgive me and she said she needed time to think.”

Regulus jumped up and started pacing the room.

“Why would she want to get back with me? I hurt her and not to mention I have a child with the girl that made her life miserable. Why would any woman in the right mind want to take that back?”

Walburga knew well about your new career. While it wasn’t something that she would do herself, clearly you were doing well. It wasn’t like you were a pornographic film actress or a stripper. A model was a perfectly fine career and you were lovely enough for it.

“I don’t know what it is with the men in this family being so weak.”

Walburga replied. Regulus stopped and glared at her.

“I am not weak, mother! I can assure you that if you were in my shoes, with your world falling apart, you would be freaking out too.”

Walburga rolled her eyes again.

“Give Y/n some time to process everything that she has heard. This is a lot to one’s system. Look at your father, for example, he hasn’t said a word in three days...not that I am complaining. Try wooing Y/n a little better? I swear men are horrible at it.”

Regulus was silent for a moment as he considered his mother’s words. He was good at wooing you before. Why would he be able to do it again now?

“Wooing...great idea. Excuse me, mother. I have some things to do.”

Walburga held a hand up.

“Regulus?”

“Yes?”

Walburga looked up with an almost bored expression.

“Don’t buy her a lot of flowers, my son. No woman enjoys their home looking like a funeral parlor. Another word of mother's advice, you are the heir to this family. While I love Phoebe very much we do need a male heir. Things are upon your shoulders to keep our noble family going.”

Regulus didn’t let Walburga see the cold expression on his face. Of course, this is what Walburga would be concerned about. She wasn’t worried about Regulus’ happiness. So what if her son was a depressed angry mess as long as the family line was saved then nothing else mattered.

“Yes, mother.”

(the next day)

You sat at the table beside Evan. Your brother’s eyes were locked on the Daily Prophet on an article about “suspected death eater activity.” He looked up at you with a grin as you stirred your tea.

“I did this.”

He said with a grin. You raised an eyebrow and didn't speak for a moment. Even though being a death eater was perfectly normal in your family, you still worried about your brother.

“How surprising.”

You commented as an owl landed on the windowsill and started knocking on the glass. Evan stood up with a frown.

“Are you expecting anything?”

You shook your head as he went to retrieve the package that the owl was so eagerly showing off.

“Little show off.”

Evan commented before giving the bird a treat and taking the package away from its foot.

“I’ll be damned.”

You looked up as he came back to the table. Your mother shot Evan a disapproving scowl.

“Language, Evan.”

Evan smirked.

“This time it's excusable, mum. Y/n, Regulus sent you something.”

Your mouth dropped as you took the box from your brother. This was the last thing that you expected. You expected Regulus to remain in the shadows until you sent for him. Regulus would typically revert back to his introverted nature and not want to make the first move...but here you were.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Your mother questioned as you tore into the box and a small velvet box landed in your hand.

Oh hell

You thought. If his crazy ass sent you an engagement ring, you would die right here at the breakfast table then haunt Regulus for the rest of forever for killing you. Looking up, you met Evan’s wide eyes.

“I swear to Merlin if that is a…”

Evan started but stopped when his mother pinched his hand. You, meanwhile, took a breath and opened the box to see a pair of emerald earrings in the box...a very pretty obviously expensive pair of earrings.

“Those are lovely.”

Your mother exclaimed with a happy smile. They were pretty. Pretty wasn’t giving them enough justice. Regulus always picked out the best jewelry to give you and this was no exception.

Evan looked relieved as well to see no engagement ring. This meant that he didn’t have to go into big brother mode and ask Regulus if he was bat shit insane.

“They are nice.”

Evan agreed. Your mother stood up to take her plate to the kitchen because Curly the elf vanished.

“Y/n, I want you to talk to Regulus when he comes back again for you. I am not saying rush to marry him but for the love of God hear him out. Remember what I said about chess pieces.”

Evan turned to you with a curious frown. You shook your head.

“Just a bunch of pureblood sexist garbage that we have heard all of our lives.”

Evan nodded going back to the article about himself.

(later that afternoon)

You sat in a cafe with one of your friends and Evan having lunch. When Sam, who was also one of the designers that you modeled for, called asking if you wanted to go to lunch you were thrilled. You asked Evan to tag along because he looked like he needed to get away from your mother as well.

“So, he gave you earrings? Fascinating. At least he didn’t send you some generic version of a rose bouquet.”

Sam commented, taking a sip of his martini. You nodded.

“I don’t want my room looking like a mortuary.”

Sam and Evan both smiled at that.

“If a man sends me flowers there is no second date. I don’t have time to be watering plants on top of my job.”

Sam added as Evan nodded.

“If I had any interest in dating anyone and I did something Regulus’ level of insane I think that I would go to the level of precious gems and jewelry too. I may make something with my two little hands.”

You snorted at your brother’s comment. Evan was making it very clear that he blamed Regulus for everything. Sure, Ambrosia smuggled him a love potion but Regulus should have never drunk anything that she gave him. That was asking for it.

“Evan, you don’t need to make anything. The last time that you made me a bracelet it was oozing hot glue from broken beads.”

Evan shrugged.

“I tried and you said it was beautiful.”

Sam was laughing hard by this point.

“Clearly, she lied.”

Before Sam could add more, you looked up to see Walburga walking over.

Fuck

You thought as your eyes landed on the little girl who had her hand wrapped around Walburga’s wrist. Evan muttered “fuck” under his breath as he clearly saw everything too. You were unable to look away from the child. Holy fuck, did this child look like her father. This provided some relief. You were thrilled to say that you didn’t see one trace of Ambrosia Parkinson in her. Everything about her screamed Regulus Black. From her curly long hair to her icy grey eyes. She was also dressed neat as a pin You had a feeling that Walburga was behind a lot of that.

“Y/n.”

Walburga said your name with her usual haughty smile. You forced a smile before getting up to hug her.

“Walburga, it's nice to see you.”

“Likewise, dear. I heard that you were back from Paris. Regulus asked me to send you his regards. He’s out of town for the next few days.”

Walburga had noticed the stranger sitting beside Evan so she decided to keep information at a minimum in case this person was an “undesirable.” She also watched as an expression of hurt at Regulus’ name crossed your face before you returned to your normally calm disposition. Walburga had always considered you a ray of sunshine for Regulus and she was not about to let this chance of a “relationship” go unmended.

“I see. Tell him that I said thank you for the earrings. I sent a letter yesterday.”

Walburga nodded, with a smile.

“It's waiting for him at home. We have to be going. I hope to see you soon, darling.”

Walburga gently nudged her granddaughter along. The little girl’s eyes were locked on you the whole time but you tried to ignore it. At the moment, you were trying to appear brave and put together in front of Walburga. You weren't about to let her see how internally you were feeling like a wildfire about to spread.

As they walked away, you heard the little girl as Walbura who you were. Your stomach almost hit your ankles at Walburga’s response…

“Hopefully soon to be your father's girlfriend.”

Both Evan and yourself gapped at each other as you managed to sit back down. Sam didn’t say anything. He knew well about Regulus and at the moment you looked like you needed some “quiet time.”

“Sissy…”

Evan started as the song on the cafe’s radio caught your attention….

Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine. Gotta gotta be down because I want it all. It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? .It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss. Now I'm falling asleep and she's calling a cab. While he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag. Now they're going to bed and my stomach is sick and it's all in my head. But she's touching his chest now. He takes off her dress now. Let me go and I just can't look, it's killing me. And taking control. Jealousy, turning saints into the sea. Swimming through sick lullabies. Choking on your alibis. But it's just the price I pay. Destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes. 'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

You quickly picked up your handbag, not looking at Sam or Evan.

“I have to get out of here.”

__________

@amelie-black @regulusslut @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @quuenofblacks @jessyballet @knreidy1 @teletubiswszpilkach @mimisparkle12 @hazncalsgal @acciosiriusblack @whymyparentscheckmyphone @criminalyetminimal @bennyberry @rubyroscoe1 @fific7 @spiderxalmighty @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @marichromatic @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @stuckinsaudi1 @deanwherescas @sprnaturallover @untoldshortsofthefandoms @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober 22: Poison

CW: Serious pet whump including actual, um, accessories - dubcon just… everything, dehumanization, poisoning, alcohol use, referenced knives and blood, serious captor bonding/fucked up mentality

Giovanni Rossi belongs to @slaintetowhump and is used with permission. Ridley Lordin (mentioned) belongs to @moose-teeth

A group of men in suits - in various levels of disarray - sit around a circular table. 

They are dangerous men, but at the moment, they are drunk men. 

This makes them both far less intimidating, and far more dangerous, depending on who you are.

The men sitting around the table feel safe, more or less, with one another. Earlier, they were playing poker, but by now, this late in the evening, it’s become something altogether idler, more blurred, than that. Cards might be played, but no one seems especially interested in what the hand is or who is winning. What they are interested in is the entertainment.

There is the entertainment at their feet, and the centerpiece.

The centerpiece of tonight’s festivities is bleeding.

At first, the poor man cursed - but now he simply tries not to weep, tied down to a long table in the center of the expansive room, ten or so feet away from the table of erstwhile poker players. Every once in a while, someone picks up a whip, or a knife, from the array of options available. They amuse themselves with his pain.

It’s his own fault, after all - he was caught selling their secrets to the highest bidder. He underestimated what they might bid to get ahold of him.

After they have their fun they return to the table, ignoring the spots of blood now spattering and spotting their pristine tailored suits, and ask whose turn it is to order the next round of drinks. Aside from the smell of blood, cigar smoke and liquor hang thick in the air - and something earthier and headier even beneath that.

There’s a band in the corner, but no one can hear them over the whimpers of the centerpiece, and the louder sounds of skin besides. In every dark corner, bodies move. Some laugh - some weep - some beg.

The men at the table only smile at one another, and perhaps run their fingers through the hair of the people they brought with them, kneeling beside their chairs. 

Giovanni Rossi sits lazily back. He’s ignored his cards for a full two rounds at least, but to be honest, he’s not entirely sure he’s still in the game. He might have folded, and if he did, well, he forgot about it.

“What d’you think, kitten?” He murmurs, rubbing his first two fingers along the edge of the muzzle buckled to the face of the man kneeling at his feet, pressing it more deeply into his skin. “Am I winning?”

Connor might grunt in response, his dark eyes focused elsewhere in the room, watching a servant with a tray full of drinks who is moving from table to table. Someone takes a glass from the tray and throws it onto the bloodied back of the centerpiece, causing the man’s scream to briefly silence every other sound.

Even the bodies moving in the shadows go still.

Then, the room erupts into laughter, cruel and bright as the sun on shattered glass, and everyone goes back to what they were doing. 

“Look at me, Connor,” Rossi says. His voice is soft, but there’s a warning in it, and his husband’s gorgeous kitten heeds it well enough. Connor’s dark eyes, sparking fury, raise slowly to meet Rossi’s. The little felt ears that attach to the headband he’s wearing fold a little with the movement, then go back to sticking straight up. 

Rossi lets his thumb and finger rub at one of them. 

The fabric paint is meticulous - you’d never know, in the the dim light, that they weren’t really cat ears at all. “You volunteered for this, remember? I was going to bring Pretty, but you insisted on coming instead.”

Connor swallows - the motion is visible in his throat, and Rossi sighs, amused. One hand slides to the buckle on the muzzle while his other hand drifts down to the button and zipper of his pants, considering-

“Excuse me, Mr. Rossi.” It’s the servant with the tray of drinks. “Can I interest you in a whiskey sour? House cocktail of the night.”

Rossi blinks, and then shrugs. “No. A Manhattan.”

Connor, watching the servant’s face out of sheer unmitigated boredom, sees one eyelid flicker a little, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Like he didn’t like that response, but why would he care? His whole job is just... bringing drinks.

Connor is ignored by both men, except for Rossi’s hand sliding over the collar at the back of his neck, then back up into his hair, idle stroking that feels so, so good, despite how much Connor hates him. He leans into the touch, eyes closing briefly. When Rossi’s hand drops away, he opens them again. 

“Of course, Mr. Rossi,” The servant replies, and Connor doesn’t know why, but he watches the servant walk across the room towards the bar.

Rossi turns back to the table, taking an offered cigar and laughing at someone’s joke, but Connor is still watching as the servant steps up to the bar. 

When he relays the order, he taps, twice, on the polished. Once on MAN in Manhattan, a second time when he seems to ask for an extra cherry - which Rossi didn’t order - and says TWO.

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. His hands, forced into the ‘paws’ and held in loose fists until they ache, close more tightly as he watches the bartender make the drink, pouring the ingredients - rye, sweet vermouth, two kinds of bitters, and-...

Something else. 

But it’s not something that goes in Manhattans.

Connor swallows, watching as the bartender shakes the drink, pours it into the cocktail glass, and then throws the cocktail shaker into a trash can. Someone else walks just behind, picks the can up, and heads into another room. Perfectly choreographed and impossible to pick up on unless you happened to be watching at that exact moment.

No one’s looking but Connor. And he knows exactly what he just saw.

His breath hitches in his throat. They’re going to poison Rossi. They’re going to kill him. If he dies it would just be Demetri and his master and Connor himself, and he could make his master love him if Rossi was dead, he knows it. 

Stop it, Manning, that’s fucking braindead pet talk. You want Rossi dead because you hate him. You don’t need a better reason. Let him fucking die. Let him die.

But Ridley-

Let. Him. Die.

Connor’s skin prickles, he feels cold wash straight through him. He could watch Giovanni Rossi fucking die. He’s tried to kill him before, and failed, but no one is looking and no one will notice this happened and Connor’s hands - or paws, he thinks bitterly - would be clean.

He’d be dead. Gone. He couldn’t hurt Connor any longer.

The servant places the drink on the tray, and makes his way back towards the table. But with each of the servant’s clean, perfectly-placed steps, Connor feels a further twist of something that isn’t really his. Something they put in him, something they did to him. Not the handlers, no, but Rossi and Ridley themselves.

When some men thought he was Rossi and nearly killed him when they discovered he wasn’t, Ridley wasn’t the only one who sat up all night. Rossi was right there with him to see if Connor would survive.

When he is too injured, Rossi knows just when to stop crossing the line and give him rest. Rossi calls him Connor, sometimes, and not only when he’s been bad-... when he is in trouble with them for the unforgivable sin of remembering he’s a man, and hasn’t always been this. When Connor’s despair overwhelms him, sometimes Rossi holds him and sings in Italian until he calms down again.

If Rossi dies, Ridley might love him, or kill him, because he looks too much like the husband Ridley would have lost. Or… 

It’s what he wants, though, for Rossi to die.

Isn’t it?

When the servant places the drink on the table, Connor is hitching half-panicked breaths muffled by his muzzle, kneading his ‘paws’ into the floor in his indecision, shifting and feeling the soft brush of the fake tail they force him to wear. It’s humiliation, pure and simple, Rossi driving Connor to blind obedience in order to avoid having to look or feel like this again. Meant to punish him for continuing to try to take Demetri’s place, take the pain and punishment on his behalf. 

He hates Giovanni Rossi, but Ridley loves him, and Connor loves Ridley. He has to - he’s trained to love him, above all else, more than anything, more even than the idea he likes to dream of, of having Ridley all to himself.

He loves Ridley.

If Giovanni Rossi dies, he’ll have his master to himself.

But Rossi-

Rossi picks the glass up and just as he tilts it up to his lips, Connor rears back and up on his knees and swings one of his hands, the black leather ‘paw’ smacking into the rim of the glass and spilling it in an arc across Rossi’s suit, onto the table, soaking his cards and hitting the next person at the table right in the eyes.

“Connor, what the fuck?!” Rossi’s voice isn’t furious, not yet - he’s too shocked to get beyond the simple surprise. Connor tries to say it - he half-screams through his muzzle, trying to get Rossi to understand him, pushing at him with his paws, shaking himself to make the bell at his collar chime as loudly as he can. The little cat ears they force him to wear flip-flop with the force of his movements. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, kittycat, why the fuck would you-” Rossi’s eyes lift to the servant’s, and he snarls, “What are you standing there for, get another fucking drink!” 

But the servant doesn’t move, his eyes wide and white-ringed, staring down at Connor with his own brand of shock as the muzzled, harnessed, humiliated pet desperately paws at his master’s husband’s legs and hips, trying to get him to see. 

Then the man sitting next to Rossi - the one who had some of the drink go directly into his eyes - starts to scream and throws his hands up over his face in a sudden agony. 

Rossi looks at him, then down at Connor, and then up to the servant…

Just as the servant turns and runs.

There are three men on his tail immediately, and Rossi just sits, staring into space, breathing harsh and fast, his face going pale, making his dark eyes and hair stand out even more. He looks back down at Connor, who stares up at him from his knees.

Rossi leans slowly down and unbuckles the muzzle, pulling it gently away, and Connor groans softly as his jaw is free to move for the first time in what feels like days. The muzzle drops, forgotten, to the floor, as Rossi puts one hand on either side of Connor’s face.

“P-... poison,” Connor rasps out, barely managing to form the word. “Poisoned… drink. Th’... the bartender-... s’in on it.”

“Get the bartender,” Rossi says without looking up. Two more armed men, men Connor hadn’t even seen materialize at his side, head for the bar. If the bartender runs, too, neither of them notices. They’re too busy staring at each other. 

“Connor.” Rossi blinks, rubbing his thumbs over the red places on Connor’s cheekbones where the muzzle had pressed deeply into his skin. Connor makes nearly-perfectly-identical kneading motions with his paws over Rossi’s hips. “You saw them poison the drink?”

He nods, eyes slipping closed, half-drunk already on anything remotely like a gentle touch. 

On the table, the ink where the drink splashed on the cards begins to run, and the man next to Rossi is being led out, still blind, still shouting and screaming curses at the pain. The room is quiet - even the centerpiece has stopped weeping, and there is no sound but murmured, horrified, shocked gossip and discussion.

“Why…” Rossi’s voice is strange, strained and clipped. There’s an expression on his face Connor can’t quite read, something like surprise, sure, but there’s something else, too. Calculation, maybe. “Why the fuck did you tell me? Why didn’t you just… let me drink it?”

Connor could lie. He could tell Rossi what he wants to hear, or something that will make him angry, or any number of things. Instead, he tells him the truth.

“I don’t-... I don’t know.”

A smile pulls at the edge of Rossi’s mouth, and he slowly reaches up and takes the cat ears off of Connor’s head, dropping them to the floor with the muzzle. He takes one of Connor’s hands and then the other, undoing the buckles that keep the paws on. Those drop, too, and Connor stretches his fingers, feels the knuckles crack a little, the gentle cool air against his sweat-damp hands.

“Oh, Connor,” Rossi murmurs. The moment of vulnerability, of fear, is gone. 

He runs fingers back through Connor’s dark hair, and listens to his instinctive low rumbling purr in response. When one of his legs shifts forward, Connor knows what he is expected to do and rocks his own hips, pressing himself to Rossi’s leg, swallowing as he feels the first stir of heat between his legs at the friction.

Rossi laughs, leans down, and kisses his forehead. “You really were worth every fucking penny we paid for you, kitten.” He pulls a slim black phone out of one pocket and dials.

Petting through Connor’s hair while the man rolls his hips against his leg, working himself up to hardness, Rossi says, “Darling, I have got to tell you what your kitty just did.”

---

@slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @whumpiary @whump-tr0pes @astrobly @finder-of-rings @raigash @burtlederp @orchidscript

[brief-candle]

ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ - Sakamaki brothers

request summary: songfic of “come little children” with parental maid reader and yandere sakamakis. karlheinz is an asshole, like usual, and stuff happens.

series: diabolik lovers.

notes: yandere (meant to be platonic but idk if i succeeded), heavily implied violence.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

"Come little children,

I'll take thee away

into a land of enchantment."

There was no land of enchantment on this green Earth. Not for the Sakamaki brothers; such a thing had never existed for the entirety of their long existence. This had been a fact that they'd had to face from an early age. There was no land of enchantment that their mothers' nor father would let them escape to, and the latter would not let them do so for as long as he drew breath.

Or not, considering they were vampires and all, but you get the gist.

Even so, that didn't stop them listening to her stories that she spun, the songs that drifted from her lips like a cool breeze on a stifling summer's day. Even Kanato, who was ever so difficult to please and temperamental as a day's long, seemed to ease into a calm, placid state of being whenever she made the slightest of noises. Ayato wouldn't interrupt, Subaru wouldn't fly into a white-hot rage and Shuu would even pay attention. It was as if each word was akin to the Holy Grail, from the way that no one could pry their attention from her as she started to speak.

No matter how much they aged or how horrible they became, they would still go at her beck and call to listen to her. They would still beg for her lullabies before she left for other duties, and sometimes in between. And no matter when or where they asked, she would always comply.

It was perhaps the only time that the boys were docile.

"Come little children,

the time's come to play

here in my garden of shadows."

Even with their father, on the very rare occasions that he visited, they were hardly docile. Barely even scraping polite, with acid words and sneering faces. Apart from Reiji, ever the model son, determined to leave the others hiding in his shadow of prestige. Always polite, pristine and perfect. She marvelled at it, really, and would often remark that he was one-upping her, the actual servant. It was never his intent to one-up her, though he one-upped everyone, really, so it was hard to make an exception to her.

The boys' father did not expect to see those he brought up broken to act so cordially with another, not making a move to harm nor threaten her in the slightest. She did not look uncomfortable in the slightest, either. It was a surprise, really, considering how they acted with everyone else around them. To think that they would treat some low-ranked, rather weak demon with a higher level of respect than the literal king of demons was certainly not to be expected by any means.

Though, in a way, it was a pleasant surprise. Not that Karlheinz finds many surprises unpleasant. In fact, he can hardy tell the difference; if he finds something unpleasant than he'll either fix it or throw it away. Fortunately for her, he did not find this unpleasant.

Unfortunately, he found it intriguing.

"Follow sweet children,

I'll show thee the way

through all the pain and sorrows."

With intrigue naturally came experimentation. He had a hypothesis to test, and would observe the results accordingly. It took little planning (Karlheinz has little reason for thoroughly planning every little thing) until he put everything into action. And he did so swiftly, with little time wasted.

They hadn't noticed at first; she could guess how they'd react, and so covered up the evidence of what he'd done immediately. However he noticed just as quickly as she'd hid them, and so made it much more obvious. Evidence appeared in places she could not hide, and so had to wear them on display to those who cared for her most.

It went about as well as one could expect, really, with Subaru's temper flaring most of all. All of their tempers rose, really, though the youngest's was the most volatile and obvious through his destruction of the house. Kanato became eerily silent, perhaps more eerie than he usually was; Ayato shared many of Subaru's traits of anger, though without as much as the destructive nature; Reiji and Shuu were difficult to read, with both of them going silent and putting on a neutrally silent (though Shuu was normally of very few words) facade; Laito tried to keep up his cheery and playful act, though his voice subconsciously lost the lilt that it often had.

"Weep not, poor children,

life is this way,

murdering beauty and passion."

When they stood, obviously heading to leave the room, she stopped them at once. For once her words didn't seem to hold weight with these boys, and so she had to physically block them from doing something they may have regretted. No matter how much they asked- demanded- her to move, she did not move a muscle. She did not forget her place as a servant to their family, however she would not allow them to get themselves hurt. However she didn't phrase it that way, lest it only breed more anger and fury; as she was bound to obey their father above all, she could not allow him to be hurt. Though they certainly weren't the happiest with that, they had little choice but to listen, as it was obvious that she would not move until they had all calmed down.

If their reason had left them, then she would step back in to provide such a voice. As she often had done, when their mothers had not. She did not blame them, with what had been inflicted upon them, however she often stepped in for them when they shirked all motherly duties. And such a thing happened much more frequently than she was fond of thinking about. 

But there was no way that they could step in now to act as mothers. Unless they had a way of bringing themselves back from ancient graves. And even then, Cordelia had no chance of returning. Not in this moment.

Not that such a thing was necessarily a bad thing, really, but a little help would have been appreciated. Especially when the silence was this thick, this heavy and ominous, rolling in like fog that showed no signs of clearing up anytime soon.

That said, she managed to get them all to sit down once more, even if they were disgruntled with the mere thought of being that close with one another. It was a sad sight to see, considering how they could have easily been so close. However there was no point in dwelling on such a thing.

"Hush now, dear children,

it must be this way,

too weary of life and deceptions."

They were at breaking point to just rush out and find their father. It was visible, from their tense postures and impatient faces. They were easier to read for her than they thought they were. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, she was sure that she'd have found it rather amusing. But this was not a time for amusements, or playing games or acting like children. She knew that as well as they did.

And so, instead of trying to reason with them when she knew such a thing was futile, she began to hum instead. They would not listen to her words on the subject; they would listen to no one's words on the subject. For they were certain that they knew best. Not to mention their obvious anger, which would make them even more unreasonable than their rash behaviour already made them.

So instead, perhaps a distraction would prove more useful. It would delay the- most likely messy- resolution of this situation, and would also give them a chance to letter their anger simmer into something more manageable. Something that would let their heads clear more easily, and let them make proper judgement that isn't drove by blind rage.

"Rest now, my children,

for soon we'll away

into the calm and the quiet."

Vampires don't need sleep. This is a rather well-known fact amongst those which are aware of their existence. That isn't to say that they don't sleep, however, and the maid's lullabies often lulled them into a sleepy state. Often it was unintentional, considering they'd ask her sometimes in the middle of the night, when they are meant to be most active. This time it was not. If they fell asleep then she'd probably have a few more hours in which they could (hopefully) calm down. Or she'd have to try and hold them back to cool off again in a few hours.

She felt bad in a way, having manipulated them in a way for them to sleep. So, as she left the room, she decided to try to make it up to them later in the best way that she could.

It was a lovely sight that she had to leave behind, with the boys resting on each other as they slept. That said, it wasn't as peaceful as it looked with Ayato's snoring. Even as she shut the door and continued down the hall to do other tasks, it never relented.

Barely ten minutes later, they were all on their feet.

"Come little children,

I'll take thee away

into a land of enchantment."

There was no land of enchantment, not in this prison of ground, sea and sky. Not in this cell where they were born and raised. Not while their father continued to mess with anyone whenever he saw fit.

He'd made the mistake, really; he'd brought this whole thing upon himself. If he wanted death so badly, then they saw it fit to deliver. After all, it's what he wanted, no? Their father had seen how much they cared for and appreciated the maid, and took it upon himself to injure her on a whim. To see how they'd all react as he looked upon them like one would an insect.

No matter what they'd had to endure at his hands, they had never directly lashed out upon him before. After all, he was anything but forgiving. Breaking a vase landed you in the middle of the ocean, so the risks were definitely quite high, to say the least. But that didn't bother them. At least not in this moment of white-hot rage that disallowed them from thinking properly.

Besides, if they were to die then there wouldn't be reason to harm her anymore, would there?

It was unlikely that they'd die, considering that their purpose had not yet been fulfilled. However it brought some twisted sense of comfort to them, so that they could fight their all with no regrets.

"Come little children,

the time's come to play

here in my garden of shadows."

[doctorreids]

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER TWO - cardigan 

previous chapter | next chapter  

summary: reader reflects upon her first time with spencer, upon the loss of her father and whether or not she did enough to save their relationship. 

warnings: death/loss of a loved one.

word count: 2,494

“sequinned smile, black lipstick, sensual politics. when you are young they assume you know nothing.”

This case hit the team particularly hard. Child abductions could either end with a happy ending or… This one was not one of those times. She was sure Reid had a statistic but they were all too exhausted to even keep their eyes open on the jet. The air was somber and tense - everyone feeling all too guilty to indulge in any kind of conversation.

By the time the plane had landed, none of them had slept and it was completely dark outside. She knew she needed a drink and a strong one at that. Reid had sat by her the entire flight home, she noticed how he could barely focus on his book in front of him, his shoulders completely tense. The 20,000 words per minute was slashed to 10 minutes. She hated yet understood that they all felt guilty, but there was always a special sadness in her when Reid was upset. He was the one negotiating, all that weight fell on his shoulders and she just wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay.

They all filtered into the office, Reid following sluggishly behind her. This was routine now, having only been at the bureau for just shy of a year, she had learnt how everyone took their coffee or tea, what time they all headed home with Hotch and Reid being the last out of the doors. She’d become accustomed to joining them in burning the late-night oil.

Reid didn’t even spare a glance at the kitchen as he sat down at his desk, a frown etched onto his face. She just wanted him to smile.

Making his coffee was second nature to her now; she knew exactly how much sugar he took depending on how he was feeling. Smiling to herself, she placed his mug on his desk and as he glanced up she walked back to her own desk to start working on the post-case paperwork and other cases she’d been asked to consult on.

She didn’t see it but he smiled. Only slightly but he did.

A few hours passed when she was finishing up her last file when a note was dropped onto her desk as Reid walked past her desk.

'Would you like to get a drink at Dan’s tonight? - S’

Grinning, she packed up all her files into her go-bag, grabbed her coffee cup and jacket meeting him in the kitchen. Silent words were exchanged as they met each other’s eyes, walking in sync towards the elevator.

“Didn’t take you for a Dan’s person, pretty boy.”

He blushed at the nickname, she rarely used it. “I-i just thought you could use a bit of respite is all.”

“We both could.” She giggled, nudging him with her shoulder. “You barely read your book on the way home and you couldn’t concentrate on your files, is everything okay?

She didn’t want to push him into talking to her, he would talk when he felt comfortable. However, his silence after her question and his eyes trained on the pavement made her nervous.

“N-not that you have to tell me! I just worry about you.”

His head snaps up. He meets her eyes with a slight smile.

“All I know is that I’m okay when I’m with you.”

After nursing a few drinks between them, despite both of them knowing they were lightweights, they stumbled out of Dan’s and into a cool January night. Pressed up against a streetlight, she grabbed onto the lapels of his suit jacket.

They’d spent the night talking about the case. How much she saw herself in the kids that were abducted. How he felt as though he had let everyone down. Her heart broke at his vulnerability.

Their noses were so close, she could feel his hot breath fan across her face; the smell of whiskey and wine mixed together. On a cold, winter night, they were each other’s warmth. Taking him in under the dim, amber streetlight she traced his features as if it was the last time she would ever see him, ever hold him, ever be this close to him.

His hair was short yet long, he was growing it out. She liked it either way. She’d have him anyway just as long as he was hers.

His eyes bore into hers, occasionally flickering down to her lips, filled with the same yearning and desperation she felt herself filled with.

His lips. She watched as he swiped his tongue across them. Suddenly she was sixteen again at homecoming waiting for that first perfect kiss.

In his embrace, she felt whole. No feeling of loneliness nor was this just pure lust. That underlying promise of something more made her stomach sink. She tried to figure out what was going on in his head.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She laughed.

They pulled back from a moment, the intimacy of their embrace broken.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded.

Their lips connected and winter disappeared. It was sweet, his lips soft against hers. Her hand rested on the nape of his neck, his on her hips pulling her into him. Moving together, they were intoxicated by each other. She could now taste the whiskey on his tongue, each of her senses was consumed with Spencer. Just Spencer. Running her hands through his hair, she doesn’t want to let go.

Their lips parted, the cold breeze cut between them. Giddy smiles graced before their faces as he brushed her hair out of her face. A mutual understanding that they need each other, unspoken they know how much they do. She’d never needed someone as much as she needed him.

She tries to calm her breathing, her heart beating so fast it might burst out of her chest, as they walk wrapped in each other back to his apartment. His hand rests on her hip, rubbing small circles into it as they walk home. She had never seen him as brave as he was tonight.

Yet nervousness surrounded them both. They were so young, they knew so little but so much about the other.

She wanted everything.

“when i felt like an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favourite.”

The note he wrote all that time ago is tattered now and she toys with it. She’s kept all of the notes he’s passed her since her first day at the Bureau. She knew that he would profile her, it’s why he left the notes.

She knew that he understood that she sometimes needed a reason to smile, that he wanted to make her laugh and to make their working days just that little bit easier.

She wonders if he ever kept her responses.

The warmth of his cardigans that she used to wrap around herself when they queued up a new documentary on Netflix or when they watched an episode of Doctor Who together always reminded her of the warmth between them that first night they shared together.

Curling up further in her leather armchair, she tries to recall his touch. Trying to remember how his hands felt as they brushed her inner thighs, on the small of her back, or the place where she needed them most. She can’t remember where he used to hold her but she remembers how it made her feel.

Even on her worst days, the days were the grief, frustration and sadness were all too much, his embrace made her feel as though he was the sun; the centre to her universe and she was a whole galaxy of stars passing through. Old wounds healed and winter turned to spring in his arms.

But even that feeling has started to fade as his eyes no longer look at her as though she lightens up the night sky, now they just look through her.

It’s hard for her to pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong. Maybe they just left their rose-coloured glasses on for too long to avoid the reality that everything was collapsing around them.

The pain she held in heart, all the times she felt used or abandoned, became non-existent in his presence. The pure happiness he brought her she finds hard to describe; he reminded her of hot chocolate on an autumn night, but he also reminded her of the hot sun beating down on your back as you lie on the beach with nothing but the sound of gentle waves to keep you company.

She wonders if she ever brought him the same happiness he did for her?

It keeps her up at night. All the questions. What did she do right? What did she do wrong? Can it be fixed? But she reminds herself that it’s been months, if fate wanted them together she’d still be waking up on the other side of town to the smell of coffee and Beethoven.

“you drew stars around all my scars, but now i’m bleeding.”

The monitor flatlined, piercing through the silence of the blisteringly white, pristine hospital room.

She knew that she would lose him eventually. Just not like this.

This was her father - the one constant in her life since she lost her mother. He was her closest friend, confidant and companion. He taught everything she knows about life, love and good food. She needed more time. She was only young, she even believed their assumptions that she knew nothing and this was proof.

Finally, she allowed herself to weep. Hopeless tears rolled down her cheeks as Spencer wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. Her head pressed against where his heart lay in his chest. Even his heartbeat couldn’t calm her down.

Too weak to carry herself, the doctor’s words to her barely registered to her. All she knew was that it wasn’t painful, he didn’t suffer. Her father was finally at peace.

That provided her no comfort in that moment.

She can’t recall the week leading up to the funeral. Every day felt as though she was outside of herself, watching everything else happen. She felt numb, frozen in one place, and unable to move. People tackle grief in different ways, she knows the stages, yet she never felt herself go through any of them. She was completely and utterly disembodied by grief.

She listened to the kind words at the wake, at the funeral. She tried to remember them all but all she could think about was Spencer’s hand in hers. His gentle squeezes brought her back down to earth, out of the turmoil in her mind.

She thinks about how her Dad told him to take care of her. She remembers overhearing a conversation about blessings but she let that go a long time ago, they were too young for marriage her father would always joke.

She knew he was trying to be there for her as much as he could be, he couldn’t take time off of work to provide her with the support she needed. All he could do was call, check in as often as he could. The distance only made her heart shatter more and more. He didn’t urge her to talk about how she was feeling, he knew it would come in time but she all she wanted was that embrace. She wanted to feel his hands lightly trace her skin, the feeling alone mended the scars on her heart. But he wasn’t there.

“i knew you, tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy.”

She didn’t blame him for not being there. Work was as demanding as ever, that was the excuse time and time again. Then again, they were both not ones for sharing their feelings - she knew that he agreed with her when it came to spilling their souls. Sometimes it felt as though they were burdening each other with the weight they both held on their shoulders. Despite all the instances where they told each other that they would be there for it all, they still held back.

She didn’t know how to trust him with it.

He didn’t know how to express how scared he really was.

Their love was reminiscent of first love; full of childlike wonder, hope, and open to the world and its seasons.

But everyone grows up. Everyone is faced with the reality of life. Things come to end, there is suffering and there is happiness - everyone, whether you believe it or not, is in the hands of fate.

She laughed at the thought of Spencer believing in fate, he was a man of science after all. She believed that it was fate that they met that day, that they fell in love. She always will but she wonders if it was fate that pulled them apart or just a set of cruel circumstances and their fears of vulnerability.

The loss of her father impacted her in ways she struggled to comprehend herself. Her heart started to come apart that day, the cracks starting to show.

She loved her father, she was grateful for all he did. Her mother passed when she was 7 and her father never faltered. He taught her all she needed to know about love, about who to love, and who to let go. She didn’t know who to be without him. She had so much more to share with him.

She needed Spencer there and he wasn’t. Somedays he was so quiet she wondered if he had left his or her apartment. He never made her a cup of tea when the jet landed late, he never left her any notes, he never touched her anymore.

She tried to convince herself that she had done all that she could to try and save the sinking ship that was their relationship; cooking his favourite meals, bookshop dates, movie dates, long walks whenever they could. She tried talking to him, to try and get him to tell her how he felt but he shut it down. She knew it was easy to point fingers and place the blame on him for the end of their relationship but it’s not that simple. Maybe she stopped paying attention to everything he said, maybe she was too closed off, maybe she missed the signs. Maybe she clung onto him too much or maybe she left him alone too often.

For now, the loss is too much. From her father to her love, it crushes her. Each glass of wine provides her with the liquid courage to press that call button. But each time she reaches for it, she retracts and her nerves kick in.

Letting go is easier said than done, but all she needs right at this very moment is his embrace. Maybe just one more glass. Maybe then she’d call and he’d come back to her.