#i want to cry and scream all at once but like

[lilacgaby]

title: i've changed, won't you see?

pairing: prohero!katsuki x reader

summary: katsuki ruined your life when you were small, giving you a life altering injury, though getting nothing more than a pat on the back. throughout his successes he can't get you out of his mind, so he sets out to make amends with you.

tags: silent voice inspired!! childhood bully katsuki :(, disabled reader, mentions of violence, angst to fluff, su1cide attempt, comfort, implied nsfw, no proofread

(a/n: i wanted to give my hand at really long works while doing drabbles in between but i have so many drafts now jajsjsj)

wc: ~4k

your eyes were always blurry around him it seemed. your hands shaking as your voice cracked, just begging him. "please leave me alone!" with all the might a five year old could muster.

they scoffed at you, they always did. "crybaby. blame your parents for not giving you a quirk. you should've moved when i told you to anyways, it's my park dont you know?" katsuki mocked, moving closer to you, noticing the card behind your back.

"stop being so mean! quirkless people don't do anything wrong!"

"quirkless don't do anything."

your chest was heaving with pain, your little heart couldn't take it. "you-- you'll never be a hero, you're too mean!"

in an act of rage, he set off an explosion. it was only meant to intimidate you but..

once the smoke settled your screams of terror filled the playground.

blood dripped on the floor, pooling in your hand as your grasped your ear. a ringing was all you could hear, it was driving you crazy.

were you crying? you couldn't tell, you couldn't hear. your eyes were shut as you were filled with panic, the smell of iron flooding your senses.

but katsuki remembered so much more.

the smell of the burned cartilage of your ear, the sight of it, or rather the lack of. the blood that wouldn't stop coming, why wasn't it stopping?

his group that usually rallied behind him was now gone, leaving him and a wailing you alone. he tried to talk to you, but you weren't responding.

he grew the courage to touch you, tapping on your shoulder slowly, but that didn't comfort you. in fact he thought it made it worse, making you bow your head in a defensive position.

he stared at you, unable to move, he was supposed to be a hero like allmight, were you right?

finally, a teacher came running to get you, an ambulance already on the way. they didn't look at katsuki, only at the pitiful state you were in.

you didn't respond to them either.

katsuki felt sick as he stood where you and the teacher had left them. he felt sick as he looked down to the remains of what he'd done to you.

he couldn't process it yet, but he felt a sickening despair and guilt be placed upon his shoulders.

one that wouldn't disappear.

he wasn't blamed for anything, only getting a quirk consolation. they thought he lost control? his parents eyed him as he tried to explain what had truely happened, he didn't know why he was trying, did he want to get punished?

but even after, nothing was done. with a lecture and a couple promises he was sent back to class with nothing done to him.

your life was changed forever though, it was apparent in the way that you seemed even more quiet and closed off. you sat in the back, never spoke to anyone, and got teary eyed when he even stood close to you.

your hair covered your ears constantly, a hearing aid peeking through the strands occasionally. the teacher never forced you to participate, none of them ever made an effort.

the teacher had explained to the class how you were completely deaf in one ear, and extremely hard of hearing in the other. how you'd use sign language from now on, and that the class would learn some in support. they never did though, the conversation going ignored as soon as it was uttered.

you were pulled out of class often, the teacher having to tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. your eyes dejected and your presence small as the person who came to get you made gestures with their hands to you.

you'd been cruelly placed in matching classes 'til your last years of junior high. you'd stayed the same way for forever, it was like a weight placed over his chest.

yet he felt he deserved it. he knew he was messed up. he watched you, a lot. he saw you in the back corners, usually forgotten and ignored. when you were acknowledged you were mocked, people making random hand signs to make fun of the way he forced you to communicate, mocking your unconfident speech right after.

he saw the way you sunk into yourself afterwards, making his heart hurt as you grew impossibly smaller. your hands held your own as you prayed for it to be over.

everytime you'd catch him in the halls, you'd still freeze up. your breath shaky as you bowed and left quickly, making his friends laugh but make him queasy.

that interaction was witnessed by your teacher who, after a day of you not showing up, assigned him to give you your work for the day.

with sweaty palms and a racing heart, he dropped by your house. he knew where it was, of course he did, your mom and his were close industry friends even after the incident.

because you'd never told anyone about what he'd do to you.

he knocked on the door, attempting to seem nonchalant. when you answered though, he felt his heart lurch in his chest.

"[name], uh-- this is your work."

you didn't respond, you looked almost nauseous at the sight of him, it was deserved though.

he placed your work on the floor and walked off, that was the only time he'd spoken to you since the incident,

and he couldn't even apologize.

- - -

U-A wouldn't only be a dream for him, but a release for you both. was it selfish to want to run away from his problems? sure, but it'd help you too.

as everyone in the class exclaimed the names of the schools they picked, unsurprised at katsuki's choice, he pondered on where you'd go.

nobody asked you, so you didn't speak. staying quiet as you looked out the window.

katsuki got accepted into U-A easily, but he couldn't help but feel he lacked the main criteria. he'd hurt people poorly, and couldn't apologize because of his ego.

he felt sick to accept these accomplishments of his, knowing it'd be built up on the foundation of hurting you.

but he did anyway, selfishly. he kept up his harsh demeanor in U-A anyways, working hard and scoring high. he graduated top of his class, job offers to agencies left and right.

he accepted one, working for his old internship officially now. he climbed the ranks quickly, saving lives and catching the attention of the media.

a couple years later, he was a steady number five hero when he took a patrol route over for deku. as he strolled through the city, stores littering the buildings, he saw someone he never thought he'd see again.

you, only now working for your mothers seamstress company. you were embroidering something on the station, hands precise and focused, not noticing him.

he had to keep moving, but.. he made a mental note to come back later.

he finished his patrol anxious, he went to sleep thinking of what he'd even say to you. 'hey sorry for ruining your life, can you forgive me?' he slapped his forehead in frustration.

he searched up basic sign language for beginners, learning a bit. he laughed at the stupid thoughts of your forgiveness that he dreamt of.

"as if i deserve it." he muttered, looking deeply at the ceiling of his room before falling asleep.

as soon as he awoke, he got dressed and prepared. he tried to look causal, as if he wasn't planning this.

he walked in, immediately greeted by your mother who congratulated him on his heroics. "well isn't that dynamite? saving the world i see."

he laughed politely. "i'll be number one soon enough."

"of course! well, what're you looking for? i'll give you a family discount, you grew up so close to [name] didn't you?"

his heart jumped into his throat.

"uh.. we did."

"you two were so adorable! she was so nervous around you, she must've had a crush on you or something!"

"i definitely don't think so."

"oh, you're just being modest." she said, hitting his arm lightly. "there she is now, go and speak to her."

"uh-- i--"

"go!" she shoved him in your direction, making you look up to see him. your lips parted in an unrecognizable expression as you saw him, the line you were working on now crooked as you were left alone together.

it's been about ten years hadn't it? ten years since he last saw you, but a lifetime he needed to apologize for.

he'd learned so much in U-A, outwardly changing his demeanor to what he always aspired to be. but all that meant nothing to you, who only experienced him at his worst.

he awkwardly raised his hand up to you, he did his best to sign while speaking, his hands shaky and unconfident. "hi [name], i'm really sorry about what happened back then."

your eyes followed the movements, your hands absentmindedly wrapping around yourself loosely, defensively.

"i know this is a lot but,

can we be friends?"

he waited anxiously for you to answer, you looking as if you were processing it.

in a grown up, yet timid voice, one that he hadn't heard since you were young, you almost whispered, signing as you did so out of reflex. "thank you, bakugo." your eyes grew watery. great, he just couldn't seem to stop making you cry.

he sat near you after getting wordless permission to, hanging onto every word you spoke, and being mindful to speak in a calm tone himself.

"i.. i'd like a friend, honestly. a new one anyways."

he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you said that, but still, it wasn't enough.

he wanted to, no needed to make you happy. the years of torment he subjected you to couldn't be made up by anything less than years of happiness.

after a bit of small talk, him asking you questions about what you'd been up to, how your life was treating you. he zoned out a couple times, thinking of how beautiful you've become.

"what would make you happy, [name]?" he finally said, his head supported on his hand as he gazed at you, making sure to enunciate his words so you could read his lips.

"what makes you ask?"

"i-- i want to make you happy. no matter the cost, it's what you deserve."

she laughed softly at that, her eyes flickering with an indistinguishable expression. "...i always wanted to travel. around the world, to see mountains and landscapes."

"then i'll take you."

"you don't have t--"

"i do. and ill do more [name], what i did to you was-- is horrible. you know that."

"i..

okay, okay bakugo."

"katsuki."

you smiled, "katsuki."

going from having very limited contact with your only friend from high school, to having a prohero come to your shop everyday was jarring. but not unwelcomed.

he brought gifts with him everytime, learning what you'd like and not. it ranged from food to stuffed animals, flowers to accessories, all of which you really appreciated.

you grew closer, eventually starting to meet outside of your mother's shop. at the park or walking around the mall, he'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. he'd pay for everything too, despite your reluctance.

he kept his word to you, and at the end of the month he asked you to come up to his apartment.

a penthouse.

as you walked in, greeted by the shimmering atmosphere of the expensive furniture and decor all around, abstract paintings and trophies littering shelves on the walls.

you stood by the front entrance, taking off your shoes as you walked in. "katsuki?" you asked, looking around.

he came out, a tiny smile on his face. "ya made it." he had something behind his back, "come in [name]."

the apartment was huge to say the least, it becoming even bigger than it looked from the entrance. he guided you to his plush couch, sitting next to you.

"so, i know you said you dreamt of traveling, right?"

at your nod, he pulled out the tickets from behind his back. "i.. got this tickets for you. i didn't want to push it in case you didn't want me to go with you but--"

you cut him off with a hug, tackling him into the couch.

"of course i want you to come,

katsuki."

you signed his name differently than other times,

you'd finally made a name for him.

he hugged back mindfully, so excited to finally have a huge first step in the right direction.

but he still needed to make you happy. "we'll leave in two days if that's okay, i just wanted to give you time to pack."

"okay, that's good."

"do you.. want to stay?" he asked nervously, the thought had popped into his mind and out his mouth in a millisecond.

you blinked, sitting up on his legs, pondering it over.

"sure, okay."

he put on some movies for the two of you, his heart was racing at the proximity of your body to his.

the night ended with you laid on top of him, fast asleep as he was comforted by the beating of your heart against his. your chest against his, his hand in your hair as your head laid in his neck.

he woke up first, to the sight of the gold light making you look heavenly, your hair messy from how he was playing with it throughout the night. your face was almost against his, he could kiss you right now.

but he shouldn't. he would move but he didn't want to couldn't, so he looked you over. you woke up to the feeling of his fingers caressing your face, your eyes half lidded from sleep.

"'suki. g'morning."

his heart was getting used to irregularly pounding around you at this point. "[name], uh-- hi."

after a couple moments, you got off of him, much to his discontent. his hands sliding down your legs as you got up.

"i'll be going now, i gotta pack and stuff." you said, looking in one of the many mirrors scattered around as you fixed your appearance as much as you could.

he nodded. "let me walk you home at least."

and he did walk you home, hand in hand.

those two nights he spent pondering over you. he didn't know why, but hero work felt much lighter after talking it out with you. becoming your friend was one of the best things he'd achieved in years, and that was including his recent rankings.

he thought back to how he treated you as a kid, had he really just been searching for your validation all along?

is that why it hurt when you told him he'd never amount to his dreams, because he only valued your opinion?

he let himself sleep, he'd see you tomorrow. and he'd make it all right.

he woke up and picked you up at your place, his expensive sports car standing out against the comfort of the neighborhood. you walked out, dressed simply but cute, a bag of your own in hand.

he grabbed it from you and placed it in the back, opening the passenger door for you as he drove to the airport. his hand on your thigh as he did so, letting you play the music you'd like with loud bass.

it was a half hour ride in comfortable silence, he gazed at you occasionally, a thoughtful expression on your face.

on the plane, you sat by the window. it was first class so you'd get to sleep in a physical bed, in a closed room. you were treated to whatever food and drinks you wanted, hugging katsuki when you found out you where you were heading.

the flight was a long eighteen hours, but it was spent hanging out with katsuki. on his lap asking him questions about the shows you two had watched, power scaling arguments about past heroes, fights he'd recently been in.

also what you two planned to do as you were there, you wanted to go to the beaches and mountains, he just wanted to follow you.

you fell asleep together again, your face laid directly in his chest as he held you.

you woke up to katsuki tapping you on the shoulder. as you raised the volume on your aids, you heard the beeping on the intercoms that meant you'd have to go back to your seats for the landing, groggily being helped up by katsuki as he moved you to to your seats.

you sat by the windows, looking at the tropical region as you two landed, your hand still in his. the moments after we're a blur, before you knew it you were in a car being buckled up by katsuki as you were being driven to your hotel.

what you didn't know was that it was a villa, built on top of the waters of the ocean, your very own private beach right outside your doors with the mountains you'd dreamt of treking right behind you.

you'd never been so happy.

the days you'd spent started and ended all the same, you waking up and going to sleep in katsuki's arms. pretending like you didn't notice how your bed hair got worsened after he played with it all night.

the first days you'd spent at the beach, attempting and failing at surfing. your jet lag was killed off by your utter excitement.

you being thankful your aids were water resistant because of how much you loved the waters of the river and the seas.

you'd had a sandcastle competition, sunbathed, and soaked off in the hot tub of your villa together.

the trek's were fun too, katsuki was annoyingly good at everything so you'd have to fight to keep up.

your polaroid in hand as you snapped candid shots of him, turning it to yourself as you got a selfie of you two with the gorgeous rivers as background.

you jumped into those too, making katsuki freak out as you dived in to the deep waters.

you even got to the top one day, jokingly saying that you should've brought a flag to the top to celebrate. the golden hours of the sunset making you glimmer.

a moment of silence passed over you as he slowly approached you, wordlessly asking for permission as you once again put your hands in his.

you leaned in first, kissing him with the sun as witness.

"i really like you [name]." he sighed and spoke after you pulled away.

"i like you too." you replied, hugging him tightly.

the rest of your trip was filled with your firsts with katsuki.

your first official date was in the burrows of the forest, a picnic where you two painted portraits of eachother. albeit, unique portraits... but painting nonetheless.

your first moment truly loving someone, the feeling you recognized as you laid him in your lap for the first time.

your first talk about what happened all those years ago. a deep one.

"[name], before we become something um.. official. we need to talk about how i hurt you." katsuki said one day, laying faced to you but taking your hands into his.

"kats--"

"let me speak. please." after you nodded, he took a breath and began.

"i was egotistical and really insecure all those years. you were the only one who really read me, that's why i think i got so upset.

i didn't mean to hurt you, i never wanted to hurt anyone i swear-- i just hated that you were right.

that weighed over me all these years, the fact that my hero work meant nothing if i was doing it while acting so.. unheroic.

i never fully felt like a hero, not until i met you again.

not until you graced me with your friendship, your undeserved affection towards me. i just-- i really care about you. and im really sorry, ill spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and you don't have to accept it because i don't deserve it.

i guess what i'm trying to say is..

sorry, and.. i love you [name].

you don't have to--"

he was cut off by a kiss on his lips.

it felt different somehow, he couldn't place it. almost sad in a way as you pulled back.

"i don't think you were trying to hurt me. but, you did.

and you're working to change it, i appreciate that.

i really care for you too katsuki."

the rest of your trip was comfortingly domestic, learning things about each other you'd never know.

your last week was bittersweet, having to leave your jointed paradise was a reality that saddened the both of you. but your dream was fulfilled, and so was his.

seeing that he was the cause of your smiles and not your horror, making you happy was the light of his day. no, his life.

he thinks he was born to make you happy.

the flight back was a blur, you spent it clinging to him. you started to gift him your own things over the hours, a scrunchie of yours, a bracelet for him to keep.

a locket with a photo of you two, and the polaroid you'd taken on the mountains.

"why are you giving this all to me? not that i'm complaining."

"well, you'll get more use out of it. that's all."

he scrunched his face up in confusion, but with a smile you waved off his concerns.

he wished he pushed you more.

he wished that you'd forgive him for failing you once again, as he fought to take the razor blade out of your grip, slicing your hand in the process.

you were in your bathtub, surrounded by water yet fully clothed, tears and wails wracking your body as you just wanted it to be over.

you finally relented, your blood staining his clothes and the water as he picked you up. you couldn't hear him, you'd taken out your aid.

but you could feel his sobs, his tears hitting you as you shut your eyes, embarrassed of what you'd just done.

you were rushed to the hospital and given stitches, you were to be closely watched from your mom now on, you were told by an interpreter.

katsuki's eyes were red, matching his pupils as he looked at you.

he was frustrated, you could see it in the trembling of his fists and the scowl in his mouth. if he hadn't been there.. you would be dead.

why, he asked you. and to be honest, you really couldn't explain it yourself.

when you got home to your apartment, empty and reminding of your reality away from katsuki, you just felt so..

scared. what would happen when he finally got the validation he needed and left you? your whole life was quiet and tranquil, you'd gotten used to it. but he flipped it upside down again, showed you what your life really could be.

it was too much for you. you had to escape, so after sitting on it, tapping your leg anxiously as you pondered your decision, you went on your phone.

you went online and saw his life outside of you, how he had everything going for him yet what did you really have? a mom and a job at her company?

you grew impulsive, grabbing it absentmindedly and filling up the tub with the water you grown to love over the past month.

after you started bleeding, you panicked. what had you just done? but it was too late..

until he saved you from yourself.

you were zoning out. when you didn't answer him, he repeated himself, grabbing the interpreter so you could sign.

but still you said nothing, except a small sorry.

he left afterwards, leaving you alone in the bed to think.

you were back in your childhood room now, your mom having sobbed as she looked over your hands, as she asked you, "what the hell were you thinking?"

you looked at those glow in the dark stars and tried to find an answer, but there was none.

you held yourself to sleep for the first time in months, already missing him deeply.

little did you know, he was thinking about you too.

the next morning you awoke to a knock on your bedroom door. assuming it was your mom, you got up and opened it.

it was katsuki instead, holding a bouquet of flowers and the locket you'd given him.

"can i come in?"

you opened the door wider, leading him to sit on your bed.

"katsuki i--"

"[name]. i don't know why you did what you did.. but i know it probably has something to do with me. so what did i do wrong?" he looked defeated, as if he thought it was his fault you tried to end your life.

"no! no that wasn't it at all. well, it was about you but not like that.

it's just.. i've been alone. for so long? having you around felt.. too good to be true. i didn't want to go back to how i was before. in a way, you were too good for me."

"you're.. an idiot. but i guess i understand."

"i just.. i really love how you treat me. i didn't want it to go away."

a moment of silence passes, a small anxious laugh leaving katsuki's lips.

"fuck, i thought you hated me. could barely sleep without you."

he pulled you into him, staring deeply into your eyes as he pulled you impossibly closer. he kissed you deeply. his worries, passions, and frustrations all poured out into it.

he pulled away, eyes half lidded as he asked gruffly.

"wanna take this back to my place?"

he took your last first away, gentle and loving as he guided you through it. reassuring you that he'd never leave you.

you moved in with him soon after, finding it hard to sleep without eachother, no matter how late he got back to your shared home.

he'd be welcomed back by the sight of you, who always tried and failed to stay up waiting for him. he'd pick you up, like always, and hug you to sleep.

he'd know he woke you up by the feeling of your smile in his chest, the way you tightened you arms around him.

he loved spending every waking moment he could with you. you were right though, he did break up with you after he got your validation.

...

but that's just an odd way to say he proposed to you, vowing to spend the rest of his life making you happy and fufiling your wishes one by one.

he changed not only himself, but the way you see yourself. he changed your relationships with yourselves and eachother for the better,

and as you walked down the aisle, your wedding planned by your two designer parents, being lavish and gorgeous. the silk on the floor being runway to your expensive shoes specially designed for you, the guests in awe of how gorgeous you are.

you both knew, you'd better eachother for better or for worse, for as long as you'd be together.

he signed 'i do', sealing the rest of your lives together,

with a kiss.

[charlotteking23]

How To Make Your Girl Happy - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: Once in awhile, the two of you like to go out at night without a special plan in mind and just do whatever you please. Just like tonight. It's going to be so much fun! Right?...

word count: 1.6K

You hold the broken gold chain in your hand, crying your eyes out while Max kisses your other hand, trying to calm you down and drive straight at the same time:

"I'm gonna get you another one, Princess, OK?"

"But you gave this to me for our two-year anniversaarrryyyy," you bawl, upset like never before, looking for a tissue in your purse. "Oh, look, baby, a grenade, you suddenly stop your mourning, taking it out and showing it to him.

"I didn't even know I had it in here, you think it's expired?" you wipe your tears, smiling like nothing happened.

"I don't think they expire, liefje," he winks, working his charm on you.

Thank God she got distracted, Max thinks, pleased he avoided the catastrophe. Must be that...time of the month because you always get really emotional; he really doesn't want to deal with it but he has no choice.

"Oh, no!" you suddenly gasp, digging into your purse, and your bottom lip quivers on the verge of crying again. "Maxiiiieeeee, I'm out of my gum," you whimper, staring at him. "I want my gum!"

"Say no more, I will take care of it!" he quickly agrees, really struggling to keep his cool. If he can't keep his girl happy, then who will?! He yanks at the steering wheel, going over the curve, hitting two trash cans in the process, almost killing a cat and a pigeon.

He sees the gas station and since it's so late at night there are no customers. Perfect for what you need. The two of you rush inside and see the clerk freeze in shock when he recognizes the famous F1 driver.

"Look I need gum now!" Max scowled, while you went by the counter and started looking for your gum, and...

"Maxiiiieeee, they don't have strawberry flavor in the brand I like," you whine, feeling another wave of imminent tears strolling down your cheeks.

"What?! Why don't you have strawberry?!" Max raises his voice, alarmed.

"W-we run out s-sir," the clerk stutters, closing his eyes, thinking he was in front of the Max Verstappen. "We have strawberry in o-other brands..."

"I only like this brand!" you interrupt, snorting, wiping your nose with your sleeve while scratching your thigh.

Good gracious, she's such a classy woman, your boyfriend thinks, suddenly aroused, really wanting to bite you all over.

"She only likes this brand!!!!" Max repeats, getting out of his trance, and screaming at the poor guy that trembles like a leaf. "Why are you upsetting my girl, hm? Don't you know you should have that stuff on hand all the time?"

"S-s-sorry s-sir..."

"That's it were leaving this fuckin place", taking your hand and fastly walking back to the car. "Stop crying, Princess, we'll get your gum!" he promises, starting to drive again.

He feels so aggravated, but if he can't keep his girl happy, then who will?!

After a few miles, he notices a small, lonely convenience store and slams the brakes, sharply turning so he can park.

You both run inside, while you look through their stash and let out a scream when you see what you need.

You grab a paper bag and cram in all the strawberry-flavored gum you see in the brand you like and take one last package, wanting to open it when the date gets your attention.

"Maxiiiieeeee, this is expired," you complain, your quivering bottom lip making him lose it.

"Are you trying to kill my girl?!" he snaps at the man, outraged, mostly because he has to deal with you in this state after you leave the store.

"N-no, n-not at all, I-I don't know how it happened," the guy gulps, feeling he's going to faint soon seeing Mad Max.

"They're all expired, baaabyyy," you frantically go through your bag, tossing each little package one after the other.

"Are you trying to kill your customers?! What kind of place is this? You should be reported to the authorities! No princess, don't!" Max slaps your hand when you try to open the last package because you want your gum badly and it makes you more upset when you drop it.

"Let's go, Liefje, this damn city is trying to kill us tonight," he pants, backing out and you hold on to his shirt, following him outside like a lost puppy.

"Hold on, baby," you sniffle and taking a marker out of your purse, heading back to the store and Writing 'loser, and 'don't come here unless you want to be food poison' on the door, shouting at the clerk:

"This is for trying to kill people!", You start laughing, suddenly happy, heading back to your car.

"I don't want gum anymore, can we drive to our spot?" you sweetly ask, kissing his shoulder as he starts driving again.

shit, Max thinks. Why? Because you usually go to your secret spot on top of the hill to have sex. Since you are...not able to for now, it only means one thing: you will want to cuddle and talk.

Your boyfriend takes a deep breath, pretending he's not panicking. But if he can't keep his girl happy, then who will?!

Once you get there, you crawl on the hood with him, placing yourself in between his legs so he can hold your waist from behind.

"Ahhh, this is so nice, isn't it Maxie?" you giggle, putting your hands on top of his. Max is tense but doesn't want to show it. "Wow, a falling star! Make a wish!" you get all excited, clapping and he sighs, bored. "Did you make a wish? What did you wish for?" you turn your head so you can see him

"For Goddamm Monaco to have your stupid gum!" he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

"No way! Me too!" you get on your knees, turning so you can face him. "What were the odds, baby?" You smile so brightly that his sassiness goes down a notch. "You really love me, don't you?" you bite your lip.

"Yeap," his short answer comes and you don't give up.

"How much?"

"Ummm, a lot," he quietly mumbles, uncomfortable, wishing you would change the subject.

"Really?!" you kiss him, astounded. "AWWW that's so sweet," you get all teary and sentimental.

The things he has to go through to please you. But if he can't keep his girl happy, then who will?!

"Dadddyyyy," you trace his biceps, batting your lashes at him.

Oh, hell no, Max thinks. You only call him Daddy in bed (which is not the case here) or when you want something he wouldn't agree with, which is probably the case.

"Yes, liefje?" he tilts his head, waiting to hear what else it's going to come out of your mouth next.

"I think we should have a baby, or two or three, but at least two, yes?" you blur out, enthusiastic to the maximum and he starts getting flustered, not expecting such a twist.

"I don't think so, liefje," Max utters with such determination you start bawling instantly.

"Why nooootttt?" you wail, sobbing with your face on his neck like he's been dead for three months or so. "You think I'm ugly?!"

His hands start caressing your back, trying to soothe you.

"I don't think you're ugly, I think you are a pretty princess," he says, being sincere. "You look beautiful, don't worry," he pets your hair and you wipe your tears, grinning at him. if he can't keep his girl happy, then who will?!

"So let's have kids then," you switch to your original plan, hoping for a positive outcome.

"No...I really don't want to..." he makes a comeback, stubborn and determined not to give in.

You gasp so loud it startles him: "Are you...are you having an affair?"

"What' ?! No, I'm not having an affair," he immediately defends himself, irked you would think something like that.

"Oh my God, you're cheating on me, aren't you?" The crying starts again and you weep on his chest, soiling his favorite redbull shirt with tears and makeup.

"Is she prettier, more beautiful looking than me? You wanna have kids with her and not with me?" you clench your fists on the fabric, heartbroken.

Dammit, why do you have to get like this every month? Max thinks, irritated.

"I'm not having an affair, OK?" he lifts your chin up so he can look you in the eyes. "Stop crying, Now", He requests pissed and you gulp, suddenly holding your breath so you won't make a sound you feel you need air and he watches quite amused at how you struggle to hold your breath, afraid to move. After a few good seconds, you give up and start breathing again.

"I'm not crying anymore, all right?" you kiss him, and since you don't have any tissue, you wipe your nose with your sleeve again and he gropes you,

"I love classy girls; you're so classy princess, " he charges at your cleavage, not being able to control himself anymore.

You snicker, straddling his lap, and just have to say it:

"Maxiiieeee, come on, let's have a baby, or two or three, pleaseeee," you pull his hair and scream when he bites your skin. "Unless you really think I'm ugly," your bottom lip quivers once more, your happiness going downhill as fast as his enthusiasm for the subject.

When he sees the tears rolling down your face he has to get it together with all he's got to muster the words:

"Fine, we'll have a baby," he bitterly mumbles, distressed.

If he can't keep his girl happy, then who will?!

[abbysbug]

— violent nature

pairing : dark!ellie x fem!reader

summary/request : Ok expansion pack: reader is leaving Ellie because of her violent nature for like the 3rd time, but Ellie tracks her and thinks a little rough sex is all she needs to fix reader's attitude, despite reader wanting out

content : noncon, stalking (kinda), breaking skin, bleeding, gun threats, degradation, fingering, clit rubbing, manipulation, overstimulation, finger sucking, cum eating.

note : this fanfic is pure fantasy and i do not encourage this behaviour happening inrl.

masterlist | discord

Your heart beat violently in your chest and your legs burned with each movement, but you couldn't stop running; you had to get as far away as possible.

You hadn't planned on leaving Jackson, but after multiple arguments with Ellie, you had to go.

Your face still stung from her slap and your bruised body ached.

You didn't take many things. Just enough food and water to keep you going until you found a shelter, and your gun, which you kept tucked in your pants.

It took you two days to find shelter. It was an abandoned neighbourhood that would have been swept through in the early days. The house you camped in had broken windows, doors, and furniture. But, there was a basement that would keep you warm throughout the night.

You felt safe there.

Until the sixth day.

You woke to the sound of a gunshot and a loud muffled cry. The person was close.

You reached for your gun and made your way out of the basement. You silently crept around the house, peering outside but couldn't see anyone.

You swallowed roughly and licked your lips.

They've probably moved on.

You turned around to make your way back to the basement but were met with a gun pointed at your face.

With Ellie's gun being pointed at your face.

Your immediate thought was to run, but your feet stayed glued to the ground. All you could do was pathetically stare at her with fear-stricken eyes.

Ellie chuckled.

"Did you miss me, baby?"

Ellie didn't give you time to respond. Her palm roughly met your cheek and she grabbed onto your throat, shoving you into the wall. You cried out and your gun was knocked out of your hand.

You tried to fight back and clawed at Ellie's hand. She ignored you, keeping her hand wrapped around your throat and her other on your hip, keeping you pinned.

"Little fuckin' bitch." She snarled as you broke her skin.

You kicked her in the leg and Ellie grunted. She threw you to the ground and straddled your waist, pinning your arms above your head.

"Why are you like this?" You wiggled relentlessly under Ellie.

Ellie sighed, leaned down, and kissed your neck "Because I love you."

She slowly shed your clothes, kissing every inch of your bare body. You didn't bother resisting her. She was too strong.

"If you try to run." Ellie used her thumb to wipe your tears away "I'll shoot you."

You nodded and stayed quiet.

Ellie released your arms and moved to lay between your thighs. She placed a soft kiss on your clit and two fingers propped at your hole. You shuddered as she slipped inside and her thumb rubbed your clit.

Ellie has memorised your body like the back of her hand. She knows what places make you scream and what places hurt. She knows how to force you over that pleasurable edge or keep you from it.

You whined, rutting your hips into Ellie's palm. It was pathetic how quickly Ellie made you chase that pleasure. She followed you for 6 days and once she finally found you, she threatened to kill you.

Now, you lay on the floor of an abandoned house letting her fuck you dumb.

A guttered moan escaped your lips as Ellie replaced her thumb with her lips, sucking and licking at your clit.

You clenched around her fingers and covered your moan, embarrassed by your loud moans. Your fingers threaded through Ellie's hair, pulling her closer to your cunt.

"You getting close, baby?" Ellie mumbled around your clit, vibrations going through your body.

Your words got stuck on your tongue as your orgasm washed over. Your back was arched and your toes curled. Your vision speckled white and you whimpered.

Overstimulation came quickly and you had to push Ellie's head away to stop her.

She chuckled and climbed back up your body. She pushed her slick-covered fingers against your lips and you opened. You both moaned as you sucked her fingers clean.

Ellie cupped your cheek and kissed you softly.

"You gotta stop running, sweet girl."

You swallowed roughly and nodded your head, whispering out.

"Okay."

-

a/n: so i would honestly make this darker but i know this fandom doesn't really like dark fics and i don't wanna be cancelled sooo :p

@ashandsweets @mystellenia

[almondmilktargaryen]

Duty & Sacrifice (Part Three)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: Mourning child loss (written by someone who's not a parent), lying

Word count: 4.6k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four ✍️

Just as when he left Flea Bottom, the guards do not look twice at Aemond as he walks through the Keep. They do not see his face, nor the two cloaks he wore (Criston gave him his to hide the blood). No, all they see is his boots as they bow upon passing. The only words they utter are, “My prince.” Aemond faces forward. His eye does not stray. And his head stays up.

He turns sharply after climbing the stairs, finding his chamber doors in the east wing. The guard outside mimics the expected behavior before Aemond pushes himself through.

Out of all things unexpected in one night, Floris being absent was jarring. She sticks to a routine, just like him. With the candles already snuffed out, the smell of smoke had been replaced by the open air from their balcony. She should’ve retired hours ago.

Perhaps the gods wanted to leave him alone after… all of it, reminding him how alone he truly was. Still, Aemond looks around, peering past corners and squinting into dark areas at the far ends of their chambers, straining his vision with the distance as he feels the chains in his chest. They weighed down his heart and lungs as he staggered and lifted the bedcovers. Caution camouflages with his grief and takes hold just as strongly. Floris could be anywhere.

The weight, the chains stacked on themselves. Aemond discards the cloaks and mixes them in their shared dirty clothes. The view of King’s Landing taunts him; the capital he once saw from a safe distance nearly two years ago. Even in daylight, the people were nothing more than specks of dust. None of them could hurt him. He never thought it would be the reason, once again, why he felt this way. It was only more proof that he has not changed, still stupid. Three and ten, self-loathing, and stupid.

Luc used to represent his self-loathing. Now he sees Alyssa.

She was warm whenever he held her to his chest, like the sun washing over the cityscape. She was a blaze as fiery as her hair. Now she’s snuffed out like the candles in his chambers, but this time far away from home.

Aemond grips the barrier of the balcony as he falls. The stone scratches his skin as he clings to it like a cliff’s edge, yet he sinks down and down. A heave escapes him, squeezed out of him as the imagery of it all floods back, every angle pouring in as he convinces himself there was something he could have done. Before the alleyway, before Chataya’s. Surely, there was a step he missed. He had to have, so he retraced it all while shivering, like winter was here.

The door creaked open, making Aemond’s head spring up like a deer hearing a twig’s snap. He plugged his grief, picking himself up in the shroud of darkness and rubbing his face.

“Aemond!” Floris’ silhouette is barely in view, but he still recognizes it as she pushes her bangs from her forehead. Her rapid breaths grow louder with each step toward him before she’s fully in the moonlight. She’s in her nightgown. The black one from her mother that matches her hair, both now in crumpled waves. “Where have you been? Daeron has been in a state demanding to see you.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

A hand remains in her hair, the other on her hip. “He won’t stop crying. A nightmare, maybe? I put him to bed hours ago, and the handmaidens said he woke up screaming.”

“I’ll go to him.”

“Wait.” A palm meets his chest, square in the center. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond stares into the dark of their chambers just above her head before falling to her blue eyes. It was wiser not to speak.

The tips of her fingers are cold as they brush under his eye. Her short nails barely scrape his unmarred cheek. The wetness shines under the moon as she turns her palm to him.

He pulled out his usual excuse, putting a hand over his patch. “Eye pain.”

“Eye pain?”

“Yes.”

“Your upsets usually force you to rest, not tears.” She observes the residue before wiping it on her gown. “I haven’t seen it this bad since Baelon’s last name day.”

“Well, it happened. It comes in waves. Or sometimes a moment’s fit.” Another way to cover himself in the future. He’s discovered grief rises in him at inconvenient times. Gods love to torture. “I can’t control when they occur, Floris.”

“I never said you could. I just—”

“I need to see Daeron.”

The children sleep in the west wing of the Keep now. After what happened to Jaehaerys, Aemond insisted their rooms be away from the royal quarters. He made sure there was a guard at their doors day and night. Jaehaera included. Tonight, however, there were two guards outside Daeron’s door, appearing dazed and confused. Yet they still had the sense to bow to their prince.

Aemond opened the door to find five handmaidens completely helpless. But like the guards outside, Aemond was also confused when finding his son not screaming. His body only bounces in place like he had the hiccups. His head was down and he gripped his little golden blanket.

“He’s tired out his throat, my prince,” one handmaiden says. Her voice shakes.

Daeron looks up when hearing the title. His little eyes are puffy from crying so hard, and Aemond’s heart, merely hanging by chords, can still twist in on itself as he watches his boy’s lip quiver.

“Leave us, please,” Aemond says.

“Forgive us, my prince. We tried our best.”

Daeron rubs an eye with the heel of his hand. “Papa, my… throat hurts.” His voice sounds like he swallowed gravel from the training yard.

“I’m sure, sweetling. Hold on,” Aemond turns his head to the group. “My son is thirsty. Please, one of you fetch him some water. Add some essence of nightshade to help him sleep.”

Their curtsies blend with their departure. The door shuts behind him.

The candle on Daeron’s bedside table revealed the redness across his face, hot and sticky with tears. Aemond walks to the foot of the bed. He’s careful not to let his weight go too suddenly, recalling the height difference this time between this bed and Baelon’s. He’s not hesitant though with stretching out his arms. “Come here,” he says.

Daeron springs from his covers, leaving behind the small golden blanket as he crawls into Aemond’s lap. He hugs him at the neck while Aemond holds him at the waist. It’s a long hug, something they both need. He smells like outside, earthy yet sweet. He lets himself feel the boy’s fragile ribs steadying themselves. His father was here now. There was no need to worry. So they took in air as they needed it—with ease. When he pulls back, Aemond grabs the spare handkerchiefs left behind. Daeron still sniffled, but refused to blow his nose. Aemond pinches it instead.

“What’s upsetting you so much?”

“Am I to be Lord of Storm’s End?”

“What?”

Snot dribbles on the handkerchief. “I had a dream.”

Aemond cocks his head. “Tell me about it.”

“I had a dream that… that we went to Storm’s End to see Uncle Royce. But I was alone. And-and—”

“It’s alright.” Aemond rubs his son’s back. “It’s alright.”

“You wouldn’t let me fly Morning. I couldn’t get back home.”

Aemond gave pause as he listened to Daeron. The boy’s lip quivers again as Aemond’s thoughts swirl, shushing his son as he remembers Helaena. Aemond clears his throat. He smiled down at his son. “I know what this is,” he says with an exhale. “Come with me.” He holds him close as he stands up, walking across the rooms to settle at his window, the other side of King’s Landing before them. Aemond used Daeron’s fleshy arm to point. “What’s that building there?”

“S-Sept?”

“That’s right. The Grand Sept. Your Aunt Helaena is there. You never got the chance to meet her.” He petted Daeron’s head, white fluffy hairs that swept to the front and covered his forehead. He looks back up at Visenya’s Hill. The sept’s cylindrical corners and golden domes draw eyes to the center of the city. One of them held three bejeweled urns with their ashes inside, and Aemond dares not sniffle. “She would have dreams like yours, except she would often be awake. They would overwhelm her all the same. We didn’t understand them.”

“What happened?” He doesn’t look up at Aemond when he asks, only straight ahead at the sept. Meanwhile, Aemond blocks the memories; gore and blood still trailed the back of his mind if he ventured far enough. His leg bounces as he exhales slowly through his mouth, sounding like a haunting wind. Daeron didn’t notice. Aemond couldn’t gather an answer. What could he say? His sister went insane. She killed herself. He found her on Maegor’s spikes. She blamed herself for something that was his fault, and he never got to apologize.

“She lost her sons in the last war. Your cousin Jaehaera’s brothers.”

“Were they soldiers?”

“No, no.” He’s perfectly between Jaehaerys and Maelor in age. The ages they remain for the rest of time. He skips that. “But she loved them so much, losing them was too much to bear for her.” He rests his chin on Daeron’s head, just catching the tear streaking down his cheek before it dripped onto his son’s scalp. Observing the sept again, he longed to be ignorant of such despair. He shook Alyssa from his mind (as best as he could) to come back. “That’s how I feel about you.”

Daeron relaxed a little, his back touching Aemond’s chest. “But what about—” he coughs. “Uncle Royce.”

Aemond ignored the name. “These dreams can be very vivid. About things we already know. Your uncle named you heir, so you will be Lord of Storm’s End one day, yes. But you will go when you are ready.” He kissed Daeron’s head, inhaling his scent as he tried sniffling subtly. “We will ensure your brother receives proper training in royal proceedings as king. Your mother and I will ensure you’re prepared as a lord.”

Daeron doesn’t speak. He picks at the leather of Aemond’s jerkin.

Aemond, in return, hugs him tight with both arms. He gets close to his ear. “You’re not leaving me for a long, long time. Is that what you needed?”

He finally nods. His little white sideburns tickle his nose.

“Good. Because it’s the truth.” He picks him up again. “Now, time for bed.” His sniffling boy buried his head into his neck as he cuddled close, his fingers wrapped around the back. It was painful to do so, he could admit, but he still pried him off. His fingers slipped off him like broken stitches as he made him settle back in bed. He was reluctant, but gave him the golden one, avoiding the black stag sewn in the corner. He kissed the boy one more time before walking to the door.

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“Uncle Royce. Where is he?”

“I assume at home.”

“But in my dream, I didn’t see him there. I said I was alone.”

Aemond blinks rapidly. “Perhaps… you didn’t venture far enough to find him.”

He rubs the satin edge of the Baratheon blanket.

“He loves you very much, Daeron. He wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“I know. I just don’t feel like he’s there.”

Aemond said nothing, only watched his son. His purple eyes, swollen and exhausted, darted up at Aemond briefly. They eventually went back down as he pulled his bigger blankets over his lap. Aemond could feel there was something else there, more his son wanted to say. And Aemond, for all the love he bears for his children, didn’t want to hear it tonight. So, he slowly turns on his heels.

“Papa?”

He suppressed his curse. “Yes?”

“Was… Aunt Helaena… were all her dreams true?”

Aemond swallowed thickly as he saw his wife do hours before he left for Flea Bottom. The truth is painful to keep down as he hears Helaena’s voice speaking of rats, then Jaehaerys’ head rolling on the floor just hours later. Still, Aemond looks his son in his beautiful purple eyes as he sternly says, “No. Now go to bed.”

Daeron doesn’t move for a moment, but eventually lays down. Neither of them say goodnight.

Finally, Aemond exits and heads back to his room. Keeping his head up, he pushes down his anguish with each step. He’s not out yet.

Floris barely waited for the door to close before she pounced. “Where have you been?” She is now the starkest thing in the room, all the candles alight again and casting a deep orange across their chambers and she is as dark as tonight’s sky. Only her cream skin contrasted with her hair and attire.

“I told you,” Aemond said. “At a meeting with the City Watch.”

“Her arms crossed over her small belly. “For two hours?”

“Yes.”

“When have you had a City Watch meeting last two hours?”

“Just now.”

“Aemond.”

“Floris, please.” He walks past her, cornering himself on the damn balcony. He lacks the courage to even glance at the city, choosing the brush below instead.

“What did this meeting consist of?” Her voice gets closer.

“My business with the City Watch.”

“Our baby boy wailed for his father.” Aemond can hear the way she bares her teeth. “And wherever this City Watch meeting occurred in the Keep, you were nowhere to be found.”

“It was a meeting in the city.” He spat out the first retort in his mind. “A dire meeting.”

“What could be so dire that you could not tend to your own son?”

“Someone killed a baby.”

The brewing storm halted with a catch in her breath. Her suspicion, though, is still strong around her. Aemond could smell it like rain in the air. He didn’t speak further. Rather, he found the nearest chair and fell into it. The barrier’s small columns blocked the city, similar to a cell as he thought of the woman he loved near the Old Gate. He cannot tell which one is the prisoner, as he pressed his temple with two fingers.

Floris crouched in her gown. Her gaze was heavy as Aemond did everything to keep from letting unnecessary information slip from him. “We took care of the killer. That’s what matters.”

Floris’ pale hand meets the crook of his arm. A thumb doesn’t brush back and forth like it did when his mother succumbed to her fever. The other arm does not wrap him in closer like it did when his nightmares of war jolted him and woke them both. Her thick brows didn’t slant in sympathy. They were straight and stern. “Whose baby was it?”

“What?”

“Whose baby was it?”

Aemond rips his arm away, the leather of his sleeve squeaking sharply from her grip. “What relevance is that?”

“Because you’re a kinslayer.” It rolls off her tongue so naturally.

“I’ve told you not to—”

“It’s what you’re known for, Aemond. I don’t understand how one baby would concern you.”

Aemond slams a fist on the arm of the iron chair as he stands, turning his back to his wife before facing her again. “You know I lost my nephews in the Dance.”

“After killing another.”

“Don’t!” His fingers curl into a fist. It’s when his father crosses his mind that he throws the force against his hip and lets out a shaky exhale. “Floris.”

“With your brother’s bastards rotting in the alleyways, I just don’t understand the difference.” She picks herself  up, pushing with her knees  and holding her belly. Aemond doesn’t help her.

“Because she wasn’t a bastard.” He spits out the words. Another lie, but he doesn’t care.

“Then whose baby was it?”

The chamber doors groan slowly. Aemond doesn’t move from his wife, but refuses to answer. Even as he sees her anger boil her skin and streak her cheeks, he keeps his mouth shut and watches the doors.

“Forgive me, my prince. Princess. I do not mean to disturb.”

“Cole.”

Even in a tunic and linen breeches, he stands like he wears his Kingsguard armor: feet apart, hands collected at his front. No blood in sight, and his hair is disheveled as if someone tore him from bed.

“Leave us,” Floris snaps over her shoulder.

“Cole, what news?” 

He delays in reply, clearing his throat. “Once again, we require your presence, my prince.”

“With what?” Aemond slips around Floris before she can stop him.

“With, uh, burial arrangements.”

Aemond stood still, frozen.

“If the baby has a family, they can decide for themselves,” Floris says. “I don’t understand why such matters require my husband.”

“The family is quite… distraught, princess. As a mother, I’m sure you can understand the idea of such pain.”

Floris’ eyes falter slightly to the floor before glaring back at Criston

“The maesters have wrapped the body and prepared her for her final journey.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond says.

Floris snatches Aemond at the arm. “No!” Her heels skid on the stone floor.

“Do you wish to see the child’s body yourself?” Aemond snaps back at her. “For proof she’s real and your husband has a heart?”

He expected Floris to let him go, in every sense of the phrase. But her small fists only coiled tighter around his forearm. Everything hard about her expression fractured before him. The blue in her eyes glisten brilliantly as she shakes. “Please, Aemond.”

“It won’t take long, princess. I assure you. Your husband will be back soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Aemond sighs. But he looks his wife in the face as he pulls his arm from her hold a second time. He walks to Criston.

“Please.”

It falls on deaf ears.

Neither speak a word as they make their way through the Keep, nor create any sense of urgency with their footsteps. The only ones who look them in the face are a number of Gold Cloaks, either nodding or appearing extra sullen.

They don’t exit through the front doors. No disguises with them now. Instead, the pair navigate through Maegor’s tunnels to find their escape, opening one (of many) secret doors. The scale of Aegon’s High Hill meets them, the white waves of the Blackwater and a bobbing rowboat just below.

“How did you do it? Is Alyssa—”

“Not now.”

Criston jumps down first, landing on a small area of flat rock. He scales down the small mountain with ease, and Aemond follows with enough distance to not disturb each other’s footing. They hug the jagged walls and Aemond keeps his eye focused down on his own feet, his impaired sight working against him more than ever, with only moonlight just barely revealing shadows here and there. Criston even turned around to help him with some of the hill’s slimmer edges, but he refused, wanting to retain his focus. Over time (and with an absurd amount of patience), they meet at the bottom. They let the steep decline guide them to the small beach, meeting the rowboat.

“We have paid some Gold Cloaks to act as alibis in case your wife wants to inquire. They have already spread the word to others.”

The pools of Floris’ Baratheon blue eyes stick with him. She barely faltered upon word of her father’s fall in battle, nor a tear shed at his funeral. She maintained a grace fit for an unmoving force like her. Yet it was Aemond who pushed her tonight. He pushed her to tears. “And the maesters?” He inquires while clearing his throat. “What you said back there, that was true?”

Criston stretches his arms out to steady the boat. “Watch your step,” he tells him. But before Aemond can even take a step, he’s holding out his hand. Aemond looks down at it.

“I can get in fine on my own, Cole.”

“Just…” He gestures again and keeps it out until Aemond reluctantly takes it, one palm meeting the other. Criston guides him in and continues holding tight as the wood creaks under his boots. He doesn’t let go until Aemond sits down, the boat wobbling. Then Criston steps in on the other side, the Blackwater just missing his ankles, rocking the boat all the same. He grips the edges as he steadies it before reaching down.

Even the late night couldn’t hide the bundle of white waxy cloth, the small bloodless being that he held himself just hours ago. He can still feel the phantom wriggling in his arms from her twin’s screams. Now she is here, still. Still and cold as Criston handed her over. But even as the wind blows, Aemond hovers over her to shield her from the chill. He whispers to her as he does.

“I asked Maester Orwyle to wrap her, so we have another alibi should we need it. With her… injury…”

Aemond traces over her eye. Where her eye would be.

“There was no reason to suspect she was anything but a peasant child.”

“And Royce?”

“The less you know, the better.” Criston then pulls their weight with the boat’s oars as Aemond’s fingers brush the outline of his daughter’s face. The noise of moving water surrounds them as he pictures her. He pulled her into the world first, and he never thought bringing his third child into the world would affect him as deeply as his first two. He never imagined she would leave the world the way she came: wet and screaming.

It wasn’t until Criston docked the boat on the other side of the bay that he thought about asking where he—they—were being taken. He still stood unsteadily when stepping out, eyeing the breathing mountain amongst the young trees: his Vhagar. White birds that were perched on her spine flew when she picked up her head. She doesn’t yawn as she normally does when she wakes up, leaving Aemond to wonder, again, just what they’re doing here.

She peers from her high vantage point, neck fully stretched out as her acid green eyes peer at them both, watching them trudge through the brush of her dwelling. She sniffed the air harshly, sounding like a long hiss if Aemond wasn’t looking. Criston continues pushing the vegetation aside (as he had clearly done before, given the faint imprints of feet in the lush grass). It’s not until they make a circle around her that he sees the pyre; a shadow of dry black timber. Thick logs made the foundation as smaller sticks crossed each other to make the bed.

“She was a Targaryen,” Criston says. “She deserves a proper sendoff.”

Aemond clings to the cloth, securing her against his chest as if he is concealing her under his cloak all over again. He stares at the stick bed, and Vhagar lying behind it. Her chest rumbles, something like a hum that causes the earth to tremor under them. Her neck cranes down for a closer look, and Aemond can see the slashes in her pupils as he feels the creaking of her ancient joints when she tries standing.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond tries adding some force behind his High Valyrian.

She doesn’t listen. One foot forward, and the ground quakes. Roots and leaves shiver. The length of yellow teeth come into view as she takes another sharp breath.

“Lykirī!”

Still nothing. Her snout is inches from his forehead as her sniffs are smaller and more rapid. Her pupils drop to his chest, then back to him as she nudges him. Aemond has to step back to replant himself, but doesn’t order her to be still. His hold on Alyssa remains firm, closer to his chest than her mouth. She closes her lips, and the vibrancy of her eyes disappears when they do the same. Aemond’s forehead meets her snout, and Vhagar is silent as Aemond keeps his sobs down. He clenches his teeth hard and his jaw already aches from the tension.

Eventually, Vhagar steps back, leaving Aemond to walk to the pyre. He was not sure how long it took him to get there. Neither Criston nor Vhagar spoke. The strain from his temples to his eye, and now his jaw, made every step feel glacial. But eventually he did. He couldn’t imagine the sticks being more comfortable than that cot, but he didn’t pick her back up. He swallowed the snot and bile, meeting in the middle of his throat as he stepped back. Criston stood next to him. Vhagar looked at him.

“Dracarys.” He orders it as pathetically as he did before.

Again, she doesn’t follow him. She opens her mouth with no dragonfire. Her massive head twitches to one side, looking at him as she did the first time he ordered her to fly at Driftmark. But just as Aemond can feel the ache in her bones, she can feel the chains in his chest.

Neither of them wants to do this.

Aemond takes a breath, swallowing something like courage. “Dohaerās, Vhagar! Dracarys!”

Her head drew back with another hiss and her pupils thin out before her eyes close. Her neck curls back and she stretches her jaw. It’s always slow. Even the green color that lights up her mouth. He would be convinced that the pyre lit at the same speed, but Aemond fell into the grass; his knees giving in like the wood did under the intense heat.

Criston is still there as Aemond sobs freely, the sounds of it drowned out by the cracks of sticks and logs. He holds Aemond tightly as he buries his face into Criston’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” he tells him. “She’s ascending to the heavens where she belongs. No one can hurt her anymore.”

Aemond blocks his nose in the cloth of Criston’s shirt, sucking in air through his mouth so he doesn’t smell any of it. He remembers how Helaena wailed when she held Jaehaerys, his body limp and the blood soaking into her dress. The woman he loves screamed the same way. The cry of emptiness, a gaping wound inside. Aemond doesn’t have the lungs to scream like that. He just thinks of Helaena on the spikes. “I have to go to her,” he finally says. He pulls away, and Criston’s silhouette is nothing but a bleary shadow. “I have to before—”

“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”

“It doesn’t mean she won’t need me. We still have a child to take care of.”

“She has a child to take care of. You have three. Two of them are here. Another will be in the coming months, and your wife does not need the extra stress of questioning your whereabouts.”

Criston now sandwiches Aemond’s face between his hands. He doesn’t scream at him, but the force of the bones in his hands is hard against his skull.

“Don’t make me build a pyre for your fifth child, Aemond.”

His voice catches in his throat. Neither mother of his children wishes to see him now. Helaena once felt the same, but Aemond’s mistakes called him and Aegon to war, leaving her to grieve on her own. He turns to the pyre, a green haze that occasionally spits at the sky. The smoke burns his nose, making his eye clench shut against the sting. In that darkness, he remembers his mother and the knife to Rhaenyra’s eye. She understood sacrifice. And it was now his turn.

Criston stands up. His outline is still blurry and black, but Aemond can just see his hand outstretched for him. “Your family needs you.”

Aemond remembered his role. And he took Criston’s hand.

Taglist: @paprikaquinn @immyowndefender @teal-anchor @dixie-elocin

[yolli-es]

this is my first request can we please get a yandere jinx headcanons please

Yandere!Jinx × Reader ❤️‍🩹

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, abuse, mentions of death

This is my first request too, and I am SO HAPPY!! I've wanted to write about this for a long time, but it was difficult for me. Believe me, I broke my head typing all this.

Jinx lacked tenderness and care in her life.

Vi showed her support and love in Jinx's childhood; Silco did the same thing later... it's still not enough.

When Jinx lost Silko and her sister, who had just come back into her life, she was on the verge of death. Not a day went by without her crying, hysterics, and self-harming. It was horrible, painful, and pathetic.

She also took on a mountain of responsibility for which she was never prepared.

And then you appeared. So serious, responsible, and ready for anything. You came to her office and did all the dirty work.

And also very understanding, kind, and patient.

Having witnessed her breakdown, you were absolutely calm. You did not run away, stayed close and pulled her back together.

Even after Jinx's numerous outbursts at you, even after the hard work and all that crap, you stayed. By her side, with her curse.

You reminded her of Vi with your kindness and Silko with your devotion. All the best in one person.

No, more expensive than them.

How could she not become attached to you?

You are the center of her life, the main object of her attention.

It was becoming physically painful for Jinx to be away from you for longer than 8 hours.

Whenever you worked, she always found a reason to be there, justifying it with help or a simple check on the quality of work.

She also began to keep her emotions in check, often biting her lips until they bled just to keep the voices from getting the better of her.

Jinx pays no less attention to her "work" because she noticed how your eyes sparkle while she creates a new gadget or uses it in action.

Now she does all this for you. Just for you.

Jinx just wanted to seem normal to you. Better than what you had already seen. She didn't want to scare you or make you hate her.

That's why she will never admit that she is following you.

Unfortunately, you're not always willing to share your personal life with the "boss," so she had to take matters into her own hands.

Going to the store? She's in the shadow of the stores. Sitting at the bar? She's taken the table behind you. Sleeping in your house? She's outside the window, and in a couple of hours, next to your bed.

Jinx counted all the moles on your face.

She only felt guilty once, when she was spying on you in the shower.

Jinx knew it was wrong, but she just couldn't say "no" to herself then. Mylo made cruel jokes about her afterward.

But it's your own fault for never locking the doors, isn't it?

Now she knows the exact number of moles, scars, and birthmarks on your entire body.

Your things started disappearing, and yes, it was her doing.

Jinx just wanted to have a piece of you in her home.

But then, when Jinx was so deeply in love with you, something irreparable happened—truly terrible for Jinx.

You find a partner.

You didn't even Fucking tell her. She saw it for herself when you were kissing so dirty at the bar.

Jinx was scared. The voices started screaming.

"You've been abandoned again, traded again."

This is the point of no return. Jinx can no longer hold the boundaries.

She didn't want, no, she couldn't lose you like Silko and Vi. She's not an idiot, and twice was enough.

As soon as you are alone, Jinx knocks you out and takes you to her.

It seemed like she had been preparing for this before, like "just in case."

The first month was terrible. You were struggling and didn't want to listen to Jinx at all.

Jinx didn't even tie you up, leaving you to roam around the room freely. This caused problems, and every time Jinx had to fight you. It was shitty, she got seriously beaten by you every time because she couldn't respond properly so as not to hurt you.

She was understanding and patient, just like you were with her before this.

But as soon as you started talking about freedom, Jinx would break down.

She was so angry, screaming and clutching her head. She even brought a knife with her once.

Jinx even swung at you but never hit you. No, that's too hard. You don't deserve it.

Every time after that, she pulled her hair as punishment.

She didn't really want to keep you here, a secret from everyone. Jinx was crazy, but not stupid, and was perfectly aware of what she was doing. But she also couldn't risk it anymore.

What if you run away? What if you find someone again?

Jinx was just afraid of losing you. The thought made her shake and feel sick.

You didn't understand why she was doing this to you. You really loved Jinx, and now you're getting this?

Once you realize that Jinx is just scared, everything becomes easier.

Still, you came to work here just for her. A stupid affair in a bar shouldn't have hurt your baby blue so much.

When she came to you and heard a declaration of love instead of the usual "get lost," it made her freeze. And then smile.

She didn't believe it.

And then you stopped fighting with her, being rude, and seemed to be okay with Jinx's extra touching.

The moment of realizing that it was not a joke was the happiest and, at the same time, the most frightening.

Now she had no room for error and she thought about all the possible future failures. And then you kissed her and Jinx immediately melted. She managed to focus on you and not on her mistakes.

She had never done this before.

Finally, your relationship has become official.

It took you another week before you could finally get out of there. Jinx still didn't trust you completely, even though she tried.

Jinx's house is your home; if you need something, then she needs something too; if you go somewhere, then she goes too.

Jinx was also very clingy. Before, she held herself back and didn't allow herself to touch you unless absolutely necessary. Now, she can do it as much as she wants. She doesn't care where you are, when, or why; there is no wrong time for a hug, a kiss, or a light slap.

Finally, Jinx can ask you the weirdest, stupidest, most personal, and most lustful questions. You are a couple, after all, and that means she has the right to know everything about you.

And it doesn’t matter that she already knows most of your stories.

Jinx adores you and would do anything. But now she didn't trust the people around her at all.

Suspicious meetings with someone better than Jinx will be seen as blatant betrayal in her eyes. And believe me, she won't let it go that easily.

At times like these, she regrets that she gave you back your freedom.

At first, Jinx will be angry. She will definitely start a showdown, possibly right there on the spot.

Often this went beyond the boundaries of ordinary conversation, and Jinx just shot their limbs.

It's their own fault. Everyone knows Jinx, what's their problem?

But when you explain yourself, Jinx finally lets you see her real emotion.

In fact, Jinx is not confident at all. All the important people have left her; she won't survive another time.

Therefore, you are no longer allowed to communicate with anyone other than her.

A relationship with Jinx will be suffocating, but she will never make you feel lonely, unloved or unfulfilled. She also takes care of all your basic needs.

Jinx is one of those yandere who will resort to any manipulation and tricks just so you don't leave her. Otherwise, she will break, and you will definitely know about it.

Your first sex will happen very quickly. What you expected from a touch-hungry girl?

Jinx has no experience at all, so she makes up for it with her energy. She kisses you, bites, pinches, and licks absolutely everything.

She will definitely leave hickeys on you. It's inevitable. 

When it comes to penetration, she suddenly becomes quiet and slow. She is just a little awkward and very scared. 

What if she hurts you? Or is it unpleasant? Or maybe you already feel disgusted by her? 

Kiss her, and it will give her confidence. Jinx will definitely squeeze her legs while you do it. 

When her hand finally reaches your pussy, it will trigger for her. 

It means so much more to her. 

Jinx's hand does a very good job of getting two fingers in at once and pressing on your clit. This is definitely too much for you, so Jinx will have to lean on top of you to keep you from pulling away from her. 

Kisses, kisses, kisses. There will never be enough. 

Jinx will also be very loud. She won't mind at all if everyone knows how good and pleasant it is for her to be with you. 

For the same reason, she will not kiss you on the lips; this will drown out your pleasant moans.

After the first time, Jinx is unstoppable. Now she's ready to fuck you anywhere and anytime. 

Often her initially innocent touches develop into hot sex.

Once you did it against a wall and Jinx held you. It surprised you, but she said that any of her guns would be heavier than you. 

Jinx is also not against experimenting in bed. 

Shibari is her favorite, and she gets better and better at it every time. 

But still, Jinx will never share you with someone. Don't even ask; the thought of it seriously pisses her off. 

Jinx loves to whisper in your ear, "You belong to me.". 

Do the same, and she will definitely get an orgasm.

Touch her as much as possible.

It might be a little rough; it's okay if you touch her. 

Playing with her hair not only calms Jinx down but also turns her on. 

No matter how wild and wayward Jinx is, she will always listen to you. She will definitely notice if you don't like something. 

Ask Jinx anything, and she will do it. 

Spank you? Jinx will make you count. Choke you? She'll be gentle with that. Threesome? NO.

Jinx adores and loves you and is very dependent on you. Sex is one of her ways to show you this. 

I honestly think that Yandere!Jinx is canon Jinx in relationship. I'm also not sure that I wrote everything I wanted to.. I had to miss sleep but I'm just so happy for your support. Thank you. 🥹

[katiesyellowcardcollection]

I bet God heard you comin'

leah Williamson x Williamson!kid

part of the ‘your gonna go so far’ series

warnings: mention of death, house-fires.

a look back into the day and year after reader loses her family in a family in the fire.

You were cold, the tinfoil that one of the firefighters places on your shoulders doing little to warm you up.

you didn’t really understand what was going on.

you knew you wanted your daddy though, you knew that for definite, he went back into the house a while go now and he hadn’t come back out yet.

you were only seven, and so you didn’t quite understand why you couldn’t go get your daddy out the house, the strange firefighters were going in and out your house, but daddy wasn’t, neither was your sisters, you didn’t know where they were either.

you told the big strange men that they were in there still, they didn’t answer you though, they just gave each other a strange look.

you diverted your eyes back to your house, it looked funny now, it was all burnt to a crisp, the roof had a hole in it, and it smelled, your whole street smelled, it made your nose feel all funny and your eyes all watery.

your eyes were fixated on your front door, although the door wasn’t there anymore, instead it was just an empty gap, you hoped they would walk out the gap soon.

a part of you knew they weren’t going to though, you heard their screams, and you saw how scared your daddy looked, you just hoped you were wrong.

you weren’t wrong very often, your daddy told you that you were the smartest girl in the world, so you didn’t think you were wrong, but you hoped that you were.

you didn’t notice a car pulling up your road, nor did you notice a woman getting out of the car and talking to the firefighters before making her way over to you.

“what’s your name honey” the woman asks you, startling you, making you jump back slightly.

you didn’t know who she was, you’d never seen her before and so you didn’t reply, your daddy always warned you of stranger danger, he said you should never speak to someone you didn’t know without asking him, so you ignored her.

you thought she would go away eventually, but she didn’t she just came closer, until her whole body was in your eyesight.

she had long blonde hair just like you, but she had wriggly lines all up her forehead, and she was wearing a big coat, you wished you had your coat right now, you were freezing.

“i’m going to take you to the hospital is that okay” the strange woman questioned you.

you didn’t want to go, you had a sinking feeling that if you left you’d never see your home again, or your daddy and sisters.

“daddy?” you asked quietly, deciding that just once it would be okay if you broke your daddy’s rules,

she shakes her head sadly “no sweetheart daddy isn’t here”

you scrunch up your eyebrows in protest, shaking your head vigorously “he is! he is! he went back in there” you yelled loudly, pointing back towards your house.

she gave you another weird look, the same look your teacher gave you when you threw up at school and on your first day of school when you cried all day for your daddy to pick you up.

“yeah he did, he was very brave, but he’s not here anymore” she answered, ignoring your outburst.

you tilt your head in confusion, you were seven so you wasn’t a baby, but you still didn’t really understand what she meant because he definitely hadn’t left your house yet, he would’ve come find you otherwise, you knew it.

“do you know what heaven is” the woman questioned, crouching down to your level.

you nod your head, that was where your dad said nanny had gone a few years ago, when she got really sick.

“well your daddy has gone to heaven” she told you gently.

your scrunched your face up, you didn’t cry though, you still didn’t understand, daddy wasn’t sick, he just went inside, you don’t die if your not sick you thought.

“he’s not sick” you replied quietly.

“he wasn’t but the fire hurt him really bad so he went to heaven” she explained to you kindly.

“sissy too?” you asked again, this time your voice almost unrecognisable.

you suppose if they weren’t sat with you too that they too got sick from the fire and went to heaven as well, you didn’t want them to go to heaven, your dad told you that heaven is for old people, your sisters weren’t old, sure they were a bit older than you but not that old, not old enough for heaven.

“yeah your sisters too i’m sorry honey”

you didn’t answer her, instead you turned your attention back to the house.

all the fire was gone now, most of your neighbours had gone back inside and there wasn’t anymore screaming you realised, the only noise you could hear was the firefighters taking to each other, and the social workers heavy breathing.

you still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact your daddy and sisters were in heaven with nanny, it didn’t make sense, they were here, you saw them and heard them, you played with your sister earlier that evening, outside your house, and now she just wasn’t here, you didn’t understand.

“i’m going to take you to hospital now sweetheart, where’s your mummy?” the strange woman spoke to you again, after a few moments of silence.

you didn’t have a mummy, or you did but she wasn’t your mummy anymore, you never actually met her so she had never really been yours, she was your sisters at one point though, sometimes you got jealous that they knew her and you didn’t but then they’d remind you that she wasn’t very nice anyways and you weren’t missing much.

you didn’t tell the social worker this though, even if you wanted to you couldn’t speak, your sure even if you opened your mouth and went to speak no words would come out.

you didn’t know what was going to happen now, you didn’t have a mummy or any aunties and uncles, it was always you, your dad and your sisters Evelyn and lily, what was supposed to happen to you?

-

you were in the hospital now, you didn’t know why but lots of doctors came and checked you over, you didn’t like that, you wanted to go to sleep, not to be keep being prodded by doctors when you knew nothing was wrong with you.

they tried to rub off all the black soot that covered your face but you refused, you cried and screamed until they back away from your face.

you didn’t know why, but you really didn’t want them to wipe it away.

you still hadn’t uttered a word, since they told your daddy and sisters had gone to heaven, you had cried and cried but you hadn’t spoken.

you wished he was here right now, if he was he would’ve let you curl up in his lap and go to sleep.

you can’t curl up now though you realised, you won’t see him again, the thought sends another fresh wave of tears down your already tear stained face.

you’re clinging to your teddy as though your life depends on it, when another strange woman walks through the door, this time though you think you recognise her.

she looked a bit like your big sister ev, she was tall and blonde and so was this woman.

you watched as she gave you small smile before walking over to your social worker.

she had told you that she was looking for any family members to look after you and that if you knew anyone you should tell her, you didn’t though because you still couldn’t speak.

you didn’t really understand why, even if you wanted to speak, you just couldn’t

you couldn’t stop replaying the events of the night.

you were supposed to go to a tournament and stay at your friends house, but you decided last minute you didn’t want to, so you had your favourite dinner; mac and cheese with broccoli, you had your bath, you watched tv downstairs and played with your sisters before saying goodnight to them and going up to bed, you brushed your teeth and your dad read you your favourite bedtime story before he tucked you in gave you kiss a on both cheeks told you he loved you and then turned the lights off.

everything was normal, exactly how every other night went, so why did everything go so wrong tonight, you didn’t get it.

you watched as the woman who looked a bit like Evelyn started waking towards you with your social worker, who you recently learned was called Carly.

“Hi y/n my names Leah” she told you, coming to sit down beside you.

you just nodded in response, you didn’t really care who she was, she wasn’t your daddy or sisters, you didn’t particularly care for what she had to say.

“would you like to come home with me” she asked you slowly.

slowly you move your head towards her own, taking in her appearance, she looked so similar to evelyn, it scared you, she had bright blue eyes just like evs and her blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail, exactly how evelyn did her hair for school.

you wanted to tell her that no you don’t want to go home with her, that her home is not your home, your home is with your papa, evelyn and lily, your home is all burned up and destroyed but it’s still your home, her house isn’t.

you don’t do any of this though because you still can’t speak and even if you couldn’t, you knew the importance of manners.

instead you just stare blankly at both the older woman, your arms were still tightly wrapped around your teddy.

“y/n” the social worker speaks again, pulling you from your train of thought.

you nod your head in response, you didn’t really have any other choice, it’s not like you had any other family to take you in.

Leah gave you a small smile in response, reaching out her hand for you to grab.

you take it, even though you don’t really want too, even though every single one of your instincts is to run away and find your family.

-

you’d lived with Leah for a whole year now, it was weird for some time, living with her, living in a new room, house, neighbourhood, you even started a new school it was all weird and wrong.

you had come to love Leah though, she was a professional footballer, you wanted to be just like her when you were older.

you got to watch her play in stadiums playing for arsenal, that was super cool and you told everyone you met, even if they already knew.

you love arsenal, before your dad and sisters went to heaven you went to all of their games together, you cheered them on every single weekend.

now you don’t get to watch the boys play that much because Leah is always playing on the weekend, but that’s okay with you because you like watching her play, and you really like all her teammates too.

sometimes you really missed your family, that you forgot how to breathe, Leah told you that this was called a panic attack, which made sense because when you realised they were never coming back it did make you scared but Leah always made them go away, she would talk to you about anything and everything and then you’d remember how to breathe again and it would all be okay.

you had to go to therapy too, you had to speak to this strange old woman called Emma, you didn’t really like her and you made it known every time you had to go, but Leah always promised you a milkshake after so that was okay too.

sometimes you got really mad too, you didn’t quite understand why but when you remembered that your family was gone and that you weren’t going to see them again in this lifetime, it made you angry, really angry, one time you even hit your teacher and got sent home from school because she asked where your daddy was, and it made you mad.

you thought Leah would be really mad at you, but she wasn’t, she just asked why you did that, and even though you couldn’t really describe why, your sure Leah understand what you meant because she treated you to ice cream later that day after training

Leah said the therapy was for this too, you suppose it helped to because you didn’t get angry that much anymore.

-

you called Leah your mamma today, you were nine and you’d lived with Leah for two years now, it made sense to you and so you didn’t really question yourself before saying it, it sort of just came out.

it made Leah really happy though and she started crying, she took you out for ice cream and brought you the lego set you had been asking for for months.

you think you love Leah almost as much as you love your daddy, she was kind and she plaited your hair in the fancy way that your papa hadn’t quite got the gist off, she played football with you too and secretly you thought she was better than your dad, although you would never admit this incase he heard in heaven and got sad.

Leah lets you talk about your dad whenever, sometimes she even talks about him too, she said she only him once but she thought he looked just like you, that idea made you smile.

you missed your daddy, you missed your sisters too but Leah helped you, you think she saved you too and you loved her, so much, that you thought maybe it would all be okay.

[rainforestakiie]

Sinner Adam is a trope that i love and I know you would handle it AMAZING, so what do You thing???

hi!

i struggled a lot with this because i didn't know what to write! ahhh! i also wanted to try something new that hasn't been done before, though i did use one known trope. but i hope it's not too bad!

i tried to write something different with sinner adam.

i really hope you like it, and thank you so much for the wonderful request! it was so fun to write!

also, for the full experience, please listen to 'the ballad of the witches' road' from agatha all along! i was listening to this while writing, and it made it so chilling!

The Acedia of Hell

The first thing Adam heard as he drifted toward consciousness was a faint crackling, like a thousand whispered secrets swirling just above his head. He flinched, instinctively recoiling from the sound, but it only grew louder, wrapping itself around him until it became a relentless drumming in his ears.

An ache began to creep along his back, first a subtle tingle, then swelling into a searing, acid-like burn. It started between his shoulder blades, coiling down his spine in a twisted agony that made his entire body tremble. His chest constricted, as though his heart had been crushed and was now struggling to inflate, each beat an effort, each breath a torment. His skin twitched, and a chill raced through him, sharp enough to raise every hair on his body, as if some unseen force was raking icy fingers across his flesh.

Inside him, something stirred—an eerie, swelling pressure, like a bubble forming deep within his chest. It started small, like the delicate bubbles children blow in the wind, then grew, expanding into the size of a birthday balloon, then larger still, as though a hot air balloon were inflating inside him, until it became a blimp of overwhelming pressure, straining to escape. And finally, with a violent eruption, his throat opened, and Adam gasped sharply, his eyes, swollen and raw, wrenching open. A torrent of hacking coughs tore from his chest, each one sending fresh pain rippling through him.

His body convulsed, and with a grimace, Adam spat out thick, blue liquid. He collapsed onto his elbows, his back blazing with even fiercer agony, as though his spine were splitting apart. He wheezed, vision blurring, trembling hands pressing against the slick, waxy surface of the red stones beneath him. His lips parted in a desperate attempt to scream, but instead, a sudden gush of the brilliant blue fluid burst forth, staining the crimson ground beneath him in striking shades of despair—a beautiful, sorrowful blue, spreading like an ethereal bloom.

More of the thick, otherworldly liquid streamed down his face as Adam continued to cough and choke, his chest aflame. The golden essence of his blood, once radiant and divine, began to glow with an unnatural hue, shifting to match the eerie, silver-blue shade he was vomiting. It pulsed beneath his skin, transforming, until the ethereal silver - blue coursed through his veins, as if his very soul had been overtaken by the same haunting colour he was now expelling.

Adam sucked in a ragged breath, the crackling still weaving through the thick, oppressive air, a relentless whisper just beyond his senses. His mind teetered on the edge of darkness, desperate for the release of unconsciousness, but each time it began to drift, the sharp stab of pain wrenched him back into this torturous reality.

He squinted through the haze, trying and failing to clear his vision, his hands trembling uncontrollably. His back arched, and with a gasp of agony, he could feel it—his spine, as if it were trying to tear free from his skin. His mouth opened in a desperate cry, but his body was already curling in on itself, shaking violently as he pressed his forehead to the slick, waxy ground beneath him. The crackling grew louder, and behind him, a new sound emerged—horrific snapping and tearing—but Adam couldn’t bring himself to look. Fear rooted him in place, afraid of what he might find if he dared to turn his head.

With a trembling breath, Adam stretched out a weak, shaking arm, fingers barely able to grasp at the air as his vision swam, the world blurring with blinding streaks of silver and blue. “H-help…” he tried to call out, but his voice was broken, twisted into something unrecognizable. He wasn’t even sure if he had spoken at all.

Through the haze, a faint glimmer of golden light caught his eye—a figure, bathed in white, stepping toward him, with another taller, draped in deep crimson, following close behind. Adam’s heart leaped in fragile hope—someone had heard him. Someone was coming to help. But even that thought was quickly drowned out by the relentless cracking that now roared in his ears, and exhaustion crushed down upon him like a tidal wave.

It wasn’t fair.

A soft whimper escaped his lips as he began to let his arm fall, surrendering to the pull of oblivion. But before it could hit the ground, warm hands wrapped around his trembling fingers, catching him. The touch burned, searing against his skin, yet Adam couldn’t summon the strength to pull away. It stung, this connection—more than he could bear—but his body refused to obey his silent cries to escape.

Voices murmured above him, too distant, too distorted to comprehend. He thought he heard his name, thought someone was calling for him, but the pain, the exhaustion, drowned out everything else. He sobbed weakly, shaking his head as if to dislodge the agony, before sinking toward the ground again, surrendering to the waxy surface beneath him, craving nothing but the embrace of sleep.

"Why..." he whispered, or at least he thought he did. His voice was so faint, so lost. "I wish I were dead. I don’t want this anymore... I’m so tired..."

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him, strong and unyielding, lifting him before he could collapse back down. His face was pressed against a chest, and the sting of their touch flared through his nerves. He tried to resist, weakly pushing against them, but their hold was too tight, too firm. There was no escape.

And yet, as the warmth of their embrace held him fast, Adam felt something strange—an unspoken promise, a tether keeping him from falling into the darkness. But even in that moment, all he could think of was the unbearable weight of it all.

The pain. The exhaustion. And the whispered wish that it would just... end.

“I want to be dead.”

~#~

The next time Adam drifted into consciousness, the world around him felt strange, unfamiliar—like something from a dream that still clung to the edges of his mind. He was so tired, so utterly exhausted, and his entire body was wrapped in a deep, aching soreness that refused to fade. Every muscle, every inch of skin felt foreign to him, as though it didn’t quite belong.

Slowly, he forced his heavy eyes open, blinking as he stared up at the draped curtains hanging above him. He didn’t move, feeling as if he were both too heavy and too light at once, trapped in a body that no longer obeyed him. The soft, purple folds of fabric gathered between the four towering posts of a massive bed.

A bed. He was lying in a bed—one so vast, it made him feel small, which shouldn’t have been possible. Adam was over ten feet tall, yet here, he felt dwarfed.

His eyes fluttered closed again as he took a shaky breath, his chest trembling with the effort. It hurt, a searing pain that ran through his lungs as though he wasn’t meant to breathe like this anymore. He focused on the rhythm of his breathing, hoping the sensation would pass, but instead, it worsened. A sharp throb flared at the top of his skull, a maddening itch that grew with every beat of his heart. Panic flickered through him like a match struck in the darkness.

What was happening to him? Why was everything wrong? Where was he? Why did everything burn with such unbearable intensity?

His thoughts spiraled, and flashes of memory crashed over him like waves. The war. He had led an army—against Hell. No, not just Hell, but the Princess of Hell herself. The spoiled, naive fool who had no idea of the devastation she was courting. He had wanted to stop her, to make her see the consequences of what she was about to unleash on Heaven, on the Winners. The survivors.

Adam’s pulse quickened. Did no one truly understand what the Winners of Heaven were? They weren't just the righteous, the pure, the souls who followed God’s plan. No, the Winners were the survivors of unspeakable torment—humans who had endured hell on Earth and deserved peace. That was the essence of Heaven, the sanctuary for those who had suffered beyond reason. And the Princess of Hell, in her misguided quest for redemption, was threatening to undo it all. If she succeeded in redeeming a Sinner, what would happen? How would the Winners react?

Adam shuddered at the thought. The Winners weren’t just passive souls—they were warriors, survivors of the darkest trials. They had a power unlike anything even Heaven fully understood. And if they unleashed that power, it wouldn’t just be Hell that suffered. Heaven itself would be torn apart.

Lucifer.

Adam’s jaw clenched at the thought of that arrogant demon. The Morningstar had no idea what was truly at stake, what Heaven truly represented. He had humiliated Adam, beaten him, all because Adam had dared to protect the survivors—those who had suffered at the hands of their abusers. If the Princess succeeded, her reckless actions would incite a chaos neither Hell nor Heaven was prepared for.

And yet... Adam had failed. He had been defeated. During battle, someone—he couldn’t remember who—had snuck up behind him and struck the final blow. But it wasn’t just that. Lucifer had already broken him, leaving him weakened, humiliated. His death, when it came, had been almost a relief.

He had welcomed it.

Adam’s eyes snapped open. His vision was blurry, the world around him swimming in shades of red and purple. He blinked hard, trying to make sense of the shapes and shadows, but his heart sank as realization dawned. Those colours—those curtains—he knew where he was. And the truth was unbearable.

No... no, this can’t be.  He couldn’t accept it.

Panic surged through him, and with a desperate grunt, Adam began to wriggle beneath the heavy quilts that pinned him down like chains. Every movement sent searing pain through his body, his muscles protesting as if they had been stripped raw. His chest heaved with the effort, and it felt like he was dragging something impossibly heavy along with him, a weight that wasn’t his but clung to his very soul.

With trembling arms, he forced himself up, biting back a scream as his body burned with every inch he moved. It felt like a monumental struggle just to sit upright, the heavy air pressing down on him as though the room itself conspired to keep him immobile. His hands clutched at the silken sheets, knuckles white as the realization clawed at his mind.

He was back in Hell.

And it was only the beginning of something far worse.

Dragging himself to the edge of the colossal bed, Adam twisted awkwardly, his body giving out before he could brace himself, collapsing heavily onto the cold floor. A sickening crack echoed through the room, and something inside him wrenched, unfamiliar and raw. Panic flooded his chest. He had to move—now. He had to escape before someone found him, before they came to see if he was still broken, still helpless.

How long had he been unconscious?

It didn’t matter. He had to get away before something else was taken from him, before he was humiliated again. The shame was already too much, a suffocating weight on his soul. He couldn’t bear it. Not again. It was always him—always Adam who crumbled under the boots of others. Always the one who was stepped on, laughed at, torn apart.

But not this time.

Not yet. Not so soon after... his death. Why was he still here? Why was he still trapped in this existence when he should have been freed? It wasn’t fair.

Adam’s limbs trembled violently as he struggled to move, but his body refused to obey. His arms and legs felt distant, alien—completely unresponsive. His feet wouldn’t lift him; his hands collapsed beneath his weight. The dark mist crept at the corners of his vision, curling like smoke around his consciousness.

Why?

His body had betrayed him. His strength had deserted him, leaving him defenseless, pathetic, like prey waiting for the predator’s strike. He couldn’t be here—not like this, not when he was so weak. The moment they found him, they would break him again, humiliate him, tear him apart.

Why? Why? Why?

"Adam!" A voice, frantic and sharp, called out from behind him, cutting through the fog clouding his mind. It came from the other side of the bed, filled with panic.

Adam’s chest felt as though it was about to shatter. His head spun wildly as he turned toward the voice, his blurred vision struggling to focus on the figure rushing toward him. His eyes widened in shock, his jaw slack. His arms shook violently as they tried to hold him upright, but he must have looked pathetic—a trembling, broken creature hunched awkwardly on the floor, freezing and disoriented.

The figure in white drew closer, their movements rapid and purposeful, but Adam barely registered them. All he could feel was the cold consuming him, seeping into his bones. Another figure lingered at the doorway, and a third stood on the other side of the bed, watching him intently.

His mouth opened, but the scream that ripped from his throat didn’t sound like his own. It was a raw, primal sound, something more beast than man—an unearthly shriek that echoed through the room, leaving Adam stunned. The others recoiled, their hands flying to their ears as the sound shattered the stillness. The figure in white froze mid-step, shocked by the inhuman scream.

But Adam wasn’t finished. Something was unfurling behind him, stretching out on either side of his trembling body. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t care. All he could see was the familiar shimmer of silver and blue, lightning-bright streaks zipping through the air as the energy expanded from him. It spread from his knees, seeping into the ground beneath him, forming a perfect, glowing pentagram.

"Adam!" the one in white yelled again, reaching out desperately. "Stop!"

But Adam could barely hear them over the roar in his mind, his own voice breaking through the madness as another scream tore from his throat.

"Why am I still alive?!"

The words echoed in the room, a question as desperate as it was furious, and then the world around him erupted in a blinding storm of silver and blue. Light filled every corner, obliterating the darkness, until finally, everything collapsed.

Silence descended.

Adam crumpled to the ground outside, his body curling tightly as the last of his strength drained away. His mind drifted toward the edges of consciousness, a peaceful emptiness overtaking the pain.

At least it was quiet here, in the stillness of oblivion.

Maybe now, at last... he could die.

~#~

Waking once more, Adam’s eyes bled silver and blue, the ethereal liquid streaking down his face like tears from another realm. Death had eluded him again, cruel and mocking, leaving him tethered to the world he so desperately wished to leave behind. He was alive—still breathing, still suffering. His soul ached for release, for the finality that would never come. Exhaustion clung to him like a shroud, each heartbeat a reminder of the torment he could not escape. All he wanted was for it to be over. To step off the ride, to finally find peace.

With a sharp, burning gasp, Adam stirred. His body shifted, finding itself curled tightly between the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, its pulse faintly humming beneath him. His skin prickled with unease as he tilted his head back, gazing upward through bleary, stinging eyes. Above, the branches stretched high, their once vibrant leaves now brittle and decaying, drifting down in slow spirals as if mourning their own demise. The bark, though alien to him—unlike any tree from Heaven or Earth—had a strange, almost alive texture. He squirmed, dislodging himself from the roots’ tight embrace, crawling slowly from his resting place.

As he glanced back, he saw the imprint his body had left on the bark, as though he had tried to meld with the tree itself. The bark appeared to have absorbed part of him, as if it had become a part of his essence. An impulse to reach out, to touch it again, gripped him, but he resisted. Something was terribly wrong. His instincts screamed in warning, a whisper of dread curling around his thoughts.

Slowly, Adam’s gaze drifted across the grass beneath him, noticing the withering of the once-lush greenery. The vibrant blades had become dry and brittle, curling in on themselves, as though the life had been drained from them. They crumbled at his touch, turning to dust between his fingers. A creeping sense of decay hung in the air, growing heavier with every breath he took.

Groaning as his knees cracked and snapped, Adam ignored the sharp sounds of his bones as they protested the movement. He crawled forward slightly and sat amidst the ruin, surveying the place he found himself in—a place that felt like a park, with trees and grass, but distorted. Wrong. He was still in Hell; he could feel it. The telltale red mist swirled through the air, thick and heavy, and the sky above held the familiar sinful hue of dusty crimson, broken only by the stark white orb of Heaven shining faintly in the distance.

But something was terribly amiss. The garden around him, once filled with life, was decaying before his eyes. Colours drained from the world, turning to muted browns and greys, the vibrancy crumbling into lifeless ash. It was as if something was devouring the very essence of this place, siphoning its vitality away.

Adam’s chest tightened with dread. What was happening?

Adam dragged himself through Hell's garden, the once lush and vibrant world wilting under his very touch. His fingers dug into the crumbling earth, pulling his exhausted body forward as he felt something—something heavy—attached to his back, dragging along the ground behind him. He didn’t dare look at it, too weak to confront whatever grotesque thing clung to him. Instead, he kept his gaze ahead, watching the grass around him slowly die, the green blades blackening and withering to ash.

Above, the trees groaned as their branches trembled, fruit falling from their limbs. Adam’s eyes caught a flash of orange as one tumbled to the earth. He paused, staring at it as it rolled to a stop just within reach. It was an orange—once bright and plump—but even as he watched, it shrivelled, darkening as mold crept across its surface, turning it black and rotten. The putrid smell hit him like a wave, but still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Life here was slipping into death, drained of its essence before his very eyes.

He kept crawling, his hands the only means to move his broken body. His fingers sank into the brittle grass, which disintegrated beneath his touch. With each pull, it felt as though he was dragging the weight of a thousand souls behind him, an unseen burden shackled to his spine. His feet wouldn’t support him—he knew that much. They were useless, numb. All he had were his hands, and they were trembling.

At last, he reached the edge of a pond—a small, still body of water framed by red roses and carnations that lined its banks. Adam paused, staring. The scene was hauntingly familiar. He had seen this place before. He had been here. He recognized the way the water shimmered, the way the flowers bloomed, the pair of ducks that glided across the surface without a care. He could almost hear the memory whispering to him, as if from a life long forgotten.

But even here, in this last vestige of beauty, death was encroaching. He watched as the roses began to droop, their petals browning, curling inward before falling away into dust. The carnations followed suit, their vibrant hues turning a dull, lifeless grey as they crumbled into the earth. Adam’s breath hitched, the garden around him collapsing into decay, the blackened grass creeping ever closer to the pond.

Panic seized him as he turned his gaze back to the ducks, still swimming, unaware of the dying world around them. He tried to cry out, to warn them, but his voice failed him—nothing but a strangled whine escaped his throat. Desperate, he reached out a trembling hand, as if he could stop the inevitable, but it was too late.

The ducks froze. Their feathers darkened and their forms withered, collapsing in on themselves as though time had cruelly fast-forwarded their lives. In mere moments, they had turned to skeletal remains, their bones sinking beneath the murky surface of the pond. The water rippled briefly, then stilled, as if nothing had ever lived there at all.

A horrified cry escaped Adam’s lips, his chest tightening in anguish. His tears—those strange silver and blue droplets—fell freely now, sliding down his cheeks and staining the ground below him. He wheezed, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as panic gripped his chest. The world around him was unravelling, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t understand what was happening, why everything he touched seemed to rot and die.

His vision blurred, the edges of his mind fraying, until something caught his eye. The pond. Even in its stillness, the water remained reflective, its surface like a dark mirror. For a moment, Adam hesitated, but the pull was too strong to resist. Slowly, with shaking hands, he dragged himself to the edge of the pond, his long fingers curling around the damp earth at its banks.

Leaning forward, he gazed into the water.

There, in the blackened reflection, was a face he barely recognized.

It was him—but not him. His eyes glowed faintly with silver and blue, the same colours that bled from his tears.

Adam gazed into the still surface of the pond, his breath catching in his throat as the reflection staring back at him took form. He blinked, refusing to believe the grotesque figure he saw was him, but no amount of denial could erase the haunting image. What looked back was a twisted mockery of what he once had been—a shadow of the Archangel he was.

Two small horns jutted out from the sides of his head, emerging through his thick, dark hair. Between them floated small fragments of bones, like a fractured halo suspended in a macabre orbit around his head. His face was part flesh, part bone, his eyes deeply sunken into skeletal sockets. But it was the colors of his eyes that truly chilled him: light blue sclera encased piercing green pupils, a reversed and unnatural reflection of the angelic light he once knew. His hair was a deep, ink-black cascade streaked with pale blue, as if frost had kissed the darkest night, the strands shimmering with faint highlights, both ethereal and eerie.

Adam’s arms stretched before him, thin and skeletal, his fingers bruised and pale, almost translucent as they hovered above the pond. They weren’t claws, nor did he have sharp teeth or monstrous fangs—no, what unnerved him was the hollow, fragile appearance of his limbs. He looked as though he had been drained of life, a mere shell of the vibrant creature he once was.

But what truly paralyzed him—what left him trembling, breathless—were the things attached to his back. His gaze, hesitant and terrified, shifted slowly, his heart pounding in a ghostly echo that seemed to drop into the pit of his stomach. His body shook as, ever so slowly, six enormous wings rose and stretched on either side of him. They were not the radiant, feathered wings of an angel. They were made entirely of bone, skeletal, devoid of life or warmth. They stretched wide, casting shadows over the withered garden as if they themselves consumed the light.

He swallowed hard as the truth struck him like a blade to the heart—he was the one draining the life from the garden. It was his presence that withered the trees, sucked the life from the grass, and rotted the fruit. His very existence seemed to poison everything around him. He froze in place, trembling, unable to tear his eyes away from the devastation spreading across the landscape. The vibrant flowers wilted, crumbling into brittle, lifeless husks, the trees withered and bore no more fruit, and the air itself seemed to grow colder and darker in his wake.

With this horrifying revelation, Adam found himself able to stand. His legs were shaky, barely able to support his weight, but he forced himself up. He was dressed in nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that hung down to his mid-thigh, loose and ill-fitting as if mocking the frailty of his new form. His breath came in shallow, panicked gasps as he took a step forward, his feet shuffling through the dying grass. Each step he took seemed to leech the life from the earth beneath him. The trees bowed, their branches heavy with rot, and the air grew thick with decay as he unconsciously fed off the energy around him.

Adam’s gaze fell upon the ducks—the innocent creatures that had once swum peacefully in the pond. Now, their skeletal remains rested on the water's surface, sunken and lifeless. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as the weight of his existence pressed down on him.

What had he become?

What kind of monster was he now? Why had he been twisted into this grotesque parody of an Archangel?

Suddenly, his chest burned. A sharp pain shot through him, and he winced, glancing down. The star-shaped scar on his chest—the wound that was supposed to have killed him—began to glow, flickering with an eerie blend of silver and blue light. It pulsed in time with his breathing, as though the very scar itself was alive, tethered to whatever dark magic had transformed him.

Stumbling backward, Adam tripped over a root and fell to the ground with a thud. He scrambled to his feet, turning sharply—only to find himself facing a looming pillar. A shrine. It stood tall and imposing, bathed in a strange, pulsing glow. And resting atop the shrine, shining with an ethereal golden light, was a single apple.

The moment his eyes fell upon it, Adam knew what it was. The Apple of Knowledge. The very fruit that had torn apart his life, had brought the first sin into the world. Two distinct bite marks marred its surface—the marks of Lilith and Eve. A shiver ran down his spine, colder than anything he had ever felt before. The magic radiating from the apple was intoxicating, vibrant, filled with life and light. It pulsed with an energy that was the antithesis of everything he had become.

Adam reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered closer to the cursed fruit. He could feel the warmth of its magic, the life it offered, but something inside him—deep, dark, and instinctive—reached back toward it. His hand extended, fingers trembling as he stretched toward the apple, drawn by some unseen force.

The thing that had ruined him, the thing that had caused everything to spiral into chaos, was now within his reach. Yet as his fingers neared the glowing apple, the darkness inside him stirred, awakening something ancient and hungry.

Adam’s breath quickened. He hesitated, the weight of eternity bearing down on his fragile soul as his hand hovered inches from the fruit of knowledge.

"Adam!" a familiar voice tore through the air, sharp and desperate, snapping him from his trance as if yanking him back from the edge of oblivion.

Adam flinched, his skeletal feet trembling as he stumbled away from the pillar. His wide eyes, dark and hollow, were unfocused, as if his mind wasn’t fully present. Slowly, his gaze drifted toward the figure standing before him—the one responsible for all his ruin, the one who had torn him apart and left him shattered time and again.

Lucifer.

He stood there, flustered and breathless, his usually composed face flushed with a rosy hue, his striking red pupils wide with fear and disbelief. His skin, pale and immaculate, glowed with the warmth of life, his cheeks tinted a delicate shade of pink. His hair, golden blonde with soft coral streaks woven through the pale strands, cascaded down his shoulders like sunlight caught in a gentle breeze. Dressed in a pristine white suit, Lucifer looked every bit the angel he once was, but his expression betrayed him—too many emotions flickered across his face in rapid succession, as though he couldn’t quite grasp what he was witnessing.

Lucifer’s enormous wings, a breathtaking blend of white feathers tinged with red, stretched out behind him, trembling slightly as if mirroring the chaos in his soul. He looked upon Adam, not with anger, but with a raw, anxious desperation, his heart visibly torn. He couldn't believe it—couldn’t fathom that it was Adam wreaking such havoc.

“Adam, you have to stop!” Lucifer’s voice broke with urgency, his words almost pleading. “You need to stop before it’s too late!”

But Adam just stared at him, unblinking, as if Lucifer’s words were an alien language he could no longer understand. A hollow laugh bubbled up inside him, though it never left his lips. Instead, all he felt was emptiness—an overwhelming void that left him cold, shivering, and numb.

“Please, Adam,” Lucifer’s voice softened, cracking at the edges. “You’ll kill everyone... you’ll hurt Charlie if you don’t stop.”

Golden sparks of magic began to shimmer around Lucifer, swirling in the air like embers of light, but Adam was blind to it. His body trembled, not from fear, but from something far deeper—a profound emptiness that gnawed at his soul, threatening to consume him whole.

And then, almost as if a dam had broken inside him, Adam’s voice tore through the air, his scream ragged and inhuman.

“Why...” His voice was barely a whisper at first, choked and broken. “Why didn’t you kill me?!”

The words erupted from him with such force that it felt like his very soul had split open. His throat burned as the screech reverberated through the air, twisted and raw, sending shockwaves of agony through his body. The darkness inside him, the festering void that had grown and coiled in his chest, flared violently, crashing against his ribcage like a beast seeking to break free.

And then, with a sudden roar, silver and blue magic exploded from him, crackling like furious lightning. It surged outward, chaotic and destructive, colliding with Lucifer’s golden-red magic that spiralled toward him in a desperate attempt to contain the storm. Their powers met with a deafening clash, sending shockwaves ripping through the garden like a hurricane unleashed from the very depths of Hell.

The once-beautiful garden, Lucifer’s sanctuary, was torn apart in seconds. Trees that had stood for centuries were uprooted and thrown across the desolate landscape. Flowers, once vibrant and fragrant, withered instantly, their petals crumbling to dust in the raging wind. The earth itself seemed to split open, groaning beneath the weight of their combined magic.

Everything Lucifer had spent years creating…gone.

Lucifer, for all his strength and grace, struggled to keep his footing. His boots skidded across the soil—the same soil he had lovingly tended to for countless hours, the soil of his sanctuary that now lay in ruin. But he had no time to grieve the loss of his beloved garden. His wings flared out behind him, struggling to shield him from the brutal force of Adam’s magic. His arms rose instinctively to cover his face, but even that seemed barely enough to hold back the searing heat of the silver and blue flames that crackled before him.

“Adam!” he screamed again, his voice raw with desperation, but the storm between them swallowed his cry.

The chaotic swirl of magic grew hotter, more violent, each pulse of energy warping the very air around them. It was as if the magic was feeding off the destruction, growing wilder, hungrier with every passing second.

The world around them blurred, torn apart by the force of their powers clashing together. Lucifer’s heart ached as he fought against the tide of devastation, his soul pleading for Adam to stop, to see reason, but all he could feel was the suffocating weight of Adam’s sorrow and rage.

And beneath it all, the same question echoed in his mind, over and over—Why didn’t I kill him?

Why didn’t I kill him when I found him alive again?

But no answer came. Only the howling wind and the crackling of their deadly magic filled the air as the remnants of the garden continued to fall apart around them.

Horror clawed its way into Adam's very soul as the full weight of the truth settled in like a stone in his chest. He was the opposite of Lucifer in every imaginable way. Lucifer, with his golden magic that breathed life and creation into the world, stood as a beacon of beauty and celestial grace. Adam’s magic, by contrast, was a force of destruction—silver, corrosive, and cold. Where Lucifer’s halo shone with light, Adam’s was a ghastly ring of darkness, fragments of bone that hovered in a grotesque parody of divinity. Lucifer embodied radiance, but Adam... Adam was a twisted figure of decay, a living effigy of death.

And then, in a heartbeat, everything stopped. The chaos that had spiraled around them moments before stilled, as if the world itself had drawn a sharp breath and held it. Silence fell, heavy and oppressive.

Adam staggered backward, horror flooding his veins like ice. His mismatched eyes—green and blue, so wide they hurt—were clouded with disbelief. He felt as though he were drowning in the weight of his own being. A dizzying pulse throbbed at his temples, his head swimming as he arched his back, his skeletal wings trembling on either side of him, quivering under the weight of his agony.

And then he saw it—his shadow, misshapen and grotesque, stretching out beneath him like a harrowing specter. A sob tore from his throat at the sight, a raw, anguished sound.

His hands shot up before him, his fingers bruised and skeletal, trembling with the weight of his disgust.

“What am I?” he gasped, voice cracking as tears of silver and blue welled in his sunken eyes. “What have I become?”

Lucifer, mere feet away, was barely able to stand. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body screaming for rest. His own magic, golden and warm, had shrunken inward, drained and depleted from the effort of containing the chaos of Adam’s power. It had been too much—too young, too volatile. If Lucifer had faltered for even a moment, Adam’s destructive magic could have consumed Hell and Heaven alike. The weight of this realization pressed heavily on Lucifer’s chest, his heart pounding in the aftermath of the storm. His claws dug into his knees as he fought for breath, his whole body aching as though it had been torn apart and hastily stitched back together.

He blinked through the haze of exhaustion, lifting his gaze to where Adam had collapsed onto his skeletal knees, the wings of bone and dark feathers draped limply around him. Adam’s figure was so broken, so full of anguish, that Lucifer’s heart ached in a way it hadn’t for millennia.

“Adam...” Lucifer began, his voice barely more than a whisper, soft and deliberate, as though he were approaching a wounded, dangerous creature. Each step he took was cautious, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, but he pressed forward.

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes wild and frantic as they locked onto Lucifer’s. And before Lucifer could react, Adam lunged forward. His skeletal fingers latched onto Lucifer’s pristine white jacket, clutching it with a desperation so raw it sent a tremor through Lucifer’s core.

“Kill me!” Adam’s voice broke, the words tumbling from his lips in ragged sobs. “Please, kill me!”

The tears flowed freely now silver and blue streaks painting his gaunt cheeks. His voice trembled, each word a struggle as his throat throbbed with the strain of his pleading. His hands tightened their grip on Lucifer’s jacket, tugging helplessly as he begged for release.

“You need to kill me! I can’t live like this!” Adam’s voice cracked again; each word laced with despair. “I want to die! Please... kill me.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in shock, his body jolting as Adam’s weight tugged on him, pulling him forward and backward with each desperate plea. His hands instinctively rose, hovering in the air, unsure whether to push Adam away or hold him closer. His lips parted, but the words caught in his throat, tangled in the raw emotion that had suddenly consumed them both.

“A-Adam, I...” Lucifer stammered, his voice thick with uncertainty, his chest aching as he struggled to find words. But what could he say to this broken, haunted creature before him? He, too, was lost in the swirling chaos of their shared past—of wounds too deep to heal, of choices that had led them to this desolate place.

But Adam’s trembling form clinging to him, begging for death... Lucifer had no words for this. No way to undo the pain. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Kill me, Luci! You need to kill me!” Adam’s sobs tore through the quiet, his voice breaking as blue and silver tears spilled down his gaunt cheeks. His skeletal wings drooped lifelessly to the ground, the bones scraping softly against the cracked earth on either side of him. His whole body trembled with the weight of his anguish, his hollow cries echoing like the lament of a lost soul.

“I was supposed to die, Luci. I shouldn’t be here! I don’t want to be here!”

At the sound of that name—Luci—a shudder ran through Lucifer’s entire body, freezing him in place. Adam hadn’t called him that since Eden, since before the fall, before he had left with Lilith and turned his back on Heaven. It was a name laced with the memory of something far simpler, far more innocent. Lucifer's chest constricted painfully, a burn spreading through him that hadn’t surfaced in centuries. The name clawed at old wounds, ripping them open in ways Lucifer hadn’t expected.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he struggled to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest as though it might shatter beneath the weight of Adam's plea. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer raised his trembling hands, jerking slightly before finally resting them on Adam’s shoulders. The touch was tentative, unsure. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft and almost broken.

“I can’t...” The words barely made it past his lips, fragile and uncertain.

Adam’s response was immediate, shaking his head as he cried harder, his body wracked with sobs that tore from the depths of his soul.

“Why not?!” His voice was laced with desperation, the agony of someone who had already lost everything.

“I-I just can’t, Adam…” Lucifer stammered, his own wings beginning to mirror Adam’s, drooping low and heavy as if they shared the same unbearable weight. The once-majestic feathers, streaked with white and red, now seemed dulled in the shadow of his anguish.

“I can’t kill you. I-I... I won’t.”

Lucifer’s voice trembled as he spoke, his chest tightening with every word, with every refusal to grant Adam the one thing he begged for. It wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t cruelty. It was something else—something Lucifer didn’t have the strength to name. His hands tightened their hold on Adam’s shoulders, as if grounding himself in the fragile moment between them, unwilling to let go. His breath hitched again, the agony of their shared past and broken present pressing down on him like a weight he could no longer carry.

Adam’s cries continued, his body collapsing beneath the weight of his despair, but Lucifer stood frozen, his heart torn between an impossible decision. How could he grant Adam’s wish? How could he be the one to end it all, when every piece of him screamed to protect what little remained?

“Please, please, kill me. I don’t want to be here anymore.” He hiccupped pitifully.

“I-I just can’t, Adam…” Lucifer gasped, shaking himself.  “I can’t kill you. I-I… I won’t.”

At those words, something inside Adam snapped. His sobbing morphed into a cry of rage, his blue and silver magic crackling violently in the air around them.

“I hate you!” he screamed, the words ripping from his throat like a curse. “You ruined my life! You took everything from me!”

His fists clenched, and he pounded them weakly against Lucifer’s chest, though it wasn’t the physical blows that hurt—it was the weight of Adam’s words. “I have never asked you for anything, Luci! Not once! But this… I ask you for this, and you can’t even do it!”

Lucifer stood still, his expression softening, though his heart broke with every word. He didn’t flinch as Adam’s magic lashed out, the chaotic tendrils of blue and silver sparking in the air. He simply listened, his heart aching, guilt weighing heavy in his chest.

“You were my Archangel! My best friend!” Adam continued, his voice cracking under the strain of emotion. “I adored you more than anyone. But you—you betrayed me in the worst possible way! You left me… you hurt me… and I’ve never recovered from that. The pain is still there, festering inside me! And it wasn’t because Lilith left me, that she chose someone else. I could’ve survived that. But what destroyed me was that it was you!”

Adam’s voice broke as he cried out in anguish. “You, Lucifer! The person I trusted more than anyone else. The one I cared about the most! And you—you took her from me. I could never heal from that betrayal! It tore me apart, and it’s never stopped hurting.”

Lucifer’s eyes glistened, his face still, but the pain of Adam’s words cut deeper than any wound. He stood in silence, absorbing every accusation, every ounce of hatred. He deserved it all.

Adam’s magic flared again, wild and uncontrollable.

“You took everything!” he screamed, the rage and sorrow blending into something raw, primal. “You took Lilith! Fine, I could live with that. But then you took Eve! What the hell was I supposed to do?! Did you want me to be alone for my entire life? You took them both! Both! All I ever wanted was to be loved! To belong! But you—you cast me aside, left me in the cold, just like everyone else!”

Adam’s tears streamed down, his voice cracking as he screamed, “I hate you, Lucifer! You’ve always hurt me!”

Lucifer’s knees buckled under the weight of Adam’s words, and slowly, he sank to the ground. Adam weakly hit him on the chest, fists thudding against the fabric of his white suit, but the blows quickly gave way to broken sobs. Without hesitation, Lucifer wrapped his arms around Adam, pulling him close, hugging him tightly. His voice was soft, trembling with regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am a terrible Archangel. A terrible friend. I never wanted to hurt you… I never meant for any of this…”

“But you did!” Adam sobbed. “You’re always hurting me! Every choice you make, every decision—it always ends with me suffering!”

Lucifer squeezed him tighter, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought… I thought you’d come around eventually, that—”

“Come around to what?!” Adam interrupted, his voice hollow with disbelief. “You took my only friends! Left me all alone! If Eve hadn’t bitten that apple, I would’ve been in Eden for centuries, alone, because I couldn’t handle someone leaving me again. Is that what you wanted? Is that what you thought would happen?”

“No…” Lucifer whispered, shaking his head, but the words faltered on his tongue. “No, Adam, I wasn’t thinking like that. I just… I wanted everyone to be free. To make their own choices.”

“You were being selfish!” Adam screamed, his voice rising with the chaos of his magic, silver and blue lightning sparking and crackling around them. “You’ve always been selfish, Luci! Every decision you’ve ever made has led to me suffering!”

Lucifer flinched, the truth of Adam’s words hitting him hard. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

But Adam wasn’t finished. His eyes blazed with fury, his magic lashing out in uncontrolled arcs. “You’re still selfish! You don’t even know why Heaven does what it does, why it’s so important to protect the Winners! Do you even understand what it would mean if Charlie managed to redeem a Sinner? Why the Exterminations are so critical?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in shock, confusion clouding his features.

Adam scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course, you don’t know. You don’t know anything! Hell is filled with abusers, Lucifer! Every Sinner is someone who hurt another soul—who enjoyed hurting them. Every Sinner committed a crime, and every one of them has a victim in Heaven! The Winners are the ones who survived their sins, and now Charlie’s trying to paradise their abusers!”

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak but no words came. He was utterly stunned, caught in the truth of Adam’s words.

Adam’s voice trembled with anger as he continued, “It’s not about second chances. It’s about whether the survivors can live in a paradise knowing their abusers are there too. Every decision Heaven made was to protect the survivors from Hell’s rotten souls.”

Lucifer could only listen in stunned silence as Adam revealed the harsh truth.

“Lilith isn’t trapped in Heaven,” Adam said, his voice quiet but filled with bitter sorrow. “She chose to stay. She saw the survivors, saw what those humans did to them. She’s up there helping them, not because Heaven forced her, but because she wanted to.”

Lucifer's head spun, the world crumbling beneath the weight of this revelation. Everything he had believed, everything he had fought for—it all felt meaningless now. He had been so wrong. So blind.

But the realization brought no comfort to Adam. Seeing Lucifer’s defeated expression didn’t ease his pain. It only made it worse. Adam sobbed harder; his broken heart laid bare.

“Please,” he whispered, the tears choking him. “Just… kill me.”

But once again, Lucifer’s answer was the same.

“No.”

Adam sagged backward, the weight of everything crushing down on him, his head hanging hopelessly, defeat rippling through every inch of his frame. His wings, those macabre skeletal structures draped with trembling blue feathers, drooped even lower, dragging against the ashen ground.

“I hate you so much,” he whispered, his voice hollow and ragged, as if the very words drained the last of his strength.

“I know,” Lucifer responded quietly, his voice thick with a sorrow that mirrored Adam’s despair. He tightened his arms around Adam, pulling him closer as if trying to meld their broken pieces together.

“I hate myself too.”

Neither of them spoke after that. In the silence, the ruins of Lucifer’s Eden replica stretched out around them, the once beautiful imitation of paradise now little more than a graveyard of dreams long dead. Their breaths mingled in the stillness, both clinging to each other, neither wanting to let go, yet neither knowing how to move forward. It was a quiet, desperate embrace, filled with all the things they had never been able to say.

Finally, Adam, voice low and hesitant, broke the silence. “What do you want from me?”

Lucifer didn’t answer right away. His grip tightened slightly, as though afraid that letting go would shatter what fragile connection remained between them. When he finally spoke, he pulled back just enough to meet Adam’s eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness that was almost painful to behold. His hand reached up to touch the blue circle that was now imprinted on Adam’s cheek, a dark and sad reflection of what once might have been divine grace.

“I loved you,” Lucifer whispered, his fingers tracing the edge of the mark gently. The circle glowed faintly, like a dying ember. “I loved you so much, but my affection—it was too much for you. And for that… for that, I am deeply sorry.”

Adam blinked, confusion crossing his face as he furrowed his brow. He didn’t understand what Lucifer was trying to say, and it only made the ache in his chest throb harder. “What are you talking about?”

Lucifer leaned in closer, his voice a soft breath against Adam’s skin. “I want to make a deal with you.”

The moment the words left Lucifer’s mouth, Adam recoiled violently, yanking himself out of Lucifer’s arms with a sudden surge of anger. He stumbled backward, struggling to his feet, his wings flaring wide in frustration.

“A deal?” he spat, eyes flashing with fury. “You think I’m stupid? You want to bind me to a contract where you own my soul, don’t you? Just like you do with everyone else in Hell!”

His voice was sharp, every syllable dripping with bitter resentment. “I’ll never give you that! You’ve already taken everything from me, Lucifer! The last thing I have is my soul, and I’ll be damned if I ever give that to you.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, his hand shooting out to grab Adam by the wrist before he could storm off. “Wait, please—just listen to me.”

Adam growled; his voice dangerously low.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he hissed, his blue and silver magic beginning to spark dangerously around them again. “For someone who claims to care so much about freedom, about letting humans choose for themselves, you’re awfully eager to take that freedom away. You’re no better than Heaven, Lucifer.”

Lucifer flinched, Adam’s words cutting deep. His grip on Adam’s wrist tightened, but there was no force behind it, only desperation. “I don’t make deals to trap souls, not anymore. That’s not what this is. It’s different. This is different.”

Adam scoffed, pulling his wrist out of Lucifer’s grasp as he glared at him.

“How is it different?” he demanded, the fury in his voice only barely concealing the hurt that still lingered beneath.

Lucifer slowly stood, stepping toward Adam with deliberate caution. He moved close, too close, and looped an arm around Adam’s middle, pulling him back against his chest. His other hand rose once more to touch the sad blue mark on Adam’s cheek.

“Because this time,” Lucifer said, his voice a quiet murmur against the top of Adam’s head, “You’ll own my soul too.”

Adam frowned, the anger giving way to confusion.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. “Why would you do that?”

Lucifer’s expression softened; his gaze filled with a rare sincerity that Adam had almost forgotten he was capable of. “Your new power… it’s unstable, dangerous. If what you said is true, that Heaven wants to protect the Winners—if they see you as a threat—they’ll come after you.”

Lucifer’s face darkened at the thought. “And I won’t let that happen.”

Adam scoffed quietly, the bitterness returning as he shook his head. “Why would you stop them? If they kill me, that’s exactly what I want.”

Lucifer growled softly, tightening his hold around Adam, pulling him even closer until their bodies pressed together.

“I’m not letting that happen,” he said firmly, his voice low and warning. “How am I supposed to make up for what I did if I let you die?”

Adam laughed bitterly, a harsh, broken sound. “You seriously think you can make up for all the pain you’ve caused?”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re delusional, Lucifer. I’ll never agree to this.”

Lucifer shrugged, a wide, face splitting grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “Every beginning is born from a bit of insanity.”

Adam rolled his eyes, biting his bottom lip anxiously as he mulled over Lucifer’s words. The weight of the offer hung heavy between them, and the truth of it—the sheer absurdity of it—began to settle in.

“Why would you offer up your own soul?” Adam asked after a long pause, his voice quieter, more hesitant now. “What do you get out of this?”

Lucifer’s grin widened, but it was softer this time, more genuine.

“Because if you own my soul too,” he said, brushing his thumb gently against Adam’s cheek, “You’ll know that I’m not just playing with you. You’ll have power over me, just like I would over you. It wouldn’t be one-sided.”

Adam’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t hide the way his heart raced, the way the offer twisted something inside him. It was tempting. Too tempting.

Lucifer’s eyes never left Adam’s as he whispered, “This way, you’ll never have to doubt my intentions again.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adam was silent, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking deep into his soul. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to feel.

Adam stood there, frozen, his heart a mess of conflict and confusion. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn’t want Lucifer to make amends or try to fix the past. He was tired. Bone-deep exhaustion pulled at every part of him. After centuries of existence—living through Eden, Earth, and Heaven—there was nothing left to strive for, no new desires to chase. He had lived a full life, endured countless betrayals, heartbreaks, and wars. Now, all he wanted was rest. He wanted the release of death. Finally. After so long.

As if sensing Adam's inner turmoil, Lucifer leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s lips. It sent a shock through Adam's body, making him stiffen, his eyes widening in confusion.

Lucifer’s voice was a low, intimate whisper, his words caressing the air between them. "You haven’t experienced everything yet, Adam."

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s lips curled into a teasing grin, and he ran his claws through Adam’s hair, sending shivers down Adam’s spine. “You once said that I wanted you to be alone, that I took everyone from you. And you’re right. I was selfish. I hurt you, more than I could ever make up for.”

His tone softened, becoming almost mournful. “But that doesn’t mean I never wanted you.”

Adam eyed him suspiciously, the old wounds of betrayal still too raw, too deep.

“Are you only saying that because you want the full set?” he asked bitterly, his voice dripping with resentment.

Lucifer chuckled softly, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes... and no. I loved all three of you back in Eden—Lilith, Eve... and you. But I was blinded by my own pride. I lost sight of you, Adam. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Adam frowned deeply, his arms crossing over his chest defensively. “I’m not into poly,” he muttered.

Lucifer's grin softened, a knowing look in his eyes. “Neither am I. If you’re willing, it would just be the two of us. No one else.”

Adam blinked, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking in. “In this contract?”

Lucifer shook his head, correcting gently, “No. In a relationship.”

The word sent a sharp pang through Adam’s chest, his breath catching. He couldn’t stop the doubt from creeping into his voice as he asked, “Are you only doing this out of pity? Out of guilt?”

Lucifer didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering as he met Adam’s eyes. “I won’t lie. Maybe guilt plays a part, but my love for you is real. It always has been. Just as much as I loved Lilith and Eve... maybe even more.”

His voice was a tender confession, raw and honest. “My greatest sin wasn’t falling or rebelling. It was not finding you after Eden. I should have come back for you.”

Adam wanted to scoff, to brush Lucifer’s words aside as manipulative lies, but there was something in Lucifer’s eyes—a vulnerability he hadn’t seen in ages.

“I don’t believe you,” Adam whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Lucifer, not missing a beat, reached for Adam’s hand, pressing it firmly against his own chest. Beneath Adam’s palm, Lucifer’s heart pounded erratically, the rapid rhythm betraying the King of Hell’s own unease.

“Feel that?” Lucifer whispered; his voice almost desperate. “I want you, Adam. I want to be with you.”

Adam swallowed thickly, a lump forming in his throat.

“If I agree to this,” he whispered, his voice harsh with emotion, “And you fail—if you hurt me again—you have to kill me.”

Lucifer's face tightened, a frown forming as he instinctively began to protest. “Adam, I—”

But Adam cut him off, covering Lucifer’s mouth with his hand. “That’s the only way I’ll agree to this contract, Lucifer. You have to kill me if you fail.”

Lucifer’s golden eyes darkened with displeasure, his jaw tightening beneath Adam’s palm. He wanted to snarl, to refuse, but Adam was right—he was the King of Lies, the Father of Deception. A sly smirk crept onto Lucifer’s lips, and after a tense moment, he nodded, his eyes gleaming with that familiar wickedness.

“Of course,” he purred, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “If I fail to make you love me in return, I’ll do as you ask.”

But even as he agreed, Lucifer’s fingers crossed behind his back. He had no intention of fulfilling that end of the bargain. After all, failure wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t let it be.

Adam, too weary and conflicted to see through Lucifer’s subtle lie, let his guard down. He sighed, the exhaustion in his soul weighing him down.

“Fine,” he muttered reluctantly. “I agree.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with triumph, but his expression softened as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Adam’s in a kiss that was both gentle and filled with an undercurrent of something far more dangerous. As their lips met, golden and red magic shimmered around them like flames, dancing in the air, while Adam’s silver and blue magic crackled in response, sharp like lightning. Their powers intertwined, a storm of fire and lightning swirling around them as the contract was sealed.

A golden chain appeared around Adam’s throat, gleaming like a collar, while a silver chain coiled around Lucifer’s neck, binding them together, locking them into this shared fate. For a moment, time seemed to still. Their lips remained pressed together, the raw intensity of the magic burning between them, sealing their souls inextricably to one another for all eternity.

When they finally pulled apart, Adam’s eyes were glazed with a mixture of emotions—rage, sorrow, and a flicker of something else he wasn’t ready to name.

Lucifer, his gaze locked on Adam’s, whispered softly, “We’re bound now. For the rest of eternity.”

Adam swallowed hard; his throat tight as he struggled to breathe. The weight of the chains, both literal and metaphorical, settled around him. He was trapped. Bound. But somewhere, in the deepest, darkest part of his heart, a spark of hope flickered, hope that maybe, just maybe, Lucifer wouldn’t fail this time.

But Adam wasn’t naive. He had learned the hard way that love, especially the kind of love Lucifer offered, always came with a price.

“You’ll fail. You’ll kill me.” Adam grumbled.

Lucifer leant in for another kiss, brushing his lips against Adam’s. “I don’t think I will.”

[oo-delallymrcrow]

Mating Season

Summary: it's mating season for two of the boys. Frost and Torbek, separately of course.

A/N: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! 👉👈 I didn't realize how long this was going to be.... @pustak31 gave me this wonderful idea! Kremy was apart of this ask but I think I'll add him to another fic that has mating elements to it 👀

Frost

You don't really know how you got here…. But you're here as you can't stop shaking at how Frost pounds into you from behind.

It was cold, the snow fluttering outside when you noticed the change in Frost. He had told you about this once, the changing of the season indicating that it was time to mate. It made you blush but you moved past that, keeping to the back of your mind until now.

You found Frost sniffing you a lot more, holding you to him as he nosed at your neck. The sounds that emitted from him, the low growls.

He had started to groom you. He would brush your hair, even of you just did. Join you in the bathroom a lot more to just bathe you. You enjoyed that part, not to say you didn't enjoy all of it. He was tender as he lathered your hair and gently scrubbed your skin. You noticed that he would linger around your most sensitive parts before continuing the bath.

Once you were out, he would dry you, brush your hair, and toss you into bed before rubbing his face all over you.

You giggled and let him continue, rubbing his face against your cheek before he let his hands wander. He gently ran a hand down your soft tummy before moving to kneel between your legs.

Your breath hitched as he hiked your legs up and quickly laid down, pressing a kiss to your hips before going down.

He took his hands and used his thumbs to open your lips, shivering as your pussy was on full display. He pressed his wide tongue against you, slowly licking up and circling your clit before doing it again.

You slapped a hand to your mouth as you cried out and arched up. You pressed your other hand to the top of his head, petting the fur before pushing his head. Whether away from you or towards you, you weren't sure as he hummed.

“Delectable,” he murmured before licking your clit and pulling away.

He climbed over you as you tried to reach for him. You were turned over quickly as Frost pulled your hips up and you were faced down in the mattress.

You heard the shuffling of clothes before your breath hitched at the feeling of his cock sliding against your folds. You whined and looked back at Frost.

“Frost, please.”

He kept eye contact with you as he slowly pushed himself in. You tried to keep your eyes open but the feeling was too much.

You pushed your face into the mattress with a cry as he fully pressed himself against you. He leaned over you to kiss your shoulder.

“That's a good girl. Stay just like this for me.”

He whispered into your ear before he pulled out and slammed back into you. You cried out almost like a scream as he started at a fast and hard pace. You squirmed and reaches out with your hands to grab at your pillow to dampen the noises escaping before he grabbed it and threw it to the side.

“No need for that dear. I want to hear you as I make you cum.”

You jumped at the feeling of a hand on your clit, rubbing it slowly. The difference between his hips and the hand was making you feel that orgasm build faster and faster. He leaned down again as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sorry for this my dear,” he murmured before lightly biting down.

Your orgasm hit you faster than you thought possible as you cried and pushed your hips back against his. Your whole body was trembling as Frost growled against you and you heard a rip as his claws dug into the sheet. As you came down from your high, you whined as Frost slowed his pace.

“Frost,” you whispered as he pulled his teeth from your shoulder.

He licked at the wound as he kept his slow pace.

“Hmm very good. I think we're going to keep going.”

You whined as he slammed into you and paused. He leaned up and grabbed your hips.

“We don't have anything to do tomorrow.”

Torbek

You have had a shadow all day. It was kinda normal for you, Torbek staying with you and helping you out with whatever you were doing. Usually if someone asked him for help or he wanted to go do his own thing he would. But right now he was just right behind you with everything. You couldn't walk five steps without the bugbear right behind.

If you thought that was weird, it got worse when Gideon started talking to you. He was joking around with you like usual and placed a hand on your shoulder.

His hand was ripped off you and you heard Gideon yell ‘what the fuck’ as Torbek slammed him into the ground with a loud roar.

You blinked in shock as Gideon tried to fight Torbek off of him as he swiped his claws and snapped his teeth. You yelled out as Frost and Kremy ran in at the commotion.

“Torbek!” You yelled out, making him freeze for a second before he moved to stand behind you.

He pulled you to him as he huffed and growled in Gideon's direction as Frost helped Gideon up.

Kremy gestured out, “what the fuck was that!”

“He just attacked me out of nowhere! What the hell was that man?”

“Torbek didn't like you touching my (Y/N),” he huffed as he squeezed you tighter.

“Torbek? Are you feeling overprotective of (Y/N)? Staying close to her?”

Frost looked from Torbek to you

“Yes.”

“Hmm, I believe Torbek is in his mating season.”

It got so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop.

You looked up at Torbek, seeing his eyes get wide, before he burrowed his face into your hair. You sighed and looked back at the guys.

“I think I'll take him to my room for….awhile.”

Frost nodded his head in agreement as Kremy helped Gideon stand on his feet as you lead Torbek to your room.

Once you got there, Torbek moved you to the bed while pulling your clothes off. Your breath hitched as he ran a claw down your body. Softly tracing your curves as your body shivered in excitement.

“Torbek-”

You never got to finish your sentence as you were picked up and thrown onto the bed. He climbed onto of you, already removing his clothes to grab your legs and push them up. You squealed and tried to cover your naked pussy as he growled and pushed your hands away.

He used one hand to spread your lips and the other to line his cock up and push into you. You cried out at the intrusion, not prepared to take such a large thing.

He was kind enough to stop and give you a minute to catch your breath before he continued pushing in. You couldn't stop your body from shaking and the tears that spilled down your face as he kept going.

It wasn't until he nuzzled into your neck that you realized you were tense and crying. He had stopped and pressed a few kisses to your neck to comfort you.

“T-Torbek,” you gasped as you felt something warm inside of you. Something different.

You could see the witchlight in the canisters bubble and shine brightly as he gently pulled out and pushed in again.

Oh?

Oh!

You looked down to where you were connected through bleary eyes as you saw purple goo?

“Torbek can make it better. It will feel good I promise.”

He pushed himself up to watch you as you felt a nice haze come over you. You gasped and moaned as the feeling of euphoria started to slowly run through you. Your hands shook as you ran your hands through his fur and gripped his shoulders as your toes curled and you pressed up onto him.

The feeling of your orgasm was different. It was like the sun warming your skin. Your back arched and you let out a small cry as it hit you.

You slowly relaxed into the bed as Torbek slowly pushed himself in and out of you. Keeping a lazy pace as he nosed at your neck.

“Torbek discovered witchlight is a wonderful aphrodisiac for you. It helps keep you slick for Torbek,” he groaned against you.

All you could do was nod as you pulled his face to you for a soft kiss. Keeping your lips close together as he kept his pace. You whined and tried to move your hips to indicate to go faster.

“Torbek is in no hurry. Torbek has a few days before he'll let you go.”

Your eyes rolled back as the pressure on your clit and the constant motion made you cum again.

[ariannag6-blog]

Enji in bed 18+ MDNI

How would Enji be in bed? Post+pre atonement arc. Here’s what I think.

I think how he would be sexually before and after his “atonement arc” would contrast each other quite a bit.

Reader notes:

2k words. Not an experienced writer just have lots of creative thoughts I must get out of my overfilled brain.

Warning. My pre atonement Enji headcannon is rough and aggressive obviously so please do not read this if it will upset you. Post atonement I actually think he’d be quite sweet. Feel free to just skip to the post atonement arc Enji part if you prefer.

You can find all my Enji stories under the hashtag EnjiAria

During marrige-pre atonement:

Kinks. He most definitely probably has breeding kink and is rough. Definitely also has a “daddy”or “yes sir” name calling kink. He probably likes degrading his partner a bit in bed as well. Has a dacryphilia kink. Power imbalance kink. During his younger years/before his marriage becomes estranged he likes degrading.

Enji never liked to show his anger outside of his own home. He would often come home with pent up anger from his hero work and needed someone to take it out on. He usually liked relieving his stress sexually with Rei. Enji likes to start out being rough, then make you cum, then end with roughness again. He’ll start out fucking her roughly, not letting her have time to adjust to his length or girth, hearing her scream as he thrusted too fast and too deep for her. Pressing down on her back (if she was on her stomach) or hips (if she was on her back) to hold her in place. Watching tears form as she desperately tried to take him. He basked in her pain. He was also very experienced and always knew how to make a woman finish. Though it is no lie he does like quite a bit of pain and aggression he will never finish a session without making his partner cum. If they don’t cum he’ll get angry and threaten punishment such as relentless face fucking or anal. After he can tell she’s submitted to him by letting him roughy have his way with their hole he’ll reward his partner with an orgasm. He’s good with his fingers. He’ll still pound into his partner roughly but use his fingers to trace circles over your clit to make you cum. He doesn’t go gently, he works at a rough pace with pressure. He loves overstimulating his woman. He wants you to cum fast. As you cum he likes to grab your throat and make you tell him who your pussy belongs to, who your body belongs to, who owns you. Once you’ve finished he picks back up his pace. Balls deep slapping against you relentlessly. He’ll continue this pace, slap your ass and pull your hair until he finishes. As he fills you up he’ll tell you how perfect you are to breed. Once he finishes he’ll leave you there on the bed and go about his day with less stress now.

His dirty talk pre atonement era:

“You look so good carrying my children, it shows me who you belong to. You belong to me.”

“Take it, I’m going to keep giving you babies over and over again until your body breaks.”

“Crying already? You say you can’t take it but you always end up cumming so hard from this. You’re so filthy. You love it when I show you who you belong to don’t you.”

“That’s it, take it. Rip that cunt open on my cock. Let me breed you.”

“You’re such a worthless whore the least you can do is give me this.”

“I always love breaking you in.”

“Shh stop screaming it’ll only make daddy go harder.”

“If you don’t cum on me right now I’ll fuck your other hole and I’m not talking about your throat sweetheart.”

“You should thank me for getting you pregnant”

Outside of the sex he still liked intimidating his wife. Making sure she knew where she stood. Gripping her arm tightly when she displeased him. Not allowing her to leave the house or wear certain clothing. Watching her obey him out of fear turned him on. It always made him hard and she knew it. She could see it. (Later in life he definitely regrets enjoying that.)

Though he was not a good person in his younger years I don’t see him cheating at all oddly. I think he would be loyal and use his wife for sex only. He seems old fashioned I don’t think he would use toys for himself or for his partner. At most he might like tying her hands or her mouth with his work tie. He would also probably forbid his wife from touching herself sexually, wanting himself to be the only one to give her pleasure or pain. He wanted this for a few reasons, he was possessive and insecure she wasn’t allowed to think of anything but him. He also wanted her to always be able to get wet easily whenever he needed to relieve stress, get off, or breed her, he feared if she pleasured herself on her own she wouldn’t be able to take him as easily. If he ever found out she touched herself he punished her by bending her over his knee and spanking until she was in tears. Then making her get on her knees to apologize profusely before ordering her to suck him dry.

Hear me out…I’m so sorry but I feel like he’s obsessed with receiving rimming. Especially when he’s too exhausted to do too much to you. He would love just laying back gripping his fingers in your hair guiding your tongue over his ass while his legs are spread open. Or closing his thighs berrying your face in him causing you to go deeper into his ass.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Post atonement era Enji:

First off he most definitely immediately got divorced. He felt immense regret for how he treated his wife and wants her free from him. He still holds love for her. He was never in love with her but he wants her to be happy he can’t move on and grow if they are still together either he fears it would make him revert back to his old ways. He built a new home for Rei and his kids to live in. He has as little contact with them as possible for their own sakes. He does his best to continue his growth in every way he can..including sexual.

Outside of marriage after the divorce Enji is gentle, sweet, no breeding kink but still very dominate.

Kinks. Praising, overstimulation.

Dacryphilia kink. (From pleasure not pain)

Caretaking/caregiving. Daddy kink.(not age play just likes taking care of you. By daddy kink I mean the name calling again not age play.)

His type. To me he doesn’t have a spesific type but prefers women smaller than him, tan skin, small or average chest, long hair. Being smaller than him Isn’t hard bc he’s big so almost everyone is smaller than him. If not that exact description he at the very least just prefers women with long soft hair. I could see him taking a liking to both submissive and dominate women but would prefer someone who’s a submissive bottom. Though he doesn’t like being as aggressive in the bedroom anymore he prefers to be the one doing all the work, the one pleasing his woman.

He does not want you to do anything to him. Sucking his dick, rimming, trying to make him come if you’re already finished. He wants everything to be about you. If you want to suck his dick or more you’ll have to beg him. He’ll allow it but only if he can see that you’re getting just as much or more enjoyment out of it than him.

He has deep regrets for how rough he was with Rei’s body. As a way to atone for that in his mind he wants to treat his current partner gently. He’s insecure he doesn’t know his own strength in bed, he’s not used to being gentle. Has to have you watching him at all times especially when he’s eating you out he needs to see your face to make sure he’s going a good enough of a job. He needs your approval constantly weather that be through words, moans of pleasure, or your eyes, anything to let him know he’s giving you nothing but pleasure. He would grow to be quite the pleasure dom in his old age. He needs you to cum constantly. He will always make you cum first. He LOVES overstimulating you, making you cum over and over again until you tell him it’s too much. He feels as though he doesn’t deserve to cum after everything he’s done. He would much rather make you cum, it’s enough to satisfy him mentally. Physically that’s a different story. But I do see him liking not finishing. It makes him feel like he’s edging himself and being good for not cuming because it should all be about you anyways.

I see him being with someone quite inexperienced who often can’t handle him going very long or deep so he’ll often not finish. He doesn’t want to finish by himself as he feels like it’s disrespectful to you so he’ll constantly edge himself for days from watching you feel pleasure until he’s finally at his breaking point and can finish as fast as you. He’ll still always make you cum first though.

After his divorce he immediately got a vasectomy he’s too scared of ever having kids again. He still loves filling you with his cum. He’s never used condoms and doesn’t like them. If you want kids he’ll decline but he will roleplay breeding you if you want.

Though he wants to be more gentle now he’s still slightly kinky. He still loves name calling “yes sir” “daddy”. He enjoys making you cry out of pleasure from cumming too much or out of pleasure from him being the first one to make you squirt. He loves light choking, gentle slaps, but nothing that will actually ever hurt you. He’s always constantly looking at your face to make sure you smirk or bite your lip after each slap to assure him that he didn’t go too rough. Dispite his fear that he’ll be too rough he’s actually is a lot more gentle with his partner than he realizes. His touches are so soft and gentle they wouldn’t so much as break an egg yolk. But because his partner is inexperienced they prefer this gentle edge to him. Being with someone inexperienced in my opinion would be a good fit. They wouldn’t push his limits by asking him to go rougher or trying kinkier things. He always fears loosing control and reverting back to his old self. Being with someone who needs him to always be slow and soft will keep him in place and help further his progress.

If his partner was a top he would allow you to have your way with him sometimes but ultimately at the end he would be right back on top of you fucking you on your back. I see him trying to be a bottom to please you but at the end of the day failing because being a top-dom is just in his nature.

Dirty talk post atonement:

“That’s it come on my fingers sweetheart I need to taste you after.”

“You taste so sweet. I can’t get enough. Think I can make you cum a 3rd time baby?”

“Shh let me do everything don’t you think about doing anything for me. Watching you cum is all I need I promise.”

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock sweetheart you’re spoiling daddy with this cunt.”

“Let me fill you up you deserve it after cumming so good for me sweetie.”

“Shh don’t worry daddy won’t go all the way in, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll go easy. Gentle. I promise.”

“Look at me, keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop licking your pussy.”

“Tsk tsk sweetheart look at me if you want me to keep thrusting. I need to see it in your eyes that I’m doing good.”

“Is it too much? Tell me when you’ve had enough and I’ll stop.”

“Is this okay? Yeah sweetheart…right there? Like that?”

He would ask you not to touch yourself without him. He wouldn’t forbid it. He just wants you to come to him to feel pleasure. He would feel like he’s not doing enough if you feel like you have to use other methods to finish instead of waiting to use his body.

He’s old fashioned so he wouldn’t prefer using toys. Definitely not on himself. He wants you to be able to get you off with his body. Cock, fingers, tongue, nose tracing up and down your clit, anything. He would feel like he’s inadequate if he has to resort to toys to get you off. On the other hand if you wanted him to use toys on you or you using toys on him he wouldn’t decline. He’s wrapped around your finger he would basically do anything you asked no matter what it was.

Outside the bedroom. Preferred to be the provider. Enji loves to spoil you. He doesn’t want you to worry about anything, he has more money than he’s able to spend he would want to spend on you asking you to quit work and just do whatever you want. He wants to see you happy as much as he can. To be honest he does always tend to prefer a domestic relationship him being the provider and you being the homemaker but if he meets someone career oriented he will support them working. Just seeing you happy will turn him on mentally.

I don’t see him getting married again. If he got into another relationship he wouldn’t be expecting it or feel deserving of it. I think his next partner would be serious and life long (unless they ended it I couldn’t see him being the one to break it off) but at the end of the day he would be too worried getting married would make you feel trapped. Ending up being with him for the sake of ease instead of want. He wants you to constantly choose him everyday and not be forced to stay. It’ll reassure him that he’s still making progress.

[zhongrin]

To the kinich post

why can we kill baby monsters and not cats. Or dogs. Can we kill the foxes on Inazuma? The seals yes.

Hoyo is weirdly specific with that is a monsterlife lesser then a stereotype pet?

Or do cats symbolise something else in the game because of Venti being allergic?? (He is a fucking WHISP not even human he is just copying an appearence how the fuck does he have an allergy??? HE CONTROLS THE WIND HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS EVEN-)

We are the monsters here.

Have u seen the hilichurl just chilling around. The slimes playing? The evolved hilichurl watching the world? They use instruments. Slimes to fly. They know how to use instruments. Pyro slimes for explosion. Dendro to create shields (how the fuck i want that too) anemo to transport and fly.

They have a fucking language. Most are former people. We are just to ignorant and fearful to realize we've been killing sentient people who laugh and have fun and have their own traditions and-

*falls over and gets carried away by an exasperated husband* "...I know I shouldn't have given you a sight to the over darkness."

ok nvm i lied i didn't (can't) sleep bc of all the noises outside (yay /s) so here goesー

hskdjskdj no idea i mean game-design wise it makes sense sure, but lore wise??? idk why we're attacking these natlan ppl and their saurians, they look normal and are mostly just chilling in nature... why are we beating them up? lore wise? i don't think there's an explanation for it?? maybe they 'got too excited' like what the daily quests says and we're just calming them down?? lmao

and again if we approach it lore wise, it doesn't make sense for the traveler to continue killing the hilichurls either?? at this point they know what the hilichurls are. so yeah, it's all for the sake of gameplay orz

........

hnmmm. here's an idea...

cw. not proofread, word vomit, violence/light gore

you get isekai'd into teyvat. you're worshipped as the creator and all that pizzazz; we all know how it goes so i'm not going to explain further.

now imagine, one day you decide to stroll through the lands, accompanied by a few select people; perhaps the 'main team' you always use for exploration in-game. a few ways away, you see a camp of hilichurls. obviously you know what they actually are, and you got curious if you could do something for them, right? i mean, being the creator, an all powerful entity, you might even be able to reverse their curse? who knows? better try it out!

so you step closer to try and communicate with them.

but to your utter surprise, instead of doing so, you find your body moving on its own, hand raised to grab the nearest character's weapon, before swinging with the full intention to kill.

thud.

the blade decapitates the poor creature's head.

as it rolls on the ground and you stare at the gruesome sight in both horror and denial, bile rising from the back of your throat, your acolytes follow your example and proceeds to eradicate the entire camp.

your will is their command, after all.

you can't even scream. you can't find your voice. nit because of fear or sadness or frustrationー you just can't.

once they finish, they return to you, expecting praise and adoration, only to be greeted by tears and muffled sobs. they don't understand why you were crying; even before your descent to teyvat, haven't you been commanding them to do the same thing, countless times? they try to offer you the remnants of the hilichurls' bloodied masks and divine scrolls ー you've always liked receiving those! why are you crying harder? what did they do wrong?

you look like you were trying to say something, but they find the words leaving your mouth is of a language they have never heard before.

you thought you could find a home in the world you loved so much.

but you just feel..... lost.

[spoiler/explanation below]

eventually, you realize you were no 'creator' of this world at all.

you were just a string marionette of celestia's.

'the creator' had always been an illusion; an existence They created to pull the blanket over everyone's eyes. your existence's sole purpose is to control the archons, the dragon sovereigns, and the people of teyvat. like an ignorant shepherd leading the sheeps straight to the maw of the wolves.

you weren't some all knowing creator.

you weren't even a monster.

you were never yourself at all.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin, Part 4

Warning: alcohol, graphic description of a bipolar crash and panic attack (or, at least how I experience them). Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Stepping into the foyer, the soft darkness envelopes him. Holding the door gently, he makes a futile attempt to mitigate the screaming hinges, before giving up and just closing the damn thing.

He's tired. It feels like he's been running a marathon, and as far as the exhausted muscle in his chest is concerned, he has. It's been pounding like a god damn drum, nonstop, for hours.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you a word that was said during the ceremony. You'd consumed his senses, filled them completely. He only looked away from you once, to fumble in his pocket for the ring, otherwise he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of you. He caught your scent on the evening wind, and the spinning in his chest turned faster.

He tried to hold onto his thoughts, but they ripped from his grasp as they started to spiral. He clenched his jaw, he had to hold it together. He was the Best Man at his best friend's wedding and he had shit he was responsible for. But his mind has always been a bigger beast than he is.

Look at her.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

She's perfect.

Your kind of perfect.

This will never be you, you know.

Freak.

Unwanted.

If you were human, you'd be together already.

If you were human, you'd probably be engaged by now.

Why does she waste her time on you?

All you do is drag her down.

Chain her to the sewers when she should be living a real life.

With a real person.

Why?

Why do you do that?

Why are holding her prisoner just so you can feel better about yourself?

He couldn't hear past the rush in his ears, but he was vaguely aware that there was cheering around him. Then you'd turned to look at him, smiling like the sun, and the answer crashed over him like a violent wave.

You're a monster.

He stops just short of the sitting room, eyes closing and jaw clenching, as the memory floods him.

You'd turned to him and smiled and for one moment everything stopped. You were the only thing that existed in the universe. You *were* the universe.

That's when he hit the wall.

A sharp inhale was the only outward indication of the crash. But inside, he was screaming.

You're light streaked through his veins like fire along saltpetre. Burning away all pretense. No matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he needed, he would never be more than this. He could dance with you, sing with you, laugh and cry with you, but he could never ever love you.

Unacceptable.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

The guests in attendance began to disperse, while the bridal party stuck around for pictures. Through the smoke haze he could see very little, and could hear equally as well, though his body seemed to know what it was doing. He had no choice but to trust it.

His heart was pounding, and he's pretty sure at some point Casey thanked him, but his only thought by that point was to get away from everyone.

As soon as there was an opening, his body excused itself and made for the house. He was winded by the time he reached the side opposite the party, the panic attack threatening to consume him.

He put a hand on the wall, leaning against it with his head down, trying to breathe through the burning. His hand flexed and the antique wood siding of the house cracked under his fingers. He ripped his hand away, scalded.

You destroy everything you touch.

He'd stumbled backward, staring at the spiderweb cracks left behind by his fingers, a dry sob escaping him.

What hope does she have?

Eyes closed tight, he balled his hands into fists and pushed everything down. Get it together, he'd berated himself, you still have shit to do.

Three deep shuddering breaths and then he could breathe evenly. He locked the panic down tight and opened his eyes. It would hit him later, and twice as hard, but this was more important. Just a few more hours.

The reception was a blur of flashing light and discordant sound, and he avoided you for most of it. Or tried to, anyway. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape you.

Four separate times you had hunted him down and begged him to dance with you. And as the champagne flowed, and the night spun on, you became harder to avoid.

"Boo!" you said, peeking around the bar at him, grinning. Your cheeks were flushed pink from drink and dancing, and your scent wrapped around him with the night air. He tightened his jaw and tried not to breathe.

"Yoooouuuuuu've... been avoiding me," you accused, slinking around the wall, practically lying against it.

"Busy," he rumbled, starting to mix a drink for no one, and not looking at the siren calling to him.

"Oh come on, Red," you'd pouted, standing up from the wall, "The night's almost over and you haven't danced with me once." You walked over to him "Please? You've been working this whole time, come have some fun. I promise the reception won't fall apart without you." You teased, placing a hand on his forearm.

He froze the moment you touched him. He was shaking and he prayed to anyone who would listen that you wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed was you knowing that something was wrong. you cared about him too much, and your knee-jerk would be to fix it.

His hand tightened around the high ball and Mike popped his head around the corner like a god damn superhero, "Hey, they need you for the bouquet toss."

"Okay, one sec," you replied, and he disappeared again. "Please try and have *some* fun tonight?" You squeezed his arm gently, before letting go.

When you removed your hand his skin burned, and it wasn't until you were out of sight that he risked breathing again. He'd set down the glass, braced himself on the bar, and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the cracks in the glass where he'd been gripping it too hard. He drew a deep breath.

He wasn't going to make it.

Snatching the bottle and leaving the broken glass, he made for the house. He skirted the perimeter of the reception, trying to be as inconspicuous as a 6'5, 350lb, bipedal turtle dressed in a tux can be.

He heard the countdown and made the mistake of looking over as April's bouquet flew through the air. You weren't even trying, you were talking, but, as if the Gods were punishing him, it had landed in your hands anyway, and he felt his pounding heart clench.

He watched as one of the other guests came up to you and placed a very human hand on your arm, presumably asking you to dance.

It will never be you.

He turned and continued toward the house until he heard familiar clumsy footsteps coming up the hill behind him.

"Hey, where's the fire, Red? Oops!" You'd said, giggling as you nearly tripped.

Your voice pierced him like an arrow, pinning him in place. He tried to take a deep breath as quietly as he could, but you've always been too good at reading him and asked if he was okay.

You'd persisted when he tried to brush you off, and he'd come up with some excuse. The longer you stayed there with him, the faster his resolve was crumbling, and he didn't want to fall apart in front of you. This was not your problem, and there was no point in runining your night, or your friendship.

He attempted to sidestep you, and you'd brushed against his arm. Your touch seared him, and reflex caught your wrist in his hand. For the first time in hours he met your gaze.

Disgusting.

Unworthy.

Why? Why make him this way? Why give him the ability to fall in love at all if he wasn't allowed to? What kind of cruel bastard...

Your wrist flexed in his hand and you looked up at him with an expression that said, I'm here. Whatever it is, I'm here. It's a familiar look, and it brought him back to himself. You're always the one he runs to. Now he was running away.

He dropped your hand, muttering an apology and fled without another word, leaving you behind.

Heart hammering in his chest, he nearly stumbled with the force of it. He made it to the other side of the house and collapsed, a wave crashing over him. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, pulling in air, and getting nothing except dizzy.

On his knees, hands pressed to the ground beneath, it felt like his shell was crushing him. He maneuvered himself to sitting on the cold slate tiles, pulling his knees up to his chest.

There were no more words inside his head, only screaming, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped his head tight, begging for it to stop. Some vague part of him was aware that he was crying, but any thoughts were swept up into the vortex inside of him.

The panic attack held him, shackled to his faults, for seventeen minutes, but it could have been a year. By the time he finally felt it begin to subside, he was exhausted and trembling.

He'd retrieved the bottle of whiskey that had rolled under the nearby bench, and, with great effort, managed to pull himself onto it. He'd held onto the bench to steady himself, before opening the bottle and drinking nearly half of it.

He remained there until his father found him.

He takes another deep breath, exhaustion seated heavy, like a stone in his chest, and rests a hand on the wall beside him. He needs sleep. He continues to make his way toward his room at the back of the house, passing by the open archway to the sitting room.

Where he finds you.

...

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag List:

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

[ok555ficideas]

Okay, I'm on the roll with Neil's bounds with his friends so I should add Kevin to the mix as well.

(Neil has amnesia here)

When he entered the court he saw Kevin firing the set up balls in the direction of the goal. Every single one of them landed in the same exact spot. 

Before he even decided to speak he heard himself saying. “I want that.”

Kevin turned around and looked at him. “Abby let you practice?”

Neil nodded and Kevin made his way to him. “You have to take it easy. No trying to overdo yourself or you’ll be useless in July.”

Neil rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m a waste of space.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

Kevin tilted his head at him in confusion. “I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant. Don’t worry, I know how you think of me. I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to practice, so let’s get to it.”

Kevin let out a frustrated sigh at that. “I hate this.” Neil looked confused so he continued. “I hate that you don’t remember.”

“Listen, I know that not remembering all the drills is an inconvenience to you, believe me I hate it too, but I’m going to learn them again. I did once before so it will probably be easier the second time around. Now quit your whining and actually help me remember them instead of just standing there and b*tching like the drama queen that you are.” 

Neil was prepared for Kevin to yell at him, to throw him out of the court or even threaten him with throwing him out the team all together. What he wasn’t prepared for was the sad expression he saw when Kevin looked at him. It was disorientating. Kevin looked like he was about to cry and Neil didn’t know what to do with that sight. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Kevin said slowly with a slightly strained voice. “I hate that you don't remember me.”

That confused Neil even more. “I do remember you.” He said slowly.

Kevin let out a frustrated sigh. “No,” he said, “you don’t, not really. You remember me as this exy-obsessed a$$hole.”

Neil raised his brow at that and Kevin continued. “Okay, that didn’t really change, but-” He started to get even more flustered by the look of him. “So are you!” He said pointing an accusatory finger at Neil. “We both are, that’s our thing, you know. We are asholes and we love exy and-” He trailed off.

They stood in silence for a minute, before Neil managed to gather his thoughts and say something that sounded ridiculous, but seemed like the only reasonable explanation. “Kevin, are we,” he said slowly, not believing that he was going to actually say the next word out loud, “friends?”

Kevin looked at him and practically screamed the next word with triumph. “Yes!” 

“Huh, that’s-” It was Neil’s turn to be a little frustrated. 

He tried to scratch his brain for some clues that what Kevin was saying was true.

“Every night.” He whispered after a long moment of searching. Kevin looked at him confused so he continued. “I asked you once if you would still teach me and you said ‘every night’.”

“Yes.” Kevin said, but didn’t elaborate.

“You promised to teach me even though we both thought,” Neil had to pause, because he didn’t actually know what the end of that sentence was.

“We both thought you were going to be de*d by the end of the season.” Kevin supplied the answer.

That was it. They both knew that it was pointless, but yet Kevin promised to practice with Neil every night. 

“I didn’t d*e, though.” He said with relief. 

Even though he knew that all of the things already happened and he came out of them on top, sometimes he was still scared and it was nice to remind himself that he survived. 

“You didn’t d*e and you are going to be Court.” Kevin said with such conviction Neil instantly believed him. 

Without realizing he put his hand on his cheek to the place where his skin was now burned, but he knew that for a breath time that spot was painted with a tattoo.

Kevin shook his head. “No, not his Court. He doesn’t matter, not anymore.” Hearing those words from Kevin filled him with excitement. “We are going to get everything we deserve, Neil and it’s not going to be because of him. It will be because of us.”

Neil nodded and put his hand down. He smiled at Kevin and gripped his racket with determination. “Then you better start teaching me those drills again.”

“You are going to pick them up in no time. Your body remembers way more than your mind does.”

That was true, but Neil wasn’t sure how Kevin knew that.

Kevin looked at him and his next words filled Neil with anger. “You pick Andrew to shreds with your words, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are more relaxed with him in the room than any other time.”

“F*ck off” Neil gritted through his teeth and went to warn himself up accompanied by Kevin’s quiet laughter. 

[lucybianchi]

.

[h-doodles]

truly not sorry but once again thinking abt miranda/mc/mia in RL. i need them SO bad. like, 2 of the most morally unsound persons (Mia & Miranda) + their little meow meow. Knowing both are so possessive and destructive (TO OTHERS) when they love and instead of running, fully embracing the chaos of it. Loving them despite their delusions of grandeur, the crimes, the secrets, and the deaths (+ undeaths) caused (or ordered!) by their hands. Acknowledging this is fucked up but you can't help it. Lovingly bitching abt their fights but fully done and gone to do anything else but to soothe and continue loving them, because after all those years of waiting and doing and redoing everything to be perfect was worth it for this.

also did i mention being their little meow meow. sorry Miranda, MC was the original gremlin in the relationship and Mia being the fucked up feral racoon she is now is not solely by her doing, MC was and IS the enabler in both relationships that it bled over sm and OUGHJJJJJHHHHhhhh im being so emo abt three (3) women being utter menaces frfr

[pickled-flowers]

Saw some of the grossest parenting today in the bus

[arolesbianism]

Despite how much I suffered making my last isat au Aris sprite redraw, I decided to do it again and once again went through hell doing it. There’s like a billion mistakes in this (such as her having the wrong arm rip) but at the end of the day I’m still happy with how it turned out :]