#he rather feel normal than be pitied or even feared

[chloesimaginationthings]

Jeremy Fitzgerald’s reaction to FNAF scooped Michael

[mistywaves98]

hi!! could u maybe write for smth abt yandere scaramouche liking to humiliate and degrade reader infront of the other harbingers?

no worries if u wouldn't like to write for this! just a suggestion :3

✧･ﾟ:* ->A/N: Mean scara supremacyyy 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

✧･ﾟ:* ->Harbinger! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Humiliation, Why is it so longg, Dirty talk, Degradation, Collaring/Leash, Exhibitionism, Forced company is implied, Hair Pulling, I think that's everything!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

A pet, that's all you were ever since you came here. A pet whose only purpose was to sit and look pretty beside the The Balladeer like some sort of trophy. And maybe, if he was bored enough, he would use you for...'entertainment'...

Your head was held low as the judgemental eyes of the Harbingers surrounding the table pierced through your soul. Some were of slight pity while other's looked amused and almost seemed to be mocking your unfortunate state. All their gazes felt even colder against your skin than the biting chill in the room. The slightest breeze that wafted against your skin had you shuddering, wishing you could be clothed in those warm coats the others wore. But no, you weren't deserving of such luxuries.

Instead, you were to sit on the freezing, marble floor next to his chair, wearing nothing but the skimpiest lingerie you've probably ever laid eyes on. Thin laces and straps dug into your delicate skin and you were sure that there'd be marks when you removed it later. The only things that really 'covered' your body were the purple thigh high stockings held up by the garter belt fastened around your waist. To top it all off, a pretty indigo collar inscribed with the words 'Scaramouche's Property' adorned your neck. One end of the leash was attached to the front, while the other was held in his hand.

Any normal person wouldn't dare to wear such scandalous outfits in front people with such status, but it's not like you had a choice. You curled up, trying to make yourself as small as possible as the meeting went on. It felt like hours and with every second that passed, you could feel yourself getting more miserable. At one point you wondered if you might catch frostbite.

Scaramouche was getting rather impatient too and it was apparent with the way he fidgeted with the leash, swaying it aimlessly and occasionally giving it a sharp tug which made your body fall forward slightly with a quiet whimper as the leather tightened around your neck, earning a snicker from him as he gazed down at your pathetic form from above. At one point your eyes connected with his and a shiver of dread ran down your body as you saw the way his violet irises bore into your own. Something dark was swirling around in them and your fears were only confirmed when he suddenly yanked your body up by the leash, making you choke from the sudden grip of the collar around your neck as you stumbled to your feet.

Those who were talking immediately went silent at this display, their eyebrows raised with amusement as they watched Scaramouche grab your face with his free hand to pull you down to his level. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered in a sultry tone that bled with malevolence,"I'm going to die of boredom if I have to listen to another word that comes out of the mouths of these insufferable idiots I call my colleagues. Why don't we spice things up a bit, hm?" Your body tensed as his warm muscle darted out to trace the shell of your ear, leaving no doubt as to what he was implying.

The option to protest was never there as within moments you were pinned to the conference table, the frigid surface meeting your stomach and cheeks, which were rapidly warming with embarrassment. You could feel the intrigued stares, watching with anticipation for what was to come. Unlike you, Scaramouche couldn't care less about what everyone else thought of this shameless sight as his hand on your face moved to teasingly cup your breast, giving it a squeeze before going down to trace the arch of your back till it eventually settled on your ass that was barely covered by the lacey panties of the lingerie set.

Your eyes widened and you squeaked in surprise from the harsh slap he suddenly gave the soft flesh, making it redden instantly from the impact. The colour on your cheeks darkened, even more so when he laughed sinisterly behind you. He leaned forward, pressing his body against yours, the fur of his coat tickling your face as he whispered in a harsh tone,"Oh? It seems like my little slut is enjoying this, are you not? Heh, I wouldn't expect anything less. I bet you want me to take you right here in front of everyone so that they can see your face contort like a whore from pleasure as I fuck you, hm?" Your silence only irritated him and his hand holding the leash dropped it and reached up to grip a fistful of your hair, pulling it back as his eyes narrowed impatiently,"Come on, speak up. Answer me using the same voice that screams my name whenever I rail your brains out." "...No, I wouldn't like th—" Your words are abruptly cut off when he shoves two fingers so deep into your mouth that they hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water as you gag around them. "Shut your fucking mouth and spare me your nonsense, you cock-sucking bitch. I'll make you love it, I'll make you addicted to the feeling of my cock penetrating those tight walls of yours."

The two digits remained in your wet cavern, pressing down on your tongue as his other hand hooked its fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down to reveal your glistening cunt. The sight made him smile as he pulled back slightly, letting anyone nearby oogle at whatever they could see. He didn't mind showing off your body to others, rather, it thrilled him in many ways. The knowledge that people could look as much as they want, but not being able to lay a finger on his pet, satisfied his possessive desires and the fact you found it both embarrassing and indecent just made him want to do it more to humiliate you to the fullest.

"Suck." Scaramouche's raspy voice commanded as he pumped his slender digits in and out of your mouth, leaving you no choice but to obey. Drool pooled in the corners of your lips, eventually running down your chin and dripping onto the table as you reluctantly closed your pretty lips around his fingers. He felt pleased as he felt your tongue curling around them, the same way it did when he made you suck him off after a hard day.

While he kept your mouth busy with one hand, the other trailed up your slit, collecting your slick on his index and middle before holding it up for you and the rest of the table to see. Everyone's eyes were immediately glued to the way your essence dripped off his fingers like honey and that did nothing to ease your embarrassment. "Look at that, the arousal of a whore who gets turned on by her master showing her off." His enjoyment was evident in the shit-esting grin he gave you as he said that.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand away from your mouth, allowing you to breathe through it as he used both of them to grip your hips, lifting them slightly as he shifted himself between your legs. Once you were in his desired position, he shrugged off his obstructive coat before beginning to unbuckle his belt. As he did, he got close to your ear once again as he spoke in a tone full of evil intent,"You're so wet right now I don't think I even need to prepare your hole. So let's skip to the best part, shall we?" Once he had managed to pull down his pants and boxers just enough to let his aching cock free, he lined himself up with your pussy.

You craned your head to look back at him, eyes begging him to not go this far, but he only smirked at you in return. With no warning, Scaramouche thrusted forward, stuffing you to the brim with his girthy length as you hissed at the stretch. No matter how many times he fucked you, your pussy always seemed to remain as tight as a virgin's. He groaned in bliss as he felt your walls deliciously squeezing his cock, it was a feeling he could never get enough of. His hands found purchase on the fat of your hips, gripping the flesh so hard there'd surely be bruises afterwards.

Without wasting any more time, he began to thrust into you, picking up the pace quickly, making made sure to hit as deep as he possibly could. You bit your lip, trying to conceal the lewd moans you wanted to let out. Scaramouche didn't like that though and a guttural groan was elicited from your mouth as it fell open when his fingers grabbed a clump of your hair, yanking your head back harshly. It felt like he was going to rip your locks out of your scalp and tears welled up in the corners of your eyes from the pain. However, it didn't stop moans and whines from spilling past your parted lips as the pain mixed with the pleasure of his cock head kissing your cervix with every jerk of his hips.

He cackled at the sight before him, tightening his grip as he spoke,"That's right! Don't hold back those slutty moans, let everyone hear how good I'm fucking this needy cunt of yours!" He made sure to keep your head pulled back so all the Harbingers could get an eyefull of your pathetic state, completely at his mercy. It wasn't long before you could feel an orgasm building up and it made you desperate, desperate for more,"Please! Mnngh— more! Nghh! G-give me more, master!" Scaramouche's eyes lit up at the sound of your begging and the hand in your hair finally let go, giving you momentary relief before grasping the end of the leash and giving it a hard tug which made you cry out and arch your back instinctively. He continued to maintain his grip on the leash, using it as leverage while he was pounding you,"Yes, Good girl...keep begging for master's cock to keep filling this pussy over and over."

The speed of his thrusts never faltered, the sound of skin slapping as well as your moans and his grunts filled the room. You were beginning to get close and it was apparent in the way your noises heightened in pitch and the way your pussy convulsed around his cock. Scaramouche took this as a sign to increase his pace, determined to make you squirt all over him right in front of everyone in the room. The incessant penetration was making your head spin, mind turning to mush with every time he grazed that one spot that made you see stars. The way his breathing grew more laboured as his thrusts became more animalistic signalled that he was getting close too.

The knot in your stomach tightened, you were on the edge. "Go on, cum for me. Let everyone see what a slut you are, creaming all over my cock." You didn't need to be told twice. Your body tensed and with a moan of ecstasy, you came, gushing all over his cock and creating a wet ring around the base. He groaned in approval and it seemed that was enough to send him over the edge too as moments later he finally spilled himself inside you, creating lewd squelching noises as he fucked you through both of your highs. Your releases mixed together in a puddle on the floor, creating a filthy mess that neither of you cared about.

Eventually, he finally slowed down till he stopped altogether. The both of you lay there for a few moments, panting heavily. All eyes were on you, drinking in your fucked out face as you tried to make sense of anything again. Scaramouche recovered much quicker than you though and pulled out slowly, relishing the sight of his cock leaving your gaping hole before wiping the mess on your thigh. After tucking himself away in his pants, he picked up the nearly- forgotten coat and draped it over your tired form. He used the leash to pull you up so he could carry you in his arms, bridal style.

Then he turned around and began exiting the room, leaving everyone in slight disbelief as he spoke in a monotonous voice,"Continue the meeting without me, I have more important things to take care of right now." Without saying much else, he left the room while holding you to his chest, not even bothering about the mess the both of you made.

[pathetichimbos]

He's truly so handsome and beautiful in his own way, he's so tall and strong and his hair is so messy yet so mesmerizing to look at and the way he just does anything is worth watching

Thomas is a very handsome man, and there's not a single doubt in my mind that he didn't have such a severe skin disease and clear neurodivergency in such a small, judgmental town, he would've easily found someone and settled down quickly.

He's tall, with thick, curly hair, strong arms and a wide build set, he's practically begging to be wifed up, but in classic southern culture, anything different is shamed and shunned.

To them, it didn't matter that he was just a kid born with a bit (well, a lot) of bad luck, he was diseased and contagious.

Parents warned their children not to get too close, people covered their faces if he breathed a little too hard, and no one ever treated him like a normal child.

There was more than one instance where young Tommy would go to the store with Luda Mae when she managed to scrape enough cash together to get something small, and everyone would drop what they were doing to give him odd glances and confused stares.

Thomas has never been confrontational, so he hides quietly behind his mother's dress, tiny hands pulling at the old, stained fabric to hide his face.

Of course, his mother is a lot more argumentative, noticing rather quickly how uncomfortable everyone was making her precious baby feel.

"You really think he can help you find your groceries or you just like starin' at little boys?" She asks loudly, staring down a younger gentleman with a warning glare in her eyes.

"What!? No-- I--" The man stumbles over his words, trying to back-track and explain himself.

"Come on, Tommy," Luda Mae grabs her sons hand, pulling him down the aisle, "Let's get away from this pervert."

"I'm not a pervert!" The young man calls back, letting out a sigh in defeat and going back to his shopping.

Thomas can't help but smile, stifling a chuckle as he follows behind quickly.

...That's how it always went when he was a kid. Of course, and unfortunately, things changed as he got older, and not for the better.

He shot up like a weed, his shoulders got wide, and he got big.

He was no longer a strange, deformed kid hiding behind his mother's dress, earning pitiful looks and sympathetic head shakes, he was dangerous, and a monster.

Suddenly the town he grew up in wasn't as kind (not that it was all that kind in the first place), and people that once spared him a rare, feel-sorry smile wouldn't give him a second look, quickly leaving the room in unjustified fear.

He was even more shunned than before, ridiculed by the men he worked with and fearfully avoided by any woman that might catch a glimpse of him.

He could hear people talk about him in rooms he walked past, laughing loudly as they verbally berated him behind his back, most of them too afraid to actually say anything to his face.

He didn't understand why they were so scared. He had never hurt anyone, not so much as raising a fist in anger, but he was treated as he was just some dangerous freak who could snap at anytime.

Years of abuse and mistreatment falls on his shoulders, but he never hurts a soul. He puts up and shuts up, keeping to himself and trying not to cry himself to sleep most nights.

Only when the factory shuts down and he has to face that his entire life as he knows it is over does he finally snap, and in my opinion, it was well deserved.

But, that's another topic for another post. I'll go ahead and end my drabble rant here. Thanks for sending in the ask love <3

[kogji]

Kazuma Sohma; The father

It isn't common to see a caring parent in manga/manhwa. Usually the characters deal with their problems alone and their parents are either dead, absent or abusive. That's why Kazuma Sohma from the Fruit Basket manga was a very nice surprise for me.

He is the grandson of the previous cat, and he feels guilty for not taking a cooky from his caged grandpa for fear of getting cursed. He regularly visits the grave of his grandfather, who isn't even allowed to be buried in the Sohma cemetery. When Kyo loses his mother, he takes him in as an opportunity to repent.

Kazuma is a calm, humble, and wise person. He feels responsible not only for Kyo, but for the rest of the zodiac children who are being discriminated against and abused. Unlike Kyo's father who sees him as a monster and his mother who doesn't let him leave the house, Kazuma treats him like a normal child, introduces Kyo to the world around him, spends quality time with him, and isn't afraid to hug him. He teaches him karate as a mean to control his anger and channelize it. Soon Kyo learns that he can trust this man and knows that if he runs to him there are arms open to embrace him. He wishes that kazuma could be his father.

One of the things I love about Kazuma is that he doesn't just see Kyo as a victim and believes that he needs to change, stop denying his true self and running away from it. He wants Kyo to stop blaming Yuki, and believes that one day he will be loved and respected but he should earn it first.

Even when he realizes Tohru's feelings for Kyo, he worries that it is nothing but pity because he knows that the reason his grandmother married the cursed, caged cat was just pity. He would rather Kyo be alone than be loved at any cost.

He enjoys pulling Kyo's leg and deliberately says things to provoke him. He no longer hugs the teeanage Kyo, but he always caresses his head. His affections are so obvious and unfailing that others also notice the genuineness of his paternal feelings. He is a strict instructor though.

He considers Kyo as a troublesome child who should wait patiently for him to grow up and mature. He allows Kyo to fall and rise from the bottom and does not pressure him. His acceptance and patience despite his own discomforts and fears for his son's future is admirable. He suffers from Kyo's bitterness, smiles and gets over it.

Even though he knows that his decision to reveal Kyo's true form to Tohru could ruin his relationship with him forever, he accepts the risk of being hated for Kyo's sake. He knows that if Kyo cannot accept his true form and understand that he can be loved even in his monstrous form, he will never be able to change.

When he attends the parent-teacher meeting, he is different from other parents. Although he has his own doubts and worries, he jokes that he cannot see his son as an employee or a student and only asks Kyo to inform him of his decision.

Being clumsy at home after raising a son fo r a decade is pretty funny. He doesn't even know how to make tea and always burns the fish. For a boy who grew up with burnt fish, Kyo turned out to be a very good kid.

[madeinparadis]

LONG ENOUGH | DAVIN MCDERBY

pairing: davin mcderby × reader

cw: friends to lovers, smut, brief pining & fear of rejection if you squint. MDNI

word count: 2.8k

masterlist: all characters

a/n: this is an improved version of the fic i posted on ao3, so it's a bit longer than the og, but in both i disregarded the whole deadbeat dad situation davin had going on in the movie (whoops). still, this is definitely lighter and easier going than my previous works, even if it's not my favourite so far.

Davin had already grown used to people– mostly bitter old ones– telling him what he did or didn't feel, how he should or shouldn't act, and so on. He was used to it. So why did it aggravate him so much to hear his roommate force his own, very biased and sour, opinion down his throat?

"I'm telling you, lad, all chicks are the same," his roommate, Pat, for whom he had been gradually growing a silent dislike, interrupted him again. "you'll get over her by the time summer's done! Stop being so sappy!"

Oh, that was it. He was done for.

"How about you shut up, eh? You don't even know her!" the volume of Davin's voice rose unconsciously. "All you do is sit there and complain about your failed attempts at shagging girls you meet at house parties! Have you ever thought, for a second, that maybe I actually have a life?" he completed, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks as the anger made the blood in his face pulse with might.

Pat was left speechless for a good minute. He looked flabbergasted, clearly not having expected such a reaction from the ever-so-nonchalant Davin he always joked around with. A wave of embarrassment quickly hit him at the realisation that he had crossed a big line, but pride was even quicker to take over.

"If I'm such a pitiful bastard, why don't you do us a favour and leave then!" Pat bit back, his tone loaded with the grudge he was holding against his roommate, and it made Davin just as impulsive with his reply.

"I just might, you asshole!" he yelled, quickly slamming the door before storming out of the apartment complex perplexed. Did he go that far for a girl? For you, that is?

He had to see you now. Realisation hit him like a truck. He liked you, but not just like any other– he was falling for you, hard enough to the point where no one could tell him otherwise– because he knew you were worth the hassle, and anyone who had the fortune of seeing you should feel the same as well. Besides, he needed a place to crash now.

You woke up from your accidental nap, suddenly hearing a sound coming from your window, scared that someone might be trying to break into the seemingly empty house. You quickly got up from your desk, your temple slightly red from where your head rested against the wood, only to be met with a very familiar face.

"Davin? What the fuck are you doing here?" you whispered loudly, your brows furrowed in confusion as you opened the window for him to come into the room.

"Sorry, sorry, I know it's late..." he began explaining, holding his hands up in the air. "But I'm kinda homeless right now–" he continued, before being interrupted abruptly by an even more shocked you.

"What do you mean you're homeless, Davin?! What'd you do this time?"

Unbelievable, you thought. Homeless? You knew that Davin had a rather troublesome habit of getting up to no good, but him becoming homeless in the middle of the summer was not a possibility you had fathomed.

Davin sat on the bed, following after you. "I fought with my roommate, Pat. He told me to leave, so I did."

Your expression softened as you listened to his explanation. "What did you guys fight over, anyway?" you questioned him, but his reply was rather dull.

"Oh, just normal stuff, you know..."

You were left puzzled, but decided to let him be. "Alright, I won't pry. Let me get you a towel for you to take a shower– you are not sleeping in my room all sweaty."

The walk downstairs was rather quiet. You went to the laundry room by yourself, hoping to find one of your housemates to check if you could, in fact, let Davin crash. You knew the room was yours, but you still wanted to be sure. Luckily, on your way back upstairs, you bumped into your housemate Linda, who reassured you and told you it was completely fine to let your 'friend' stay over, especially since the other two girls were going to be out and about until tomorrow morning.

You hesitated before opening the door, thinking about your conversation with Davin. You said you wouldn't pry, but shouldn't you? He acted as if he were fine, but you could tell there was a hidden distress in his tone. Nonetheless, it was getting late, and he needed to shower before going to bed; how you two would manage your sleeping area was a problem for later. You turned the doorknob gently, letting yourself in again, and... shit.

Davin had fallen asleep already. Oh well, you'd just change the sheets tomorrow; the true issue was the fact that he slept like a rock, so your space would be... limited, to say the least.

You got into bed yourself, careful not to wake him up, and you noticed something– the cool facade that was once held in his face melted sometime during his sleep, being replaced now by a slightly mellow yet calm expression.

Cute, you thought, letting your eyes fall shut and feeling a dreamless slumber wash over you.

The clock read 4:52 the moment you woke up. Your... bedmate, however, was still fast asleep, his right arm resting on your torso comfortably as he slept peacefully, quiet snores leaving his soft pink lips every once in a while. Who were you to push him away? It's not like you wanted to in the first place.

You couldn't help but admire the scene in front of you. Saying Davin was handsome, in your case, would be an understatement– you were completely smitten with the reckless young man, even though you'd take that statement with you to the grave. Looking won't hurt, though, you thought to yourself. And, oh boy, did you look.

His hair was slightly ruffled from sleep, the moonlight illuminating the orange strands that tickled your neck whenever your chest rose up full of oxygen. His face was relaxed and half illuminated by the twilight, his mouth slightly agape while he breathed in and out, soft snores reverberating in the room.

Your fingers were lightly caressing his hair, and his body rested on yours– everything about this moment was so serene that you wish you could stretch it out for as long as possible. Perhaps in your dreams you would have. Sleep was coming to you again, whisking you away from this sweet moment- you could almost taste the metaphorical honey on your tongue as you drifted off for the second time, just before sunrise.

The morning went by, and the afternoon was nearing. Davin finally arose from his deep slumber and quickly took notice of the predicament you were both in– limbs completely tangled, his face lodged in the crook of your neck, and his right arm draped over your waist protectively. This would be lovely if it weren't one thing... You two were not together, and he was pretty positive that you did not want to change that situation.

As if this kettle of fish couldn't get any worse for him, you started to slowly open your eyes and shift around, tangling your legs even further. "Hey, so could you, y'know..." he muttered, visibly uncomfortable now, not knowing what to do.

"What..?" you were still sleepy, confused at what he was hinting at, until you felt his body on yours. "Oh, shit!" your cheeks turned bright red, and you untangled your legs from Davin's in record time, even though you weren't really bothered by it to begin with. The two of you were both lying on your backs now, the ceiling fan suddenly becoming incredibly interesting.

As awkward as it was, this moment forced a minute of reflection for you both.

During the past few weeks you had spent with your friends here in Montauk, there hasn't been a day where Davin hasn't crossed your mind at least once since you met him in the beginning of your stay. He was unbelievably handsome in your eyes, and you had caught yourself getting lost in his eyes more often than you'd like to admit.

But he was also trouble. It was clear to you after just a few minutes of chatting with him at the bar– that boy was here to live almost everyday like it was the last, and you couldn't keep up with that, no way. Yet you couldn't stay away, and he knew it as much as you. You always ended up finding each other unintentionally, and would then spend the rest of the day or night together. You went around sharing drinks at the bar, walking side by side on the beach, cracking jokes and having long talks in his car as he gave you a ride back home, sometimes sharing a kiss here and there after having a bit too much alcohol. However, you never went below the tip of the iceberg, that was the unspoken rule– keep it at surface level, never deeper than that.

You stopped your racing thoughts, reaching a conclusion– this, whatever it was, was unbearable. Fuck the unspoken agreements and tensions, you had to say something or you'd go mental.

"Do you like me, Davin?" you finally broke the silence with your question.

"What?" he looked at you confused.

"Do you like me?"

Davin froze completely. For someone who quite literally went homeless for a whole night defending his feelings for you, he sure as hell couldn't talk above them like that was the case, cowardice taking over his senses. But no, he couldn't chicken out– not now. He came to your place last night to tell you that he couldn't keep this game of rat and mouse anymore; he had to do something.

So his solution was to roll on top of you and slam his lips on yours impulsively, hoping that the passion in his actions would convey the answer to your question. You gasped before kissing him back, surprised that you make Davin go away with your inquiring. So much for keeping things at surface level.

The hands that were once resting near your head were now wandering lower and lower, getting closer to your hips and upper thighs. Before they went any further, you guided Davin's face gently with your hands, making his eyes meet yours.

"What are we?" It was always you and your questions.

"I dunno, what do you want us to be?"

Smartass, you thought.

"Don't dodge the question," you retorted.

"Well, do you want us to be together? Y'know, dating and all," he looked serious for once, which surprised you for a moment.

"I do," you smiled at him, bringing his face close and kissing him feverishly, allowing him to get back to his ministrations.

Davin's hands roamed around your body as he explored you, quickly discarding your top, something he thought about doing rather often. You laughed a little as he ghosted over your ribs, touching your ticklish spot before you intervened.

"I think you have way too many clothes on, don't you?" you said playfully, which earned a playful laugh from him– it was true, so he let you drag his white t-shirt off his torso and undo his belt for him. Davin took a moment to admire your focus, and the smile you gave him once you were done– a tender nature for the carnal act you two were about to get into.

His touch made you feel feverish, lust taking over your brain and dictating your words and movements. Your hips buckled against his thigh as you chased some form of friction, low whines coming out of your mouth like a plea for action– one which Davin did not ignore, smirking at your antics before sliding your bottoms off in a swift motion, revealing your bare cunt for him to observe. He took a moment to drink in the sight before his eyes until he couldn't suppress his urges any longer.

He lapped at your folds hungrily, savouring your arousal as he felt the tension in his own trousers increase, low moans escaping his throat and vibrating on your sensitive skin. You felt him drink you up like a starving man as he sloppily worked up your most sensitive spots, eliciting whines and pleas from you for more and more of what he was giving you.

With the eager efforts you received, it wasn't hard for you to feel as if you were drowning in pleasure, your high coming closer and closer. Even in a not very logical state, you were aware of your partner's own neediness, grinding his hips into the bed almost unconsciously, seeking someone form of release for his own aching, his subtle moans delivering vibrations to your clit every now and then. Observing his behaviour, you tugged at his hair, making him look at you just like you did earlier– that could easily become a habit for you.

"You can take your time later– just fuck me right now, please." you pleaded, feeling your own longing to be filled by him. The nod you received indicated that you were understood.

Davin was quick to get himself out of his trousers, throwing them somewhere on the floor, his boxers following soon after. His cock was finally out in display for you to see– girthy, flushed and leaking precum already. Noticing your fixed gaze, he looked up at you.

"Like what you see?" He asked, laughing as a way pretend that your admiration wasn't inflating his ego bit by bit.

"Yes." You confessed, no shame in your admission. After all, what was the sense in having shame at this point?

Smoothly, Davin dragged his cock against your folds, gathering up your slick before going inside you. The initial stretch you felt was pure bliss, ecstasy running through your veins with each inch that went deeper in your velvety walls. Your nails maimed his back, drawing crescent shapes on his shoulder blades while your whines and moans hit the bedroom walls and his ears.

"Fuck, you're tight," Davin couldn't help but groan in your ear. His thrusts were fast, aiming at the sensitive spot in your walls, riling you up as he chased his own pleasure.

"I'm so close– baby, please..." you whined incessantly, desperate for your release to come. You heard Davin say something along the lines of 'just a little more', which you barely registered, your mind foggy with pleasure.

You could feel his touches all over your body– his hands slithered along your hips, your waist, and stopped at the swell of your breasts while his lips kissed and suckled on the curve of your neck. You felt the assaults to your core getting sloppier, signaling that Davin was close. But before even saying a word, his hands moved over your breasts, one playing with your right nipple while the other lazily massaged your left boob. His thought-out actions caused whines to fall from your lips, your cunt clenching and dripping as you felt your climax right around the corner.

Suddenly, you felt the hand that was playing with your nipple travel down to your clit. He started drawing circles with his thumb on the bundle of nerves, and that was it for you– your orgasm washed over you like the strongest of waves, rocking you out of your senses, clouding your vision and tensioning all your muscles before relaxing you profoundly. You took a minute to come back to reality, whimpering as you felt Davin continue to thrust into your pussy with desperation, seeking his own orgasm.

It didn't feel like a long time before you heard a grunt coming from him, and he pulled out of you, painting your bare stomach and tits with his cum. He collapsed next to you, remaining silent as he watched you collect his release with your fingers before sucking on them, letting out an audible pop sound when you were done.

"You're amazing..." he muttered, in awe of the little show you had just put on for him.

"Only a little," you giggled, shifting yourself to hug his torso as you decompressed after the events of this morning. You pulled the bedsheets back over your bodies, ceasing the goosebumps that tickled your skin. Davin's heavy breaths were the only noise filling the room– there was a comfortable silence established, only to be broken by him;

"Took us long enough, eh?"

You both giggled at the honesty in his statement. It truly was a long wait, but definitely a worthy one.

[maislovebot]

Thinking about mirror sex with Atsushi..shdhdhfhsjfhshf🦋🦋

Imagine,, he’s been feeling rather insecure lately. Why? Well it’s the same as normal. He just hates everything about himself. There’s not a single thing about himself he can get by, perhaps besides the fact that he’s able to help others. But even then, he still struggles with overcoming his fears and just fighting everyone who stands in the way of everyone else’s safety. And as much as he loves being in a relationship with you, he can’t help but feel like he isn’t worth your time. You’re nothing short of perfect, and he’s just..him. He’s already not worth much in his eyes, and he feels like he just can’t match up to you. Pure and utter perfection.

He ultimately ends up demotivated from all these thoughts about not being worthy of your presence—let alone your full, undivided attention—and he ends up clinging to you even more than usual.

He’s always been a rather clingy partner, but something about this was different. Instead of clinging to you with a smile on his face, resting himself in the crook of your neck as you ruffled his hair, he seemed almost desperate. As if as soon as he let go you’d come to your senses and run away from him as fast as possible. As much as you tried to convince him you weren’t going anywhere, and that he was the man for you, he seemed doubtful. He knew you weren’t just with him out of pity—you’re too kind for that—, but he couldn’t help but worry that you’d realize how much better you could be doing and leave him (his words, not yours). Holding onto you for dear life almost 24/7 was the only way he could think of to retaliate against you leaving him.

You didn’t want Atsushi hurting like this. He was the man of your dreams, he was sweet, and as gentle as he was with you, he had a much more desperate side from that same coin. Anytime he got too desperate, he’d trap you beneath him or lay himself between your thighs until you teared up because he was overstimulating you so damn much. But he also had this sweet, gentle side to him that seemed alarmingly controlled considering how desperately horny he could get. Sometimes he would sit back and gently grab your hips, guiding you back and forth on his lap until you and him both came, and he’d kiss and nibble on your neck as you rested yourself above him and caught your breath. He was perfect for you, and you hated to see him think otherwise.

Therefore, your only option was obviously to ride him to oblivion in front of that grand mirror that was attached to his closet in his apartment at the agency. Thank God Kyouka was developing a habit of sleeping in Yosano’s bedroom and having sleepovers with her, Naomi, and Haruno because she wanted to bond with the other girls.

Atsushi was sitting up on that futon of his, looking head on at the mirror as you rode him, and anytime he’d try and look away you’d grab his chin and look directly into his eyes, and he’d inevitably surrender at your actions, looking back at himself in the mirror. You’d give him a flirty, almost teasing smile any time he’d try and look away from you or the mirror, and his legs would tremble at your actions. God you were gorgeous, and you felt..so good too.

“Hnng—you make me feel so good, baby. Only you, only you.”

You practically fed him these reassuring words the entire time, and every time he’d whimper and give you a desperate attempt to pull you close, gripping and pulling you down to him by your shoulders.

“Just sit back and enjoy—you’re doing great, Atsu.”

You’d keep riding him until he came, emptying inside of you, and the warm feeling made you grip him tighter. Atsushi felt like he was on cloud nine, but he couldn’t help but notice the fact you hadn’t cum. With those damn heightened senses, he must’ve been able to tell somehow.

This simply couldn’t slide! Even if this was supposed to be all about him, one of his favorite parts of sex was the fact he could get you to cum, and on the rare occasion, he could even get you to squirt, that typically took a lot of overstimulation though. The confidence boost that making you feel pleasure gave him was honestly better than cumming himself.

So of course, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you down onto the futon and getting you to cum for all your worth.

I wanna write a pt2 where you’re the one getting fucked stupid in front of a mirror brr

[notenoughfanficofthis]

Meant to be

Dark!Morpheus Soulmate AU

Trapped in this prison for almost 80 years, powerless, weak. He had lost so much already Jessemy, His kingdom, his relics what other torment awaits him. His captors endlessly asking for gifts or the illusion of safety in exchange for his freedom. The king wasn’t one to relent so he waited. Petty and pissed he waited and waited, and waited looking for an opportunity to escape this prison.

Normally he’ll remain still in silence waiting for his moment, but today was different. There was something in the air he couldn’t quite figure out. Sitting up abruptly when feeling a sudden pull, as if soemthing was calling out to him. For the first time in years the feeling of desperation overcame the feeling of pettiness leaving him restless wanting out of his cage impossibly more then ever pressing his hands against the glass. His sudden movements left the guards watching him on edge for this is the first time they’ve seen him in any sort lively. Nervous it made them but they knew he couldn’t get out, could he?

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room soemthing was happening. A child was born, it was an everyday occurrence for humans to have children but this one is more special than anyone had yet to realize as the first time in millennium a soulmate had been birthed as a gift to the Endless. It’s as if someone had taken pity on the god that’s been trapped and in fear of how it would effect him and the waking world when he gets out the cosmos blessed the king with his other half. Such pure magic that was meant to bring mortals together in early times of man it had never before done to an Endless.

Morpheus didn’t know at the time what it was but a sense of calm euphoria overcame him. A peace he hadn’t felt in a long time, though still trapped in his glass cage for the first time in years he felt his body relax and bask in the feeling of the pull that’s calling out to him. Something about this pull also began to stir something feral in him, something dark.

Years passed since the first feeling the pull call out to him and he hadn’t gotten any easier. Though, powerless he found himself able to dream -no not his own but one he’s put on spectator mode for quite sometime now. Watching , waiting as he always does. He often dreams of a young girl running about in the meadows blissfully unaware of the darkness of the world that had yet to seep into her. He’s gotten quite used to the young female, after a while you could say he had grown rather attached to the young lady having no choice but continuing to watch her grow over the years.

Soon the young female had grown into a beautiful women. She enticed him in every way possible as he became more and more restless watching this now grown women. He believed his presence to be hidden, unknowing to the female tired of being a spectator in her dreams for once he wanted to reach out and hold this women close to him. He’s uncertain as to why he’s grown so attached to the female, why are these feelings coming so natural for him. As if it isn’t odd of him to want a being a mortal at that as much as he craved the embrace of this women.

Only a year before his release was he finally able to make contact with her. Unbeknownst to morpheus the women had knew of his presence all of her life. Always seeing him from the corner of her eye in her dreams. Though, unfamiliar with the man she had never grown to fear him. If anything she wanted to step closer to this being, touch him. Of course she had found it strange that she’s dreaming of a being as beautiful as him that she’s sure she’s never met but something in her told her he meant no harm. In fear of approaching this beautiful being that he’ll disappear if she tried to make contact, so from a distance she admired him. Grown to love him even despite never having officially met or spoke with the man.

So imagine the feeling that overcame her when one day basking in the sun watching the life that surrounds the meadow in her dream she suddenly felt arms wrap around her from behind. Though unexpected for some reason she wasn’t scared if anything she leaned back furthering the embrace sighing in content. Somehow she knew it was the man who’s always been a spectator in her dreams. No words was shared between them at first merely just basking in the feeling of each other’s skin resting against one another. After a while of this peaceful silence she felt him moved not wanting him to go just yet to clutches onto his arms wanting to bask in this feeling a little longer sensing her desperation he chucked remaining still of his hold. The sound of his laughter left a strange sensation in the women a feeling that hadn’t lightened since.

Her dreams after went on like this for quite sometime never really getting a good look of the man who now spends every minute of her dreams laying in warm embrace. One day she grew too restless despite having spent so much time together they’ve shared little to no words with each other. The feeling that overwhelmed her in his presence became too much to bear. So, the next night she dreamt she was determined to get answers. Waiting for the feeling of the warm embrace that followed her dream lover she’s quick to escape the hold and get a good look of the man who’s been consuming every fiber of her being. To think he was beautiful was afar words did no justice to being able to see him up close. He looked startled not expecting her to change the of routine but he remained quiet waiting, watching for her next move. All words she had planned to say to the man caught in her throat. Something was overcame her and before she knew it she grabbed a hold of his face leaning forward not exactly knowing what she’s aiming for. He lets her do this both beginning to breathe heavier then before as they wait for the other to make the first move. Timid and scared she begins to second guess herself and back away but morpheus had waited to long for a moment such as thing as he lunged forward drowning in the warmth of her lips. Unable to help the urge to return the kiss and more she’s ripped out of her dream caused by the sound of her alarm blaring.

The abrupt departure left morpheus aching for more, yearning to be in the presence of this women in the waking world as he does in the dreaming. He’s decided, he needs to get out. Now. Becoming restless once again as the feeling of her lips torched him. He wanted more. He had figured long ago that the pull was the women he had been watching over the years. He wants to answer the call, to run to her side but as always he had to wait and wait and wait until he finally had his moment.

————————————————————————-

The alarm did no justice to calm her racing heart and thoughts as she had been ripped from what she believed to be the best dream ever.

But that’s all it is to her. A dream. Despite how strongly she felt for the man in her dreams time and time again she had to remind herself that he wasn’t real. What she’s feeling isn’t real. But no matter how many times she chants those words to herself everytime she wakes up she can’t help but still be consumed by the being that consumed her every waking and resting thoughts.

When he had first appeared to her in her dreams her waking life paid the price as she tried within all her power to go back and spend all of her time being with the man of her dreams. When it began to consume the life she had built in the waking world she had to pull herself together. Try to find comfort in actual real life people instead of yearning for a dream. Seeking out for an attachment for someone to spark that feeling he gave she had went through many lovers but none filling the hole that he left. Nevertheless she kept trying. She had too.

She spent her day as she does almost every day it seems now, where she’s just barely getting through life dragging her feet wherever she goes counting down the minutes she’ll be home and asleep. But, she noticed the next night that he hadn’t come to her. Not any night after that for a long time. Used to his presence all her life she can’t help but endlessly call out to him hoping he’d appear but he never did come back. She felt rejected and ashamed those feelings bleeding into her waking life. It wasn’t until the third day of the second month she decided it’s time to move on no matter how much her body aches for her dream man.

It took some time but she moved on found herself a love that reminds her of her dream man all while trying to fool herself that he wasn’t what she needed anymore. Found friends to keep her company filling up the deafening silence that filled her dreamless nights. She slowly began to come to terms with the fact that the comfort his presence brought her whole life is gone now. No longer waiting for him to return after a while she began to rest easy once again. The ache that grew in every fiber of his being since his absence became background noise a part of her every day life she barely notices anymore.

But, he hadn’t forgotten her nor did he abandon her. It’s as if someone is getting sick pleasure watching him receive further torment no longer able to enter her dreams after so long it left him once again lonely, angry. He had so much taken from him but this this he can not let slip from his grasp. Fortunately, after a century of this torture the seal had been broken. The rush of his freedom within grasp all he can think about is running to that pull.

————————-

During his escape she could feel his presence vibrating in every fiber of her being. The intensity of it was too much that it had woken her up startled from the sensation. Looking around the room to find everything still in place and significant other asleep beside them they sigh in relief letting herself relax into another slumber.

Soon, I’ll come for you, my love

Overwhelmed with emotions hearing the voice of the being she tried to move on from she once again shot up the bed startled. This time it had waken her lover who tried to bring her comfort with affection. Half asleep they lay her back down and hover over asking if everything is alright.

But, before she could answer looking around the room trying to get a grasp of safety she stills silver eyes watching in the dark corner behind her unsuspecting lover. It’s stare was of a predator everything about it screamed familiar but even so she let out a gasp keeping her eyes on the figure trying to push far back into her bed alerting her lover who followed her gaze to find nothing. Trying to calm the situation they tried to comfort her as she processes what she’s feeling, what she’s seeing.

The figure now gone she tries to let herself relax once again, maybe it’s just exhaustion and stress from work getting to her head finally. It took some time but after a while she finally fell back asleep. But this time is was different.

It’s her dream man. Standing before her in all black clothing with a glare she can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak he doesn’t move and it begins to worry her.

“Wher-“

“Who was that.” He coldly cut her off. “The one who lays beside you, what are they to you, my love.”

Confused she shook her head asking what he meant he couldn’t possibly mean her lover for she’s never dreamt of them nor normally have much memory of them in the dreaming.

“No matter. I have some business to attend too but until then, love, wait for me. I will come for you soon.” Unable to help himself wanting to taste her lips on his again he brings her in close in a hard suggestive kiss. The longing for one another overwhelmed their every being as they once again basked in each other’s embrace after so long too long. “Shall I return and they’re still with you, I will show no mercy to the one laying beside you. For you are mine and I tend to collect what belongs to me.”

The look in his eyes leaves her speechless sending chill down her spine. He couldn’t possibly mean it right?This isn’t real. He’s not real. Not waiting for a response he leaves her in a pleasant dream her body no longer aching as she had her fill of her dream man.

How she hoped to see him again.

[aajjks]

Can I request a toxicbunny!noona where she accuses jungkook of something she knows he didn’t do but punishes him as if he were guilty just because she loves seeing how desperately he sobs on his knees for her that he’s her good boy 🤍

wärníngs: yändêrê, mänïpülätïon, öbsëssïön, töxïc!noona, cryïng, unhëälthy rëlätïönshïp, trïggërïng thëmës.

note. 1 done ☑️, share thoughts, send in asks for toxic noona!!!! Gif not mine, cr to Pinterest.

The urges he has triggered inside you are unhealthy, toxic.

Jungkook has changed you, you weren’t like this, oh no. You used to be normal, you weren’t sadistic like this, no, you weren’t so hungry for power like this.

You weren’t so toxic like this.

You didn’t crave control like this, you didn’t.

But now, all you want to do is control him, make him so dependent and obsessed with you that he’d rather die than leave you.

Even if you hurt him in the worst ways possible.

“I can’t believe you, jungkook.” You scoff, looking at his trembling body up and down, your gaze travelling, you can see the globes of fat tears well up in his orbs.

Oh you’re feeling so excited. It should feel so wrong but damn it feels so fucking right. “I can’t believe you were flirting with that whore right in front of my eyes.” You tsk. The hybrid looks at you with his wide eyes, you can see the fear in them.

“I-I was not! I really wasn’t noona!!! How can you even t-think that!” You roll your eyes at his defence, “stop! You’re fuckin lying jungkook. You were literally undressing that bitch with your eyes!” You raise your tone, biting the inside of your cheek.

Oh it’s so fun to mess with him.

The expression he makes at that, almost makes you coo at him, almost pity him. He looks so confused, so helpless.

You love it.

“You need to be punished!” You glare at him, his body is shaking. You can see his legs tremble.

“I-I’d rather die than look at another woman like that noona! P-Please you have to believe me!” He falls down to his knees immediately, you look at his messy long hair, the red eyes filled with fresh tears.

God, he’s so pathetic and pretty.

You tilt your head away and tear your eyes away from him because if you look at him for another minute you’ll start to feel guilty.

“L-Look at me! Noona please!” He grabs your legs, taking you by surprise. “You know I didn’t! B-But if you felt like I was being flirty with that woman then you can punish me! I’ll accept any punishment but p-please look at me!” He’s crying, sobbing at this point.

His grip on your legs tighten and you gasp at the force, you put your hands on his shoulders to support yourself, “stop.” You roll your eyes, turning your head towards him.

“Pathetic.” You swipe your tongue against your lips, “so fucking pathetic, Jungkook.”

“Do you think your tears will prove your innocence? Huh? Fucking pervert!”

“O-ONLY FOR YOU NOONA- I-I’m telling you you have a misunderstanding!” He nuzzles his face between your thighs leaning his face into the soft skin, his hot breath fans over your legs.

“I-I love you! Only you! I want you! Y-You can hit me but please don’t leave me! I swear on my love for you that I wasn’t flirting or lusting over that woman! I-I don’t even know her!”

He looks up at you, you try your best to not break character, “why would I!?!? I only think about you noona!” He presses a kiss onto your thighs, his lips touching the fat and you visibly shiver.

“I only love you noona.”

[7-wonders]

Kiss With a Fist

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Normally, Dream is above mortals and their petty quarrels, but when one decides that he wants to play with fire, Dream is more than prepared to burn him. That is, until you have something to say about it.

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: I've wanted to write something about you pulling a Hob Gadling and fighting off someone wanting to attack Dream for a while now. Here it is. Basically you're a badass and you fight a drunk guy trying to pick a fight with Dream. Let me know your thoughts!

(Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns)

We begin…in the Waking World, which is not, in his opinion, an ideal place to be.

Though the Burgess lineage has been snuffed out and Dream of the Endless is far too powerful to ever find himself captured by a mortal again, he still feels a touch of trepidation upon his trips outside of his realm. How could he not, after one such visit went so spectacularly wrong and ended up with him trapped for over a century?

Having reminders of the good of humanity certainly helps ease his apprehension, which is why he typically finds himself with some sort of companion when he leaves the safety of the Dreaming. Most of the time, Matthew is a mere stone’s throw away at all times. If not Matthew, then Dream has increasingly found himself seeking the company of his friend, Hob Gadling.

You’re the most “human” of them all; though both Matthew and Hob were, at one point, completely and utterly mortal, that is no longer the case. You, however, are. He would argue that’s perhaps what makes you so fascinating, but he knows that’s not entirely true. There are a great many things that make you fascinating to him, and your mortality is probably the least of those.

It’s his predilection towards you that has landed him here in the first place, at what you called an “upscale bar” for a friend’s birthday party. To be fair to you, it’s not as if you hadn’t given Dream multiple opportunities to decline your invitation. You even bluntly told him, among other things, that it was almost certain he would not enjoy himself at a mortal event such as this and you were perfectly fine going by yourself.

But no, he had to insist that he would play the role of doting “boyfriend” (which he was, though he preferred terms to describe your relationship that sounded much less juvenile) and accompany you to this celebration. After two grueling hours, he can honestly say that he does not understand why anybody would torture themselves by willingly stepping foot into such an establishment. Between the bone-shaking bass of the music that is unnecessarily loud, the patrons whose wildly inappropriate, alcohol-steeped daydreams stick to Dream like molasses, and the harsh lighting that continues to change depending on the beat of whatever garish song is playing, he’s seen enough to last him five human lifetimes.

He tries to hide his disdain, knowing that you’re enjoying yourself and your night. ‘Tries’ being the key word here: after the fifth person who visibly jumps in fear when they see Dream’s piercing glower, it’s evident that this attempt is not working in the slightest. Whether you’ve finally noticed this or you just decide to take pity on him, he’s not sure.

Regardless, you lean into him and ask, “Are you doing okay?”

“I would like to get some air,” he says, being heard clearly by you despite not having to raise his voice above the music. He’s relieved when you nod; Dream was never a particularly social creature, but that desire for solace increased tenfold after he freed himself from his glass cage.

“We can head out, actually. I’ve socialized long enough.”

Dream could actually cheer at this. Since it would be entirely uncouth of him to do so, he continues to look nonchalant. “Do not feel that you need to end your night early on my account.”

“I’m not! I’m tired and I’d rather go home with you now. I’m gonna close my tab, if you wanna go wait outside for me!”

He very much wants to go wait outside for you, and with one last squeeze of your hand, he separates from you and leaves you to finish paying for your drinks.

There’s something inherently calming to Dream about the evening hours. It may be that the world seems to become more peaceful after the sun sets, or that the majority of dreamers enter his realm at this time. It could even be the fact that this is Mother Night’s domain, complicated as their relationship may be. Whatever the reason, Dream is particularly fond of this time of day, and he enjoys the sudden tranquility after such a hectic environment.

Unfortunately, said tranquility lasts only momentarily before a shadow crosses over towards Dream and he meets the bloodshot eyes of a mortal man. He’s average in every way, from the backwards cap to the scuffed shoes stained with unidentified liquids. A ‘frat boy,’ you would call him. Though the shadows warp behind him as he attempts to scare him off as he did to the others inside the bar, this man remains uncowed by his expression.

“Hey, I saw you earlier at the bar.” Dream scowls, for he did have an encounter with this particular human inside the establishment, and he did not enjoy one second of it. “Yeah, I offered to buy your girl a drink, didn’t I? Then you shoved your way in between us, which was rude. I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Silence, mortal.” He’s had enough of this conversation, if it can even be called that, and glances in the direction of the entrance to see if you’re making your exit. In the process, he sees the man’s expression morph into something ugly, something vengeful. He’s not sure why, considering he has not been insulted; after all, Dream simply called him what he is, which is a mortal. 

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Instead of actually bothering with a response, Dream attempts to move away from the wall in order to find you, having had enough of playing this game. The mortal man’s hand lands on his shoulder and stops him from achieving that goal. Dream simply glances at it, deciding that, actually, it has been a good while since he properly frightened a mortal in any realm.

“Why ya tryin’ to leave? I just wanted to have a friendly chat.” The man’s breath reeks of cheap alcohol, and Dream’s lip curls in disgust.

“No, I think not.”

“Hey!” Both heads snap towards the bar’s entrance, where you’re emerging from the door and marching closer towards them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The mortal man smirks, finding amusement in the fact that you’re now involved. “Get outta here, bitch. This doesn’t concern you.”

Dream has half a mind to incite his nightmares on this boor of a man just for the crude insult (how dare he even think to disrespect the future consort of the Dreaming in such a way), but you’re speaking before he can properly make a decision. “Yeah it does. Leave him alone.”

The man smirks and rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Dream. “What, you need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you?”

“I’m trying to protect you here,” you say with a laugh, knowing that Dream doesn’t need anyone to do anything for him. “Take your hand off of him and go.” 

As you walk past him, you knock your shoulder against the man’s, who goes stumbling back with his arms pinwheeling at his sides as he attempts to keep his balance. Either you’re stronger than you look, or the man is drunker than he lets on; Dream is willing to bet that it’s a combination of both.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, dude.” 

Gently, you grab Dream’s hand and pull him away from the wall. He allows you to do so–though he can deny it all he wants, he certainly doesn’t mind when you fuss over him. Sure enough, he watches as you scan him up and down for any sign of injury, seeming to forget that he cannot exactly be injured by a mere mortal.

“Are you okay?” 

Were they in private, Dream would laugh (he’s found himself doing a lot more of that lately–laughing) and assure you that nothing so paltry as a mortal attempting to provoke him had caused him any harm or upset. As it is, he simply nods, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

Unfortunately, mortal men seem to love violence. This should not be surprising, considering his brother is—was—Destruction, but it’s something that tends to slip his mind due to how little time he actually spends among them. When they are robbed of the opportunity to inflict said violence on their intended target, they become enraged. 

This is no different for this mortal man, whose face turns a surprising shade of red in anger. As Dream turns with you to leave, he allows his natural eyes to appear through the blue ones that he wears when in the Waking. Black pits appear in their place, the stars that are normally there completely snuffed out. Petty, but he cannot resist making the last move.

This works against his favor, however, when the mortal man takes a swing at Dream.

For an immortal, anthropomorphic personification, Dream has not found himself in many fights through his long life. He should rephrase that: he has not found himself in many street fights through his long life. Battles, he’s had his fair share. Glorious battles, either those like the Oldest Game where wit is the weapon or those where he was fighting for a purpose, be it love or honor or his realm. 

But battles are skilled; there’s an art to them, an understanding on each side of the formalities and the pomp and circumstance that goes into it all. Though they may be enemies, the foes carry with them a certain integrity that extends to the conflict. In fact, as far as Dream is aware, mortal military campaigns are fought a lot like this as well. Alleyway brawls most certainly do not carry any of this.

Humanity changed, as humanity is wont to do, in the century plus that Dream found himself a prisoner in an English countryside basement. However, the century of imprisonment had to align with one of the centuries that underwent the most societal change. Though Dream very much enjoys watching as humanity evolves, he enjoys watching it as it happens, not learning about it in retrospect. As a result, he has felt woefully behind when it comes to modern standards; a fact which the few mortals or former mortals he knows love to focus on. Not that he wants to sound every bit as old as he is, but before his imprisonment, ladies most certainly did not fight.

All of this is important knowledge to keep in mind for the coming events.

The man’s hit, meant for Dream, connects against your cheek as a result of you shoving Dream out of the way before he can truly process what’s about to happen. He wants to tell you to stop, wants to blow sand in the face of this man and follow through on his silent threat to give him his worst nightmares, but…something stops him. A not-unpleasant warmth in his stomach that begins to bloom as he watches you ball your hands into fists, obviously preparing to fight back against this man. 

A few bystanders audibly wince when you punch your adversary’s jaw, making his head snap back. Curses fall from his lips as he swings again, but you manage to grab a fistful of his shirt collar when you duck and his fist hits your forehead. This advantage means that this will be the last hit he gets on you. 

With a yank of the fabric, the shirt goes up over his head and serves both to blind him as well as to make it difficult for him to move away from you. He’s more focused on attempting to free himself from your hold than he is hitting you again, and when he finally does regain his sight, he sees your fist hurtling towards his face.

The last punch is a direct hit to the mortal’s nose, blood immediately beginning to drip down his face and onto the ground. Both the pain and the shock of it send him falling backwards onto the ground, where he groans pathetically and clutches at his wounded face. From above, you breathe heavily and shake out your dominant hand, a look of disgust on your face as you stare down at the enemy you’ve taken down with ease.

In all, the actual fight lasts less than half a minute. Dream, however, believes that he shall think of said fight for the rest of his eternal fight.

“Bitch,” the mortal spits out again, the insult the only weapon he has left in his arsenal.

“Don’t forget it, either.” You grab Dream’s hand again, this time pulling him away from the small crowd that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here before someone calls the cops.”

Dream demeans himself and actually runs alongside you, but only until there are no more humans in sight. He pulls you to a stop then, taking his sand out of his coat and tossing a handful in the air. Between one blink and the next, he’s safely inside your Waking apartment with you. Shaking your head a couple of times to clear the double vision in your eyes, you finally look over at him.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think you’d get stuck dealing with some drunk idiot who–oof!” 

Dream cuts off your rambling by shoving you against the wall of your bedroom and proceeding to kiss you as though it’s been years since he last laid his lips against yours. You stiffen under him for a moment before your body goes lax, hands curling around the lapels of his coat as you lean into him and attempt to eliminate any modicum of space between your bodies. It’s only when he can hear you beginning to try and take desperate little pants in an attempt to get air into your lungs that he pulls his lips from you, though this doesn’t last for long.

“Do you have any idea,” he pauses to press another series of heated kisses to you, “what seeing you fight that man did to me?”

“...I’m confused. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Dream scoffs. “How could I be mad, when you defended my honor in such a way. Me, who could have sent the mortal to the Nightmare Realm with barely a glance. I am more powerful than the gods themselves, yet you fought for me without so much as a second thought. No, I am not mad at you. I find myself rather infatuated with you at this moment, in fact.”

“As if you’re not infatuated with me all the time?” He silences your snark with more kissing, which you gladly accept for another few moments.

“Dream,” you finally mumble against his lips. 

When he doesn’t answer, you try again. 

“Morpheus.”

He still doesn’t answer, nor does he make any movement to let you know he even heard you. Finally, you push at his chest to get his attention. 

“While I’d love to continue doing this, my lip is split and it really hurts to kiss you right now.”

Dream steps away from you sheepishly. It’s not often that his control falters in such a way, and it only ever does so when he’s in your presence.

“I apologize,” he says remorsefully. If there’s one thing that Dream hates, it’s causing pain to those dearest to him, of which you are the most dear.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, you couldn’t have known it hurts. I should probably clean myself up, though.” He follows you into your bathroom, where you turn on the faucet and grab a clean cloth off of the towel rack.

“Allow me to help you with your wounds?” Dream asks.

Healing others is not one of his many powers, and you know that. Still, he wants to be of assistance, and so you point to the closet in the corner. “There’s a first aid kit on the bottom shelf of the closet, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing that?”

Dream hasn’t the faintest idea what a first aid kit actually is, but since he’s trying to be helpful, he simply goes off in the direction that you pointed him towards. When he comes back with the bright red bag (he knows enough from dreams to know that the white cross on the front means medical aid), you’re dabbing blood off of the back of your hand with a damp cloth.

“I did not realize that your hand was injured, as well,” Dream says.

“What can I say? Fucker had a hard head.”

He frowns. “I really wish that you would not use such crass language. It’s very unbecoming.”

“You love it and you know you do.”

Dream’s hands skim over the different medical supplies, unsure of what will help or hurt, or even what each item’s intended use is. This confusion must be rather obvious, for you simply have him hold the kit open as you grab whatever is needed and set it out on the counter next to you. He watches, silently and with utter fascination, while you grab a small cotton round and dab some sort of antibiotic on it before you begin to carefully apply it to your knuckles.

He takes this time to actually catalog the injuries you had sustained while fighting for him. In addition to the webbing of surface-level cuts on your knuckles, two wide bruises are already beginning to discolor your skin, one stretching along your cheekbone and the skin below your right eye and the other on your forehead up into your hairline. The ‘split lip’ as you called it, does look rather painful, and he feels bad to have exacerbated that pain. The skin is quite literally split down both your upper and lower lip, dark red blood pooling on the surface. It’s swollen, and another bruise forms on top of the swelling.

Again, Dream feels his heart, which does not work like that of a human’s, clench painfully. You’ve bled to protect him, injured yourself just to keep him safe. He does not know how he could ever repay you for such a kindness, though you’ll assuredly attempt to convince him that you don’t need any sort of repayment.

For Dream, this repayment starts by being the one to take care of you. Now that he’s watched you care for one wound, he can easily mimic your movements as he takes the washcloth you’re running under the tap water and gently presses it to your lip. You wince under his touch, but allow his hand to remain there.

“Where did you learn to fight in such a way?” Dream asks after you’ve nodded that enough time has passed for him to remove the cloth from your mouth.

You shrug. “I was bullied in middle school and it started to get kind of physical–nothing too bad, just mean girls shoving me around or stepping on my heels so that I’d trip and fall.” It sounds far worse than ‘nothing too bad,’ and Dream almost wants to ask you for the names of your childhood tormentors so that he may give them a taste of their own medicine. “Still, my dad wanted to teach me to defend myself, just in case it got any worse.”

“He taught a child to fight?” Dream scoffs in disbelief, one hand gently holding your chin in place while he uses the other to apply the antibiotic to your lips.

“I was twelve, first of all, and it’s not like he was encouraging me to go up to these girls and knock them out. It was a last-resort sort of thing,” you say when he’s finished tending to that cut.

His hand gently skims along the bruise on your cheek, and you can’t stop your reflexes as your hand darts out to grab at his wrist and stop him. He aborts what he was doing, instead grasping your own hand and pulling you to him as he just barely lays his lips on top of the bruise and lets them linger there. He can hear your breath catch in your lungs as he does so, and it makes him smirk just slightly.

When Dream finally pulls away, your body unconsciously tries to follow him as you mourn the loss of his closeness. He asks, “Might I continue to attend to you, my protector? My warrior?”

“Uh, um,” you stutter, trying desperately to remember how to speak. Dream finds it incredibly endearing. “The, uh, I have ice packs in the–in the freezer. For my face? They’re blue, and they should be stacked on top of each other.”

“Go lay down so that you may rest,” he commands. “I shall be back momentarily.”

You describe items well enough that finding whatever it is you request is an easy task, the ice packs being no different. Perhaps Hob Gadling was right to marvel over human inventions at most of the pair’s early meetings. There is something rather fascinating about the resourcefulness of creating something that can be kept cold specifically to help with injuries. 

When Dream returns to you, you’ve done as he asked as are laying against the pillows of your bed to rest. He’s unsure of how you apply said ice packs, and hands them to you instead and watches as you lay one on each bruise. Though you recoil from the cold at first, you soon sigh and relax under it. 

“Will you lay with me?” you ask. 

Dream is not one to turn you down for most things, and he especially will not deny you of this request. He wraps himself around you, black coat billowing out and covering both of you. He knows that it’s only your face that has sustained the brunt of your injuries, but he still tries to be cautious with you just in case.

It’s not exactly resting when you’re on your phone watching the videos that, while they make no sense to Dream, make you laugh, but you’re safe and in his arms, so he won’t say anything to you about the importance of proper rest. Instead, he allows himself to simply think. About you, about him, about this night.

“You need not have come to my defense,” he says suddenly upon remembering what it is he had wanted to say to you earlier, before he was overcome with the need to kiss you. Distantly, he’s reminded of the last time he said such a phrase, and his lips tilt up at the memory.

“Hmm?” You don’t quite know what he means, his statement coming from out of nowhere.

“I was in no danger, yet you so valiantly defended me from the mortal. Why?”

“Because he was going to hurt you.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious conclusion in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, you fought the man because he was going to hurt Dream.

“He would not have gotten the chance.”

You sigh. “I know that you’re all-powerful and whatnot, but…when you love someone, sometimes that doesn’t matter. Someone was attempting to attack you, and so I decided that I wasn’t going to let them. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I very much would. However, it’s a little different for me than it is for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

He begins to uncharacteristically stammer in an attempt to explain himself. “No, that’s not–I would never–you–”

You cut him off with a laugh before he can make an even bigger fool of himself. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You are cruel to your monarch, my love.”

“Not my monarch, I’m afraid,” you say cheekily, a smile on your face. “Last I checked, I’m not one of your subjects.”

It will never cease to amaze Dream just how at peace he feels when in your presence. On the rare occasion that conversations start out serious, they devolve into something quaint and full of soft touches and teasing jokes at your hands. Even after he sees you into the Dreaming and has returned the now-melting ice packs to your freezer, he feels this way.

Suddenly, he’s struck with the ‘why’ of it all. He feels at home here. No, he feels at home with you. Being with you is like coming home after a long journey and getting to sleep in your bed again for the first time in months. You’re his comfort, his safe place.

Perhaps, in some cases, the Waking World is an ideal place to be.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt9

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wow two chapters of this in such a short span of time?! Yeah, I'm procrastinating shut up. Not proofread

Warnings: references to blood drinking, ignoring consent/ignoring autonomy, some violence, trauma (that's a given), references/mentions of past abuse

Word Count: 1,760

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“I trade in blood and the potions that can be wrung from it. I’m more than happy to make you one, if you’d honor me with your blood.” Araj Oblodra smiles. It’s not warm or welcoming; something devious dances across her face. It makes you uncomfortable. “With one drop, I can brew a rather potent potion for you. The rest, I keep for myself.”

You can’t hide the grimace that overtakes your face. ‘Sanguineous arts’ already struck an odd chord within you, but asking for your blood? And even going so far as to keep some for herself? “What will you do with the rest?”

“The excess would be used for my experiments. I’m always working to find ways to make stronger potions. Who knows what the blood of a True Soul could do for even a rather simple mixture?”

You cringe. “Not interested, sorry.”

She sighs, scowling. “A pity. Although, perhaps there’s one more thing we can discuss: your friend.” She looks at Astarion, but not as the person he is. Her eyes scan him over like she’s looking at an object, studying a rare work of art. Astarion notices it, too. She turns her eyes from him and he’s relieved to be spared from that look, if only temporarily. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn, at least.”

Astarion slapped on a fake grin. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re all friends under the Absolute.” He lifts his chin, donning an air of confidence. “I won’t bite.”

“Oh I’d prefer if you did.” She smirks. An uneasy feeling settles heavily in your gut. His mask slips. “I assume he belongs to you?”

Your eyes shoot wide open. “Excuse me?” The question has you reeling. It takes you a moment to find your words. “He’s his own person!”

She laughs and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable.” For a brief moment, all you see in her place are the faces of all the loyal subjects under her. She turns to the elf, head held high so she’s looking down her nose at him with a sneer. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

When you look over, Astarion is shifting uneasy in his armor. He’s used to being reduced to nothing - less than human, only fit for someone else’s gain. But it hadn’t happened since the crash. This was… a lot. “Astarion, but hold on-”

“Good,” Araj cuts him off with a smirk. “Now, Astarion.” You want to throw up when she says his name like that. “I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl.”

He balks. “I’m sorry? You want to be bitten?”

Something otherly and unsettling sets into her face and voice as she speaks. “To feel your life’s blood slipping away? To dance on the edge between life and death?” Her voice is airy as she says, “Yes, I want it.” You’re fortunate enough it goes back to being somewhat normal when she returns to talking about business. “I’ll even compensate you - a potion of legendary power that forever increases the strength of the one who consumes it. It’s not for sale, but it’s yours if you bite me.”

“I will have to decline.”

“Excuse me?” she scoffs. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you’re squandering it.”

Astarion scowls, creases deepening with the anger in his expression. “I gave you my answer.”

Araj still looks furious when she turns on you. “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

Your hand twitches by your dagger, but it’s not blind fear that rules you. This is entirely different from the Gur. He’d been on the hunt for you, to bring you back to Berdusk and your master. All Araj cared about was Astarion. All she wanted was for him to bite her, even when he said no. This was not fear, this was anger.

“Can’t you understand ‘no’? He’s not going to bite you.” You glared at the drow. Whatever shock you felt before had been pushed aside. She didn’t care about Astarion’s free will, and she never would. She was just like all the others you’d seen that ache for a vampire’s bite.

She gasps like she’s been insulted to her very core. “It’s obvious you’ve let him indulge plenty in your own neck. Is that it, then? You want him all to yourself?”

You don’t know what happened. Everything is a blur, a flurry of motion that makes your head spin. Once you process where you are, ice floods your veins.

Araj is on the floor, staring up at you with wide, horrified eyes. You’re on top of her, legs straddling her waist and a hand at her shoulder keeping her held down. Your dagger hangs mere inches from her eye. And then you realize the thing that stopped you from killing another innocent: a hand around your wrist, pulling the knife away from Araj. Astarion’s hand.

He doesn’t want her to live, gods no. But he remembers what happened to you the last time you took someone’s life through blind emotion. He doesn’t want to see you like that again.

You scowl down at her as you growl out, “He. Said. No.”

She nods fearfully - she’d have agreed to anything you said if it meant saving her own skin. Your fingers loosen around the handle of the dagger and Astarion pries it from your hand. His other supports your waist as you stand up from the drow, backing away toward the others, who all watched with mixed expressions. You don’t turn away from her until you’re almost by the door. Only once it’s shut do your shoulders relax.

“What happened back there, soldier?” Karlach asks.

You sigh and take your weapon back from Astarion. “She… reminded me of somebody.” As you return the knife to its sheath, you shake your head. “Nevermind. Let’s just go.”

-

Astarion clears his throat as he enters his tent. You’re sitting on your bedroll, looking at the different candles you’d dug out of storage. You were running low, and you wanted to try optimizing them to the best of your abilities, until you could find or purchase more. You look up from your work, watching as he takes his seat across from you.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you.”

You tilt your head at him as you set the candles aside. “What for?”

“For nearly killing that vile drow, for what you said back there.”

You half-chuckle. “It, admittedly, wasn’t for purely selfless reasons.” Your hands begin fiddling with each other in your lap. “She reminded me of the servants my master keeps. They all vye for her attention, desperately wishing she would drink from them instead of…” You clear your throat. “When she kept saying you belonged to me, I just- I lost control.”

He hummed, understanding precisely. When Araj saw your scar and brought it up, not knowing he wasn’t the one that gave it to you, her fate was sealed. She would be a corpse right now if he hadn’t acted quickly enough. “I’m grateful, all the same. I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. You could have asked me to do the same - to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” you asserted. “You’ve spent too long already having to deal with that. And, she didn’t seem like she’d make a good meal.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I don’t believe so.” His nose wrinkled. “Her blood smelled absolutely foul. No potion would have been worth the stomachache.”

“What’s wrong with her blood?”

“Gods know what. There’s no telling what she’s experimented with in her line of work.”

“Gods willing, we’ll never know.” You reach for the candles again, prepared to pick one out so the very moment this one runs out, you’re not fumbling about trying to bring back the light, but his hand stops you. You look at him again. His face is leaned in close to yours.

“There’s… something else I wanted to discuss.” He can see the bob of your throat as you swallow, but you nod. “I know we both have our own demons to contend with, and we will, in time, but…” He lets out a soft breath. “You… You’re incredible. So many times, you’ve had ample opportunity to turn me away for what I am alone, but you didn’t. You confided in me, despite it all.”

“I trust you, Astarion,” you whisper. He can feel the warmth of your air against his lips.

“I want us to be something,” he confesses. “Something real. I just don’t know what ‘real’ looks like. Not after two hundred years of playing the rake.” He frowns. “Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

You lean back from him slightly, giving him more room. He misses the way your breath fanned across his skin, but thinking about it for too long puts a vice around his undead heart. You don’t pull your hand from his. “Is this okay?”

He hums softly, thinking. “I don’t mind it as much, if it’s you,” he admits. “It feels… different. A good different.”

Your lips curl slightly into a soft smile. “Then we can keep figuring it out. Together.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, almost shocked by your answer; surprised with how easily you accept his burdens. “You… You are full of surprises, aren’t you?” He glides his hand along yours until your fingers are interlaced. Palm to palm, he can feel the callouses that litter your hands, built up from the moment your freedom began. They were still soft, only a few weeks old at best. “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next. But I know that this…” He looks into your eyes. You look at him so openly, so earnestly. How could you be the product of your past when he’d ended up the way he did? How could you be so kind despite it all? He smiled. “This is nice.”

---

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[alexanderlightweight]

cat boy Alec, with big fluffy ears and tail

-an excuse for magnus to call alec kitten? my favorite nickname magnus has for alec besides treasure and lovely... uh no thank you of course i'm not excited LET ME WRITES IT ALREADY BRAIN

i hope you enjoy this!

<3 lumine

maybe i'm a villain

is the title

-

Alec eyes the six shadowhunters that flank him and shakes his head, internally biting back his exhaustion.

“You’ll stay out here, until I’ve talked to Bane.” Alec orders and the hunters respond with concise, clear nods. Normally Alec wouldn’t detach from an official team — one sent from Idris no less — but as as head and Commander of New York, its Alec’s duty to pave the way for the clave.

Which mean this, meeting with the king of the East Coast for the very first time… and without even a hint of an invitation.

The clave has put Alec in perhaps, one of the most precarious positions he’s ever been in. It’s frustrating and insulting but the law is the law and so Alec will do the duty they’ve asked of him.

And then he’s going to go home to his Institute and write a detailed missive explaining every way the clave fucked up and ensure that every single Institute and clave elder sees it.

The clave is practically asking Alec to take the fall — ordering him to with fancy words and pretty calligraphy — and well, Alec always knew this was a possibility. He didn’t expect it — had been hoping it wouldn’t come to this — but Alec is still unmarried at twenty and has been finding ways to deny and ignore every single eligible candidate sent by his parents and the clave both.

So now, the clave has started to ask him for things that could — even by nephilim standards — be considered extreme.

They’re hoping to force him into a position where marrying is the better option but well… Alec would rather die on some convoluted mission for the clave than marry a woman.

As the clave is about to find out.

Alec will protect the hunters assigned to him to the best of his abilities, but they are not his hunters. They have sworn no oaths to him or he to them.

Alec will leave them if needed.

Their carnage and loss will be on the heads of the clave, not Alec and well, Alec’s has his own priorities.

Alec doesn’t disarm, but he takes only his sword and a dagger physically present. His quiver and bow will remain away until needed and Alec desperately hopes they won’t be needed during his meeting with Bane. If they are, it will already be too late for Alec.

—

Nephilim grace is the first thing Magnus tastes.

It’s a cool, almost glacier, presence. It moves nearly languidly through his subjects until it lingers on the steps to Magnus dais.

It’s with tempered curiosity that Magnus takes his first look at the nephilim intruder.

Soft.

It’s the first thing that Magnus catalogues.

Large, delectably looking cat ears with fur the color of an abyssal moth.

They’re elegant and pointed with little tufts that Magnus wants to curl around his fingertips and the crowd parts with a motion of his fingers. The hunter pauses at the foot of the steps and then slowly begins to ascend when Magnus crooks his fingers in demand.

He’s careful about it, hesitant without fear but a clear edge of wariness.

A predator entering another predators den… respectfully.

Magnus wants to feel if that fur and hair is as soft and lush as they look and then the hunter gets within a few steps and Magnus sees a thick, plush tail that is currently wrapped around a muscled thigh.

How sweet.

Magnus’ darling little hunter kept his tail to himself, not wanting others to touch him but also not making himself too large of a threat when entering Magnus’ territory. That he is clearly trying his best to not stand out or take up more attention than necessary.

It’s a pity then, that nothing he ever did would be enough to keep him from Magnus’ gaze.

— “I don’t often get strays in my domain.” Bane murmurs as he gets close and Alec feels the weight of Bane’s power — of his sovereignty — press down around him. Glamours have no place in Bane’s court. The fae and warlocks are all showing their marks and traits and Bane is no different.

His golden eyes are large and slitted, black and gold scales dapple his temples and his neck and his wrists and knuckles.

There are curled horned antlers coming from his head, golden veined and obsidian black and tapered to deadly points.

Alec swallows and stays where he is.

His ears twitch, flattening against his skull before he can help it.

No one thought to warn him how much Bane would be.

How gorgeous he is.

How powerful he is.

How glorious Alec would find him.

“Name and rank, little nephilim.” Bane tells him and for all that Alec knows he’s not small, he feels it in that moment, with the weight of Bane’s focus more encompassing than the entirety of the claves authority has ever been.

“Alec Lightwood, Head and Commander of the New York Institute.” Alec gets outside, throat tight in a way he doesn’t understand.

“You don’t have an appointment, Alexander.”

Alec hesitates, because he doesn’t hate the way that his name sounds when Bane says it and he also doesn’t want to argue with a Dominion king, especially not with one on their own territory.

“The clave asks for your pardon and that I be the representation between you and they. A team of six clave hunters, lead by myself, is requesting access to monitor and close a rift just past your wards.

“Do they think I’m incapable of taking care of my own territory?” Bane asks, voice even with a hidden danger that makes Alec’s mouth dry.

“No.” Alec says, because it’s definitely not that and also he’s pretty sure Bane won’t appreciate being told that this is probably Alec’s fault. That this encroachment on Bane’s territory is nothing more than the clave putting Alec in an unfortunate and almost impossible place.

Almost impossible, because they expect him to survive and immediately happily accept an engagement to ensure this never happens again.

There is a moment of pure silence and Alec wonders if he’d supposed to try and explain. Perhaps make something up or lie and he doesn’t notice how his ears fluff in annoyance before flattening against his skull when someone gets too close… it’s just. Alec doesn’t think it would be smart to lie to Bane.

“Come here, Alexander.”

—

After a moment of hesitation, Magnus’ hunter obeys.

As he gets even closer to Magnus and still further away from Magnus’ court, he relaxes.

It’s not much, but it’s enough that his tail slowly uncurls from him and Magnus catches the way the fluffy tip twitches, as if betraying Alexander’s anxiety.

And he is anxious.

Oh he’s hiding it well, but Magnus would only expect an idiot to feel confident and Alexander is quite clearly, not an idiot. Though he is something and considering the fact that Magnus has lived long enough to recognize when the clave is trying to subtle punish their active hunters. The clave likes to use downworlders to do their dirty work, but Magnus has never enjoyed being the clave’s tool.

“I think we can negotiate something between the two of us, personally.” Magnus promises and it earns him a nearly silent sigh of relief.

It’s a pity that relief won’t last for long.

“However even negotiations have a price—” Magnus smirks at Alexander’s suddenly narrowed eyes, “I may be known for my indulgences. Even the clave is quite aware of them.” Alexander grimaces but doesn’t deny it, “but I am not a gracious man. Therefore, if I’m going to let a pack of the clave’s miserable little beasts rampage through my territory, then I want something in return. I don’t do charity cases, Alexander.”

“Your price?” Alexander asks quietly, hesitantly.

“The clave has nothing I want.”

“Then?” His hunter asks, knowing that Magnus wants something or he wouldn’t have started this path.

“You.” Magnus says simply. “The night is still young but already it feels long and I rather enjoy the thought of being able to enjoy the softness of a pretty kitten on my lap.” Alexander’s eyes widen and his mouth parts but Magnus tuts, shushing him. “It would be the start, to opening negotiations. After all, I wasn’t even sent a courtesy message to let me know you were coming.”

Alexander glares at the floor at that, his ears twitching with clear displeasure at the blatant insult dealt to Magnus and Magnus knows this blame can also be places at the feet of the clave.

Magnus thinks he’ll need to make himself more clear.

To point out that at this rate, Alexander in his lap is the least of what will get Alexander’s team out of here alive, then, like an actual stray kitten, Alexander warily approaches him.

—

Alec isn’t sure how he’s supposed to sit in Bane’s lap, but he does his best anyways.

Hands dusted with scales reach out to grip his hips, guiding him close and up until he’s got a knee on either one of Magnus’ thighs. With his runes and training there isn’t even a burn in his muscles, but oh, it burns to feel Magnus solid and hot beneath him.

“Good kitten.” Bane practically croons and then — without warning — fingers are rubbing Alec’s ears and he keens.

Alec can’t help it.

He can’t help the noises he makes or how he all but melts into Bane, dropping against him with shuddering sides as Alec’s nerves are teased and petted and cosseted with the live wire of feeling that his ears currently are.

It’s a moment of time where thoughts don’t work and he’s still trying to catch his breath when Bane rumbles.

Alec aches to respond in turn and he can’t help the tiny, bitten back chirp that crosses his lips or the softest of purrs that Bane compels.

“Shall we start negotiations then, kitten?"

[thewhitefluffyhat]

I’m not at all a religious person, so there’s a lot to Harrow and John’s relationship that goes way over my head.

But when I’m thinking about what happens at the end of Nona the Ninth, I keep finding myself drawn to this one little interaction the two have right before Harrow starts plotting soup murders:

You stared, feeling mildly drunk and unutterably pitiful, at your repeatedly uneaten biscuit. Teacher said quietly, “You must think us all a depraved set of immortal criminals.” You said nothing. He pressed, “Harrow, do something normal. Learn how to make a meal. Read a book. Go ahead and prepare - our lives revolve around us all preparing... but take the time to rest. Have you slept lately?” It was the first time you realized God could not understand you.

Harrow the Ninth, p228

Because it's not just that John couldn't understand Harrow. At the end of the day, Harrow isn't honestly that mysterious and inscrutable, her fears and desires are very painfully human underneath the mask of her robes and face paint. And sure, while there are some key parts of Harrow's psyche that she normally keeps deathly secret, she ultimately tells John about those aspects of herself too.

And yet, even Palamedes understood Harrow better than John, and that was with Harrow giving him the cold shoulder throughout most of their interactions!

So I think, if John had made a genuine effort, he could have understood Harrow. Or at the very least, he could come to sympathize with who she was and where she came from, even if he might not be able to empathize with her extremely strange upbringing and value system.

But the thing about John is, he never cared enough to try to understand Harrow.

One of the repeated details that kills me in HtN is that no one ever asks Harrow about the significance of her face paint. Because Harrow often is expressing herself, very openly, and no one makes the slightest effort to learn the language she's speaking!

And Harrow not being given face paint in the hospital also has a very similar context to that Seventh adept who bleeds out only for John to be mildly annoyed at the whole ordeal. The guy loves making myriad-old pop culture references and yet shows less than zero interest in or respect for the present day culture of his followers. He’s so caught up in telling his own story that he never stops to consider that anyone else might have their own story too.

Which makes the flipside of this equation all the more fascinating. Because throughout HtN and NtN, the undercurrent to Harrow and John's interactions is that Harrow does not understand John either.

And yet, as we see in NtN, Harrow did try, very patiently, to understand John. She listened attentively, she asked important questions, she persisted even when he spoke in terms she had no context for. And so, in the end, Harrow could understand John, or rather, she could understand enough to decide she does not consider John Gaius worthy of being her God.

If John had made even the slightest effort to understand Harrow - or even simply respect her - he might have been able to win her back to his side. Instead, he answers her crisis of faith with a crass and shallow joke. Making it crystal clear that despite two books in Harrow’s company, he has truly learned nothing about her.

And because he did not, she leaves him.

[ksbbb]

From Now Until Eternity (Thiam)

“Fear haunts you and pain hates.” 

The rain soaks through his hoodie, the material clinging to his skin, reminding him that this day is always dark and dreary. It’s never a day that brings any resemblance of calm or anything remotely close to sunshine.  This day is always in the back of his mind, always waiting to creep up on him again and further remind him of the past, the horror of what he’s done, and the reality of how dark today really is.

“I’ll find you”

It makes sense it would be raining today. That the day would be storming and it would go along with how Theo is feeling and his own emotional turmoil that has taken hold of him little by little.  A disturbance in his otherwise mundane life that he has now. It clings to him, never getting close enough to fully break him, but just enough to get into his head and stew at the back of his mind. 

It haunts him, reminding him that he’s the problem, he’s the one that caused this and if anyone ever pays close enough attention to him and asks why he’s alone on certain days of the year, he will adamantly inform them that they’re mistaken. That can’t be Theo because Theo doesn’t feel, doesn’t hurt. Not like other people. He’d much rather lay in his own self pity today than have anyone around to sour his mood even more than it already is. 

Theo shivers as another gust of wind hits his skin, forcing the hoodie to cling even tighter around him, fully soaked through with rain. He looks out across the bridge, at the raindrops pelting the water below, and it’s almost peaceful. If only it wasn’t ruined by a prior memory and haunted by thoughts of what once was. It has him wanting to laugh, wanting to cry at the realization of who he is, and who he was that is all tied up into his childhood. 

He gets up painfully, his body still sore from sitting for so long in one position and the cold still making his teeth chatter. Theo almost has a fleeting thought of what it must have been like to freeze, but he quickly swallows. The pain is forced back down beneath the surface. He tucks it away for another time and another place. Tucks it away for some other version of him that can handle the monster he turned out to be. 

There’s always a sense of dread in not knowing if things could be different, or if anything could be changed. He wonders if where he is right now would cease to exist? If different choices were made and if Theo had grown up more normal than he did, maybe he wouldn’t still be here. Maybe that’s the real problem. The uncertainty. The curiosity of wanting to explore a different path, a different way, something that he can quantify and try to at least come to terms with. Only he can’t. 

I’ll find you 

Theo makes the long walk back to his truck, still shivering as the wind continues to hit his body and the rain soaks him to the bone. He manages to stop his teeth from chattering but his body still aches from the rain. He can’t complain. It’s the least he deserves for all of this. 

He reaches the truck and slides in, as his phone lights up, flashing Liam’s name across the screen.  Theo adjusts the heat and lets it fill the truck fully before answering the phone. Liam will call back. He never lets him get away with not answering for long and he smiles at the thought of Liam calling again.  It helps to lessen the pain in his chest from the cold, lessen the scattered memories replaying in his head, and the shivering that’s taken hold of him again. 

The heat warms him, but only to a point, only enough to stop the ache in his throat just as his phone starts to vibrate again. 

“Hello.” Theo answers, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears. He’s tired and hasn’t slept in a few days. Mix that with the cold and the terrible day that he’s having, he can’t bring himself to sound any better. 

“Theo!! Everyone is sick or away, and Mason is with Corey checking out UCLA. Even though they already got in. I'm here by myself. “ Liam sighs dramatically and Theo sighs too. 

“Okay. Thanks for the information.” He grunts. Theo takes his hoodie off, letting the wet clothing hit the floor and Theo pauses as Liam is silent on the other end of the line. Probably stewing at his comment, always wanting to get the last word in and argue with him. 

“I’m saying it’s a cold night.” Liam tells Theo. Another shiver makes his way down his spine, and he nods in agreement. 

“Can you come over?” Liam asks, growing quiet on the other end of the line. There is a silence that settles between them.  He’s never asked for Theo to come over because he’s never had to. Theo winds up at the Geyer household on most days and the days that he doesn’t make it over there, he is up listening to Liam over the phone. 

“Why?” Theo turns the heat up higher, plugging his phone into the charger and starting the truck.

“I haven’t heard from you all day. I was worried.” Liam explains. 

“Oh.” Theo whispers, almost not believing what he’s hearing. Someone is worried. Worried about him. His heart almost starts to beat faster at the thought. The thought of knowing Liam’s wondering about him, thinking about him when he’s not around, and something shatters. Soft and slow at first, but it shatters all the same.

“I..sorry.” He says hoarsely, closing his eyes at how he says the word sorry. At the hesitation in his voice from the unfamiliar word that feels strange coming from him, but this is Liam. He’s not anyone and he’s not someone he can ignore. Theo is sorry. 

“It’s okay…just hurry up. I waited to eat this pizza because I figured you would come over while everyone is out of town. So, don’t make me eat this alone.” Liam says gently, almost teasing as Theo swallows down the lump in his throat, the aching that has engulfed him. Engulfed his mind and body. 

Liam waited for him? He’s almost confused, partially touched, along with something else that he can’t put his finger on, but he speeds a little quicker down the highway.  He doesn’t want to keep Liam waiting any longer. Theo is also starving. He lost focus on eating since he had to get here in time before it rained, but that didn’t work out too well. Instead he ended up sitting in the rain anyway. 

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” Theo agrees and hangs up before he can change his mind. Before he can try to rationalize why he can’t be around anyone today, and why he has no energy to deal with anything or anyone. Except Liam. 

Hold on and I’ll find you. 

“Stay on the line with me?” Liam offers and Theo’s brain nearly short circuits at the softness in Liam’s tone, in the way he can hear him say his name, almost having him yearning to see his face. 

“Sure, I’ll keep you safe.” Theo chuckles, still shivering but it’s not as distracting now.  Liam laughs, helping the drive pass quickly even with the short distance that it already is. Theo doesn’t mind driving. Not when he is going somewhere he likes to be, which isn’t a lot of places, but recently all the places he likes being at happen to have Liam at them too. He won’t unpack what that all means. 

Somehow he finds his way to Liam’s house, even with his chatter about how he’s insulted that he can’t make cookies for Theo before he gets there, because everyone thinks he’s going to set the house on fire. Theo can only nod because all he hears is that Liam wants to make him cookies. Has anyone ever made him cookies? He’s pretty sure they haven’t.

Finally, finally he makes it to the Geyer house. The pain in his chest, all the pressure, finally subsides and the ache lessens somehow. He can breathe again. The soaked clothes he’s wearing, the tears that had stained his cheeks before, are on hold. Theo can move again, or he can at least be distracted for a while.

Theo walks up to the front porch and places his hand on the door handle, just as it opens. 

“Hey….what…Theo.” Liam’s eyes widen, his eyes shining bright, but his face falls into a frown when he takes in the sight of the soaking wet chimera. Theo should have changed. Now he has to find a way to explain himself, but Liam doesn’t say another word. He ushers him in the house and into his living room. 

Liam opens a small closet and takes out more blankets than Theo has seen in a while. Liam frantically throws them towards Theo, still frowning. Theo stands up but can barely get a word in while Liam runs up the stairs and slams drawers. The sound of him slamming things echo throughout the house.  Theo waits for Liam to come back, staring at the pizza on the table and Marvel movies strewn throughout the table. 

Liam comes barreling back down the stairs and stops in front of Theo, barely taking a breath. 

“Okay, I don’t know if this will work, but if it is a little short that’s okay. At least it’s warm.” Liam pants out, handing him some dry clothes. Theo doesn’t say a word, but takes the clothes and finds the nearest bathroom. He’s found it’s best to pick his battles with Liam. They fight and argue about a lot of things, but when Liam has his mind set on something it’s hard to dissuade him. 

Theo quickly changes and heads out of the bathroom and sees Liam sprawled on the couch, with a slice of pizza in his hand and even more blankets beside him. He wonders how many blankets this house must have and shakes his head at Liam. 

“I think this is enough little Alpha.” Theo sits beside Liam, placing the blanket over him and grabbing another blanket before Theo can stop him. Liam drapes a blanket over Theo’s shoulders, tightly wrapping it around him and his frown finally subsides.  

“Today is cold.” Liam hums, leaning back on Theo’s shoulder.  The touch reaches its way down Theo’s spine, warming him to his core.

“I’ll keep you safe too.” Liam smiles, his soft blue eyes radiating warmth, tenderness, and something he has never been familiar with. Not until Liam. 

“Yeah? From what?” Theo smirks at him, still trying to maintain his normal demeanor even in the midst of being this close to another person. His shoulders almost shake from the contact, making it too much and not enough at all. He wants to bolt, wants to stay, and both feelings pulling at him cause him to pull away.

Liam leans back, a little farther away now, but still remains sitting next to him. Theo takes a slice of pizza, taking a bite and trying to get rid of his hunger. Liam remains quiet, taking a slice for himself and holding up different movies for Theo to see. Theo doesn’t care too much about what they watch, but he does pick Spiderman. Something he doesn’t mind and when Liam’s eyes light up, he knows that he has chosen correctly. 

Theo settles back on the couch again, gently brushing his shoulder against Liam’s, testing it out. Liam smiles, leaning back and watching the movie. Time seems to fade away as Theo gets lost in the movie, the warmth of the blankets, and Liam firmly leaning against him. The contact is settling the ache in his chest. Until it is no longer there. 

“Theo?” Liam whispers, barely audible but it’s there.  He turns and looks at Liam, his face clouded with worry and it pains Theo to see Liam’s face filled with such anguish. He raises his eyebrows at him in question, wanting to settle Liam’s doubt, and trying to understand what he is feeling. 

“You know I could have come with you right?” Liam tenses up beside him. 

“What? Where?” Theo rolls his eyes, smiling back at Liam to ease his worry.

“I know what day it is. I remember. I remember most things about you. So I can keep you safe. So we can keep each other safe.” Liam presses into his side tighter, and his hand finds Theo’s. The gentleness of the touch on his hand eases his nerves. 

“Will you stay?” Liam sits up, gently running his palms over Theo’s shoulders, and moving the blanket tighter around him. 

“For how long?” Theo asks, almost unsure of what the impact will be depending on how he answers Liam. 

“From now until…eternity.” Liam winks at him, a soft smile playing on his lips. “But we can start with tonight.” 

Theo nods, his body warm, his hunger pains soothed, and tonight is fine. He can handle one night. Especially when Liam runs his fingers over his palm, and he can breath again.

[mephinomaly]

[TL] Flashback/Epilogue 2

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Kaoru: Grandpa was throwing a bit of a tantrum, saying he “hates complicated things”, so for the time being, we’ll just be going by UNDEAD.

Koga: Not much point in usin’ two separate brands. Besides, that criminal came up with HELLSING so I don’t wanna use it. Pisses me off.

Adonis: The delinquent most likely had his own ideas for UNDEAD, which was HELLSING.

Kaoru: Yeah. He was probably like “I can make the best version of UNDEAD!”

But we don’t need his idealised version of UNDEAD, we just need to shine brighter and brighter, as the real us.

Adonis: Easier said than done.

As Hakaze-senpai said earlier, both the radical immoral side and the variety programs side of us can be successful— It wouldn’t be superficial of us to do so.

Koga: It’s fine for us to get rid of one of them though. I, personally, think we should get rid of the variety programs.

Kaoru: You really hate those sorts of jobs, don’t you? …Like I said on stage yesterday, you can gain experience from anywhere.

You can’t grow big and strong if you’re a picky eater, you know?

Koga: Who do you think you are, my parents? Anyway, I get it, but I’m not gonna stop complainin’.

We need to eat everything, even if we don’t like it, so we can grow big and strong.

Kaoru: That’s the spirit ♪

Let’s do our best, ‘kay? The AIIE experiment was set up in order to trick us, nothing more to it—it almost felt like a dream.

We’ve seen real robots of ourselves and those kids from Ra*bits too.

The fakes were almost identical to the real us. At least, visually.

Technology and AI will only improve from here, and AI idols will become even more realistic.

Rei: Umu. That is how it seems to be progressing.

Kaoru: Oh? I didn’t see you so I thought you’d had an early morning bath? But then I didn’t see you in the bathroom either…?

Rei: Nay, I was enjoying the peaceful bliss of the early morning by taking a stroll.

I spoke with some neighbours who were also awake at this time, and once I grew tired, I basked in the sun on a nearby bench…

Kaoru: You actually act so much like an old man. You get more and more senile as the years go because of some character you force yourself to play.

Rei: Rather, I used to force myself to act young. I feel more comfortable now than I did back then. I am showing my true colours.

Of course, those who caught a glimpse of the previous me will have seen the immaturity in me, befitting of my young age at the time.

Anyhow. I apologise for interrupting, but I do believe you should keep Kaoru-kun’s worries in the back of your minds.

Humanity continues to evolve, scientific capability is growing ever closer to the abilities of a god.

Robotics, AI, VR— artificial idols will be comprised of those parts.

Then when non-human creatures rise in strength, and become stronger than humans, when monsters arise, when they become the new normal—

What value do humans have, other than being authentic beings?

Will we become pieces of art, displayed in museums for all to see, rather than something a part of your everyday life?

I do not know what the future holds, but that future is fast approaching.

We stand at a crossroads.

If we give up, we die where we stand. We must explore and search for what it means to be human.

We must demonstrate time and time again the value of being loved.

Otherwise, we can easily fall into the position our criminal was in.

A foolish, pitiful creature that can only look into the distance and envy how bright others shine.

What happens to one today may happen to another tomorrow. But I am not so pessimistic.

We are alive.

If we continue to live and grow, we have no reason to fear this lifetime.

That is the strength and beauty of being human.

Let us drive away our abhorrent past, and our anxiety-inducing nightmares alongside it. Let us step into the day with a smile on our faces.

～...♪

[ ☆ ]

Epilogue 1

Directory

[red-dead-do-over246]

Hi~🌻 Can I request a Javier x Reader story? Got an overflow of ideas right now. 😆😁

Cold sweat on the forehead, goosebumps on the back of the neck. Hand pulls out the revolver and shoots the revolver out of Dutch's hand. Before he could shoot Molly. It's in my head that Reader, like everyone else, hung on Dutch's lips. but chapter by chapter their eyes opened. And Reader, too, sees the spectacle that Dutch is trying to keep up. Reader is then shown in seconds which side Javier is on. Just think, you start a friendship with Javier and maybe there are also feelings but then in the last chapters until the end you notice how he slips away. I'm really curious what you do with the idea. You can make what you want out of it. 😚💖 Thank you ~

No problem! Hope it's a good one!😂💖

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Coming War

You weren't blind to Dutch's motives anymore. The question is: will anyone else be brave enough to stand by your side?

Your eyes were opened that day.

When Molly came back drunk, ranting and raving about exposing the gang to the Pinkertons (which would later be proven false), you were shocked. Things were tense right now, sure, but to go as far as murdering one of your own was a motive that you never thought you would see Dutch use.

He was going to shoot Molly.

It was like time slowed for you as the man you once trusted blindly was ready to kill someone he said he loved. You eyed his movements, sweat dripping down the back of your neck as goosebumps moved up your eyes, causing the hair to raise in fear. A decision would have to be made and fast. Your reflexes moved faster than you could think based on some innate reaction to save the life of another person. You pulled out your revolver and with a loud bang, you shot the gun out of Dutch's hand.

Arthur looked relieved, but Dutch looked furious. You returned the glare just as coldly, feeling uneasiness creep up your spine like a coming cold. This wasn't the man you knew, not anymore. But Dutch said nothing, just gripping his hand where his gun once was.

Bang!

But your good deed meant nothing. Grimshaw shot Molly anyway. She knew the rules.

After the whole depressing scene was over, everyone went back to their depressing ways. You were sitting on the edge of camp, contemplating your entire life from up until this point. You and everyone else trusted Dutch blindly, his words being pure hope and poetry for the whole gang.

But then Hosea died, many more people died. I guess the real Dutch was coming out.

"Nice shootin' back there Y/N." Javier's unmistakable voice sounded, and you turned to see him sitting next to you. However, he looked a bit unfazed. Not like you, who was rather shaken up.

"That's all you have to say? Molly just died." You couldn't help the anger in your voice. You always did feel pity for the woman who was clearly played by Dutch, just like you were starting to feel like.

But Javier looked taken aback.

"Sorry. But she knew the rules...I don't know what else to say." The man tried to defend himself, and you mumbled out an apology. Truth be, just as you were starting to wonder who Dutch was, you were also starting to wonder about Javier.

You've known him since you've joined the gang, and yeah, you guys were friends. Back then, it kind of was all fun and games until...well...until you started to develop feelings for him. Javier was too charming for you to ignore, but again, back then things were easier. Now, sides were having to be picked.

And you didn't know which side he wanted to be on. You saw him talking to Micah earlier...and it didn't make you feel good.

"I just...I need some time to myself." You said, rubbing your legs a bit in a nervous manner. Normally, you would feel a happy fuzzy feeling when Javier was around you.

But now you just felt disappointed.

Obviously, this wasn't the same man you fell in love with because he didn't even sound understanding. He just mumbled something in Spanish before getting up and leaving you, making your heart break more.

Perhaps he never really cared. Or maybe he just changed too much. A few days later was even worse.

A train robbery went way wrong, and Dutch proved once and for all that he wasn't the leader you all thought. He left John to die, as stated by the man himself when he returned. Not only that, but Arthur revealed that Micah was the snake all along. This was it. This was the time.

Sides needed to be picked.

You, Arthur, and John were on one side, you now clearly understanding how you were feeling. Micah, his associates, and Dutch were on the other. However, stragglers like Bill began to move towards their side.

Javier among them.

Everyone was pointing their guns at one another, but you couldn't bring yourself to point your revolver at him. You raised your gun in the air, unsure, and you noticed he was doing the same. Perhaps he was aloof this whole time, trying to act like things were normal during periods of high tension.

But he was still beside Micah and Dutch...so he picked a side.

Your eyes locked, and there was nothing but remorse. You should've said something about how you felt instead of putting it off, believing there would be a better time. But it was too late now. Things were too torn to ever be repaired.

But that didn't stop you from mumbling the words, them rolling off your tongue with only your ears to hear. Your heart wanted you to scream and shout, make them listen and to be a family again.

However, there was no coming back from this. It was only going to end bloody.

The men you knew were gone, and the gang had finally broken.

Your story afterwards is up to you.

[hypnomicimagines]

red chrysanthemums with BAT?

Aimono Jyushi:

🌻red chrysanthemums: how long does it take for them to say ‘i love you’?

Jyushi wanted to blurt it out every day since the day you began officially dating, his heart screaming it whenever you were around while he kept his lips zipped. He was full of a lot of very strong, passionate emotions, so much so he feared he’d spill it before he really wanted to. The romantic side of him demanded he confess in the most heart stopping, heat of the moment type of way, fueled on by the atmosphere rather than expectation. The words have to come from his very soul, like your hearts were having a conversation, beating in sync with the same blood now running through your veins. He thinks it should be a moment you both remember for a lifetime, so he puts it off until he feels the time is right.  

Amaguni Hitoya:

🌻red chrysanthemums: how long does it take for them to say ‘i love you’?

Hitoya was a man who took his time. The courting part of your relationship is so long that it would be no surprise to you he also takes his time saying those three little words. He doesn’t see what the rush is and he does have his own anxieties to consider, almost as if confessing his love would make it too ‘real’ despite the unspoken love exchanged between the two of you daily. He knows it’s silly but an old man who had been single a while can have his hang ups, can’t he? He doesn’t hesitate to say it after that first obstacle is overcome, its just a hurdle you’ll have to patiently wait for him to overcome.

Harai Kuko:

🌻red chrysanthemums: how long does it take for them to say ‘i love you’?

Kuko is ready when he’s ready. He doesn’t think it makes sense to adhere to a social norm when its your relationship. He thinks it’s pretty normal to say or feel it at different times too, knowing every relationship was colored differently. If you said it sooner than him than so what, he feels extra loved and he made sure that he reciprocated even if he didn’t say it back in the moment. On the other hand, if he said it before you’re ready, then he has no qualms about it; he just wanted you to say it when you were truly ready. Fake love is not something he wants nor does he want some pity ‘I love you’ coloring the rest of your relationship.