#i thought they both found the love of their lives and they broke the mold

[robertsbarbie]

my brother: probably is going through the worst thing he’s ever been through in his entire life

me: how can i make this about myself and my sadness

[strnilolover]

BFF!Reader x BFF!Matt Sturniolo (Best friends to lovers)

Warnings: very slight suggestive (like non-existent), small mention of death, a little bit of heartbreak, fluff

A/N: This is in the readers Pov and matts! pink is the reader; blue is matt and the purple at the bottom is basically both of them. @her-favorite told me to post this cause why the hell not lol. I absolutely love friends to lovers' tropes, but I have never tried to write anything about them SO if this sucks I'm sorry :,)

———————————————————————

“The day we met. Frozen, I held my breath. Right from the start I knew that I found a home. For my heart beats fast. Colors and promises.”

The day that I had met him, it felt like my whole world had stopped. Those hypnotic blue eyes held me captive, burying my soul so far in them it felt like home. We did everything together, promising things to one another that we knew could probably never be. But that’s what made our world feel more alive, that’s what made it feel so bright.

“How to be brave. How can I love when I’m afraid to fall?”

I never plucked up the courage to tell him, even when I had the chance to. It felt like a joke, that if I were to become vulnerable for just a moment, everything we had built would come crumbling down in a heartbeat. So I locked it in a cage, tossing the key far away, hoping maybe one day I could get it back.

“Watching you stand alone. All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow. One step closer.”

But, as my eyes watched him, standing in the pouring rain after his girlfriend broke up with him. Coming to me first before anyone else, spoke to me on another level words couldn’t explain. So I took my chance, stepping closer to his soaked frame. Grabbing his face, pulling it closer to my own as I connected our lips in a small wet kiss.

“I have died everyday waiting for you. Darling, don’t be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more.”

His lips molded to mine in return. Grabbing my hips and pulling me closer as his frame pushed through my front door. He was hesitant at first, like I was doing this out of pity. But the way my lips moved against his, sloppy and desperate, told him otherwise. The cage opened after I promised to keep it locked so many years ago.

“Time stands still. Beauty and all she is. I will be brave. I will not let anything take away. What’s standing in front of me. Every breath, every hour has come to this.”

She was breathtaking. Her frame standing in front of me as the rain poured over my body. I didn’t know who else to go to, her being the first one that popped into my mind as everything crumbled around me. I told her she left me, and she looked at me, those beautiful orbs full of pity and sadness. She stepped to me, grabbing my face and putting her lips to mine, eyes wide, I kissed back. Grabbing her hips hesitantly as I pushed my way through the door to her home. I thought this was because she felt bad, but as she kissed me harder, I knew it wasn’t.

“One step closer. I have died everyday waiting for you. Darling, don’t be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more.”

I pulled her closer to me as she tried to pull away. Holding her to my wet body, whispering how much I loved her and how I always have. She grabbed me back, whispering the same confessions to me as her eyes looked into mine. Smiling, I kissed her again. Our bodies slowly making their way to her room as our clothes were disregarded on the floor, tangling our limbs in her sheets for the rest of the night.

“Time has brought your heart to me I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more.”

We felt like one finally. Our missing pieces find their places in all the missing spots. We spent the rest of our lives together, finding comfort in one another until our bodies were laid to rest. Even in the afterlife, we loved each other for a thousand years.

———————————————————————

[zoe-oneesama]

Hello, Zoe! I can't believe there's only four episodes left of SL. I see you recently finished Frightningale. The next is I believe Malediktator. I would love top hear your thoughts of the episode.

Lord have mercy, this episode wasn't good when it came out and only got worse with hindsight:

There are two big, huge stinkers in this episode. Chloe's "arc", which got covered in even more mold over time, and Adrien.

My thoughts at the time (and I know because I went back and FOUND my thoughts) was that this episode would've been a good START for Chloe's redemption..but it was the Finish. So it sucks.

It had all the elements. Chloe being Chloe:

Pretending to be Ladybug just to sing her own praises as Queen Bee

Making her Important Historical Person Project about herself

Getting insultingly defensive when called out and doubling down despite how obvious her lie is

Focusing on Marinette telling her she's not a hero despite the rest of the class being just as "mean" about her time as Queen Bee

Her over the top demands of a disproportionate punishment for the slight by crying for Daddy to shut down a school and banish Marinette from the city

Having an over the top tantrum when she doesn't get her way by declaring she's leaving the country despite her father being on his knees, begging her not to go

Making an over the top announcement of her departure under the delusion that her going to live in New York will somehow negatively effect her former classmates

Her continuing to lie about the circumstances of the akuma to Ladybug herself, only trickle truthing after being pressed multiple times

And in the conclusion, flaunting her ridiculous wealth to not only her peers who were doing something nice for her, but to her best friend who was genuinely upset at her leaving.

Chloe being Chloe. Chloe being a liar, a bully, a spoiled princess who only cares about what SHE wants.

And in this episode she breaks the one person who was always in her corner, even more than Sabrina - her father. As far as a redemption arc goes, that's probably the best way to start things, because this is the guy who'd drop everything for her, bend heaven and earth for her whims, who abandoned his dreams of being a movie director to instead become Mayor to get the power and money to take care of her (at Audrey's insistence). And she broke him. Left him, just like her mom left them both before.

In another universe, maybe this would be the thing that broke Chloe, that finally made her look inward and realize that the call of toxicity, negativity, and entitlement is coming from inside the house. She is the one who makes people around her miserable, and in turn, herself miserable, because it makes no one want to be with her, it makes no one like her.

Realizing this, vocalizing this, and doing something about this could've been a good start. She can be rewarded for being vulnerable and open and taking responsibility by being given the Bee Miraculous and being allowed to fix things, which could start her wanting to fix things without a Miraculous. Thus, a START of her redemption arc.

But as I noted back then, and as I note now, this isn't the start. It's the finish.

All this vulnerability about not being liked and hurting her daddy's feelings and feeling worthless comes after info-dumping about her Sad Mommy issues which were pretty much resolved as soon as they were brought up THANKS TO HER SWORN ENEMY MARINETTE, and after she picked up a Miraculous and kept it for herself, and after she abused that power to CRASH A TRAIN to try and win herself clout. So I'm sorry that I don't care that Chloe "deserves a second chance" or that "maybe Queen Bee will make her a better Chloe" after she almost killed people to show off for Mommy.

The big finale says "Well Chloe's sad so maybe she could possibly be good, though only when it directly effects her." She can't even muster a goddamn thank you for the party, they didn't even pretend she was going to change.

And that's where hindsight makes this even worse. I clocked this as a failed start when this episode came out, but adding on top of that the next two seasons where she unofficially joins the villain's side makes this even dumber.

The episode does the usual shtick of Somehow Blaming Marinette: she feels bad for telling Chloe she's not a hero, she feels bad for celebrating her leaving, she gives HERSELF partial blame for Andre being akumatized. Well, I don't blame her, show. In fact I'd say she's pretty justified.

For one, what did Chloe do as Queen Bee that was heroic? Try to crash a train to get credit for stopping the crash, which she couldn't even do, and then being akumatized? How about the fact that she found this Miraculous and didn't return it? Or let's look wider and assume Marinette wasn't even talking about just Queen Bee: What has Chloe done that was heroic? Oh one time she kinda helped with Despair Bear - oh wait but she also CAUSED that akuma so it kinda cancels out.

Chloe's not a hero. She could be, she has all the resources, she just isn't because she doesn't want to be.

And why should Marinette feel bad that Chloe's leaving? Adrien says she left angry and upset, but she seemed pretty content when she was throwing out fliers from her helicopter and announcing it to the whole school in one last hurrah. Play me the world's smallest violin. After TWO SEASONS of abuse from this whiny little rich girl, why shouldn't Marinette be happy for herself? Happy that she won't have to worry about her property being vandalized? Or work stolen? Or relative's career sabotaged? That next year she doesn't have to dread going to school because there's no chance Chloe will be in her class? Why WOULDN'T she throw a party over that?

And in what universe is Marinette to blame for the akuma that she didn't even come in contact with? Just because, as usual, Chloe decided to blame Marinette for all the backlash she rightfully got even though Marinette was the last one to say something? Just because her classmates agreed with what Marinette said, and Chloe got weirdly fixated on Marinette, and Chloe took it out on her father, it's somehow Marinette's burden and blame for Maledictator? Sure Jan, that'll hold up in court. The mental gymnastics to even blame a twice removed party...

And all of it is for naught. Marinette sees a vulnerable side of Chloe and gives her a chance as a hero and throws her a party to celebrate her "accomplishment" as Queen Bee because "Being Ladybug made me a better Marinette, maybe being Queen Bee will make her a better Chloe".

Well guess what. It didn't. It inflated her already massive ego and gave her another thing she felt entitled to that she didn't earn and led to the mother of all tantrums when she was told multiple times she wouldn't be getting her way, leading to Marinette losing Fu as an ally. All the self flagellation, all the bowing to Chloe's ego, all the hoops Marinette went through to make Chloe feel better did nothing to help Chloe change into a better person, so all it is is a waste of time and teaching Marinette a lesson that ends up blowing up in her face. It was frustrating back when this episode came out to see how unearned it all was, and now it's extra frustrating because you know how pointless it all was. All the deliberate audience manipulation for a complete non-starter.

SPEAKING of frustrating to watch, I believe I promised you TWO big stinkers in this episode.

Get back here Adrien, I'm barely even started with you. How fucking dare you come in here and lecture anyone about treating Chloe badly? I don't care if Chloe was your friend when no one else is, that doesn't invalidate the happiness everyone - and I mean EVERYONE, including teachers, your classmate, and your own Best Friend - was feeling at her departure. Good for you that she was a warm body to stand next to in your childhood years, but what kind of criteria do you even have Mr. If We Made Eye Contact We're Friends?

Because you haven't shown us that she was a good friend. Hell, you haven't shown us YOU were a good friend! If you were so concerned for her, why didn't you go after her when she left in a huff? Why didn't you text her or try to convince her to stay? Why didn't you stop your class from pointing out her bullshit when she gave her duplicitous presentation? Why NOW is your only move to berate her number one abuse victim (next to Sabrina) and then sulk in the corner like a dark cloud trying to ruin everyone else's good time?

Why aren't you NOW going after her or texting her? Why are you still at this party? Why aren't you lecturing any of your other friends about what they're doing? Why why why?

(Logistically it's so Marinette and Adrien are on the outer rim of the party and don't get hit by Maledictator's command spell to destroy the school, but literally since when has the show cared about logical reasons for the two to get away from a crowd?)

You know what sucks? This episode was fun until Adrien opened his big mouth. Everything was fast paced and melodramatic and over the top and fun - and then party pooper Adrien has to call everyone TeRriBlE despite ALL the terrible things Chloe's done over the course of this series RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

And because the writing is poor and doesn't want to actually challenge Adrien in any way, they have Marinette call Chloe "useless" when that is literally the least of her problems: a bully, a brat, selfish, spoiled, vindictive, manipulative, a liar, self centered, delusional, I don't know, just plain fucking MEAN. If Marinette stuck to any of these things that Adrien couldn't refute, maybe we could've had something INTERESTING here. But instead they gave him a near strawman just so he could refute ONE THING "bad" about Chloe instead of confronting the fact that his childhood friend was and is a shitty person.

Maybe on top of Chloe realizing something about herself, we have Adrien realize the nature of their relationship: that he's so conditioned to accept her and his father's crap that he's even conditioned to be uncomfortable when anyone ELSE challenges their crap. That he's put unrealistic expectations on his other friends just because of his own coping strategy against the people in his life that constantly take advantage of him. That it's unfair of him to expect other's to just shut up and put up with unfair treatment just because shaking the status quo makes him kinda nauseous. Just, you know, if they wanted to do something INTERESTING for once.

Maybe this could've where Adrien realizes that not only do his friends deserve to be treated better, but so does he. That by not invalidating his friend's feelings, he can stop invalidating his own. It could be a first step to him overcoming his people-pleasing nature and begin his own arc about taking charge of his life, maybe eventually leading into him taking control of his portion of the plot, MAYBE leading him into being an actual deuteragonist in this series instead of the semi-damsel love interest.

If Adrien would've been made to actually face the fact that the person he grew up with was a garbage person, maybe he'd take some time to look at his dad differently, or Nathalie, or even his own mother and try to see them from a different point of view. A view where he realizes he deserves better.

But instead he manages to guilt trip the only person in the room who wouldn't have challenged him so badly that she actually gives the cruelest person she's known a freaking Miraculous and throws her a celebration party for doing ONCE the thing she herself does on a daily basis with no accolades. And it was aaaaaaaall worthless.

Or should I say "useless"?

[blimbo-buddy]

Princess and Oliver headcanons

So I much prefer "Oliver is CloudTail's dad" over Smudge being CloudTail's dad. And I also don't care for versions of Oliver that make him the typical "kind and sweet and understanding father". So I thought I'd share some of the headcanons I have for Princess and Oliver's relationship. CW FOR: Unhealthy relationships, Cheating

To start off with Oliver's background really fast:

He was born to an ex-show cat who became a stray. He wasn't born in Chelford

Oliver was a massive momma's boy

He remembers his mom very well and also knows her name, he just never mentions it, possibly for pity

He eventually became apart of a group of vagabond cats and sets out to live a life of wandering

The vagabond cats realized they needed to find a place to rest until the autumn rain storms had calmed down enough. So their attention was immediately brought onto a certain city not too far from them

Alright, now let's get into the meat and potatoes of these two, finally.

The Vagabonds (will be calling them this from now on) head on into Chelford for food, shelter, and warmth

Oliver, being adventurous, strayed away from the group to do some exploring of Chelford. Resulting in him accidentally getting into a scuffle with a couple of cats

He was clearly cornered and outnumbered, but thankfully a larger, orange tabby cat with a green bow tie managed to easily shoo them off

The cat and Oliver talked for a minute and the orange cat offered to take Oliver to one of the shelters for strays so that he could stay for a while and Oliver accepted this help. They talked for a bit on the walk there and went their separate ways after reaching their destination.

Later on, Oliver decided to go out and find the orange cat again and found her lounging about her Twoleg's front garden where she introduced herself as Princess

Oliver would tell Princess lots of stories about his life, a lot of them being crafted to make the Kittypet pity him, and it worked.

See, Princess was a lot more gullible around that time and more trusting, so hearing these sob stories from Oliver made her begin to feel bad for him

Oliver wasn't much of a truthful cat, he craved attention and pity from everybody around him, quickly getting bored and tossing things and cats away when he felt they weren't as perfect as they were before

The two's relationship slowly grew, but it was obvious that Oliver was trying to mold Princess into being something he wanted her to be. He told her she should be happier often, that her voice bugged him because of how flat it was, picking out things that she did and telling her to get rid of those habits

Princess listened to these things, Oliver was one of the only cats in recent times that actually made her feel loved in some way. She had her family, yes, but Oliver was different. And she was worried that if she broke up with him, he'd be put into danger, she didn't want to do that to a cat who seemingly went through "so much". Basically, they have an extremely shitty, unhealthy relationship

Eventually, Princess found out that she was pregnant

Princess would notice that Oliver acted certain ways around other she-cats, nuzzling against them, being extra friendly. But to her that was normal, cats of Chelford were always very friendly towards each other!

Until Princess found Oliver laying with another cat, lovingly grooming their fur, just like what he did with her. Turns out some cats aren't as loyal as they say they are

She confronted Oliver about this spitting and hissing that she thought he loved her. Oliver, being a cat who is quick with his mind, tried to make it seem like Princess was "targetting him when he's alone to argue on purpose"

They both went back and forth and Oliver suddenly tried apologizing to Princess and telling her that he loved her so much and that the cat he was with had been at fault. In a last minute effort, he put his paw up to her cheek to try and reason with her, no- manipulate her

Princess snapped and shoved Oliver to the ground, screaming at him to never think about coming by her Twoleg's home again. And she ran off, that encounter being the last she ever saw of him

Nowadays, Princess absolutely hates Oliver's guts. She grew a lot of self confidence issues from him that is still healing to this day

She never really wanted kittens, and she knew that Oliver didn't want them either but it just happened. She doesn't hate her kids, she can't bring herself to hate five cats who had nothing to do with her relationship with Oliver

Thankfully though she's in a better, much healthier relationship with Hattie and Smudge

[thezanyarthropleura]

rewatching the Dinotopia 13-episode miniseries and just wanted to say I concur with a lot of your takes. Hopefully it's ok to infodump about it in your askbox?

26 is adorable and heart-stealing (as is Karl's love for her) and she still looks so lifelike even after 20 years since the show's airing--the combination of lower-tech puppetry and higher-tech animatronics just hits perfectly. I just want to hold her and carry her around and tickle her little head. I feel weird calling her 'lifelike' considering none of us have seen Chasmosaurs(sp?) in the flesh, but the way she blinks and shakes her head and squeals just feels authentic somehow?

'Contact' is one of my favourite episodes as well, as it legitimises this version of Karl who in earlier episodes risked coming across as trivial/annoying/shallow (I love this Karl fwiw, more than the previous 'better' series' take). The connection between Karl & Gracie is so touching and raw, and it seems like the most important thing that happened to Karl at that stage in his life, as well as a turning point in the way he relates to female peers. While I am a fan of Karl's himbo side, I appreciated seeing him finally show expertise and determination in something other than mixing drinks and flirting and wheeler-dealing, as well--after all, he's Frank's favourite son and an adventurer in his own right, why shouldn't he be capable? (we also saw his resourcefulness in 'Lose & Found').

As for Lesage, your thoughts about her past relationship with Rosemary really have me thinking as well. The reference to their fling was so fleeting that I missed it first time around, but it's definitely critical to understanding both their characters imo. Lesage definitely seems the free-spirited fiery rebellious type to run off with a woman to have sapphic adventures in the wild, even if it took said sapphic partner to bring that out of her (and it's SO interesting that Rosemary was *Lesage's* closet key). What would Dinotopia make of lesbians disrupting their natural order and their status quo? (upon which they rely for their coveted peace...) The mind reels. And I agree about the relief and pleasant surprise that this mature dark woman wasn't 'tamed' or domesticated in the storyline's conclusion, it would have been so banal if the series went that route. She clearly isn't the type who wants a traditional family, a secure home or a regular Joe older man with kids.

That said, I must confess to wanting Lesage coupled with David, as I've noticed that from their very first meeting there is deliberate tension and foreshadowing included to put them in a shippy light, and their personalities/chemistry really spark and pop off the screen more than any other pairing (probably why the actors/character got a 2-hander episode to themselves?). Also, in-keeping with 'Lesage does what she wants and breaks the mold', I think Lesage would LIVE for scandalising Dinotopia by taking their Skybax Squadron Commander/favourite Offworlder and seducing him. David for his part would go willingly I think, as he seems captivated and chagrined by Lesage, more than he is by Marion (who imo he *wants* to want and thinks he should want romantically/sexually, but deep down doesn't). David for his part clearly needs a challenge and a foil to get the most out of his life, and Lesage offers that in spades. Where are the fics is what I wanna know

Am still combing over a few of the episodes in more detail, but overall I enjoy it so much despite all the inaccuracies and how off-model and off-book it is, and for the time you can see how it broke some new ground. It's pacey, it's a good time, it's got a little bit of everything from drama to adventure to fantasy to anarchohistory/steampunk. The story and characters remind me of Xena in the way you can read them in a campy/fun way or a serious way, and it works either way. Idk why it isn't on streaming and remastered, though the selfish gatekeeping part of me is kind of glad it's not exposed like that..

Always ok!

I do wish we got more of 26 in The Cure Part 2 that wasn't plot-mandated immobility, because that small bit at the end of Part 1 where she's doing her little scamper around on modern sidewalks is such a cute and defining moment for the series and I would've loved to see her run around through crowds or make an escape through the museum. I'd say even her CGI is some of the best-looking now, probably because of working with an easier scale (although I feel like dated CGI is always going to look like dated CGI, and so try to judge it more on whether or not it emotionally connects, and 26 definitely does).

They say it like "Chasmiosaur" in the show but the dinosaur is spelled Chasmosaur/Chasmosaurus. It's real interesting that both the live-action and book versions of Dinotopia used lesser-known ceratopsians instead of the obvious triceratops.

Agreed on Karl, sketchy/sleazy relationship drama is SO not my thing and I'd say I was only tolerating it for the dinosaurs, but the way this show does it is just so over-the-top that I can't help but be at least a little entertained. Night of the Wartosa is fun to watch in an uncomfortable train wreck sense, because we see Karl at his worst and it's so agonizing, but at the end of the day it's self-aware, it's intended as a wake-up call, and we're meant to be rooting for him to become a better person and laughing at him along the way. And by Contact, we're shown he can be serious when it counts, and his story takes a deeper turn into the heartfelt that solidifies his arc.

Since it's Hallmark, I'm sure they'd find a way to make even the dinosaurs scandalized by anything non-straight. "Why yes, our ancient society founded primarily by non-humans, with its own code of conduct distinct from other world philosophies, has the same puritan sensibilities as early 2000s daytime television." I guess there's a small chance the show actually did mean they only considered themselves sisters, and that very obvious pause didn't mean anything at all, I guess we'll never know *shrug* (but since it was a show cancelled after one season, I'm gonna say that from the 2020s we can go ahead and retroactively assume it must've had lesbians).

Freely admit that if I didn't pick up on anything hinting LeSage/David, it's probably because I only really have shipping goggles for f/f relationships, and also carry around the associated 'just friends' goggles for what are often clearly intended het pairings. To each their own, I suppose, and to both of us, the tragedy of liking a piece of media that very few people have ever seen, and even fewer have seen in any way that made them think of it positively. Highly doubt the internet 20 years after the fact would have much appreciation for my 'LeSage x pachycephalosaurus chariot driver OC' daydream musings but you can bet that's probably what I'm thinking about every time I hear "Fast Car."

Oh, if this show was on streaming, people would expect WAY too much from it. It's in the backwoods of Youtube and on cheap DVDs, and I feel like that's it's natural habitat. I can only really imagine people truly liking this if it's a formative memory, they found it in some obscure corner on a rainy day and gave it a chance only half-seriously, or the rare case where they wanted to watch a dinosaur show enough to turn it on but were secretly looking for... this. It's such a fun time, but I feel like for most, you'd need to know what you're in for or it just won't click.

[camellia-thea]

Which of your WIPs are you most enjoying working on? Can you tell us about it?

i've got a whole load going on both in and out of uni at present, both fics and original works so there's a lot to chat about!the thank you so much for the ask!

i've been chipping away between three more serious original projects, but the one i'm enjoying the most is the house (draft title). it's a piece i started last year about a haunted house. the house itself is sentient, and has some control over itself and its environs, much to the growing horror of eva, the woman who has just returned. it's sort of a musing about how important it is to love the place you live, and how important it is to care for those around you, with a bit of horror thrown in. i think abandoned spaces are really interesting, and haunted houses are a favourite of mine. it's been very fun to play with the physicality the house as a whole, what it can do to prevent people, and how it communicates emotion. a setting that is alive is a favourite trope of mine, and making the house a character and a setting at once is so satisfying for that love.

the premise is that eva, the youngest grandchild of the original owners of the home, has inherited this problem house as no one else is able to take it. the suggestion being that she try to flip it. on the other side, the house does not want her there. but, once she stays a little, it begins to change its mind; maybe it doesn't want her to leave after all.

here are a few snippets:

And so, the house and the girl regarded one another for long, long moments, each wallowing in the despair of the other’s presence. Eva moved first, and took the six steps up to the front porch. The keys evaded her reach at the house’s request, lost in the depths of her bag. It knew this would not stop her forever, but it was allowed to be petty, it thought. Sliding the key into the lock was deceptively easy for Eva, but the house put up another, petty, fight against it turning, and then Eva found the door opening inwards with enough force to send her stumbling inside. The house groaned as she entered, wood swollen with years of neglect. Yet, it was remarkably clean; Eva was relieved to find. Though, she supposed, in absence of life, what produces dust?

giving the house agency to control parts of itself was super important to give it character. i wanted it to be able to be petty, and hateful, and then slip into something fond.

the goal for the writing style is to mimic a lot earlier gothic works and their haunting discussion of architecture. i did a class last year on the gothic, and it talked about a lot of my favourite pieces of fiction (staring at carmilla... <3)

this is another favourite passage of the house watching eva as she begins to grieve her grandparents and her memories of the house.

The house watched with a distant curiosity. It, despite Eva’s feelings, had not tried to trigger her descent into grief. It watched her feel, and wondered what that grief was doing to the girl. Was it a pit in her stomach like the rot in its basement? Or was it like the mold crawling through its support beams; something heavy in her bones? Perhaps it was in the attic, boxes of memories pulled to the forefront to be sorted through, and perhaps protected. Or the bedrooms, emptied of all their character, unable to be shut away. Maybe feelings dripped through the cracks like the leaks in its roof, until one of the tiles broke and a deluge poured through. The house didn’t know, and couldn’t say it truly cared, watching Eva’s tears. Maybe it was like a leak, it returned to. The droplets on its floor certainly felt similar enough.

i had a lot of fun trying to draw comparisons between emotion and location.

how would a house convey anger? grief? how would it hold it? would it cradle it in its rafters, or hide it in its basement? does it linger in chimneys, or empty bedrooms? is it the empty hallways, the connecting tissue of the house? or is it an empty kitchen, something supposed to nurture and sustain, yet left barren. how does a house feel? how does it love? how does a house haunt itself?

those are the driving thoughts of the project as a whole, really.

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

just some thoughts under the cut.

this is a mixed bag of a post.

it's true that the idea of a husband going to work and the wife just staying home is definitely a very very modern idea.

but the rest of the first paragraph is a bit questionable. the system before "the factory ate up humanity"? not sure what's meant by this. before the industrial revolution? before capitalism? what is the system that preceded these? you mean agrarian feudalism? where most people (like 90%, depending on the region) were farmers?

yeah most men, throughout history, did NOT "have his own business or enterprise". as i said, most men would have been peasant farmers. maybe a tiny percentage were lucky enough to be yeomen/freeholders. but yeah, men and women, for most of this period, would have both been doing lots of work around the farm. in urban areas, maybe the women would work as laundry workers, chamber maids, prostitutes, weavers, brewers, midwives, etc.

yeah if a woman was lucky enough to be married to a man who did operate his own enterprise she most definitely would have helped him with it but this wasn't a common situation. it'd be the premodern equivalent of being upper class.

in fact, this is one of the things that makes america so special because it actually broke this mold. from america's founding onward we have had a high rate of independent (family run) businesses, yeomen farmers, homesteaders, land ownership, etc. so yeah what she's describing here only would have really been relatively common in america (post-industrial revolution).

also, i don't know how true it is that people has less debt. debt has been an issue since time immemorial. but i also don't believe less debt necessarily means wealthier? in fact, in reality it seems like the opposite. many of the richest people in the world have lots of debt. most of the richest countries also have lots of debt. debt almost seems like a prerequisite for debt.

had more freedom? in what sense?

their work was meaningful? according to what metric? and compared to what? i live in a town that has a pretty strong manufacturing base and i know the factory works are very proud of and find a lot of meaning in their work.

they had more time with each other? perhaps.

"The "trads" lament that women must go to work instead of being with their families. But they have no problem with men suffering this fate. The reality, the true traditional reality, is that this "office work" is for neither man nor woman. It is an inhuman modern invention for organizing work and it serves mainly those who want to make money from interest."

i mean, yeah, obvious i support people in general, both men and women, getting more time to spend with their families. but like in "traditional" societies everyone is still working. even the kids for the most part. it's not like everyone is just chilling together all day. and even in premodern times there were still office jobs and clerical/administrative roles and bureaucracy and all that. that stuff isn't any more inhuman or modern than pretty much any other job short of hunting and gathering. like, i've seen people say agriculture is inhuman/unnatural. i personally think that's silly but you do you.

again, i'm in favor of reducing the amount of work people do and increasing time spent with family and for recreation and stuff. but this just seems no better than the idiotic prattle of other trads.

speaking as someone who has spent my life doing backbreaking manual labor and whose body is already breaking down as i approach the age of 30 i'd love having an office job. in fact in premodern times having an "office job" would have been "making it". the way everyone wants their kids to become doctors and lawyers and computer programmers, premodern folks wanted their kids to become priests and scribes and accountants and so on. there's a reason why people are leaving their "traditional economy"-based countries and rushing to becoming office workers in modern economies.

not saying office jobs are extremely fulfilling or anything. but digging ditches or pulling weeds ain't that fulfilling either. most jobs in general are just shit. lmao. if they were fun times you wouldn't have to be paid to do them.

[yeniasworld]

I’ve stepped into a truth so deep,

That even I was scared to leap.

The me I knew, the world once saw,

Has melted down to something raw.

No more the mask, the name, the mold,

I’ve shed the boy, embraced the bold.

My birthright doesn’t bind me here,

The old me fades, it disappears.

My mother mourns the son she knew,

The half-siblings can’t grasp what’s true.

They hold to echoes, shadows thin,

Of what I was, not where I’ve been.

They couldn’t know, they couldn’t feel,

This journey broke me just to heal.

How could they ever understand

The shedding of the former man?

I walk a path they fear to tread,

Alive in ways they think are dead.

My family grieves the change in me,

Unwilling yet to truly see

That freedom doesn’t come through chains,

But through the fire, through the pain.

I’ve traded comfort, traded fear,

For something real, for something clear.

The person that I’ve grown to be,

Was not the one they hoped to see.

I’m no longer bound by the shell,

That once they thought they knew so well.

From boy to woman, I transform,

No longer fitting to the norm.

To my half-siblings, I wish you knew,

The part of me that’s always true.

Though distance kept us worlds apart,

I hold you still within my heart.

We never grew, side by side,

We never shared that family pride.

But know this truth, I’ve always cared,

Even if time kept love impaired.

I’m sorry for the gaps between

What we have lived, what might have been.

I’m sorry for the ways we’ve missed

The bond that others might insist.

And now I change, I shift, I grow,

Into someone you’ll never know.

The name I carry, the face I bear,

Will soon dissolve into thin air.

But though I walk a different way,

The love remains, it doesn’t stray.

The shame they speak, the fear they show,

They hold to things they’ll never know.

But I have learned to walk in light,

To carry both the day and night.

This fame, this life, may take me far,

But I’m still here, wherever you are.

To my twin, the other half of me,

If you choose to help them, let it be.

You’ll be the elder they can lean,

While I move on, no longer seen.

I’ll still support from where I stand,

Though my path leads to other lands.

I carry love, I carry grace,

Even as I leave this place.

For what I am, what I become,

Is not the end—it’s just begun.

The self I lost, the one you mourn,

Has birthed anew, reborn, reborn.

So let me go, but know I care,

Even if we’re seldom there.

I’ll always love, from far or near,

Even if the road’s unclear.

The truth I found, the soul I freed,

Is all I ever truly need.

[rere-the-writer]

Title- 'He has a wife'

Pairing- Elijah Mikaelson x Original!Reader

Warnings- Angst, Fluff, Forced marriage, Things get spicy, Elijah being a simp for his wife

Hayley sat having Elijah's head in her lap trying to keep his fever down after being bitten by Klaus. Elijah was hallucinating as he rubbed Hayley's arms muttering a name under his breath untill she saw what he was seeing.

You sat in tub as your husband walked in leaning against the door frame smirking watching water trail down your collar bone as he caught your attention. Elijah walked over sitting at the tub edge taking the sponge from your smaller softer hands enjoying the sight of your face flushing.

"I thought you were with your witch? Celeste, was it?"

"I wanted spend the day with you, Y/N." Elijah says lowly kissing your ankle as you looked away your face getting darker feeling his hand trail along your calf.

"Nik, is causing trouble for the witches. Since he listens to you, you should talk to him."

"I should. Perhaps a spanking is in order? But I need practice first, Come here my love." Elijah says as the water sloshed when you moved closer to Elijah wondering what he was up to. Elijah cupped your face as his kissed you deeply nipping at your bottom lip pulling a soft moan from you.

"Hayley?" Elijah rasped out as Hayley looked down at him placing a clothe on his forehead. Elijah realized he had let her in his mind.

"You saw my memories."

"I did...who ever is Y/N, she was pretty hot." Hayley tells the vampire as he groaned in pain from the bite.

"You need to leave."

"No Elijah. I'm staying until you are better." Hayley tells him going back to taking care of him.

Mikael returned home from battle with a prize from what Esther saw with Rebekah. You glared at the Viking as he pushed you forward and Esther caught you frowning seeing the dirt and torn clothes on you.

"Elijah!"

"Yes father?" Elijah questioned looking at you then at his father confused along with Esther and Rebekah.

"Meet your wife, Y/N."

"Elijah?" Hayley whispered seeing Elijah had fell asleep as she was trying to wrap her head around what she saw. Elijah had healed and not spoke to Hayley about the memories unaware she was going to meet Elijah's wife every soon.

Hayley watched in shock as the vampire attacking Elijah dropped dead as you stood holding the heart dropping it as Elijah stared up at you in surprise.

"Y/N?" Elijah whispered staring at you as you stared down at him. Elijah's eyes raked over your body seeing that you were dressed in a white tank top tucked into a pair of skinny jeans with red heels. You had gotten bit of a tan and your hair was longer from when he last saw you.

"Elijah, who is this?"

"Y/N Mikaelson.... my wife and Original." Elijah answers Hayley as he stood up finally shaking off his awe. You looked at Hayley not seeing what it could be about her to earn Elijah's affections if Klaus's word was to go by.

"You've returned to me." Elijah says snapping you from your thoughts when he cupped your cheek.

"No. Niklaus called saying you needed help." You say pulling away from Elijah not seeing his frown as you walked away. Hayley moved next to him reaching for his hand but Elijah moved it away from hers staring longingly at you.

"Elijah seriously has a wife?" Hayley asked Rebekah still having trouble warping her head around it. Rebekah was watching you from across the room while you were talking to Klaus who held a year old Hope.

"Yes. She was turned with us." Rebekah answered Hayley annoyed with her questions as for a week the hybrid had been asking questions about you. You and Elijah had an arranged marriage after your village had been attacked by Mikael and his men due to the leader of your village had attacked Mikael's first.

So to be sure you'll live your father offered you to Mikael as a wife to one of his sons while you glared as the older man ready to fight with a fire in your eyes. You were a round Elijah's age, only two years younger than the noble Mikaelson, so to Mikael, you were a perfect wife for Elijah. As Mikael didn't want Elijah to marry Tatia so he had brought you home with him even though you fought the whole way back.

"She didn't seem happy to see Elijah."

"That happens when you are forced to marry someone so you can live." Rebekah said rolling her eyes at Hayley knowing why the hybrid was asking while it took Elijah only 800 years ago to love you and treat you like his wife but you didn't return Elijah's affections or at least not from what Elijah could see as you were a hard woman to read.

"Oh....so why does she stay?"

"Because we have been with each other for so long....we can't just leave one another." Rebekah says walking away from Hayley as the hybrid watched Elijah step up beside you. Elijah's hand was on your lower back as Klaus excused hisself leaving you to talk to Elijah.

"Darling, I've missed you." Elijah says softly kissing your temple as you looked to Hayley catching her stare making the hybrid look away as Elijah focused your attention back on him.

The last time you saw your husband was back in 1912 when you left due to feeling overwhelmed by Elijah's affections so Rebekah and Klaus helped you run off one late night which broke Elijah but he understood why as there was times he forgot that your marriage was forced.

"Your little wolf seems upset Elijah." You say as Elijah's eyes flickered to Hayley then he focused back on you gently taking your hand in his kissing the wedding band on your finger.

"She isn't mine. What is mine is standing right here." Elijah says against your hand fully aware that Hayley heard him but all he could care about was you. Elijah's feelings for you had only increase as while you were gone, Elijah found hisself craving for your touch or to just have you near.

"Elijah, you don't ne...." You were cut off by Elijah kissing you softly as he cupped your cheek and an arm slipped around your waist. While you couldn't help but kiss back as you gripped his suit jacket and you had forgotten how well your body molded against Elijah's. He pulled away holding you closer resting his forehead against yours while rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

"You are my wife. I have fell in love with you over 800 years ago so don't tell me I don't have to pretend that I love you because I do. I see you and only you." Elijah tells you getting a nod from you as he smiled brushing his nose against yours enjoying how long you were allowing him to hold you.

"So you really are married?" Hayley asked seeing Elijah sitting in his study looking over a marriage certificate that needed to be updated.

"I am, I apologize for......" Elijah was cut off when Hayley sat on his desk in front of him hands on his face. Elijah looked up at Hayley seeing the the look of want in her eyes as she leaned in kissing Elijah.

"Elijah....I love you and I was hoping you would feel the same."

"Hayley....." Elijah muttered cupping her cheek as in a blur Hayley found herself on a couch and excitment filled her but noticed Elijah was by the door.

"I apologize and I am honored to earn your affections but I love by wife deeply. So please do not attempt this again."

"But Elijah..." Hayley said sadly watching him leave but Hayley knew she couldn't give up on Elijah.

Elijah headed for his bedroom surprised to find you sitting on his bed dressed in a baby blue babydoll face a deep shade of red. Elijah licked his bottom lip closing his door taking off his suit jacket and tie.

"What is all this?"

"I.....hum....wanted...I uh...be here ....with you." You were a mess trying to tell Elijah that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Elijah walked up cupping your cheek kissing you gently.

"My sweet wife." Elijah said kissing along your neck as your arms came around his neck feeling you shuttered under his touch.

"My loving husband." You whispered cupping Elijah's face watching his eyes darken as he pounced on you.

"Klaus is Elijah awake yet?" Hayley asked walking into the Mikaelson home as Klaus looked up from his book.

"No. He is still in......" Klaus didn't get to finish as Hayley headed up to Elijah's bedroom and he smirked knowing that Hayley wouldn't like what she about to see.

"Maybe we can head up to New York during the winter. Just the two of us." Hayley heard Elijah say as she peered into Elijah's room seeing him sitting in his bed leaning back against the headboard and you were in his lap.

"Do....you...really want talk about.... that right now?" You panted out as Elijah smirked hands on your hips kissing your breast.

"Can't talk and ride?" Elijah teased you helping you move as your fingers raking through his hair before burying your face in his neck.

"No....Eli...fuck." You cried out when Elijah moved your hips harder and as if he knew Hayley was in the hallway.

"I love you. A beautiful woman with a fiery heart that I am honored to be called your husband." Elijah tells you softly watching you flushed kissing him hungrily letting him take control.

"You know Elijah is committed to his wife. Right?" Rebekah say noticing how Hayley was watching Elijah dancing with you.

"But he wasn't before."

"That is because he was younger, angry with our father and freshly turned vampire. And even though Elijah had been coldhearted to Y/N, she stayed loyal even though after we turned sh ed could have ran off."

"Rebekah is right. It would be best if you focus on your marriage to Jackson." Klaus says walking up holding Hope as Hayley frowned she knew Klaus was right she was married now but she couldn't let Elijah go.

"Maybe we should marry." Elijah says softly kissing your shoulder as you both swayed.

"But we are already married."

"I know but I want to marry you the right way not with you being forced to." Elijah said spinning you then pulled you close as you reached up cupping his face.

"Okay." You tell Elijah as he lifted you up kissing you gently as you finally allowed yourself to fully give into Elijah and finally let yourself be happy.

[cynettic]

Kissing Genshin Characters before you Die

Summary - Kissing the Genshin Characters one last time before you enter the battlefield.

Pairings - Reader x Albedo / Barbara / Bennett / Beidou / Chongyun / Diluc / Eula / Kazuha / Kaeya / Ayaka / Ningguang / Childe / Venti / Xiao / Zhongli

Warnings - Angst, death mentions

Tips - I wrote this listening to ‘Lovely’ and ‘Listen before I go,’ so it might make it better if you listen to both those songs while reading this :’) Both are by Billie Eilish btw, both reverb and slowed down songs for the extra angst

A/N - Im so tired, so so tired of human interaction and having no motivation to talk to people. Its like my social battery simply does not recharge, and I'm stuck writing about interactions I wish I could have, even if it's angst. Burying myself in the delusion that being in a different reality would change everything, burying myself in little imaginations and dreams of a love that doesn't exist.

Also yes, if you did notice the song lyrics playing at first are from "If the World was Ending," used to listen to that song so much. Thought it would fit this :)

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

It was absolute chaos, flames crawling up the wooden buildings and spreading smoke through the nation of Teyvat. Everything burned with the scorching heat, children crying, men and woman trying to run from the unescapable flames. Terror etched into citizens faces when encountering the monsters who appeared unaffected by the destruction.

Hilichurls and ruin guards smashing past people, till there was nowhere to run. And it was the mere decision of whether being beaten to death or burnt crisp was a better way to leave this world.

“You’d come over and you’d stay the night.”

But there you were, weapon in hand as you stood up against the blaze. Strong against the unblinking inferno in front of you, unwavering as you stood in front of the monsters that eagerly rushed towards you. Cut and obliterated in seconds, your eyes held nothing but a sickening disgust.

You slowly turned back to your s/o, relief quenching your heart when they were safe in the little location you’d found for them. They were injured, they wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines otherwise. And holding your weapon up again, you claimed the role of protector against the hoard of monsters.

“Would you love me for the hell of it?”

Their voice broke past your focus, a ragged sound that was suffering. It only took you a few strides till you reached them, crouching down to face them fully. Your faces were mere inches away, and you could see the frustration on their face. A deeply rooted feeling that fueled the action as they curled their hand around your head. Pressing your lips against theirs, one last kiss before you assumed the role of predator against the monsters.

“All our fears would be irrelevant.”

Both hands coming to hold their face, you pressed forwards into their kiss. Grasp tight against them, clinging onto them as if they were your lifeline.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

You kissed them as if the world wasn't a aflame, like it was just you both sitting there. Hands grasping for their skin, for their lips, for them. Because without them you couldn't live in this smoldering world, a bright light that cocooned you in its comforting warmth. Nothing like the blazing flames that surrounded the two of you.

You kissed them like they were the only thing that mattered.

“The sky’d be falling and I’d hold you tight.”

But you felt the shake in their hands as they pressed their hand against your back, scared to let you go, scared to lose you. Scared to let this kiss end and have to face the scorching reality.

“And there wouldn't be a reason why.”

You pressed one last kiss to their forehead, basking in their embrace once more between you broke away. The look on your face was confident as you faced them one last time, softened by their teary eyes. Whispering soft words to them, you could only watch as they broke down, a tight feeling in your chest urging you to do the same.

But no, you had to be strong. For them, for yourself, for all of Teyvat. You slowly turned to the flames and monsters, holding up your weapon, screaming one last battle cry as you let your weapon lead your actions. As you let death become your only objective in a flurry to protect your partner.

“We would even have to say goodbye.”

Sobs wretched out of their throat as they watched you crumble, watched you fall the ground and collapse. Till the movement of your chest came to an abrupt stop, and monsters pooled at your sides.

They were forced to watch, unable to move.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

Their cries turned to whimpers, until they couldn't hear the noises that spilled form their lips. Until they didn't care. What they cared about was thrown on their battlefield, beaten and ragged, torn and broken.

Dead.

“You’d come over… right?”

_-_-_-_-_

Albedo

He takes his time, hand on the back of your neck pushing you so hard against him till he’s woozy. Memorizing the feel of your plush lips against his, molding them into memory with every kiss. He’ll break away from your lips, pressing soft pecks up your face, along your nose, to your forehead. Infatuated with the way your hands gently hold his face, careful, delicate. He doesnt want to let you go, and with one final peck right between your eyes, he’ll close his eyes, whispering a goodbye as you leave. He doesnt open them when you die, he doesnt open them when the monsters reach him. No, he dies in your embrace, even if its not real.

Barbara

Desperate, oh so desperate. She doesnt know what to do with you when you press your hands to her face, tearful. You’ll have to be the one to initiate the kiss, muffling her cries with a short lived sweetness between the two of you. She’ll have her hands all over you, unsure of how to hold you, how to press you against her. She wants to stay like this forever, and even if her kisses are sloppy and messy, she’s crying too much to notice. She won’t break away, you’ll have to tug your way out of her grip and press one last kiss to her forehead. Her voice is angelic, even when she cries. You remind yourself that this is what you’re protecting as you enter the battlefield, giving it your all.

Beidou

Oh she knows, knows how this will play out. The kisses shared between the two of you are strong and compassionate, its more intense than any other kiss you’ve both shared before. Because she knows. She knows what’ll become of you and her, that this is the last kiss she’ll share with you, that there's nothing she can do about it. She lets herself indulge in you, her strong hold on you never letting go until you vocally ask her to let you go. You make her promises she knows you can't keep, but simply smiles, telling you to come back to her.

Bennett

Awkward, his hands will grab your shoulders when you approach him, pressing for a kiss immediately. He misses his mark, accidentally pressing his lips to the edge of your lips, noses bumping against each other as he tries to shift his face. You chuckle, holding his face as you adjust the angle, till you can fully reach his lips and press him against you. Like Barbara, he’ll cry, letting himself melt into you. He doesnt resist when you back away, whispering to him. Just sitting there he’ll cry, sob through it all, vision blurry with tears. But its better that way, he can picture you better when everything is fuzzy.

Chongyun

Everything was smoldering hot, too much for Chongyun who has so much yang energy trapped in him. He’s going through one of his rushes when you get to him, eager to tuck you into his arms. His kisses are sporadic, like he’s trying to kiss you but he cant. Like no matter how much his lips meet yours, it isnt enough. He wants more, he wants the promise of your forever embrace ingrained in his head. And when you break away, he’s left empty, the kisses he’d given you the only warmth on his lips. Suddenly everything was cold, so cold, and he only wished for you.

Diluc

Too rough, mashing your lips against his until you couldn't breath. Dizzy with the lack of oxygen, he didn't stop. You were ‘his,' right here right now, no one could take you away from him. You belonged alongside him, crouched in front of him, pressed into his arms where he could keep you safe. He wouldn't let you go, strong arms pulling you to his chest so firmly that you couldn't escape. He wanted to be selfish, he let himself indulge in the promise to himself that you weren't going anywhere. You’ll have to physically break out yourself, pressing back his hands as he tries to make a grab for you, tears brimming.

Eula

You were her everything, and she’ll tell you it through her kisses. She’ll run her hands along the curve of your back, holding you tenderly against her. She doesn't wish for vengeance for all the soft kisses you’ve stolen from her good days long ago, no, she’s willing to forgive you for everything as long as you’ll ‘stay.’ She promises that in all honesty, she loves everything about you, even if she denies it sometimes. And when you leave, she tells you to come back. That its the one and only thing she’ll hold against you if you don't.

Kazuha

Soft, so incredibly sensual with every touch. Kazuha was always filled with words, filled with lovely compositions made for you and only you. But now, he couldn't think of anything, no haiku he’d written in the past that compared to what he felt right now. Metaphors and hidden meanings couldn't compare to the raw pulsing throb he felt in his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, plain and simple. It held so much affection, he was afraid even those words weren't enough to express what he felt, but he settled with it either way. “I love you,” he repeated, brushing your lips against his before he said it again. “I love you.” He said it again, even as you left, entering the battlefield. He didn't stop saying it, not when he saw the monsters take you, not when they approached him with the promise of death. “I love you.”

Kaeya

He doesnt kiss you, because kisses to Kaeya are a sort of affection that brings the sense of normalcy. He likes the way your lips feel against his, but holding you against him is more special. He doesnt depend on kisses to express what he feels, instead pushing your head to his chest, sighing when your own arms come to wrap around him. No kisses, no touches, just you and him. Offering each other your last shreds of hope, because in the end, you only need each other.

Ayaka

“Look at me.” Her hand cups your cheeks just as you do to her. Now you both simply stare into each others eyes, love and adoration filling hers. She loves you, oh she loves you so much. But she understands duty better than anyone, the urge to protect you almost consuming her. When she kisses you, its soft, butterfly kisses. She doesn't rely on the contact to keep her grounded, no holding your face is a gift enough for her. To stare at you, even for one last time, is all she needs. You’ve given her so much, she would follow you to the ends of the world if you asked her to, and that's why it hurts her so much to watch you fall. She closes her eyes, noticing that she’d follow soon after and perhaps see you in the afterlife. No, she would, that's a promise she makes to herself.

Ningguang

Ningguang has delt with loss before, the concept isnt foreign to her. But you… you’re more than the jade chamber, more than any possession she has. You’re precious, like she sold a piece of her heart to you that she could never gain back. You took it from her, and you plan to take it with you to the battlefield. All she can do is press her lips against yours. Kiss you and the world beside you both becomes meaningless, until air becomes a chore instead of a necessity. Because without air she'd kiss you forever.

Childe

Details, in the case that Childe himself cant fight alongside you, he’ll hold you and repeat the details in his head. The way his hand feels on your hair, how soft or rough your lips are against his. How you fit against him, how badass you look out in the battlefield. He won’t stop you from leaving him, because he knows that if this case was reversed, he’d want you to let him go too. So he presses intimate kisses, slow ones that dont consist of a fight for dominance like they usually do. No, he wants to tell you how much he loves you, one last time.

Venti

He doesnt know what to do, pressed against you firmly. He presses soft kisses, but theres no emotion, he doesn't know how to express himself here. He’s lost a lot, lost so much in his existence, but nothing prepared him for this. Only after a kisses will he ask to cry, and when you tell him yes he’ll press his head against your shoulder. He’ll sob, hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as he does so. And then he kisses you while tears stream down his face, mashes your lips against his until his face grows numb. And he’ll continue to feel numb when you leave, when you die, when he dies.

Xiao

He doesn't know what to do, Xiao has never felt so utterly useless when you crouch to him. Form battered and bruised, when you embrace him he feels whole again. You’re his world, he doesn't care about the blazing inferno just beside you, the monsters that threaten all of Teyvat. You are his everything, what he strives to protect and keep safe. Kisses with him are breathless, both of you passionately pulling each other closer. He cant get enough of you, he wants all of you, every single piece. Molded into his embrace until you cant get out. When you break away, he tries to pull you to him, but he finds himself only able to move in the slightest. But Xiao is a protector, he is ‘your’ protector. He follows you as you head to the battlefield, dragging his limp body in a crawl to get closer. He doesn't stop when he sees the monsters overtake you, no, he continues. Just until he reaches your body, grabbing you and holding your corpse into his chest. He numbs out the monsters that attack him, knowing sullenly that he's going to die. But death doesn't seem so bad, not beside you.

Zhongli

As someone who always has control over the situation, Zhongli will be able to adapt quickly. But he doesnt want you to suffer, admiring you for being so strong when everything presses against you. He wishes to relieve the weight if only a little bit with a few kisses. Sensual and intimate, he wants to support you, and if he cant do it on the battlefield he’ll do it right here. Hold you close and promise you that he’ll always be there for you. Only after you die does he allow himself to cry, not wanting to have burdened you with his tears.

[theringers]

addicted - charles leclerc

summary: you and charles have broken up but an unexpected reconciliation and jealousy leads to some fun

request: Can you do Prompt 100 with Charles? ❤️🥺

prompt: 100) "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

warnings: NSFW, 18+, sex, public sex lmao shocker

The music blared out of your speaker as you danced around your bathroom. Your apartment had been quiet for days now, something you definitely weren’t used to.

It had been a few weeks since Charles moved out of your shared apartment. It was an emotional breakup, but something that you both eventually decided was best for the two of you.

“I want this to work more than anything, but I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.” You said between tears.

“I don’t want to be apart from you. I love you.”

“I love you too, but this is what we need.”

“If this is going to make you happiest, this is what I want too.”

You recalled the conversation between you two but quickly pushed it out of your mind and focused on your plans tonight.

It was a Friday night and all of your friends were either out of town or busy, but you wanted to have a fun night. You sent a text to a coworker and decided to meet him out at a restaurant downtown.

It was hot and humid and the outdoor restaurant was making your cheeks turn red. Your coworker had gone to the bar to get you two drinks.

“Hey, how have you been?” He asked when he returned.

“I’ve been doing okay,” you hesitated a bit. “Charles and I broke up a few weeks ago and this is my first time coming out since.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?” He was obviously shocked. You and Charles had been together for years.

“I’m doing okay. We needed time apart, it’s just weird getting used to being alone.” You took a sip of your glass of wine and looked around. So many people were on dates tonight.

“I totally understand that. I’m here for you, whatever you need.” He smiled at you.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

You conversed and decided to order some small plates for dinner. It was refreshing to have the company of someone new, even though you missed Charles immensely.

“No fucking way,” you said as a salad leaf almost fell out of your mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

Your eyes focused on the couple a few tables away. “Charles is here, on a date I think?”

“Oh no, we can go somewhere else if it would make you more comfortable.” Your coworker got flustered, trying to make sure you felt okay. His kindness was not overlooked.

“No, it’s okay. This was bound to happen. We live in the same town, a small one at that.” You continued to eat your salad hoping to find something else to get your mind off of this awkward situation.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded and shoved your fork in your mouth laughing. Just your luck.

Charles got up from his table and headed towards the bathroom inside. He was wearing your favorite shorts of his and a black top. You loved when he wore black because it complimented his skin and eyes perfectly. The thought of him dressing up like this for someone else hurt.

“I have to use the restroom, excuse me,” you said scooting out of your chair. Your date nodded and smiled.

You picked up your pace so you could catch him inside. Luckily you did, right before he reached the bathroom door. “Charles.”

He turned around confused, saying your name in response to his. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Same thing you are.” He nodded. “I couldn’t let the night go by without saying anything.”

You admired his body, once again. Your favorite outfit of his. For someone else. Ouch.

“I hope you’re doing well,” he said.

“I’m doing the best I can. Same to you.” You both danced around what you really wanted to talk about.

“Who’s the guy?” He asked.

“A friend from work. We’re just here getting drinks.”

He nodded. “I saw you the moment I sat down but I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed happy.” The sadness in his eyes was evident.

“I’m having a good time. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Servers were using the hallway to get back and forth to the kitchen. “Can we talk in here? Somewhere a little more private?” He motioned for the bathroom.

You crossed your arms as you leaned against the door. “Who is the girl?”

“To be honest, I don’t know her at all. She’s a cousin of a friend. He thought I should try to get my mind off of things.” Well that was a bit of a relief.

He stared at you. “You look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.” You smiled at him, remembering how much he loved a good compliment.

He took a deep breath in. “I want to be supportive and let you do you, but it’s killing me to see you out with someone else.” You looked at him with sad eyes and felt a chill from the cold air conditioning. “And I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you need to hear right now. But it’s how I feel and we promised to be more honest with each other.”

You looked at his lips and the years you spent kissing them all came back to you. You wanted to pounce on him and feel his body move with yours but you made a promise to yourself. You needed time alone.

"I love you, Charles, I really do-" he cut you off with his lips, practically reading your mind.

"Don't say another word please." It felt so normal, how could you object?

Your bodies molded together the way they always did. You were meant for each other. His fingers tangled in your hair and his warm kisses felt like home.

He pulled away from you, his hands still in your hair. His eyes took in your body and he bit his lip. "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

His hands moved down your body, taking in the feeling. "Just me."

He kissed your neck and left sloppy desperate kisses along your collarbone, causing your head to fall back against the door.

He flipped your body around and you could feel his growing bulge against your ass.

His fingers trailed under your dress and went inside of you, warming you up for him. You let out a soft moan, remembering what his fingers felt like.

He wasted no time by undoing his shorts and guiding himself inside of you. You moaned at the full feeling. His hands gripped your hips and rocked you back and forth on his cock. "Jesus," he said, trying to keep the noise to a minimum.

"Would that guy out there make you feel like this?" He asked you.

You responded in between moans. "No." You always loved his jealous side because amazing sex followed, but this was nothing like you had ever experienced before. You weren’t his anymore but he wanted to make you his again, show you what you were missing.

“He doesn’t know your body like I do, baby,” he whispered in your ear. His hands wrapped around you and found your chest, taking your breasts in his hand.

"Fuck, I love you," you said between moans. He was taken back and stopped for a second, but eventually snapped back into it. His hands gripped your asscheeks and spread them, making you feel even fuller than before.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I need to stop fucking you but I’m just so addicted to you. I can’t stop.” He grunted while continuing to thrust into you.

Your hands were flat against the door and your head turned to the side. You could see his muscles flexing out of the corner of your eye, making you suck in a heavy breath.

“You feel so good, Charles,” you said. A moan escaped your lips but you couldn’t hold anything back any longer. “Fuck me like it’s the first time again.” Embarrassingly enough, your first time together was in the bathroom at a house party. It seemed like bathroom sex was becoming your thing.

He picked up his pace, and pulled out quickly, but not quick enough. He came all over the back of your dress.

Your jaw dropped but you couldn’t help but laugh. He apologized profusely but also let out a small chuckle.

“Let me take you home and clean you up,” he said.

You stopped for a moment to think. “Only if you take this dress off the next time you want to fuck me.” You grabbed your purse and left the bathroom, making a beeline for the side door.

He grabbed your hand and followed you out to his car. “This isn’t how I expected my night to go.” He said, opening up his passenger side door.

You slipped in to his car and laughed. “And you think I did?”

[slut4benbarnes]

childhood friends to lovers with fred weasley<33 (headcannon)

A/N- I am so sorry that this took a month lovey 😭 but I hope you love it !!

You were Amos Diggory's youngest child

Since your family lived beside the burrow you practically grew up with the Weasleys

You were the same age as Fred and George so you got along with them quite well.

Even though you were a shy kid you would never back down on helping the twins with their pranks.

Even Molly loved you like you were her own daughter

When you three were starting your first year at Hogwarts you were nervous if you three would be in the same house or not.

But suprisingly instead of being a Hufflepuff like your older brother you turned out to be a Gryffindor.

All the professors at Hogwarts were fed up by you three creating chaos in the castle. But they secretly loved you.

All these years when people assumed that you might be dating Fred or George, you thought it was nonsense until......

On Valentine's day in your Fourth year you realised that you were in love with Fred.

The getting butterflies in your stomach when he laughs or smiles. The blush that rises on your cheeks whenever he comes near you it all makes sense now.

You just had to find me, so you just ran throughout the castle trying to spot him somewhere.

You wanted to tell him what he means to you and that you wanted to be with him.

When you reached the black lake you saw something that completely shattered your heart into tiny little pieces

There he was Fred Wealey kissing Angelina Johnson.

You felt empty inside completely void of emotions, you couldn't bear to stand and watch them anymore so you left.

When George found out what happened he tried to comfort you and came up with the best idea he could.

Make Fred jealous.

George told you to pretend that you two are dating and are madly in love with each other.

When you spotted Fred coming your way you put your hands around George and started kissing him.

Fred was utterly shocked at what he had just witnessed , he started feeling something that he never felt before but he couldn't name it

It was Jealousy.

When Molly you found out you were dating George, she knew something was up cause it was pretty obvious you loved Fred.

One day the you and Fred were just talking but strangely it quickly turned into an argument.

You don't even properly remember what the conversation was about. But what you do remember is blurting out "I love you, you idiot"

And well the next thing you remember is his lips molded against yours, finally happy to be connected together.

After you both broke apart, Fred too confessed his undying love for you and you told him about the devious plan you and George had set up.

What you both had failed to realise was the many heads of red hair peeking from behind the kitchen giggling, watching you two interact.

Just when you two spotted them Molly rushed over to you gushing about how happy she was that the two of you were today and all the siblings asking how everything happened.

It was all chaos but you two wouldn't have it any other way.

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

[captains-simp]

Hi can you write a carol fic where carol and fem!reader are exes but reader is also a villain so she constantly pisses off carol just to get her attention 🥳 happy ending too plz

Girlfriends to enemies to yearning enemies to lovers??? Where has this idea been all my life?

1.5k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"She's at it again." Natasha sighed as she watched the TV screen carefully. Carol groaned loudly and hid her face in her hands, not wanting to look up at the screen to see the havoc you had caused.

"Fuck sake, y/n." Tony mumbled but felt a regrettable sense of pride deep down at seeing your latest handy work. Played to perfection. As always.

Stark had been your mentor once. Everything you knew you learnt from him and while he never would have taught you if he knew what you would do with his teachings, he couldn't deny that your skills were unmatched.

You never hurt anyone. Well. You never killed anyone. There was always someone who might have gotten a little battered in an explosion, but it was never your goal to murder. You just wanted a certain blonde's attention.

"Maybe you could-" Steve started but Carol cut him off as she grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch and called out over her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill." She mumbled begrudgingly and left the common room area with a faint glow starting to appear around her.

¤

You swung your legs excitedly as you watched the scene still unfolding beneath you.

The building was still ablazed. Appartments. Shitty shitty appartments. Every one of them had mold growing in the corners, damp in the ceilings, barely functioning heating and questionable water.

The people who lived there couldn't afford to upgrade or even repair their homes and the landlord wouldn't do anything. So you decided to burn it down.

Carefully planned, of course. Most of the preparation had been around securing future homes for those who lived in that shithole. It was a complicated process, especially giving the anonymity of it. But it would be successful. And the landlord? He would be stuck with a bill he should have been paying for a long time, you made sure he couldn't get the ex tenants to pay either.

It was a good day.

You weren't a vigilante as such. Not any more. You had given it a go but you didn't have the tracking or assassination skills of Natasha so you never got any big targets. It wasn't enough. Not when all you wanted was to prove you had the strength to look after yourself and then some. That was what it was all about.

You had worked tirelessly to prove it ever since Carol broke up with you. She had always been fiercely protective. But when insecurities and paranoia started building too high she couldn't shake the distressing thoughts that something could happen to you one day. Something that was caused because you were so close to her. Something she couldn't prevent.

She still loved you. That much you knew. That was what kept you going. You knew Carol wasn't overjoyed at the things you did, there were times you weren't either. But you had to get her back. She was the love of your life and you'd be damned if you gave up what you had the way she had.

It didn't take long for her to arrive. There wasn't anyone else around because while you didn't want to broadcast your location to everyone, it needed to be enough for the Avengers to find you.

"Hey baby!" You grinned up at Carol as she landed infront of you, stoic expression wavering at the enduring name. "How've you been?" You continued in a sing song voice.

"Stop that." She said, not as firmly as she hoped she would sound.

"Rough week?" You asked as you sat down on the ledge and patted the spot next to you. Carol looked around at her surroundings and you rolled your eyes.

"Fine, we'll go somewhere more private." You raised your voice at the last word, hoping whatever camera they had found you on had audio and picked up on what you said. Carol grimaced at the volume but followed you anyway.

"So how is work?" You continued and you strolled down the path next to the blonde.

"I'm not here for a catchup, y/n. But for your information you're making it a pain in my ass." She huffed and you smiled, remembering all the times she ranted about work to you. Now she probably ranted about you to work. Or did she never want to talk about you? Your smile dropped with your stomach at the thought but you quickly recovered.

"So what are you here to do, Captain?" You teased as you got to the bottom of the path and walked a few feet into an old tunnel and stopped to face Carol.

"You need to stop this, y/n." She said firmly. You considered her for a moment.

"Do you think I can look after myself?" You asked seriously.

"Y/n-" Carol sighed.

"Do you?" You continued, wanting to know more than anything. She looked up and considered you too.

It had been a year since she broke up with you, a year that you had changed a lot in. Not just mentally. Your once soft hands were now calloused and slightly red. Your soft smile now held something more to it, something that you had to keep back and locked away. There were scratches and cuts scattered across your body. But really what changed most was that you were alone. There was no one to watch your back anymore.

Despite your efforts to show Carol how strong you were, you were more vulnerable then than you ever had been in your life. Maybe that was why she finally had enough.

"I do. I think you always could." You nodded because yes, that's exactly what you wanted her to understand.

The blonde looked down at her own hands, her eyes flickering to yours every so often. You knew what she wanted. You reached out slowly and gently entwined your rough hands that seemed to still feel so perfect against her own.

"You've really been a pain in my ass, you know that?" She asked and you couldn't help but laugh because that's an understatement.

"So have you!" You exclaimed through a laugh. "You think blowing up buildings is easy?" Carol laughs this time, ready with a come back as always.

"Well for me it's-" You punched her arm before she could finish making her laugh more. God you missed that laugh.

"Cocky as always." You mused and stroked your thumb over the back of her hand. She hummed in agreement, clearly more focused on your movements.

"I'm meant to take you in." She admitted and you weren't quite sure what to do. Yes, you want Carol back. But your goal was always to make her see how capable you were. You had been blinded by the goal and done things she never would have approved on. Carol knew you were strong, but now you might have become someone she can't love. You never thought that far ahead.

"Just...visit me?" You asked hopelessly. She looked up at you and you were taken aback by seeing tears welling in her eyes. You untwined your hands in an instant and reached up to cup her face but felt tears of your own upon seeing her conflicted face.

It was only then that you stopped to realise everything she must had been through in that year apart. The things you put her through.

"I'm sorry." You admitted as tears streamed down your face. "I never meant to- I don't know I thought, well I wasn't thinking." You rambled in shame and Carol brought her hands up to your face too and brought you forward to rest your foreheads together.

"I missed you." She spoke out quietly. "I never stopped missing you, or loving you." She pulled away slightly to look you in the eye and you saw the truth shining back at you.

Then, she brought you closer again, closer so her lips were right next to your own. She stopped to hesitant, wondering if following her heart was the right choice. But when you closed the gap to kiss her she knew it was right. That you could figure things out like you always did.

You kissed her with everything that had built up inside of you for that year apart. The plans, the yearning, the love. All of it. You had waited such a long time to be with her again, unsure if it could even happen, and yet her lips felt as perfect against yours as ever. Like a distance had never grown between you.

Carol pushed you against the tunnel wall as she kissed you back with everything she had. You were everything to her. You always had been and it had never wavered.

When your lips became bruised and breathing became an issue you both pulled away and stood in each other's embrace for you didn't even know how long.

"What now?" You couldn't help but ask.

"We'll figure something out." Carol said as she laced your fingers together again.

"We?" You asked, wanting to pinch yourself to see if it was all real.

"Yes, you and me. Together." You sighed and pulled her closer towards you where you could burry your face in her neck.

"Thank you for giving me a chance." You whispered.

"Thank you for never giving up." Carol whispered back.

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

[yourtamaki]

the wanderer’s lodestone

dabi x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: violence, detail of injury, murder, morally grey reader, dry humping, mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), angst ending

if there was one thing dabi has learned over the years, it was that people always fell in one of two categories. there were those who would meet his gaze and those who avoided it. he’s not sure which is worse. the brave ones and their wide eyes, always staring at his marred skin with such sick fascination it made his palms itch in the worst way. or the spineless bastards whose eyes stayed glued to the ground when he walked past only to gawk at him like a sideshow freak when they thought he wasn’t looking.

two sides of the same judgemental coin, all part of the same corrupt society that preaches love until someone doesn’t fit their mold. it was getting harder to differentiate between them and at some point he stopped trying all together. what did it matter if he couldn’t remember how it felt to be regarded like a human being? he didn’t need to be human to carry out his vengeance, he only needed to be alive. 

that changed when he met you. 

it wasn’t his cleanest break-in but he couldn’t care less, too busy focused on not passing out from blood loss. it was shit luck that the alley he had chosen to rest in was part of a new hero’s patrol route. the kid was clearly scared out of his mind when he realized dabi wasn’t just another thug on the streets, his pale face illuminated in the night by blue flame. it was a shame, for a rookie the kid had talent with his dagger quirk, being able to throw and call them back at will, even change their trajectory midair. he could’ve made it far in the ranks. 

dabi wondered if they’d bury him with his daggers, scorched bones and all. 

it wasn’t his problem anymore. all he cared about was finding something clean to wrap the nasty cut on his abdomen. there was no special reason he chose your bedroom window to climb through. it was the first apartment with a fire escape he stumbled upon just far enough away from the ashes of the pro hero that he wouldn’t have to worry about being followed. your dim window was the first he reached and it didn’t take much effort to jam a knife between the glass and the lock to force it open. he thought the place might be empty for the night when he stepped inside and heard no signs of life. he got to work tearing the bedsheets in long strips and was nearly done when you walked in. 

there were people who met his gaze and there were people who avoided it. you were neither. 

you saw him. 

even in near darkness, your eyes found his and didn’t flinch at the monster that stared back. the room stayed silent as you seized each other up save the drops of blood that slipped past where he held his wound shut and splattered on the floor. 

“could you not rip my sheets up?” 

your voice was enough to startle him from his initial shock, twirling the knife once before going back to cutting up the fabric. “i need them more than you do. i’ll be gone in a minute, scream and i’ll kill you.” 

you scoffed but didn't reply, walking across the room and flipping the light on in a bathroom he hadn’t seen earlier. a wave of irritation washed over him as he watched you rummage through drawers. who would turn their back to someone who broke into their home? did you have no self preservation? 

you walked back, tossing several things onto the bed before making your way back deeper into the apartment. “close the window on your way out.” 

and with that you’re gone. a part of him wanted to chase you, to tie up the loose end but the memory of your eyes kept him frozen in place. the thought of those same eyes looking at him with fear made his gut twist and he didn’t understand why. he grabbed whatever you tossed at him, the few strips he’d managed to make and left the way he came. it’s not until he’s found an empty alley to rest in did he inspect the items. ace bandages, an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide, fish wire and a sewing needle. 

your kindness tasted like pity and acid. he couldn’t convince himself to spit it out even as it burned a hole straight through his tongue. 

dabi hated you and he etched that hatred into his skin, stitch by painful stitch. hated you for reminding him that he had yet to purge the weakness from his soul. the same weakness that forced him to walk past your apartment over the next few weeks. it was stupid to stick around in the city for so long, especially after killing that hero. he told himself it was to make sure you’d upped your security since he’d tumbled into your home but it sounded the excuse rang hollow with no one to hear the lie. 

it became such a mindless part of his routine it took him a moment to realize one night that your window had been shattered open. his throat tightened almost painfully, your eyes flashed in his mind and he was flying up the fire escape a moment later. 

a lean figure was pulling open drawers when the sound of dabi stepping on broken glass made him whip around. it’s a pain, not being able to turn the man into fuel for his ever hungry flames but he didn’t think you’d appreciate him saving your house just to burn it down. 

the man’s movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, taking desperate swings that left him wide open for dabi to sneak under his defences. he’d just managed to grapple the intruder into a chokehold when the bedroom door creaked open and both men’s attention snapped to you. 

“you done yet?” you asked and dabi had to force himself to speak under the full weight of your gaze.

“were you here the whole time?” you nodded, acting far too casual for his liking. “why the fuck didn’t call the cops or something?” 

“i figured you’d show up.” you cocked your head at the incredulous look he threw you. “what, you thought i didn’t notice you coming around all the time?” 

he clicked his teeth in annoyance. “well, what do you want to do with him then, sweetheart?” 

it was a test and it was clear you knew it, glancing down at the intruder that had started weakly clawing at his arm. dabi would kill the man regardless of what you said but your answer would speak volumes on where you stood in this society rotted by false gods. 

“i don’t care what you do, just dump the body far from here.” you didn’t blink once as you sentenced the man to death, didn’t blink as dabi shifted his hold and the echo of a snapped neck rang out in the room. you held steady and a begrudging respect rose up in him.

he heaved the man over his shoulder, being mindful to keep the head hidden from your line of sight. you’d already passed his test, there was no need for you to see it any longer then he’d already made you. he just had to know if you were putting on a front or not. if you were, it would’ve been all the more likely for you to put in a tip about a certain villain that lurked around your neighbourhood. 

but instead you had held his gaze, didn’t look at him any differently and dabi didn’t want to know why he felt so relieved for it. 

he honoured your request, carrying the body through back alleys and shadows to the very edge of the city. his thoughts wandered, as they always seemed to where you’re considered, wondering how soon he could see you again while he watched the flames climb high into the night sky. 

“a tarp? seriously?” he’d lasted two full nights before his feet led him back to your fire escape and the brand new thick tarp that covered the missing window. you were in bed this time, reading a book the title of which he couldn’t make out with the dim light from your bedside lamp, not even bothering to look his way as he made himself comfortable on the window sill. 

“shitty landlord is taking his sweet time replacing the glass so yeah. tarp.” 

“you should move. i hear there’s a lot of break-ins going on around here.” he didn’t like how much your huff of laughter to his poor attempt at humour felt like a reward. 

“not all of us can afford to live in the hero sectors, you know?” 

the venom in your voice when you mentioned the hero sector caught him off guard. they’re one of the more subtle forms of corruption present in all cities with a hero presence. living in the hero sectors ensures one’s total safety from any threat. from robberies to natural disasters, a hero’s priority is focused on the rich who can afford the protection. no hero will ever admit to it, though. on paper, the sectors don’t exist. and yet the heroes flock to the same handful of neighbourhoods the moment a threat occurs. another underhand tactic to keep the poor in their place and the rich comfortable. 

you’ve become that much more interesting in his eyes.

“so, you here to bleed all over my sheets again or what?” 

dabi scoffed, “no, but i was hoping you could take these stitches out and we’ll call it even for saving your ass.” he could rip them out himself but where was the fun in that?

“yeah right. who saved who first?” despite your grumbling you waved dabi over, gesturing for him to sit on the bed while you went off to grab supplies from the bathroom. 

he expected you to pull up a chair once you returned but instead you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back. it took all his concentration not to flinch when you straddled him, your hand trailing under his shirt, fingertips grazing his burnt flesh as you pulled his shirt up, bundling the material and forcing it into his mouth. 

“you might wanna bite down on that, i’m all out of painkillers.” 

there was a gentleness in how you cut the stitches from his body, how you took care to dab an alcohol soaked cotton pad over each one. it made his chest go tight, unable to recall ever being this close to someone and not walking away with new scars. 

dabi found himself lulled into a trance by the rhythm of your hands, a trance that shattered as your fingertips strayed from the path of the cut, following the rows upon rows of staples that held him together instead. he watched your face closely, waiting for the disgust and horror to swim to the surface but your eyes kept the steadiness they always seemed to have. 

“does it hurt?” you whispered. 

he wanted to tell you that it didn’t hurt, not in the way you thought it did. that the nerves beneath his burnt and darkened flesh had died long ago and he couldn’t even feel the patterns you were now tracing on his stomach. it’s the unblemished skin that hurts, that always hurts. the parts of him that still cling to life. 

the human brain processes pain differently than any other stimulation it feels. pain never dulls, never vanishes no matter how long it lasts. every waking moment, his own mind tortures him with fresh waves of pain and never lets him forget the countless staples that pierce his flesh and tear him open everytime he moves. 

there’s so much he could tell you but the words refused to come out, burning up in his throat and leaving him choking on the ash. 

you didn’t push when no answer came, prying his shirt from his clenched teeth and pulling it back into place. “you’re good to go, stranger.” 

his hands that had been clenched by his sides twitched when you started to move away from him and judging by the tilt of your head, it didn’t escape your notice. you settled back over him and this time he couldn’t stop his hands from gripping onto your waist, trying to stop you from shifting.

“stop that.” he said through gritted teeth.

you gave another roll of your hips and smirked when his fingers dug deeper into your sides, “stop what?”

“you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“yeah. but you like it.”

he hated that you were right. but he’d be damned if he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him lose it from a little grinding. he used his hold on you to push you back slightly, spreading his legs even further until you were straddling his thigh instead. syrupy smugness filled his veins seeing you flustered for the first time since he’s met you.

“go on, don’t get shy on me now.” you were quick to shake off any reservations, growling at his teasing tone and grinding down on his thigh with a desperation that sent a thrill down his spine. “just like that, make yourself feel good.”

he couldn’t wrap his head around how right this felt. there should have been a moment of hesitation from either of you as you walked hand in hand over a line you’d have no way of crossing back over but instead you melted into each other, all his senses heightened and flooded with you, you, you. 

he was so focused on memorizing every minute expression that crossed your face he didn’t realize you were asking for help until you moved his hands from your waist to your ass. he was more than happy to take over, setting a brutal pace that had you crying out, bunching his shirt up in your fists to try to stay grounded.

“c’mon baby, let go.”

you cum with a strangled cry and he can feel every pulse and clench of your cunt through the layers that separated you. your whole body shook in his arms as he helped you ride out your high before you collapsed on top of him, your head buried in the crook of his neck. he let your hands wander up and down his sides but grabbed hold of your wrists when they started to make their way between his legs.

he was about to tell you to forget about it, to not worry about the ache that sat heavy and hard in his jeans but the pout on your face when you looked up made him freeze. 

“can i?” you asked, so close your warm breath fanned his face.

“you don’t- i didn’t…” he didn’t want you to think that this is all he’d wanted from you, that this wasn’t why he was compelled to return to you over and over. you seemed to understand his silent struggle, gracing him with a small smile. 

“i know. i want to.” any hesitation vanished at the challenging look you gave him while you freed his cock from its restraints. you held your palm out to him and dabi spat into it, never breaking eye contact as you do the same and wrapped your hand around him, coating his length in the mixture of you. you took as much care touching him as you did cutting his stitches, careful and sure with each stroke, sweeping a thumb over his sensitive tip to gather the precum that leaked like a faucet. 

as you worked his cock, he grabbed your leg that had fallen between his and pulled it up until your thighs were spread over his own. he couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him when he slid a hand into pants and past your panties and felt just how wet you were, sinking two fingers inside you just to hear you whine from the stretch. 

it wasn’t the best angle but dabi made it work, crooking his fingers and letting his rough palm slap against your clit with each thrust. when your eyes started to roll back into your head, he used his free hand to grab the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his and making sure your vision was filled with nothing but him. 

“keep your eyes on me, don’t fucking close ‘em.” your mouth fell open as you nod, somehow keeping your pace steady even as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “show me that pretty face you make when you cum, sweetheart, i wanna see it again.” 

“‘m cumming ‘m cumming oh fuck- ! ” you gasped as your orgasm hit you. he moaned right alongside you as you squeezed just underneath his blunt tip in a sudden death grip, the pain-laced pleasure was almost enough to push him over the edge. 

you dropped to your knees quickly as you felt his cock twitch in your hand, popping the head into your mouth and rolling his heavy balls in your hand. the sudden sensation of your wet, hot tongue pressing at his slit had him shooting rope after rope of cum down your throat and his head spun when you swallowed every drop and showed him your empty mouth. 

dabi pounced, tackling you to the ground, cradling your head before it could hit the floor and crashing his lips onto yours so hard he already knew he’d have to give a gruff apology when they ended up bruised. he chased the bitter taste of himself that lingered on your tongue and shivered when your tongue ran across his scarred bottom lip and you didn’t recoil at what you felt. frantic, rough kisses melted away into a lazy make out that banished all but one thought from his mind. 

he could get used to this. he wanted to get used to this. 

“hey,” your voice pulled him back down to earth, something soft glimmering behind your eyes and dabi didn’t want to look away until he figured out what it was. “i wanna show you something.”

you wiggled out from beneath him, making your way to the window and pushing the heavy tarp out of the way before stepping onto the fire escape. 

following you up the winding stairs felt natural, like he was born to witness the small smile you threw over your shoulder to make sure he was keeping up. 

the view at the top was underwhelming. too many buildings pressed too close together, all the exact same height as the one you two stood on stretching as far as the eye could see to create the most painfully ordinary view he’d ever seen. but it was quiet. the roar of the streets below couldn’t be heard at all and dabi hadn’t realized how loud it all was until deafening silence took its place. and it was cold. cold enough that he couldn’t tell if the ache in his lungs was from the freezing air or the hazy memory of white hair that floated through his mind.

it was the closest thing to peace he could remember feeling in years. 

“you like it?” you were watching him closely, hopping from foot to foot and he didn’t know what possessed you to come out wearing only your flimsy sleepwear. you seemed proud of the little hidden treasure you found and something stirred in his chest thinking about how you chose to share it with him. 

“‘s nice.” he said, reaching out to cover both your hands in his and using just enough of his ever burning flame to warm you both. he found himself waiting once more for the sudden twist of revulsion in your features, for you to jerk away from his touch but you sighed in contentment as heat seeped back into your fingertips. you brought his hands up to your face, making him cup your cold cheeks and closing your eyes to savour the warmth. 

it was as you nuzzled into his palm that dabi realized exactly how dangerous you were to each other. undeserved kindness and crooked smiles and sharing secrets. he hadn’t earned any of these things and yet you handed them to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

and he’ll take them. because that was the nature of the fire he had been cursed with. it takes and takes and takes and you’ll be left with nothing to show for it but the grey ash of your generous heart. and in return you’d lull him with the false belief that he is more than the hatred that flows through his veins, that there was still a person buried under the mountain of rage he carried inside him. he doesn’t think he could survive without it but you would make him believe that he could. 

he’d destroy you. you’d ruin him. 

this, whatever this was that was growing between you was doomed to end before it had even started. he should leave you on this rooftop, leave the whole damn city and forget whatever you had tried to awaken in him. but dabi could never resist the call of destruction, would always want to know exactly how hot and how bright things could burn. what did love look like when it’s been bathed in flames? 

dabi pulled you closer, determined to find out.

dedicated to: @saintdabi​