#path of blood flow outside the heart

[er-cryptid]

Path of Blood Flow Outside the Heart

Oxygenated blood leaves the left ventricle

Aorta

Arteries

Capillaries

Gas exchange occurs

Venules

Veins

Superior and inferior vena cava

Right atrium of heart

[waaayoutofline]

When the Cat and the Mouse go for a midnight dance.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Agent Natasha x Criminal // Antihero Reader, violence, blood, murder and death, questionable moral reader, romantic insinuation (but not smut). Basically reader being a little shit and Natasha being tired of it. Fun and violent times :)

Summary —> Natasha has been chasing you, a fugitive and self claimed vigilante, for a while. One night, your paths cross again and you can’t help but to tease her a bit.

WORD COUNT: 2025

The sun’s warmth has faded, yielding to dense shadows that engulf the streets. Amid dark corners and treacherous alleys, fear triggers instincts, the sympathetic system heightening defenses and hijacking paranoia. Adrenaline kicks in, heart racing, body preparing fro any kind of danger looming around the corners.

And yet, you’ve always found a sense of comfort in it.

“Nah, I’m telling you, man, forget him. I’m not going back; that place is a hellhole.” a slightly drunk voice slurs, echoing against brick walls as rats scurry from dumpsters. A lighter crackles, followed by smoke drifting in the chilled breeze.

”Oh yeah? So, when are you telling him that?” Another scrawny voice asks with amusement. A silence, followed by a dry chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Smoke drifts slightly with the breeze, temperature drooping slightly.

“Shit, it's freezing out here.” One of the two complains.

The darkness the night brings…It allows you to hide. Yourself, your actions. From praying eyes. From the world. Perhaps even God if you are a believer.

“We’ve been safeguarding the warehouse for ages. What’s in there that he cares so much about?” he asks, taking another drag of his cigarette. For his voice, it was easy to guess he has had the nasty habit of smoking for years.

“Who knows. Drugs, guns, people…his usual shit.” His friend answers. “Honestly, I rather not know.”

You take the shot on your hand, leaving it on the trail before shaking your hair messily. A sigh scapes your lips as your hands pull down on your uncomfortably short dress.

“Whatever. I don’t give a damn as long as the money keeps flowing. Maybe he could throw in one of those spare companions of his.” The smile in his tone is evident.

“What? Want his sloppy seconds?”

“Oh fuck off.”

It allows you to either be the prey…or the hunter.

With practiced, seemingly haphazard steps, you maneuver your way toward one of the two men outside, their head turning immediately. “Woah there, sweetheart,” the one who catches you slurs, his hands immediately on your waist. His eyes darkening as he stares at you. “We wouldn’t want a sweet thing like you to hurt herself now, would we?” His breath reeks of bourbon and tobacco, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at how effortlessly this is playing out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Your voice is sweet, innocent—a trap. “I’m so clumsy.” He laughs, revealing yellowed and crooked teeth.

“That’s alright, glad I was here.” A silly giggle, another stumble.

“Got lost?” His friend asks, currently behind you. “You shouldn’t be. There are dangerous people out here.”

At least he got that part right.

The shorter one of the two steps closer. “I was just looking for something. Think you can help?” you say, looking up with doe eyes. He appears foolish as he stares with a blurry gaze.

A whistle. “Sure thing.” You find yourself almost trapped between the two.

“Great, thanks.” Your voice returns to normal, and in a matter of seconds, you punch the one in front of you in the throat. His dirty, clammy fingers release you in panic to clutch his throat, emitting a pathetic choking sound.

“What the fu-” As his friend reacts, you swiftly turn around and knee him in the groin. He howls and crumples to the floor with a cry.

“You bitch-“ Douchebg A says as he swings, movement sloppy. You easily dodge, making him tip and fall over his buddie, the two grunting. With a sigh, you grab the collar of his jacket and drag him to the vent of the rooftop, slamming him extra hard for good measure.

He is about to strand up, but you punch him on his nose with all your strength, one, two, three times until blood drips all over his gray shirt. As his back drags down the wall behind him, you kick him full force on the face.Between the pain and the alcohol on his system, he remains seated.

Just as Douchebag B gets on all fours, you walk towards him and kick him on the stomach, making him drop to the floor once again. He rolls around, trying to get away but you grab his hair and slam him downwards.

Making sure both of them are now unmoving, your hands catch the dagger strapped on your thigh and the map. Douchebag B is still wheezing, with a concussion probably. Crouching, you shove the map on his face. “Alright. So, about that help. Point to me where the warehouse is.”

He grunts. “Like hell I’ll tell you.” He spits. A sigh escapes your lips.

”It’s never easy with you people, is it?” Flipping your dagger, you stab in the side of his lower thigh, making him yelp. “I’m not asking nicely again. Point it or I’ll take this out and you’ll bleed out in a few minutes.”

He sputters, shaking his head. You dig deeper and he lets out another cry. Dragging it down, blood starts to spurt, skin and muscle ripping. “Fuck okay, okay! Here, i-its here…S-shit.” His shaky hands marks a street, leaving a smear of blood.

You turn to watch Douchebag A. “Now, you are going to say the address. I hope for both your sakes that it matches.” He mutters it. A pause as your eyes scans the map.

You fold it, a satisfied little smile on your face and then you pull the knife out, getting away just in time to avoid a spurt of blood. “Uh, messy.”

His friends curses. You can see how his face gets pale, breaths becoming shallower as a pool of blood starts to surround him. “What the fuc- He told you! W-we told you!”

Wiping the knife with the soon-to-be dead man on the ground, you put it back in place and walk towards him. A pipe on the ground lifts as you step on it and you grab it.You pout mockingly. “Yeah, I guess you did. Don’t worry, I believe you.”

“Y-you sick bit-..:”

A swing. Two. A sickening sound of broken bones and then nothing.

The silence returns once again, only slightly disturbed by your soft humming as you go back on your steps, closing the rooftop door and returning to the dim hallways of the club. As you advance, the thrumming of the loud music beat alongside your racing heart, a mass of drunken bodies not giving a single fuck at the suspicious now maroon spot on your midnight blue dress.

Entering the bathroom, you swiftly change into your standard attire, concealed within a hidden backpack. Black jeans, a wine crop top, and a dark blue denim jacket replace the compromised ensemble. Glancing in the mirror, you prepare to rejoin the dance floor with a specific goal in mind—the bar.

Where a cute, striking bartender is apparently engrossed in serving drinks. You say apparently because you know that in reality, she is too busy searching for you. Opting to spare her the pursuit, you lock eyes, and your heart quickens for an entirely different reason.

Forest green eyes fixate solely on you, creating a euphoria-like sensation despite your sobriety. A subtle smirk materializes under the focused gaze, and with a gentle sway of your hips, you approach her slowly, almost teasingly. On your way, you accidentally get in the way of a woman, who ends up backing away on a body next to her. ”Oh, so sorry!” You call out with an easy smile, still not changing directions.

“What? Not using the “what is such a beautiful lady like yourself doing here out of all places” line?” You tease, sitting on the stool, resting your chin on your right hand. She scoffs.

”Oh please, we both know that the lady is fully aware of what she is doing.” Her voice is deep, a bit raspy. Her words are calculated and you just want for her to lose her composure.

With a playful tone, you note. “Hm, you didn’t deny the “beautiful”. Do you fancy me, Agent Romanoff?”

“Hm, perhaps. Only if only you weren’t a worldwide fugitive.” Natasha answers back, tone dripping with mockery.

”I’l take that as a yes.” She wipes a glass, your eyes tracking the simple yet effective movements. “So, tell me. How many to the party did you bring today? For your sake, I hope they aren’t rookies.”

Natasha scoffs. “The building is surrounded. If you come willingly now, it all would go more…easy. For both of us.”

A snort. ”Aw, and cut short this cute Tom and Jerry little game we have? Please. We both know you enjoy it just as much as me, Natalia.” Her name comes out in almost a whisper as you get slightly closer. Your words hang in the air, charged with tension. “Don't tell me you don’t reveal on the thrill of the chase.”

She chuckles, the sound rich and low. “You and your flair for the dramatic. But let's not forget the reality of our situation. You are a criminal, and I’m tasked with bringing you in.”

It’s funny, really. The way in which this banter is maybe the only thing that makes adrenaline rush into your veins, well that besides your job of course. Still, you can't help but feel amused by it. “Yeah, sure, because your buddies are going to stop me. Let’s see, then!”

Clapping with your hands happily, you turn around slightly to look at the crowd. “Who will it be? PDA couplet over there?”

Natasha follows your pointing thumb, frowning when she sees the girl you shoved “accidentally”, now passionately making out with a tall, brunette dude. “The ones who guarded the exits which are currently tied up in the janitors closet?…Or perhaps the one who will tell you about my little handywork?”

Just in time, a slight buzzing tingles in the Russian agent’s ear. “Agent Romanoff, we found two gang members on the roof. One is already dead, several blunt trauma, and the other is about to bleed out. He has a few minutes tops.”

Her veiny hand grips the counter, knuckles turning white. A low whistle escapes you at the sight. “I mean, you could try and stop me yourself. Let me say, I’m not opposed to you putting me in handcuffs.” You tease with a dangerous glint in your eyes, your fingers tracing her left wrist up to her bicep. If she is bothered because of your touch, she doesn’t show it. But you see how her grip relaxes ever so slightly. Hm, interesting. “...or you could go, get the information from that dying bastard before it’s too late and you end up being stuck in a dead-end. Again.”

The wheels in her head are practically visible. Her eyes darken, and her jaw tenses. Oh, how you love to see her all worked up, knowing that you are one of the few who can break her cold composure. You mouth a tick-tock and with a hard downing of the bottle on her hand to the counter.

”This isn’t over. I’ll get my hands on you eventually.”

A pout. “Promise?” With a last scowl, she flies off.

Rushing through the stairs, the cold air hits Natasha on the face, her eyes adjusting to the poor light. “How is he?” Her eyes fall on the weapons you used, hand grabbing the now blooded pipe.

“I already cover the wound, but the blood he's lost is too much. He won't make it to the medbay.” Crouching next to him, Natasha see the sickly pale tone of his face, eyes practically close and hears the shallow, broken breaths. Her eyes inspect the now covered deadly wound and grunts in frustration. “Hey, can you hear me?”

No response. He is dead. Out of frustration, she punches the vent next to him. “Um, ma’am? You should see this.”

A brick wall, right next to the door, with a message written in blood. “When you stop scowling, give me a call dear. Swear I’ll play nice.”

Grunting in frustration, Natasha throws the pipe against the wall, fuming. Looking over the street, she doesn’t see you anywhere. You are gone, even if something tells her you are giggling under the shadows.

[alicerosejensen]

Mistake

Warning: death of the reader; indirect mention of Leon's infidelity.

This is a re-posting since my account was blocked on the same day I posted this.

It was a mistake to let you go alone. It was a mistake to believe that a stupid trip would end well and you would return to his house unharmed. And that was his mistake.

Leon holds you in his arms and the noble ladies from the old portraits look disapprovingly at the one he dared to save. You can feel his firm grip on your hip and under your armpit as he carries you to the evacuation site with a pale, cold-blooded face down which tears are flowing. What should he feel besides the searing pain in his chest from just your bloody appearance? Through the veil you hear his strangled wheeze and quiet orders not to dare to die. His fingers dig deeper into your once tender skin when you feel the cool breeze blowing under your dirty white shirt, the only thing left for you besides underwear. The hair was tangled because of blood and dirt, but for Leon it was all so unimportant. He kept carrying you to save you, promising himself that you wouldn't die.

Not having the strength to scream, you would like to regret your last stupid quarrel because of which you left him because of the influx of stupid jealousy. But you just didn't have the strength to go back to your sad life anymore. Leon's jacket still warmed your body, but the stopped heart suggested that you left this world plunging into a dark space, black as the night itself, thickened in the sky where there is no longer any heat, heat, pain or abyss.

It's a nice strange feeling when death enchants you.

And now you are like a fallen petal of a rare flower, floating between the seasons. If either of you understood each other well, you and Leon would never have parted. But when Leon, after a few shouts of your name, squeezes you in his arms, he realizes that you have gone limp… his heart stops.

You left him alone. Sad and lonely.

"Don't you dare die!" Leon is screaming out of breath, trying to get your heart to beat again. As if, having heard him somewhere from the outside, you felt such pity for him. He put so much effort into finding and saving you. All the last few months of imprisonment were like a requiem before a fateful finale without a happy ending. Leon hugs you to his chest, trying to share his warmth; kisses your thin wrists and dirty face to return to your embrace and kind love. This feeling of hopelessness in his chest was never like what he experienced when Simmons attacked Ada.

He realized that he had lost you.

"Sweetheart" Leon tucked his blood-soaked hair behind his ear. Your hand is in his. Sticky and cold where the wrist does not feel the pulse. "forgive me..."

It was your ticket to hell. With all these terrifying bloody rides for a stupid girl who knows how to hold a gun, just because at the beginning of the relationship Leon took the liberty of taking you to the shooting range. No physical or psychological training. Even if you hadn't died, your brain would have turned into a recurring nightmare for the rest of your life. Fortunately, like any attraction, everything tends to end, and the road to hell led you to the gates of paradise with a white ocean, cool water and complete silence where a small flimsy boat was ready to take you to the other shore.

To your personal paradise. In which there are no mutated monsters, no blood, no pain from wounds, no deaths, no Leon Scott Kennedy, who previously broke your heart.

You've seen enough to make the desire to live leave you, but Leon kept trying to make your heart beat with useless indirect heart massage. You went to the deep bottom, as if she had never been with him and did not love him. Leon's tears are dripping on your cheeks, laying clean paths, washing away dirt and blood from you. The human brain lives for about five minutes after death and your precious seconds are almost running out. This man tore you into a thousand pieces and now he's holding you to him, but it should have been done before. The eternal scarlet sunset would never have caught up with you if the day before your trip and on the day of the quarrel Leon grabbed you in his arms, chaining you to him with hot hugs without letting you go anywhere.

This horror could have been prevented.

But when you were thrown like a mangy puppy, he cherished his love for Ada Wong. No one knows what happens in those last moments when the soul leaves the body, but that very last second of your life without hearing or seeing him, you wanted him to be as hurt as you were when you found out the truth.

One single second before your feet dipped into the water and you got into the boat, and your wish was fulfilled…

You died in the middle of the night, despite the fact that you loved him very much anyway. Every creature has a mate but you don't have anything else. Let anyone but you be Leon's mate from now on. Before that ill-fated quarrel, you could even die for him, only Leon would quickly move away from your unnecessary sacrifice.

How monsters surrounded you from all sides and the light of your soul was extinguished forever. Then why did you continue to love his light half-smile and the expensive suit in which you first met him until the end? It is always cold outside, but inside of which sabantuy is raging. Leon is a man who often contradicted himself and you're just unlucky that he didn't dare to push you away.

There was no point in saving you anymore, but Leon continued to carry your body, pressing it closer to him, as if you were just unconscious and his legs were failing him, as if you were an unbearable burden, although before he always carried you lightly in his arms. He won't have a chance at redemption and he'll always live with the guilt of your death. But if you were alive, Leon thinks that you would be sarcastic to him right now, like Ada would be able to comfort him. And Leon is angry even though he knows it's stupid. You're silent in his arms.

He doesn't care how dirty you are. He kisses your face, squeezing your wrists tightly and for some reason trying to warm you up. His lips will imprint a kiss between eyes, temples, cheeks and lips themselves, leaving him a salty taste of blood. Leon catches you comfortably so that his jacket does not fly off you. your face is pressed against his shoulder, but he's not looking anymore. He thinks that maybe there will be a first aid kit in the helicopter from which there will be no sense. And even when they're taken away, Leon doesn't give you to anyone. He strokes your hair, begging the medic in his team to do something, but she looks at him with an indifferent look and then at the gaping wound on your chest and is silent, realizing that their captain has in fact already brought a corpse.

But in the end, you still end up in a corpse bag where they put you right away, taking you out of Leon's hands. No matter how he tried to take you back, he was not allowed. You didn't have time to see the sunlight and Leon feels like he let you down. Did not save. Shouted at the doctors, shouted at those who without regret stuffed you into this black cloth with a lock hiding from him like those scoundrels who ruined you. And then when everyone cooled down, he was simply confronted with the fact.

If dead, then the body belongs to forced sterilization.

But Leon won't even get your ashes... as if you kept torturing him while he drowned his pain in a bottle, breaking all the glasses. He kept your chiffon scarf close to him on purpose so he could smell you. His weakness... he just wanted you around again.

And all because of one damn mistake he made.

[prideofcelestia]

❝when he yelled at you but then you started crying❞

« characters - leviathan, beelzebub, belphegor »

« gender neutral reader »

req by @lilithram. i think i diverted quite a bit :")

luci, asmo

satan, barb

simeon, mephisto

LEVIATHAN

Even though Levi had some ground rules in his room that everybody knew about, hardly anybody tried to remember those. How could one be expected to pay attention to a vast list of rules, one of which dictated that a visitor could only walk up to his figurines following the exact path he had taken? Any diversion from the set route would banish the visitor from his room. It was bizarre, but so was Levi and you loved him. So, you entertained the shy demon, and enjoyed it too. Bad blood flowed between you two when you entered his room in a tired state, and forgot to follow some of the rules. Usually Levi cut you some slack. Some slack meant a lot of slack, only because he loved you a lot too, more than he ever let on. However, people whose hearts are filled with love also have their bad days. Levi, finding himself in the middle of one, got irritated at you, and yelled at you without meaning to. Because that's what people sometimes do. It was only when you started crying that he wished for the ground to part and swallow him whole. Well, that was one thing he never, ever, ever wanted to do. Hurt you. Perhaps he could fall into lava and... perish.

When you left his room in a hurry, he gulped and messaged you immediately, spamming your dms with apologies. Without waiting for another moment, he broke quite a few rules himself as he ran out of his room without thinking and stood outside your door. Touching the barrier gently, he shook and whispered.

"[Name], I-I am s-s-s-sorryyyyy waaaah. P-P-Please forgive this yucky otaku I am malfunctioning bye. Sorrrrrry."

BEELZEBUB

He was not one to lose his temper but as it happened, he was hungry and couldn't find the cake he had set aside for himself. It wasn't you who had taken it out, but at that moment, Beel felt such rage bubble up inside himself that his faculties stopped working smoothly. You had only been unlucky to find him precisely then. Without noticing who he was speaking to, he howled - and what a marvelous, beastly howl that was - blaming you for stealing his food. Perhaps if it had been someone who you could expect a scolding from, well someone like Lucifer or Satan, you wouldn't have been as shaken as you were. But Beel, precious, sweet, cinnamon roll Beel made your throat run dry and your eyes water. You didn't know if it was shock or fear of such a tall demon looming over you. Whatever it was, you wished that it would go away.

Beel immediately apologised and fidgeted uneasily before coming to a standstill. He didn't dare reach out or hug you even though he desperately wanted to, for the sake of both of you. A hug would help, and he knew he gave good, warm hughs. Hugs that you loved.

"[Name]... I.. I didn't mean to scare you. I am so so so sorry. Don't be mad at me. I don't even feel like eating anymore..."

He refused to leave your side till he had done all that he could to cheer you up. For the rest of the day, he was seen beside you like a guard dog, or rather a concerned puppy.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie had been having nightmares for a few days. Despite knowing that it wasn't your fault, he couldn't help but lose his patience when you kept checking on him. Sure he looked grumpy and tired. Heck, he felt grumpy and tired. But he needed to stay away from the root cause of all his misery - you. He knew that he shouldn't have taken out his hatred of humanity on you, but now that he was traumatized by his own misdeed against you, all he wanted was some time to cope. Did he cross a line when he told you to mind your own business? Yes, he shouldn't have screamed at you, but you must understand his pain. He felt his heart constrict when he saw your eyes widen and tears form at the corner of your eyes. Frozen to his spot, he couldn't anything at all as he helplessly saw you dash out of his room and disappear into nothingness.

Oh Belphie, you're such an idiot! Curses on you.

You found a gift at your doorsteps, which had a snow globe inside. Belphie's voice erupted from it, much to your bewilderment.

"I am sorry, [Name]."

He had never been good at apologies face to face.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Fifteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: So much fucking angst, and ya know - cuss words.

Notes: Okay so this was the chapter that started it all, it’s the very first thing I wrote for this story and it just grew from there. I wanted something that rivaled when Edward left Bella minus the concerning leave her in a forest at night shit. Listen to Don’t Leave Me Now - Emelie Hollow if you want to really hurt after this chapter lol

Word Count: 2335

Series Masterlist

• September 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Numb.

It’s a weird feeling - the tingling in your fingers, the ringing in your ears, the copper tang from biting your tongue. I don’t think I’ve even blinked since… Well, since Alice removed me from the war path of her brother.

It was almost as if someone else was in my body, watching this train wreck of a birthday party.

Everything was fine. I was cozied up to Jasper, he was whispering kisses into my hair and rubbing mindless patterns on my back as he held me close. Warm, safe, content, protected.

Until I wasn’t.

Until Alice wrapped an arm around my waist after Bella opened the envelope from Esme and Carlisle. Next thing I knew, I was across the room and Bella had a paper cut.

Chaos was an understatement.

Jasper met my eyes, pitch black hunger showed back instead of the person I was familiar with and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Rose flashed in front of me, drawing his predatory gaze before it finally landed on Isabella. Edward, sensing the turn in Jasper’s attention, pushed Bella away to intercept his brother’s loss of control.

It all happened so quickly, my eyes could barely track what transpired.

Edward shoved Jasper across the room, right into the grand piano under the second floor landing, causing a gasp to rip from my throat. Bella was knocked into a table, colliding with glass that tore open her bicep. Carlilse was torn between helping Emmett restrain Jasper and staunching the blood flow from Bella’s larger cut. I started shaking, one hand covering my mouth and the other gripping Rose’s arm, Alice’s arm still around me and Rose standing before me protectively.

This has to be a nightmare. How did this turn so quickly?

Once Emmett wrestled his brother outside, the Cullen’s took their leave one by one, leaving Bella and I with Carlisle. Escorting Bella to his office to patch her arm up, I'm left alone in a room that looks like a bomb had been set off just moments ago. And it had, our fragile mortality just decimated what was supposed to be a night of celebration. After a few moments of spiraling out, I feel a hand on my elbow bring me back to the present - Esme.

“Dear, let me clean, I don’t want you to accidentally… C’mon.” She tells me in that light motherly tone, trying to be gentle and kind as she leads me away from the shattered glass covered rug.

I can’t accidentally cut myself, not if I want to be around Jasper.

Jasper.

“Where is he?” I ask in a daze.

“Sweetheart-“ but I interrupt her.

“I need to check on him, the others will… make sure I’m alright.” The words are acid in my mouth, it’s almost unfathomable to even doubt my safety in the presence of him.

Almost. And it breaks my heart.

“Garage.” She answers gently.

Jasper

I can’t breathe.

Not that vampires need oxygen, but I’m probably as close to getting a panic attack as one could get.

“Breathe man, everything is fine.” Emmett tries to reassure me, but it’s futile. I’m pacing back and forth in the driveway, while the rest of my adopted siblings watch from the garage.

“Everything is not fine.” Edward states, still as a statue from the corner.

“Dude, not fucking helping.” Rose fires back with a flash of teeth.

I continue my pacing, my fingers tugging on my blonde strands in an effort to ground myself and it’s doing nothing for my anxiety. What did I do? Is Bella alright? Is Y/n? I need to get a fucking grip on this hunger. A paper cut sending me into a spiral, you’ve got to be shitting me-

My internal monologue is interrupted by the door to the house opening from in the garage, the object of my thoughts emerging as if I summoned her.

“Y/n you can’t-“ Emmett starts, but she cuts him off, her eyes only on me.

“Alice, I’ll be fine, right?” She asks my sister without looking in her direction.

After a moment’s pause, “Yes, but-“

“No ‘but’s’, I need to speak with him alone. I trust him completely.” Stubborn and headstrong.

“We’ll be inside.” Alice acquiesces, to whom I’m not really sure.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Rosalie hesitate, protectiveness dripping from her, deliberate and aware that I could feel it. After a short nod from Y/n, she turns sharply to follow the rest of them inside. Odd, the one who abhors humans the most would feel the need to… protect one that’s threatened her way of life.

Before tonight I would’ve laughed, but now? Now I’m not so sure I even trust myself around her.

“Are you alright?” She asks me in the smallest voice I’ve ever heard from her, standing eight feet from where I pace but it might as well be the fucking Pacific Ocean.

I laugh, “Am I alright?” I repeat back to her.

“That was a stupid question, I was just-“

“I’m not fucking alright!” I explode, reaching the end of my sanity. I hear her suck in a breath and I immediately regret the tone in which I threw the words at her, but my thoughts keep flowing.

Reader

“I can’t do this! Not when it’s so easy for me to flip a switch and hurt you!” He exclaims desperately, eyes wild.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean you can’t do this?” I know he could feel the anguish pour out of me in droves at just the thought of what he’s implying. He wouldn’t actually leave over something so small, would he?

“You don’t fucking get it, darlin’... I have to go-I can’t do this, I won’t hurt you. Not if I can help it.” Turning away I stop him in his tracks.

“I love you.” The confession slips before I could reign it in. His back tenses before spinning around in a split second flash.

“Y/n-“ He gapes like a fish out of water, the look on his face is nothing but pure agony as he turns and disappears into the night.

Did he?

Did he just leave?

Even the forest is silent, like it’s waiting with bated breath for my next move.

How did this night start so wonderfully, then turn into this? My mind is empty and too full at the same time... And breathing? When did that become such a task? In and out - but how can I force air in when my heart is in my throat? My lips start to tingle, cheeks prickling painfully.

I close my eyes and shake my head like it’s some Magic 8 ball, trying for a different answer-a different outcome.

This can’t be, denial starts flooding in to try and put out this burning in my chest. There’s no way Jasper Hale just decided so quickly-so easily, to leave me.

There’s no way.

I love him.

That’s enough, right?

I must’ve been standing here for hours. Hours, days, months, years it’s felt like since I was staring into those gorgeous dark eyes filled with such self-hatred.

I jolt out of my thoughts when a pair of cold hands find my shoulders, I glance up to see Emmett’s concerned face. I feel as though the cold has seeped right through my skin, straight to the bone. It’s almost like I’m in this bubble. I see his mouth moving what seems to be a mile a minute, but the ringing in my ears drowns his words out.

Is this what that feels like? Shock? Focus Y/N, focus.

I feel a gentle shake from Emmett’s hold on my shoulders, “Are you alright? What are you doing standing in the driveway alone? Where’s Jasper?”

“He’s gone, Em.” I whisper, turning robotically to where I last saw him.

Emmett’s eyes widened, “He-he what?” I see him glance towards the woods that line the driveway, “I’ll find him and-”

“Emmett no, let him go. No one will change his mind, not right now anyways. Please,” I say a little quieter, “Don’t go.”

He envelopes me in a massive hug, “Never, Y/n/n.”

After a few moments and a small squeeze, he starts to lead me back inside to face the rest of the Cullens, where do I even begin to explain this mess to them?

Everyone gathered in the living room, silent after Emmett gave them a short explanation as to why we were missing a member while I stood next to him with my eyes glued to my shoes.

Looking around to see everyone’s reaction, I first notice a bandage wrapped around Bella’s bicep - Carlisle’s handiwork underneath, no doubt. Standing an awkward distance away from his girlfriend I notice Edward scarily still, no trace of emotion on his face which causes a shiver to snake down my spine. I turn, seeing Esme have what looks like a silent conversation with her husband through meaningful and pained expressions, I quickly look away knowing it’ll break my heart even more to watch the exchange. Rosalie walks over to take Emmett’s hand on his opposite side, his other still on my upper back - grounding me. Her face was a perfect depiction of concern directed at her mate, I couldn’t deal with that either, so I glanced at the last face in the room - Alice. Her features are torn and taught, like she’s searching the future and not liking what she’s seeing.

I feel like my life is just slipping from beyond my control, this has to be a horrible dream. It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago that I was standing right here, in this room, with Jasper’s arm draped around my waist, watching Bella descend those stairs.

I wonder a few steps beyond Emmett’s reach and stop, needing out of this house but not quite ready to be alone, I turn back around to my best friend and plead, “Em, take me home?”

Sparing a glance to his girlfriend who tilts her head in a nod of understanding, “Of course, let me grab the keys to the Jeep.”

It only takes a second with his speed to stand in front of me again, “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

I turn to Esme before I’m fully out the door, “Thank you for hosting the party tonight, it was lovely while it lasted.”

Her face scrunches in sadness, “Oh honey-“

“Goodnight everyone.” I say as Emmett steers me into the garage.

“Don’t do that, you don’t have to-“

“Have to what?” I cut him off as I shut the passenger door, the sound reverberating in the enclosed space.

“You don’t always have to spare everyone’s feelings at the expense of your own.” He climbs in himself and jams the keys in the ignition, the familiar rumble of his beloved machine filling the silence.

“It’s fine-everything is fine, this isn’t happening. It can’t be.”

“Y/n-“ He starts, but I cut him off as he activates the garage door and pulls out.

“No Em, it’s-I just can’t okay? I don’t know my head from my heart right now and I just need to hold myself together like this for just a little bit longer, alright? My sanity is dangling by a thread.” Running my fingers through my hair, I turn towards the passenger door to lean on it.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. I know he wants to talk, to say the magic words that fix this widening hole in my heart that’s growing by the second, but he can’t. No words can fix this, nothing fixes this sudden loneliness that Jasper created the moment he decided this course of action in our situationship. So I stare out my window, trees flying by, the outside world a blur.

Pulling up in front of my house, I spy the porch light my mom must’ve left on for me, assuming I’d get home late. I hear the engine cut off and turn to my left, surely he isn’t going-

“I’m coming up.” His eyes set like he’s on a mission.

“Are you crazy? Hell no, I’m not about to let you sulk in the corner while I bawl my eyes out like some pathetic pity party!” Throwing my hands up.

“Listen, Y/n-“

“Besides, your Jeep in the driveway is going to look suspicious! Even if you park it down the street, my mom is familiar with it.” I try to reason with him.

“But-” Emmett continues to try and sway me.

“Em, I’ll be fine,” I whine, “I know you’re worried, I’ll have my phone and I’ll text you tomorrow. This isn’t your responsibility to fix, I just think I need to be alone right now.”

He lets loose a deep sigh, “I’m just worried about you is all.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it.” I look back to my house, “Maybe come over in a day or two? When I’ve had some time to process it all?”

“Of course, I’ll see if I can find this idiot and figure out where his head is at. Maybe beat him up for ditching my best friend in the dark.” He shoots me a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

“Emmett...” My eyebrows push together, his thoughtfulness constricting my throat.

“Go to bed, call me if you need to talk or whatever, everything will be fine.” He pats my leg in reassurance.

I climbed out of his massive Jeep and shut the door. Glancing behind me as I walk away, he gives me his signature lopsided smile as the engine turns over and he begins backing out of the drive.

Everything will be fine, yeah?

Yeah fucking right.

Who knew that was the last time I would see them, two weeks ago.

Everything was most definitely not fine.

Next

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[festering-obsession]

Yandere! Fallen Angel x GN! Reader

Tw/Cw: Religious Themes, Slight Body Horror, Some Violence, Mentions of a Panic Attack, Yandere and Dark Themes!!

You never really considered yourself religious, and you didn't quite mind that, either. But when you found yourself down on the ground, heart pounding and tears of fear, maybe even relief? rush down your face you thanked God for it all.

By some miracle, the man who had a gun pressed against your head for a wallet you left at home had his hand clutched against the shirt near his heart foaming out the mouth. The gun that almost took your life laid stagnant against the ground in near mockery, but you were alive. And breathing.

Now what do you do? Who do you contact? Your hands clumsily pull out your phone, you didn't want to be alone at the moment. Trying to turn the screen on, and all you were met with was a red blinking battery. Fuck it, just leave quickly and go straight home.

Gathering your senses, you wanted to never even look back at that alleyway. Brushing off the dirt off your knees, your eyes gazed back to the fallen man. His hand that was once clutched tight was now loose. His hand covered, blood? The crimson liquid was slowly leaking out of his chest. Yet he didn't even scream and you certainly didn't hear the sound of a gunshot. You tore your eyes away as you walked out of there.

Pacing, walking, running, you didn't know. You were in a daze trying to reach to your apartment. Nothing felt real, and you felt numb to any thought.

"Hey, are you okay?" Someone spoke as you felt yourself bump into a stranger. And you felt yourself shake uncontrollably.

"Oh, wow, okay, let's breathe alright?" The person spoke as you looked up with blurry eyes. "You're okay, breathe with me. You're okay. I'm going to move you to sit on a bench, alright?" The lightest touch appeared on your back as you gently moved out the way and was sitting down.

The thoughts racing finally started slowing down. Your breath steadied. You felt a hand holding onto yours gently.

"Are you alright now? Here, why don't you follow me and get a warm drink." You looked up at slowly nodded. He was engulfed in a black turtleneck, long black curls tied back in a low ponytail. A few hung around his face to frame his slim face perfectly.

"Thank you so much...But I don't want to bother you too much longer. Having to calm down a stranger like that isn't really day to day." You said, head hanging down in shame. You could feel the tears and sweat drying on your skin.

"No, it's fine. On me, alright?" He smiled, and you could see the freckles dotting on his skin. "My name is Sam, yours?"

"Well if that's the case, my name is F/N." You sighed out before mentioning. "I just, saw a really traumatizing thing tonight, and I didn't know what to do..."

"If you're comfortable telling me, I can try to help you in any way I can. Now tell me, are you more of a tea or coffee type of person?" He smiled, and maybe it was the adrenaline still running off hazing your eyesight, you saw a rather pointy smile.

The walk to the coffee shop was rather quick, as many store and shops were close to eachother in this city. Yet, as the streetlights and moon lit up the path, you still felt uneasy. Sure, you almost got mugged and embarrassed yourself in public, but a gnawing one. Like you know something felt off. Even the casual conversation going on between you and Sam flowed naturally, you felt as if his eyes bore into your body a little too hard.

"Almost there, you won't regret coming here. And let me tell you, the batistas are really talented." He said joyfully. His long strides seemed to pick up as he seemed almost jittery to get there. You made sure to keep up with him.

There was no sign outside indicating it was open, but as you looked inside through the window, it seemed well decorated. Sam pushed open the door for you all too happy. The cafe was small and warmly lit. You could see coffee machines behind the dark mahogany counter.

"What do you want? It's on me!" Sam said as he looked at the "menu". Maybe you needed some stronger glasses, but the writing on the blackboards looked as if it was written in gibberish.

"Oh, thank you. I'll get the latte." You spoke as your eyes wandered around the establishment. There wasn't a worker in sight, in fact, you and Sam were the only customers. Maybe the fact it was so slow made the employees hang in the back.

Then it hit you, it doesn't even smell like coffee in here. You looked around and found the symbol of a restroom. "Hey, Sam, I'll be right back." His happy deamoner faltered and as he looked back, his face looked hazed, almost akin to a glitch.

"Oh, that's fine. I'll order for you then." As he turned back to the counter. You stepped into the bathroom and locked the door and sat on the toilet, head in hands. Fuck, today is all so weird. Just breathe, it'll pass over. Today will be a new day, you tried to affirm yourself.

You got up and looked in the mirror and gave a slight slap on both of your cheeks, just enough to wake up.

Stepping outside, it seemed as if the store was completely empty again. Almost eerily quiet except for the occasional person stepping past the cafe outside.

"Sam?" You said looking at the counter were he previously was.

"Oh, there you are!" You almost squeaked in surprise as he appeared behind you with two drinks in hand. "Here's your latte, as promised."

You gratefully grabbed the coffee and Sam led you to sit down at a booth.

"Well, that was fast." You spoke. "Not that I'm complaining though."

"Yeah, they were all ready to make the drinks so we could hopefully leave faster." Sam replied. "Now, do mind telling me what happened?"

Would you get in trouble if you told him? Should you have reported it to the police. "A guy was just following me, I didn't know where to run to." You sighed out.

"Really? If I was there, I wouldn't have minded ripping out his insides, haha! Men like that are scum." Sam laughed as he took a sip of the drink.

Rip out his guts? Sure, you agree with the sentiment but that was a little extreme to say to an acquaintance you nearly just met. You forced a laugh to not make any awkward silence awaken.

You sipped on your coffee, just to find it cold. Damn, were they that tired to try and make you leave that fast? But hey, you're not going to let down a free coffee.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. And a man entered.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing here? I just bought this fucking lot. There's nothing here to fucking steal!" He stomped up to the two of you.

Your mouth felt dry as confusion grew. Its a coffee shop, and you dont recall a "for sell" sign. You tried to stutter something out but you were at a loss for words.

"I, I don't understand." You finally got out. Your hands clutched onto the "coffee" only for you to realize it was a glass with clear liquid.

In fact, the "cafe" seemed to dissappear. The walls slowly felt as if it was melting into an abondoned plot as you sat down on a short, wooden stool.

"What are you even drinking you bitch? Get!" The man rapidly approached you. Where was Sam? What was all of this.

The old man went to yank you but Sam suddenly appeared with a tight grip on him.

It looked like Sam, but it didn't at the same time. His mood was completely changed.

"Where the fuck did you come from? Let go of me or I'm calling the damn poli-!" And the threat never came threw. Sam swiped at his chest, which caused a slight glow before the man fell to his knees, foam pouring out his mouth.

"Sam? What did you just do..?" You backed up from him and 'Sam' turned to you all too cheerfully.

"What I had to do, dearest." He spoke joyfully. He turned to you, blood dripping down his hand.

Then, he seemed to melt. Black curls and blue eyes were no more as it was replaced with something else. He reminded you of a moth, shifting out of this skin to become something unrecognizable. He seemed to glow, and long feathered hair seemed to grow. He was pale and his hair was a pure white besides his black roots. His eyes were completely black as well and when he smiled you felt your heart jump at the sight of his insanely sharp teeth.

Leathered black wings lifted behind him and the clothes he once wore had been replaced by tattered white robes that looked as if they were burnt. The tips of his hands and feet were in a grey hue.

He smiled as he approached you. A predatory like grin etched across his face and you felt the hairs on your body stand.

"Well, now you see me in all my glory, my Eden." You backed up. His eyes were focused on you. "That 'Sam' is nothing but a mere disguise, so I can show my affection for you in front of humans. Well, I wouldn't mind letting them know the true me if it means they know to not get near you."

His presence was overwhelming as he towered over you, his tattered robe pulling behind him.

"You killed him, you, you, you." You didn't know what to say beside hope it's all a dream. "Why?" You cried out.

"Oh, you dont want to know the things I have done in your name." He giggled. "You're who I place my whole and only devotion to. The only one I love and worship. Ever since I was "assigned" to you, I knew we were connected. Well." He chuckled.

"Not technically "assigned". I had to get rid of your previous Guardian before I could." You tried to push him off but before you knew, he engulfed you completely.

"My eden, do you know how hard the fall for me was?" He touched your cheek and pushed his head against your temple. "But for you, I'd do it every day if it meant being able to touch you. To even wash your feet would be a sacred duty to me."

You feel tears starting again as he holds you closer. "I need to be in your skin, but until then, this will do."

"You can't do this, you monster." You sobbed out.

"At least say my name, my Eden, please say Saleos for me." He almost near begged before laughing haughtily. You glared up at him.

"Say what you will, but you won't be able to escape me, I will follow you." His fingers grabbed your chin as he stared down onto your lips and pressed them against yours.

Even despite his huge size and sharp teeth, he was gentle. You tried pushing him off but he just gripped onto your clothes. He held you close and as if you would dissappear.

"Not even death can hold us apart."

....

A/N: As much as I love writing for Hewu'itan, I decided to mix it up a bit! (I have a draft for him almost completed) I hope you enjoy Saleos and if you like him enough, I'll write more about him.

[lesbianslvt666]

Queen Of Peace

Cw: smut wit plot, gore, descriptions of natural disasters, fake system of goddess and gods, mommy issues, mayor character death, hurt no comfort and much more that I don’t remember.

Peasant!farm!Ellie x exiled!Goddess!Reader

You fell to your knees, clothes sticking to your body, heavy crimson liquid staining your form. Your back facing the large arches the entrance to the temple was.

The desperation seeping through your bloody hands upwards, fingers almost gliding the clouds above, as if to touch the holly.

You couldn’t take this any longer, no feeling has ever been this intense, the punishment too angry, too lonely.

Your back slouched forward as your cries agitated your entire body.

"oh mother!, forgive me, I have paid for my mistakes, I had paid enough…"

Your pleading wasn’t enough, the physical body you were given was still yours, you were still cage inside of it.

"oh my dear! How come I have seen you slaughter and toy with the human kind, that one you are now part off. be grateful for I haven't make you go through the pain of generations, the suffering of those you have wronged."

Your destroyed state, kneeling like lost dog in front of her altar while her defying voice came to rise retrieving all the memories of what you have done.

The regret of those days coming to the pit of your stomach like a burning fire that drips down your eyes like boiling lava, tears of blood that could only be described as the pain in your chest.

Your heart almost exploded in you as the agony grew.

She was making you relive what you had done. What you made humans do.

Before this living torture you were part of the grandiose thrones in the heavens, where goddesses and gods alike sat. All, had a mother in common, she who gave birth to the universe, all inside, all outside, all that exists and that doesn’t.

She couldn’t do it all for herself.

The only thing gods and humans have alike is the blazing torture that loneliness constitutes.

So she created you and all your siblings.

Each representing a valance of the universe.

Life and death

Love and pain

Fire and water

You, you were the most human of all your siblings, for you meant destruction and rebirth.

And so you were full of flaws, and one of them was how stubborn and self-conceded you were.

Your siblings always felt the need to outshine each other, you of course, weren't the exception.

However, you always manage to disappoint somewhere.

But not them, not the humans, not the little creatures, oh so hungry for victory, hunger that mirrored your own. And that’s how, after a big fight with all the family, your anger had clouded all reason.

Back to your temple to rest, you found a crying woman, pleading on her knees, to "please help her kingdom", and her lovely husband, the prince, to win the upcoming war, and so you did.

They won the battle, the war and the small fights after.

And so the people came pleading to you again, and again and… again…

At first it was amusing how eager these creatures were to kill each other, and then your laughter crowded the temple.

Amusement became humour, but soon humour became boredom.

Helping with destruction above all the men could see, land crashing on itself, tectonic planks waltzing, creating a horrendous symphony that destroyed and hurt.

No path, no rock, not a singular place wasn’t covered in blood, the earth mixing with exploding volcanos and sea waters that rose as high as possible.

Sky covered in clouds that crashed against each other with the anger of your soul.

The rivers run wild in crimson shades, bodies flowing down with force. The wind carried screeching screams of fervours agony ripped from the humans. You blamed it on themselves, for they started with the pleading.

You were so immerse destroying that you had forgotten to rebirth.

Your mother realized way too late.

When all life almost ceased to exist.

And that’s how you spent seven thousand years resurrecting live on earth.

To the contrary of destruction, rebirthing took an actual tool on your body.

By the last day of the rebirth, your body was merely a resemblance of what it was.

So human like, so ephemeral.

You fell hard on earth, the smallest amount of holly keeping you from burning out when you entered the atmosphere.

however, it burned all your clothes.

Naked body on the sand, beach waves behind you wetting your skin, liking like needles.

She saw you after a few hours of your falling.

She was struck by your beauty.

Nothing that she has ever seen.

Before she could think, she rescued you, how was she going to explain her father Joel of this girl she was bringing home.

The first night was the hardest.

"Ellie!, Ellie! The girl is awake!"

Joel screamed to the winds hopping the message would reach Ellie who was working on the field.

Your screams could be heard from miles away, she was running towards the small cabin, sweat running down her palms.

Calming you wasn’t easy, you would scream for forgiveness.

Screaming the most incoherent set of words.

Calling for your mother.

Apologizing to the earth…

Your eyes were shut hard, almost painful and when Ellie least expected you opened them, big like the moon, red veins almost exploding in them, the fear you felt in your chest translated to Ellie like she had seen the horrors you had caused.

Ellie placed a hand on her mouth, hardly slapping herself shut when she jumped backwards, falling to the ground when she looked at your eyes, tears of crimson blood falling like scarlet jewels.

And as scared as she was, she was always there, always to calm you down, every day she would make you forget more and more.

Or was now your human brain that couldn’t possible resist the pain of the knowledge you carried.

She taught you how to do human things, she taught you how to work the land, How to cook, You taught her how to fight, how to care for animals the she had never even thought as pets.

Joel, he felt like home, a hug from him felt like healing something you didn’t knew you had in your chest.

A paint your mothers reject had planted in your heart, growing like poison through your veins.

Every day was spent between taking care of the land, animals, cooking, laughing, chatting and you teaching them both how to write and read, how to paint, and Joel taught both of you how to play guitar.

And for a sweet second you forgot you didn’t deserved this.

One night, when Joel had to go to the nearest town with his brother, Ellie and you spent the whole day together, dancing and singing, not a chore today she said giving you her beautiful signature smile.

Her fingers touched yours and then came up your arm.

You had always felt this thing for Ellie, an aching sensation in your chest that made your heart drum with the force of a thousand storms, and right now your realized that this was so intense that you almost cried, bur you didn’t.

"can I kiss you?"

Her inquiry a whisper, almost as soft as the breeze outside, and if you hadn't been so close to her, almost flushed bodies you wouldn’t have heard her.

You knew much of kissing from books you’ve read and songs you’ve heard. But never had done it before.

"I don’t know how to…"

Your words shaking, open sentence at the end to signal the girl in front of you that you do want this.

"I've never done it before either."

Her bright smile embarrassed and her face felt hot, she wanted to be forever with you, she was just worried that she might not please you. before she pulled away you went with your human instincts.

Physical affection wasn’t much of a godly form, she taught you more about it that you had ever experience.

And now, with her hands intertwine at you waist, your mouth crashed with hers.

The feeling of her warm lips moving awkwardly against yours made the pain in your chest become butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Your hands moving desperately now to touch her, finger tracing up her torso leaving one hand on her neck and the other on her waist.

And both lost all sense of discomfort, feeling your soft delicious lips made her delirious.

your body soft against her.

She moaned as your hand moves to breeze over her breast and she started to touch all over you.

She was drunk off your sent, Like a drug where only you clouded her mind.

Yours was foggy.

Ellie.

Ellie.

"Ellie…"

Her name floating out of your mouth deliciously.

In her 22 years of life, Ellie has never felt this intensely about anything in her life.

She was constantly surrounded by men, and the only girl she ever fell for left her behind. Scared of being in love with another women.

She was so lonely romantically.

At first she only wanted to take care of you, an act of kindness natured by her humanity.

But as time passed and she got to know you it felt like she only ever wanted to be with you.

And you felt the same.

Your movements felt so human, instinct powered by emotions you had never felt before.

She by the other hand, was trying to keep herself sane, as you both sat on her make shift bed, kissing passionately but as separate as Ellie could, she feared like if she went any further she wouldn’t stop herself.

The space making you groan, you wanted nothing more in your life than to be with her, than to touch her, and for her to touch you.

So you straddle her, both legs on each side of her hips.

Her lap comforting and warm, she squirm under you, feeling the bubbles of your ass on her.

Intoxicating presence healing your swollen heart.

Years of pain patching up by Ellies soft touches, needy to feel every inch of your body.

Both your hot mouths open for the other to explore, connected by a now passionate kiss, drool falling off the corners of both mouths.

Your hands kneading now on the soft skin of her tits, her whimpers filling your mouth like music on a ceremony.

You separated from her, taking off her shirt hungrily and she helped you take yours. Both naked in a second.

You wanted to worship her, fall to your knees and show her how much she meant to you.

She took you to now be on top of you, hesitation on both parts driven by inexperience.

"Ellie, please…" your whimpers made Ellie twitch, sleek falling in a string down her freckled legs.

"please what angel?" her voice cracked when she felt your fingers gracing up her leg, collecting her wetness.

"please make me yours Ellie."

Fingers going back to your mouth to taste her and she went insane.

She kissed and marked all that she could, every mole, every part of your beautiful skin.

She needed to let you know that she was yours, by making you hers.

Her hand caressed your skin all the way down to your cunt, spreading your lips, shivers running down her spine.

"so wet baby, so pretty"

a moan threatening to fall from your lips, your face inches from her, not kissing her yet, you gave a look on her pretty face, her closed eyes open at the lack of contact, she pushed a finger in and you both felt a wave of something intense like a lightning flowing from the depths of both souls.

The sound of rain droplets falling outside crowned the room with a beautiful melody, Ellie was grunting too enchanted by you, your mouth agape, small breathy moans falling from your lips, unsure if you could be as loud as you wanted.

"don’t be shy my love, no one can hear us" Ellie's voice was raspier, just like when she wakes up in the morning and it made your heart flutter, fast butterflies sending waves of the thought of forever waking up next to her, her voice natural to you and finally feel the warm of love embody your soul entangled with hers.

Kisses and moans, filled the room, wet sounds of both mouths and cunts overlapping with each other.

Finally when both came to each other peaks, you fell to her chest, hearts beating fast against one another, under a thin blanket. the sound of rain more intense, thunder and air severe outside.

Ellie reached one of her hands to turn off the candle beside you, a knock interrupting the moment, desperate screams of Tomy coming from the outside and you jumped from the bed, putting on the first dress you found, while Ellie put back her previous clothes.

You were the one who opened the door to a drenched Tomy, wet hands holding his hair in torment, he entered the house right away, walking in circles.

His eyes drowsy and his demeanour obscure.

You were worried for him but Ellie seemed to know.

"what happened to Joel? Where is he!?"

The way to the town was slippery, rain softening the ground beneath you, Ellie's horse following Tommy's.

Your heart felt a torturous string, the guilt burning up your insides again.

After a three hour travel Tomy stopped at white house, outsiders wating in the rain for their loved ones, a small house that doubled as an alms house.

Upon arrival Ellie entered the place without notice, searching endlessly for Joel, a mare pulp of flesh that was now his body, the smell of death emerging all around.

She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face like waterfalls of painful realization.

She was taken out of the place, face glued to his body as one of the medics placed a white thin fabric over his body, blood seeping through the white sheet.

Tomy and you buried his body on the outer skirts of Joel's land under his favourite tree.

Days passed, months swiftly went by, and you would wake up in the middle of the night to a cold bed.

Somehow Ellie was always under the oak tree, sometimes Joel's guitar on hand, playing a sombre tune, other times sleeping on the freezing ground.

The first few weeks you had to fight her to get inside of the house, purple lips signalling to her frozen state, it got progressively harder to get her back inside, to the point that you had now made a torturous routine of seen her in that state, placing a fuzzy blanket on her shoulders and a warm candle light to make it less cold.

She wanted to be left alone, so you wouldn’t bother her.

During the day she would silently make her chores, eat with you and sleep the rest of the day, she didn't talked to you for days.

One of the nights when she was shaking under the tree, sleep state shivering with cold, she heard the fierce voice of your mother.

"now see whose fault is that…"

She opened her eyes in fear, the voice so severe she felt dizzy, however, when she opened her eyes she wasn’t at her usual spot.

Colossal columns of precious stones rising above her head, so tall she couldn’t see the end.

sharp laughs from a familiar voice landing in her chest like daggers when she understood who it was.

When she came closer to the source she saw you, hysteric laughter erupting from your chest as you stood in front of a large hole on the floor, she came closer to you, noticing you couldn’t see her, the hole seemed to be above the skies. 

Horrors beyond her comprehension hit her in the face, how could you laugh at that.

She wanted to wake up from that nightmare but she couldn’t. she couldn’t close her eyes, she couldn’t move an inch, and so she was bind to watch the torture you made man create.

At the end of what felt like an eternity of suffering she saw one last vision, Joel.

She screamed and scream, but couldn’t do anything.

Horrific images of Joel's death imprinted on her vision and your laugh became so loud her head was hurting, her hands came to her ears but she couldn’t stop the sound.

You were having so much fun with his torture, how dare you.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she turned haplessly to it, a tall woman a beauty she couldn’t comprehend looked down at her.

"I have shown you now, why I sent her to earth, she had to pay for her sins, I as a mother couldn't control her wrath"

And Ellie finally understood the nonsense you were saying when you first woke up.

She had never hated anyone in her life before.

She woke up, standing up, fury burning through her veins.

She walked quietly to the kitchen grabbing a silver knife, strong enough to butcher an animal.

Strong enough to kill you.

She straddle you without a care, she screamed at you how much she hated you, tears running down her face and she swung the knife at you.

Your sudden waking up state you defended yourself, dodging her knife and grabbing it from her hands, you couldn’t control yourself now that you were alert, strong hands fighting against each other for the knife, and when you least expected Ellies eyes opened wide, her mouth open to speak.

"your mother was right" her thick blood flew out of her and you tried your best to stop the blood flow, but the river was too sudden, and your movements weren't fast enough.

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

disconnected | c.bg

pairing: choi beomgyu x reader. genre: fluff, yet another f2l bc im trope-obsessed recently. wc: 1.1k. warnings: none. an: i heard this song and it just... felt so beomgyu, i couldn't help myself </3 edit: this has been sitting in the drafts for so long, i’m so glad it’s finally getting out there. as always, thanks for the support 🫶🏻

the air is fresh, quiet and comfortable within your little nook of the city’s botanical garden. a gentle breeze coaxes the warmth of the sun against your skin, and nudges you and your best friend by the slightest inch, as it passes by. you’re curled up the soft blades of grass at the foot of a garden bench, where ahead of you lies a little koi pond that ripples every so now and then, and the arch marking the beginning of the unkempt cobblestone path leading back up to the main route.

your head is in his lap as you thumb through pages that take you somewhere in the heart of cold Pacific waters, aboard a creaking ship filled with vengeful pirates, rum and heart-thundering adventure, when you’re drawn back by the sound of beomgyu’s sighing – loud and dramatic enough to make sure it did the job it was supposed to.

“is something wrong?” you ask, eyes still flowing along the sentences of your novel.

“maybe if you’d give me a little attention, I could tell you.”

you chuckle, then flip a page. as if it were even possible to not pay attention to him. but, you indulge him anyway. “but the main character is at her pinnacle right now, i need to know how they liaise between her blood-thirst and morality.”

you snuggle further into his lap and refocus your attention. a tiny smile starts tugging away at his lips. the way your eyebrows are furrowed makes you look like a blow fish. he had thought so the first time you met, too.

“this is the first time we’ve met in weeks, i’m the only main character you’re supposed to worry about,” he grumbles, closing his manga and putting it aside.

you fight a smile. when you first met beomgyu, you had thought he was an arrogant jackass. but now that you knew him, you knew there was always a little truth in his jokes. maybe he didn’t really think he was the ‘main character’, but he was a little upset that this was the first time you’d met in two months.

you set your book aside and turned over, resting your head in your hands so that you could look up at him. “i missed you too, you know.”

and you did. you’d make it through every week knowing that beomgyu and the garden waited for you. and it wasn’t the same when it was just the garden. it felt like everytime he left he took all the magic with him.

he looked at you, with those eyes that carry so many things they make you feel heavy under their gaze. “i miss you right now. as i’m looking at you.”

you chuckle and clamber into a sitting position, your heart doing somersaults. “smooth, gyu. you’re spending way too much time with yeonjun.”

“we’re going on tour.”

you freeze. then you smile, “that’s great. where to? i hear manila is really pretty—”

“for six months, (y/n).”

his eyes are now desperate. you gulp.

often, you forget that he’s a star outside your little world in the garden. that his friends aren’t only his friends, but the members of his group. that they played at music shows and flew to other countries. that they had a manager and stylists and a team of professional people that followed them everywhere.

that, that magic that beomgyu carried with him he took into studios and onto stages. that, if the city’s botanical garden was even magical at all, he was pretty much a mystical creature.

“it’s good, beomgyu. it really is. it means more people will get to see how talented you all are, and you make them happy.” you reach and place a hand on his shoulder. you chuckle, “you are the main character after all.”

he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. now he’s looking at you again. it feels like he’s telling you so much, like he’s waiting for you to tell him that you know. and you try and fight it, you do. but before you know it, he’s pulled you into his arms and you’re crying softly onto his shoulder.

when he places his hands on your shoulders and brings you before him, his eyes are wet. “i didn’t want to leave without telling you. without being sure that you know that you’re not allowed to be whisked away by some guy who reads actual books and goes to poetry reads or some shit,” he sniffles. you laugh and he laughs too, then snaps up and shakes your shoulders gently. “oh God. listen. if someone like your book boyfriends show up you better walk the other way, (y/n) I swear to God. I have a built in sensor, okay. I’ll fly right back here and kick your ass.”

you scoff, shoving his chest. “excuse me? what makes you think it’ll be my fault?”

“easy. i wouldn’t be able to blame him. you’re perfect, (y/n). get with the program.”

you face is on fire, but you flip him off and pick up your book.

he laughs with his entire chest and you can’t help but smile from behind your book.

almost as if orchestrated, a stream of golden sunlight sneaks though the leaves and lights up your face. your cheeks are red and your eyes are puffy. your hair is a little unruly, and a slight smile slowly fading on your lips as you start reading your book again. beomgyu’s chest aches.

he had always been sort of impartial to reading. he’d rather pick up his guitar and string together melodies. and when he met you two years ago in this place, he knew why. you, the way you smiled, how smart, kind and fiery you are— the way you make him feel— there could be no better fairy tail, no… what was it you called it? meet cutes? there was no better meet-cute than the person of your dreams giving you the finger for taking their spot in the garden.

he reaches down and presses a kiss to your forehead. his lips linger for a moment, then he pecks your nose and looks into your eyes which are now glazed over with just one emotion. and its only for him.

his lips brush your hair when he whispers, “you were mine from the moment i met you. i love you, nerd.”

scintillasofbeomgyu © all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost in any way.

[ruiniel]

Remember

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Kokushibō x fem!Reader

Count: 1.9K

Rating: 🔞

Tags & Warnings: Multichapter, POV Second Person, Darkfic, Angst, Ambiguity, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Reincarnation, Toxic relationship, Codependency, Blood Drinking, Non-con, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Kokushibō's wife, Her name is Hisami, References to childbirth but nothing graphic, POV Tsugikuni Michikatsu, Emotional Sex, Mild Smut, is it gratuitous yes and no, Human!Kokushibō, Kokushibō | Tsugikuni Michikatsu-centric, Sengoku Period (1467-1590), If there's anything Upper Moon One fears it's his memories

On AO3

Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V

Summary:

"...and I can't remember my wife's or children's faces..." —Kokushibō Taishō era, 1915. A lonely young woman's life changes after a strange encounter where the surface of a hidden world is revealed. A story of contrasts.

You foolish girl...

You run shaking fingers over your dry lips, feeling a sear that rushes through your veins like hot, poisoned wine.

It was not supposed to happen this way, and maybe it was indeed all your fault. You’d been weak, tried to show him you didn’t care what he was or what form he took, no matter how divorced from reality it appeared. You only wanted to show him that... that you wanted.

And what precisely did you want? You gaze up at the sky, where the night is cloudless yet there is no moon or stars: as if they, too, fled the aftermath of his fury.

Once, you said you did not fear him, standing like an unmovable pillar before the potent dread and despair that seemed to consume the living breath of everything in his presence. You didn’t know better, and it was easier that way.

“We should never have crossed paths,” you tell the nothingness outside. You wish he could hear it. Then you’d have your dignity back, and maybe he’d be satisfied knowing he was right.

A spring evening. It was early April, the air drunk on the bloom of cherry blossoms. You were returning from the festival, feeling too warm even in your thin yukata, strands of hair sticking to your temples. It was the herald of a mercilessly hot summer.

Alone, you took the streets towards home, yearning for your refuge after the day’s agitation. You felt safe in your small town and thought nothing of the steps echoing behind: until it was too late.

You offered them whatever money you had, but that was not their intent. Terror paralyzed you, choked you so you couldn’t even yell for aid. You tore at their faces, kicked and thrashed. You’d never known true hatred, but as you cried in despair you wished the grizzliest death upon them.

“How pitiful.”

Words echoing like a hollow wind, words you’ll never forget until your years are spent and the spark of life fades from your body. The grip on your arms froze, and in your own heart fear unending spread like rot.

There was nothing there when you looked, though, only a shadow in the shape of a... man?

“Humans have not changed. You all remain disgusting… and weak.”

His voice was deep. Cold like a winter moon, resonating within you like the shuddering vibrations of an earthquake. A speech strange and antiquated, the tone laced with contempt, and through the blur of tears you couldn’t see his face. 

“Even to your kind, preying on others seems to be the norm.”

They... there were two of them, both of which had simply forgotten all about you and turned to run.

You must’ve cried, you must’ve screamed. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what your eyes showed you. You could not even move.

But where two men stood a moment before, now were merely two widening pools of blood, flowing into one another.

The stranger stood there, turned away from you. 

You retreated back on your hands and legs, your back hitting the nearest wooden hedge. You tried to speak, but what would you even say? “Will you kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder at you. He had long, shining dark hair, tied back from his face. He wore a kimono and hakama. Was that a blade fastened at his waist? His features were still muddled, or perhaps it was your fear toying with perception but try as you did, you couldn’t discern them. 

The stranger—the murderer—turned back ahead, saying nothing. 

For a mere moment the paralysis in your limbs eased, and you took the chance: you up and ran, as fast as your legs could take you, never looking back.

You sit alone on your bench, wiping your forehead. An early summer evening falls. It was another hard day of labor, but you are pleased: the garden now looks as you’d wanted it to, and that brings a sense of peace as you watch the silver slice of the moon, set like a brooch in the velvet sky.

The sensation of being watched is sudden. The surprise is great when you gaze ahead and see the Shadow. The now familiar frost encircles your heart, and the world has become eerily still as even cicadas stopped their endless chirping. You stand.

That night, that gruesome, surreal experience still lingers in your memory, no matter how many times you tried to forget. And now it’s here, a living nightmare having taken two lives that you know of—saving you from your fate in the process. But your curiosity of all things unexplainable is innate, and instead of fear, you find a voice to speak. “Have you... Have you come to take your due from me?”

What does one even ask a revenant? Is this presence such an entity? You’d never been deeply spiritual or religious, but now, this feels like a haunting.

He is not looking at you, as though he’d not heard your question. He appears taken with the small pool mirroring the golden light from several lamps, highlighting the crimson tips of his hair.

You try again. “Am I being haunted?”

No answer comes. He is as still as the stones in your garden.

“Did you make this arrangement… yourself?”

You recall that timbre and odd fluctuations, soft and umbrous. His archaic speech, as from another age. His voice akin to an ill omen. But within, you feel no threat or peril, not this time. Might as well humor him. Or it. “I did,” you answer. You are surely mad… surely, you think, even as your feet drag your body closer until you stand at his side. 

His long locks hide most of his features, but despite that you can tell they are youthful, those of someone in their prime. He feels very present, for a ghost.

You watch the water in silence, the sickle moon reflected in the shallow pool. In its mirror-like surface, you, too, look like a shadow next to him. A single petal falls, causing a ripple that breaks the vision.

“I did not thank you, sir. For... that time.” When you blink, you are alone. “Wait!” You look around, darting to and fro in the garden, finding not a wisp of him.

“Well, then. It seems I am being haunted after all.”

At first, it is morbid curiosity. You go, night after night, sitting in the same place, waiting. The wraith does not show itself again, but still, you go.

One night, you play the flute—an old thing your late father used to entertain you with once upon a time, until you begged and insisted you wanted to be taught too. You’d use the pastime to fill the empty spaces in your day, and it became a habit. It reminded you of him. 

An intriguing meld of thrill and fear unfurls in your chest, and you know.

This time, he is seated on the same bench, back straight, posture dignified. His sheathed blade rests over his knees. He never looks at you, your haunting spirit. But he’s returned and this time, you don’t speak at all, you ask no questions. You keep playing, and he listens, and an ancient joy fills you to the brim.

You play the flute often after that. Sometimes, you also sing, alone. When the moon is full, he stays longer. Now he speaks more than before, though his words are measured and at times even curt. Some questions he never answers: such as his name, his origin.

Once you asked who he’d been in life.

“Different.” Not quite an answer, but the most you’d gotten on the topic. 

You slowly set down the flute. “Do you play?”

A hand twitches nervously on his knee: the most human reaction you’ve seen from him to date. It charms you, that same meld of unease and thrill flowering through your body. Wordlessly, you extend your hand, offering him the instrument.

The shock is great: for the brief moment in which his fingers brush yours, there is no other sensation but that of calloused human skin touching skin. He feels as solid as any other man. And this, now this gives you pause.

Your fingers close around his without thought and you gaze upward, finding...

Him, staring back at you, lips parted, revealing... fangs. 

His features are indeed young, but like a veil lifted you see him: three pairs of eyes stare back at you, at first in surprise, then narrowing. The next moment he is on his feet, the flute fallen on the ground between you.

“You... You are no wraith.” What are you, then? 

He turns around faster than you can see.

You’re shaking, you remember the deaths, his manner, and now the inhuman, impossible make of his physiognomy. Are you hallucinating? You must be. Perhaps loneliness has sickened your spirit, perhaps the effect of his presence instills madness in minds. But you’re boldly pulling at the sleeve of his patterned garment, rounding and facing him.

“Upper Rank… One,” you read in his eyes. He is still as Death, the void of silence surrounding him stronger than ever before. “Is that your name?”

You stare, fascinated. Your body cries flee but as in a spell you lean closer, balancing on your tiptoes. He is tall, taller than any man you’d seen or known; what are you doing? Your arm wraps around his neck and finds hot iron beneath silk. His lips are just as warm as the rest of him, but the rumble of a growl bursts through your chest.

You cannot breathe; the air refuses to enter your lungs. 

He faces you, standing a distance away now with veined hands balled into fists.

“You foolish girl...”

His icy voice hurts your ears, the raw hatred in it so scathing your legs fail you as though severed, and you fall to your knees.

“How dare you... I could crush you like a fallen petal.” That same voice, dripping malice withering the life around you. The crimson in his eyes is aflame. “Perhaps, I will...”

“Yes I’m human, and I'm flawed, and overstepped! But you do not even have the courage to say what you are. Why? ... Why do you keep coming here?”

He stares you down, silent, cruelty twisting his mouth.

“Please, tell me. At least tell me, and then do what you will… but why?”

Please… tell me why.

His expression morphs from cruelty to utter horror, yellow pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the red. His entire presence disrupting the world around you now seeps... regret?

Why? Why must you leave?

He raises a hand as if to ward you off, even though you still kneel and plead.

He takes one step back—away from you—and whispers, for the first time in a trembling voice. “You... your face...”

Michikatsu, please...

He retreats another step, a hand to his head.

We are a family... are you not happy? Are you not...

You slowly rise, against all reason trying to reach him again.

“Begone!” he thunders, and though you near him, though you wrap your arms around him driven by a need so deep its roots reach beyond your own life, you find yourself alone again; unscathed, holding nothing.

The song of cicadas fills the night. Your chest hurts, your heart feels bruised and broken behind your ribs. An overflow of emotion wells in your eyes.

I will never see him again.

A voice within, your own and not your own. But you wish...

You wish it were his fingers playing through your hair instead of the empty wind.

The moon above is blood-red, partly hidden beneath a cloud. The flute lies at your feet, abandoned by the bench.

Part II

[girlscoutbrownies]

Fandom: School Bus Graveyard

Word Count: 1241

Summary:

What do people say again? Time flies when you’re having fun? They’d be right, except he’s not really having fun right now.

He’s not really having much of anything. He’s just… there.

Additional Notes + Content Warnings: Descriptions of disassociation, mild forest horror. Aiden is very much an unreliable narrator here.

This is not posted on ao3.

—

Aiden Clark does this thing where time flies sometimes.

That’s not really the right word for it, though, because saying that time is flying implies that he knows that it’s moving. He really doesn’t.

He blinks and he’s lost hours. He loses time. Yes, yeah, yeah - losing time. That’s the term.

( Actually, he’s been told that it’s disassociation. He doesn’t really care for those big words, though. )

Something’s off, he thinks, the first time.

His room is dark. It’s always dark in his room. Very, very dark. Dark, so that he doesn’t have to see the empty cans on his table and the stacks of cup ramen.

It gives off, automatically, the sense of someone is sleeping here, but they’re not living.

And maybe that’s corny, but is he alive?

He doesn’t feel alive right now. Alive people feel the mattress under their feet and the blanket over their legs.

God, his inner monologue is always kind of depressing. Seasonal depression, maybe? It is winter.

It’s always winter, though.

Maybe the seasons are changing, and he doesn’t know, because the sky outside of his window is dreary and sad and depressing and he’s not quite sure when the cold stops and the warm begins, because he doesn’t know what warm is like.

The monitor is dark, too. He thinks that sometimes, all he does is watch himself lay in bed, from inside some inner world where nothing can hurt him, the childhood monsters-in-his-closet latching onto him like some fucked up koala. No, koalas aren’t the ones that latch. Those are sloths.

He’s alive, actually. That’s kind of sad. Wait, no, it’s not. No, no, no, Aiden. Being alive is good.

( Sometimes he wonders what it’s like to die. It’s not in a suicidal way, though. Not really. )

He wonders if dead people still need to eat and live and breathe and order things at restaurants, except he’s seen enough movies and read enough books to know that the only dead people that do that are the zombies.

He wonders if zombies have to make eye contact and ask for consent before they bite people. But only alive people do that, because alive people know what it’s like to feel bad. Corpses don’t make eye contact.

Corpses don’t feel anything at all.

( If he thinks ahead, outside of this memory, he wonders if all of his intentional eye contact is just a weird way of him scrounging up whatever sense of identity he has left, a way of saying I am here and alive and you will have to look at me, or if it’s just another byproduct of never interacting with other people his age, not until Ben. Maybe it’s both, actually. )

He is alive. He feels his heart beating sometimes, a steady familiar song that he knows the exact tune to. You’re not supposed to hear your heartbeat, though, are you? Not unless you’re in a hospital, strapped to wires and stripped to the bone like a weird fucking mannequin on display.

That’s funny.

Well, it’d be funny, except he’s not laughing. That’s typically the baseline for something considered humorous.

He’s not doing much of anything. Right, what was he doing again? The blanket. It’s there. He feels the blanket, bunching it up in his hands. It feels fake, but he knows it’s real. The world isn’t advanced enough for something like that, not yet at least. It feels like something sheared too quickly and never processed and rough and it’s a disgusting horrible shade of gray and—

Right, what was he doing again?

Five senses. He can feel his veins twisting underneath his skin and blood flowing in an unending path to his heart to keep him alive. That’s not quite how you phrase it, he thinks.

He turns his hand. It’s pale and the blue lines stand out prominently, not faintly like a normal person’s would be. They snake under his bones like vines in a forest, grabbing hold of his bones and muscle because he can’t have anything, he’s surrendered it to rot in this room and he’s suddenly sharply thrusted out of this shitty memory—

( He doesn’t really like the forest. Maybe he did, once before, but a long, long time ago, he’d been told that bad parents send their children to the woods to die and that really, he should be grateful he has a house and a place to stay in.

The forest swallows up everything. It’s a wonder humanity hasn’t burned it all to the ground, honestly. Setting ablaze to his nightmares, the ones he has when it’s getting particularly bad and he sits in a dark clearing and watches nature reclaim its score. This was never their place to live.

It gets worse after the phantom dimension. Pillars of rock soaring into the sky, something that shouldn’t be possible because of the “laws of nature,” but nature follows its own set of rules, doesn’t it? It doesn’t care about us. He’d envisioned, the night after, when he’d finally managed to drift off, the forest grabbing onto Tyler and never letting go. Sinking into mud and dirt and decaying to the bone.

He doesn’t really like the forest. )

Right, he was doing… something…

Oh, he’s in bed. He’s in bed and the shutters have been pulled wide open, bright sunlight filtering through the glass. Wasn’t it just dark out?

“Aiden?”

His eyes snap towards the voice blocking the doorway. No, that’s not right. The voice near the doorway. His therapist told him to stop treating everyone like video game obstacles. Oh, well. Who was she kidding? It’s not like he told her anything, anyways.

Ashlyn is standing there, looking worried enough that he almost feels warmed by the concern. Almost.

They make eye contact, too prolonged and too vivid. He thinks he’s making her uncomfortable. That’s a shame.

Five senses. He can’t feel the blanket. It’s soft, isn’t it? He combs through his memories, knowing what it’s supposed to feel like. It’s silk or something, or maybe it’s fleece. He doesn’t know which one this is; they’re all the same colour, and he can’t feel. The texture is wrong.

It doesn’t feel like anything. He’s supposed to feel things. That’s his whole—pardon his redundancy—but that’s his whole thing. He’s the bouncy one, up and alive and too many feelings, to compensate for when the others are down.

Off topic. He’s getting off topic again. This isn’t a lecture, though; he’s not following a lesson plan. He’s just here.

“Um… are you… okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says with little hesitation. He thinks to himself that he really doesn’t care for speaking right now, but the familiar words roll off his tongue like…

He’s not that great with analogies. Similes. Whatever.

“You’re still in bed. It’s nearly two in the afternoon.”

Is it? He hadn’t realized time passed so quickly. Or, flew. Disappeared.

“Ben said that you were probably sleeping in, but, well…” She looks over, rather confusedly, at his unmoving form. He’s been sitting here for a while, hasn’t he?

“I’m hungry,” Aiden announces, pushing himself off the mattress. He feels it under his hands, which is good. It’s not the same softness as it should be, but it’s still there. It’s there, and this is real. He’s real.

“Do we have anything to eat?” The wood paneling is hard and cold under his feet. He wishes he’d gotten carpet.

It’s still cold in here.

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xl // Sway

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

“I’d like you to walk to the kitchen. We’ll get some food in you, then walk back, and that’s it for today.”

On the bedside table, last night’s dinner sits untouched still. The low woosh of the wind outside, the path Conrad’s mind has been wandering along since he woke up, ebbs and flows like tides on a shore. He can feel his heart beating against the tight bandages on his arm, the warmth that radiates from there, whatever heat-inducing process happens to wounds in the first few days of healing. He wishes he wasn’t becoming so familiar with that warmth.

He doesn’t feel like speaking, but he does it anyway, eventually. “I can’t,” he says.

“Yes, you can,” Davin counters, matter-of-fact. Conrad looks at him. Arms crossed in front of his chest, standing in the middle of the room, stray hairs tucked behind his ears. No trace of last night on him. “It won’t be pleasant, but you can walk.”

Conrad looks back down at his hands, scraping his fingernails for dirt that isn’t there. “Why?”

Davin lets out a breath. “Take your pick at the risks associated with being sedentary after something like this,” he mutters. “Blood clots, infection, sores, prolonged healing. Pneumonia, ironically enough. I pushed it by not having you do this yesterday, but I could barely even get pills in you then, so.” He shrugs a shoulder. “C’mon, one step at a time. Sit on the edge of the bed – we both know you can get that far, at least.”

Conrad glances at Davin’s feet. Takes a deep breath and slowly untangles himself from the duvet. His movements feel somewhat sluggish, almost dream-like in a way. Like moving underwater, he’s never really sure where he’ll end up.

Shivering in the cold air, he scoots across the mattress, first letting his good leg hit the floor. He puts both hands around his knee and lifts the bad one over the edge as well. The sole of his foot against the hardwood feels normal enough, but the numbness in half of his lower leg is still something he’s getting used to. The way he can’t tell whether those muscles are moving without looking at them directly, and even then, it’s hard to tell.

“Do you need help standing up?”

“No,” Conrad bites out, a little too quickly. He takes a breath to compose himself. “I just - I’d like it if you didn’t touch me.”

Davin purses his lips. “That’s fine.” He still uncoils his crossed arms, though, and Conrad finds himself freezing. But all Davin does is pull the desk chair over to him, the back facing him, before he stands back again. “You can use that for support, then.”

Conrad swallows, nodding.

When he has finally gathered the courage to push himself off the bed, one hand wrapped around the top of the backrest, he rises steadily, leaning all his weight on his good leg, careful not to accidentally use the muscles in his thigh. His balance feels wonky, which is probably just another effect of the pills, but as long as he’s going slowly, he can manage it.

There’s a point, though, before his bad leg has straightened out fully, where the pain starts to get bad again, where it starts to override the pills. That sharp, piercing kind of pain in the back of his thigh that makes his whole body tense up. He winces, gritting his teeth. Pauses there for a moment, taking deep, slow breaths, praying it’ll die down. Which it does – eventually.

He knew it’d hurt. That’s why it feels strangely foolish to mourn it now, to agonize over the inability just because it’s starting to show itself, when he already knew, and has known for days, that it wouldn’t be the same. But he can’t straighten his leg out all the way without it feeling like his thigh is splitting apart, and that fact makes his throat close up, make his eyes prick with building tears.

Davin watches him, hands in his pockets. “Try to take a step,” he suggests.

Conrad’s grip on the backrest is hard enough for his knuckles to turn pale. He shakes his head.

“You’re not going to pull the stitches just by walking,” Davin says gently. “It won’t do any damage.”

Doesn’t mean it won’t be a source of agony.

Sniffing, Conrad carefully puts the foot of his bad leg slightly forward. He has to take several deep breaths before he grits his teeth and limps, a fraction of a step, leaning as much weight as he can on the chair.

The pain is enough for him to make a low whine this time, tensing up again, one hand letting go of the chair just so he can dig his fingers into his thigh in a vain attempt to alleviate the wave. His head is bowed as he waits for it to pass, breathing through his nose. Just this small effort, and he’s already starting to sweat.

Frustratedly wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, he lets out a shaky breath. “H-how long is it, is it going to be like this?”

“A few months,” Davin mutters. “Nerves heal slower than bones. But the pain should subside over time.”

New tears threaten to build at that, and Conrad grits his teeth against them, trying to will away the tightness in his throat. “I’m not, I’m not going to make it to the kitchen.”

Davin meets his eyes. “You are,” he says evenly.

Maybe it’s just Davin’s misguided attempt to sound encouraging, but his tone is ambiguous enough that Conrad can’t tell if an or else is implied or not. Given the wider circumstances, it’s probably best to assume that it is.

So he tries to wash away his despair with apathy, takes a few more breaths to steel himself. And he forces his broken body to take another small step.

It sends him reeling again. Makes his back seize up, makes his hands tremble. Threatens to make him spiral, make him sob at the thought of months of this lying ahead of him. Apathy, apathy, apathy, like a prayer. But dissociating yourself from your body when you’re in pain is so, so difficult. It just drags you right back in, commands you to feel every second of it.

He manages to drag the chair forward across the floor, and he limps again, a sound rising from his chest. Folds forward. There’s no point in trying to curb the flow of tears anymore; maybe it’s better to just let them fall. The pain shoots up into his back, like a live wire connecting the cut to his lower spine, lighting up everything in between. Months of this. Months.

Eventually, he reaches the table – just about six feet from the bed – and lets out an involuntary breath of relief. It’s short-lived, though. All Davin does is step further back, giving him space to walk through the door.

How long to the kitchen from here? The guest bedroom is the first down the short hallway, and the dining table is right in front of the entrance to it. Fifteen, twenty yards?

It feels like miles.

Conrad’s hands are clammy. He grits his teeth and pushes on, switching the chair for the table, and then balancing with his hand on the wall. Steps that only get him a foot or so forward, pauses in between as the waves of pain grow and subside. He starts to find a method – how to position his leg and foot, how quickly to limp forward, how long to wait until he can take the next step, how to balance his weight through it all – that makes it more bearable, even if progress is slow, even if his good leg tires from having to bear the brunt of his weight for so long. It becomes more of a rhythm, and less of a constant oscillation between stopping and starting.

The light sound of Davin’s footsteps following along next to him starts to strike him as a form of mockery in and of itself. He wonders if Davin is aware of it, too - how his ease becomes Conrad’s mirror image, a hyperbolic contrast that just serves to drive the point home further. Last night, Renee called him a cripple. Now, Davin nonchalantly walking next to him actually makes him feel like one.

It feels like hours have passed before he reaches the end of the hallway, but a more reasonable guess would probably be five minutes or so. The first thing he sees is the wooden panel on the window, blocking the light at the end of the dining table. A plastic sheet covers it, secured with duct tape all around the edges, probably to keep the air from slipping through the cracks between the panel and the window frame. There’s a pile of glass outside, on the corner of the wooden deck, swept to the side but not removed entirely.

The second thing he sees are the plates. A bag of toast bread, butter, cheese, ham. A skillet with scrambled eggs and bacon, and a handful of those little sausages. Cartons of orange juice and milk.

The little display almost distracts from the stains.

Those are what make him halt in place. On the table about a third of the way down, and on the oak floor directly beneath it.

Somewhat breathless, hand still balancing on the wall, Conrad feels himself slipping the moment he sees them, almost like a veil comes down in front of his face. The way the eyes are both focused and unfocused, seeing clearly but only processing certain aspects. The physical, completely disconnected from memory. From anything, really.

“Do you want coffee?” Davin asks.

Conrad is lightheaded. His gaze trails to the other, somewhat confused, and he forms an n on his tongue before he realizes he can’t speak. So he shakes his head instead.

Davin nods, but still heads for the kettle.

The eyes return to the stains. They have different colors. The one on the table is rust-colored, but more ruddy than orange, unlike actual rust. Its edges are sharp and defined, the middle parts somewhat paler. You can see the streaks along the table’s edge, the trails where it ran down the side. The way it spikes out along the grain of the wood. The stains on the floor are a dark greenish grey, almost black looking, more noticeable. Some are as small as single round drops, but some are larger, more abstract shapes.

“Sit down,” says Davin’s voice, somewhere behind the kitchen island.

The limp from wall to table – the seat farthest from the stains – makes Conrad shift between being there for the pain, and being gone whenever the wave passes. He has a brief moment of gratitude once he finally sits down, but then he disappears again, almost imperceptibly, like a small light in the distance silently turning off.

It's habit. Physical habit. The body breathes. The stains are to its left, so it looks to the right. The kettle grumbles. Time sort of slips, like water through a sieve, leaving no trace of itself behind.

Davin sits down across from it, mug steaming from his hand. Pauses, looking at it with a sincere kind of expression. “Eat, Conrad.”

The body looks at the food on the table, unmoving.

Davin waits, but nothing happens. He nods in understanding. “You’re a bit far away, hm? Do you want me to help you out?”

The body looks to the floor on its right. Manages to shake its head slightly. In the next moments, it mostly forgets why it did that.  

“You haven’t eaten a full meal in three days. No offense, but you don’t exactly have the reserves to…”

The body breathes. That’s what bodies do. They breathe, and they stare at things. They stare at the floor to their right. They don’t hear the words of the men who maimed them. They drift, somewhere in open space, disconnected and s—

A loud thud shakes the cutlery and makes the plates clink, and Conrad flinches, shying backwards in his seat.

Davin’s fist is still on the table. “Sorry,” he says with an apologetic smirk, “but you’re still going to have to put some effort in.”

Conrad’s good leg begins to bounce beneath the table. “I’m n-… I s-sh-…”

“Put something on your plate.”

The room still tilts slightly. Conrad is grimacing as he leans forward, reaching across the table to grab the bag of toast. His movements feel clunky, inelegant. He doesn’t bother finessing with the butter knife, just skips butter altogether. A slice of cheese. The thought of eating meat right now makes him even more nauseous.

There’s a crease on Davin’s forehead, almost like concern. “One slice of white bread isn’t a full meal,” he mutters.

Conrad grimaces, teeth gritted. “Just, just let me start with this, okay?”

Davin raises a brow, holding up a palm, as if conceding. He picks up his phone and leans back, slow scrolling only interrupted by the occasional sip of his coffee.

Conrad eats, slowly. One small bite at a time, hardly more than nibbling, but he’ll get nauseous if he bites off more than that. The bread has a texture, but it tastes like nothing, like air. The cheese tastes like salt, and it clings to his teeth. As he chews, he looks at the floor to his right again. He tries to will his eyes to become unfocused, tries to push himself away.

There’s a sound behind him. A door that opens, footsteps he recognizes, although they’re heavier than usual. The sound of something being dragged along the floor.

Davin looks up from his phone, mug halfway to his lips. “Rise and shine,” he remarks dryly.

Renee’s only response is a low grunt. His short hair is ruffled on one side of his head, some parts pressed down tightly, others sticking straight out. Dark circles under eyes that still have a bit of that glazed-over look to them that they had last night, right at the end. He’s shirtless, wearing the same jeans, nearly-faded bruises mingling with faint pressure lines from his bedding mingling with his tattoos. Fresh scratch marks up and down both his forearms. He’s holding his jacket by the collar, sleeves trailing behind him. Doesn’t pause at the table, doesn’t even spare a glance in passing, just grunts and lazily trots through the kitchen to the sliding door in the living room area. He’s going out to smoke.

As Conrad continues to eat, he finally slides again. It’s better to drift. There’s no anxiety when you’re drifting, no despair, no thought spirals to run circles in, which get tighter and tighter the further down you go. There’s barely even a ‘you’ to begin with.

The whole world is foggy, like a bathroom mirror after a warm shower. The body barely notices the men around it, shuffling along through their own noons, in their own ways. It pays no mind, nibbling little by little, with automated movements. Bite, chew, swallow. The kettle grumbles again. The wind outside comes and goes, picks up and dies down. Voices take turns, and then quiet again. A mug being placed on wood, just out the corner of its eyes.

A chair scrapes loudly across the floor, and Conrad tenses up again, eyes drawn to the noise. Renee dumps down at the end of the table, still wearing his jacket over a bare chest, and rests his elbows, one hand rubbing across his forehead while the other flips the phone in its hand upright. His eyes are hooded, face blank with exhaustion.

He doesn’t usually sit down with them.

Davin doesn’t bat an eye at it, but Conrad has to swallow down his unease. Keeps his eyes fixed on the plate in front of him.

Nothing happens, at first. Renee just sits there, lazily scrolling through his phone. Eventually, though, he takes a deep breath through his nose, and lets his phone topple in his hand, until it falls screen down to the table.

“Listen, ah…” He clears his throat. “Serious question. My memory is a bit…” He pokes his temple, chuckling softly, but it falters just a little too quickly. “Did either of you – last night, I mean – did either of you two see me take some pills?” He winces at the last word.

Davin purses his lips for a moment, looking into his coffee. “No,” he says.

Conrad shakes his head a bit, although he doesn’t meet Renee’s eyes.

Renee nods, pensively scratching at the table, jaw working “It’s just… When I woke up today, it felt… This just doesn’t feel like a normal comedown, it feels like…”

“Diazepam,” Davin says.

Renee is halfway through nodding again when he hesitates, looking at Davin like he has to do a double take. “How…?”

Davin sets his mug down, fingers tracing the rim of the ceramic. Meets Renee’s eyes. “It’s what you give to someone who’s overdosing on cocaine.”

Conrad can’t put to words the expression on Renee’s face then. His mouth opens slightly, and what little color was in his tired face seems to drain, gaze becoming sharper, somehow. “Did—” he says, but he stumbles over himself, has to take a breath, blinking rapidly. “Davin, did you give me…?”

“You were feverish. You were having seizures. Conrad can attest to that last one.”

Renee stares for a long time, unmoving apart from his breathing, which is steadily picking up its pace. “You gave me valium,” he whispers eventually.

Davin nods calmly. “I had to.”

Letting out a breath, Renee’s face contorts in something like a smile, but it’s joyless, just exasperated. “Are you insane?” And he stands up, walks a few steps away from them, rubbing his face. Stops in his tracks, turning around. When he holds up a hand at Davin, Conrad can see the small tremors in his fingers. His voice too, sounds unsteady, as if he’s trying to keep the pieces of a crumbling composure together. Teeth clenched so hard, the muscles of his jaw protrude. “Why the fuck would you give me that? Huh? Why?”

The shift in Renee, and how quickly it’s taken place – the anger that has overpowered whatever drowsiness he felt, and now threatens to breach the surface – makes Conrad grab the seat of his chair, leaning away, almost bracing.

Davin’s face is expressionless, but his eyes, too, keenly follow Renee’s movements. “You were overdosing,” he repeats.

Renee’s teeth are gritted so hard, the muscles of his jaw noticeably protrude. He’s breathing hard now. “You should’ve given me something else.

Davin smirks. “I didn’t have anyth—”

Renee kicks a chair hard enough to send it tumbling across the floor, hitting the wall with a loud thud. The noise is barely enough to cover Conrad’s startled yelp, as Renee begins to scream. “You should’ve let me fucking overdose, then!” A sharp inhale. “Two years! Two fucking years!” He paces a few steps backwards, hands folded on the back of his head, breathing through a wince. He looks genuinely pained, in a way Conrad has never seen before. Renee looks on the verge of breaking into tears. “And you knew,” he hisses, voice breaking. “Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t, you’ve done your fucking research, right? You knew!”

Davin looks at him for a long time, as if weighing his options, before he finally nods. “I did.”

Renee shuts his eyes at that, turning his back again. He lays his palms flat against the counter of the kitchen island, leaning his weight on it, rocking slightly. Lets out a low growl. One hand moves, and it’s hard to see while his back is turned, but from the angle of his elbow, it looks like he’s rubbing his chest right above his heart. He gives a sharp shake of his head, tilts his head back, letting out another sound, a hah. “I was clean,” he croaks, “I was fucking clean…”

Conrad sees the way Davin pauses then, the way his head slowly tilts to the side, hair falling forward, dark eyes still following Renee’s movements intently. “Were you?” he asks.

The ragged breaths veer into a strange, distressed sort of laughter. Renee turns his head, hand still pressed against his chest. His eyes are wide. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Davin just raises a brow.

Another semi-laugh turns into a sneer, Renee baring his teeth. He drops his hand, balling it into a fist by his side as he steps closer. “Nah, tell me. Tell me what the fuck you just said.”

Davin snorts softly. “You get pretty defensive about this topic, don’t you? But you don’t have to posture. I know.” And then he picks his coffee back up, turning his attention back to his phone. Relaxed, as if Renee isn’t shaking with rage five feet away, staring daggers at him.

It's enough to make Conrad mope.

Renee starts laughing again. That sick, vaguely desperate laugh, face contorted in more of a grimace than a grin. He nods to himself, pacing a few steps toward the living room, before he turns around and walks back toward the hallway, breathing quick.

Conrad should’ve seen it coming, but it still makes him flinch when Renee lets out a wordless shout and punches the wall. Fragments of plaster coated in white paint rain to the floor, grey and white dust drifting down in its wake.

A moment later, the door to Renee’s room slams shut.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[dreamcatcherrs]

all too well; c!technoblade x reader

!PLEASE READ!

this is an incomplete story I started on last year, and I never managed to finish it and probably won’t as I find it hard to write for techno anymore. but I figured I wouldn’t let the stuff I wrote go completely to waste, so here you go :)

+ based on taylor swift’s “all too well” ten minute ver. but techno actually has a reason to be an asshole unlike jake :)

++ if you know the song, you already know it’s gonna be an angsty and fluffy mess

stepping through the door to his cabin you let out a sigh at the feeling of the sweet warmth of his home surrounding you, quickly closing the door behind you to prevent the cold air from crawling up your neck. the cold from the snowy biome he chose to live in was no joke.

a pair of arms snaked around you from behind, cold lips placing a chaste kiss to your cheek. you giggled.

"mmm, I’m thinking rabbit stew for dinner tonight, whaddya say?" you turned around to face him, swinging your arms over his shoulders with a smile on your face.

"that sounds wonderful." your lips met his, cold and a bit chapped, but soft nonetheless, pulling away shortly after. he pressed his lips into a thin line, blood flowing to his cheeks as the voices went crazy for you in his head. luckily, for him, you couldn’t hear them, or else he’d probably die. he shedded himself from his cape, your eyes lingering on him as he did so, admiring his effortless charm, wondering how you could ever be this lucky.

once shaking yourself out of your daze you reached for the red scarf around your neck, unwrapping it and letting it hang from the railing attached to the stairs along with your thick and wooly coat that protected your body from the icy air outside.

walking into the kitchen, techno was already chopping up the potatoes, white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair tied into a bun. the sight alone was breathtaking to you, and he didn’t even know it. you walked over to stand by his side, grabbing the carrots on the counter to start chopping them up. techno glanced at you without moving his head so you wouldn't notice, and you didn’t. 

you didn’t notice.

you grunted as you failed at your second attempt of mounting the horse, your leg just not long enough to swing over the saddle. about to try for a third time, a pair of hands landed on your waist, making you halt your movements.

“here, let me help you.” the warmth of techno’s fingers melted through the material of your clothes. you felt your blood rush to your cheeks. you uttered out a small “thanks,” letting him lift you onto the horse with little power needed from you.

you grabbed a hold of the rope attached to the horse to lead and stop him, waiting for techno to get on his horse again, watching as he does so with ease.

“alright, let’s go.”

you wanted to go for a ride together in the forest a few miles away from the snowy cabin you were held up at most of the time, for a change of scenery, or just to spend some peace and quiet time together if you will.

techno turned his head to look at you, seeing if you’d found your way around on the horse, meaning for it to just be a quick glance. but when he saw how you smiled sweetly at the horse as you ran a gentle hand over his fur, he couldnt help but to admire you. your were so… kind-natured. innocent, sweet. completely different from him, yet here you were - his. his heart tugged in his chest as the voices in his head kept repeating compliments aimed towards you.

“techno!”

with a last minute jerk to the rope, techno just about managed to miss falling down the deep ravine one block away from him. he swallowed, looking over at you again as you giggled at him. he recollected himself, moving on ahead of you casually to look calm and collected.

you reached the woods, the snowy path you’d been following slowly disappearing and being replaced by the beautiful array of colours from the autumn leaves. your eyes widened at your colourful surroundings, not having been used to this type of biome since you got into a relationship with techno and stayed with him. and as much as you loved staying with techno in the snowy biome, you still missed what you were used to.

distracted by the scenery, you didn’t notice the creeper sneaking up on you from between the trees.

but your horse did.

kicking his front legs in the air, you screeched, holding on tight to the rope as your horse started running with full speed down the path and away from the creeper. away from techno. now was the time you really wished you knew more about riding a horse. you probably should've listened more when techno helped you learn.

your hair blew back from the powerful wind, eyes squinted as you tried your best to make your horse stop, but despite your effort, nothing seemed to work.

suddenly, a hard tug to the rope you were holding, and everything stood still again, no more cold wind. techno appeared on his horse beside you, pink braid messy from the wind blowing into his face and brows furrowed. he quickly got off his horse, keeping a hold on the rope as he approached you.

“come on, boy, it’s okay. that nerd is far gone.” you laughed a little at his choice of words, noticing a little gunpowder on his hand as he reached out to you. “you okay?” his eyes drooped, a sincere look crossing his face as you placed your hand in his. warm, as always.

“yeah, I’m good. y’know, just glad I didn’t die from that,” you smiled, letting him help you down. he rolled his eyes.

“maybe you're being a bit overdramatic. I don't think you could die from that.”

your brows furrowed, arms crossed over your chest. overdramatic?

he swallowed.

“I mean, y’know, you’re the lover of the blood god, I think you're too strong for such a weak death.”

you squinted your eyes at him and shot him a small glare. he shot you a lopsided smile, letting out a breath once you turned around to get on the horse again.

victory.

he watched you struggle mounting the horse again. “d’you need help with that?”

“no!”

“ah! this is you?”

you picked up the photo from the counter, just in time before he could snatch it away from you. you quickly held it to you, sending him a mischievous smirk as you looked at it. he sighed.

it was a picture from when he was little, barely taller than wilbur who stood beside him in the photo with his arm slung over his shoulders, little tommy peeking at the camera between the two brothers. you felt a pang in your chest as your eyes softened looking at the photo. techno had his long hair in a braid, hanging from his shoulder and down his chest, tusks peeking out from under his upper lip, glaring at will as he pulled him close, a bright smile on the brunettes face. techno’s glasses were the same, but the scar that usually ran down the middle of his eye was yet to be seen.

it was… so precious.

“aww, look at you tech! even back then you hair was in a — braid…”

you turned, looking at techno with a faltering smile, watching as his cheeks and ears glowed a bright red. he itched his neck, keeping his eyes glued to the ground.

“tech? you okay?” you reached out, gentle fingers pushing a strand of hair out of his face, same hand cupping his face to make him look at you. he did, eyes gloomy and brows upturned.

“they hate me.”

your face fell, breath hitching at his words. how could he say that?

“what? honey, they don’t hate you. you’re their brother-“

“brother? what kind of a brother am I, y/n? a good one? a brother who leaves his family behind? I would understand if they aren’t very fond of me.”

your lips parted, eyes open wide as you listened intently, observing his icy orbs.

techno didn’t mean to suddenly unload his emotional baggage on you, but you seeing that photo - it reminded him of why the ones he loved were not in his life anymore, and it reminded him that you might become an addition to that list. as a man known for control and power, he has little of that in his head. he has no idea if the voices are gonna betray him again like they’d once done before and leave you, abandon you. lose you. his fears were coming out, crawling out of his mouth in no words and-

he sobbed.

head landing on your shoulder, he hunched over and clung to your body, releasing the tears he hadn’t cried for so long, years, into your shoulder. you found it hard to take in his sudden outburst, not having ever seen this side of the piglin before.

you quickly shook off your own feelings, knowing that now was a time where you had to think of him and only him. you placed your hands on the back of his head, over his hair as you held him close to you, kissing his temple. looking down at the photo still in your hand, you wondered what kind of past he must’ve had to feel this way, to feel so… alone. even when he still had so many people who loved him.

“techno.” you managed to pull him slightly away from you, teary eyes staring into yours as you wiped his tears on his cheeks away. “tell me what happened.”

he sniffed, unbuttoning the top button to his shirt for air. “which part?”

“all of it.”

they deserve nothing. they’re merely just another peasant who’s gonna end up stabbing us in the back.

techno stared at you as you slept peacefully beside him, hand still resting on his bare chest. he swallowed, eyes clouded with darkness. he squeezed them shut to get the voices to stop.

do it now. while they’re weak, disadvantaged. one stab through the neck and we’re safe, free. alone.

techno shot up from the bed, panting and clutching a hand over his heart. he groaned, wiping the sweat off of his forehead, but to no avail - his whole body was completely covered.

he hadn’t even heard you stir awake, the only thing he’d been able to hear being the voices, murderous, merciless voices roaming his mind.

“techno, what’s wrong?” you asked, but received no response other than the loud breathing he was letting out as he heaved. “hey.” you placed a hand on his shoulder, to which he immediately flinched away from your touch, as if you’d burned him with your fingertips. he stared back at you with wide eyes, backing away from you on the bed. your slight feeling of worry turned into a feeling much worse.

“get away from me,” he panted, moving further away from you once he noticed you trying to get closer.

“techno what’s wrong? talk to me, please! I’m only trying to he-“

“please just get away from me, y/n…”

you gaped at him as he stood up from the bed, claws scraping his scalp as he held his head, facing the ground. he heaved, shoulders moving up and down to his breathing as it grew louder along with the voices. he grunted, placing a hand on the wall as if he couldn’t stand up straight.

ignoring his words, you stood from the bed too, finding his health and happiness much more important than whatever reason he had for asking you to stay away from him. your heart started beating faster, anxious about him. what was happening? why was he acting like this? you’d never seen this happen to him before, and you were too desperate to know what was going on in his head to listen to his desperate words.

you grabbed his forearm, trying to get him to turn to you, but as soon as you did, the air from your lungs left your body as he pushed you harshly against the wall. a cold feeling on your neck, and without being able to move you could feel the blade pressing into your skin, a drop of warm blood running down your neck from where the blade had broken skin. you stopped breathing, looking into his eyes as tears fell from yours. he was still heaving, eyes black and hot breath fanning your face as he showed off his tusks from his open mouth.

“I said get the fuck away from me,” he growled, eyes unrecognizable as they stared into yours. you whimpered, clenching your hand around the wrist holding the blade to your neck. your nails dug into his skin, not wanting to hurt him, but fearing that not doing so would end up getting you even more hurt. though nothing felt as painful as what you were feeling right now. this man- beast, before you was not techno. it couldn’t be…

you cried out his name, closing your eyes in fear of what would happen. and then, the pressure was removed from your neck, a shaky pair of arms embracing you as the clang of the blade hitting the floor surrounded the room.

“y/n I- the voices I can’t-“

you gasped for air, pushing him off of you with all of your power and sobbing as you looked at your lover, disbelief coursing through you. your bottom lip shook as you cried, shaky hands clinging to your own body in a way to try and cope with what just happened. blood was smeared on your neck from the cut he made with the blade, his soaked eyes widening at the sight. he huffed, heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. what had he done? the one thing he’d ever wanted to do was protect you, and now he was the one hurting you. “y/n please, I’m so sorry. something took over me I- you know that I’d never try to hurt you, right?”

he inched slightly closer to you, tears that were forming in his eyes finally falling when you backed away from him in fear. you just cried harder at his words, smearing blood on your face when you placed your hands over your eyes, sobbing into your hands. words couldn’t explain how you felt - betrayal? shock? anger? sadness? none of them felt like the right word. all you knew was that you didn’t feel good.

and neither did techno.

he backed away from you, realizing that the only way for him to make you feel at least a little bit better, safer, was if you were far away from him. far, far away.

he was out of the bedroom before you had the chance to stop him, looking up from your wet hands to see him gone along with his red cape and sword. wide-eyed, you looked around the room, contemplating wether you should go after him or not. the man you loved, your soulmate. the man who just attacked you.

techno left hooveprints in the snow as he ran, away away away. as far as his legs would let him. he didn’t know what his mind could do now without his control. he didn’t know if he was capable of keeping you safe from himself. all he knew was that he could never hurt you again. not like this.

he reached the woods, huffing out a breath as he stopped by a tree to catch his breath. the need for oxygen in his lungs blocked out the sound of loud gallops coming his way.

you spotted his blood red cape, royal colour standing out from the dull trees. “come on, Carl. we’ve gotta get him,” you mumbled to yourself and the horse you were sat on, speeding up as you entered the forest. “tech!”

turning around with wide eyes, techno’s heart sped up as he saw you there, getting off the horse with ease. he took a step back. “y/n, please, I don’t wanna hurt you again,” he pleaded, holding his hand out to prevent you from coming closer to him.

you signed sadly, heart glowing with love so powerful that you swear he could see it through your skin. unfortunately, he couldn’t. so you needed to tell him, or else you were scared you’d never see him again.

“honey, please. let’s talk about this,” you stepped closer to him, attempting to get close to him without scaring him off. he didn’t step back this time. instead, he faced the ground, ears downturned in shame. he watched a tear fall from his eye and melt into the snow below him. “I know you’d never try to hurt me, tech.”

your hand was on his cold cheek now, lifting his head up to look at you. he did, tearful and pouty. it almost made you cry. you know he didn’t mean to hurt you, you could see it. but that just left you confused with what had happened. and something told you he was just as confused.

“please,” you begged, running your fingers through his hair. “I love you.” techno closed his eyes shut at your words, giving into your touch as he melted in your arms, crying softly into your shoulder. you let your tears fall silently as well, watching as the sun started rising in the horizon as you stood embracing your broken lover in the middle of the snowy woods.

he hadn’t answered you back then. he wished he’d been different.

your eyes lit up in excitement as you spotted a green and red figure from the window despite the blaring sun shining onto the snow, blinding you. you bursted out of the door, running towards the two men wearing barely any clothes. but you didn’t care. because he was back. techno was back, after a whole month since that night.

you threw your arms around him, crashing into his body. his usual warmth surrounded you. oh, how you’d missed that warmth. you shut your eyes, trying your hardest not to cry as the piglin embraced you back, bearing the same expression on his face as you did.

phil continued walking to the cabin, muttering a small “hey y/n” and then leaving you to it.

“you’re back earlier than expected,” you said, running a finger over his spine as you took him in.

“yeah… puffy said it seemed like I was getting better faster than we’d thought. so she sent me back,” he explained, monotone yet heart pounding incredibly hard for you.

you pulled away from him, cupping his face to get a look at him. he looked… calm. better. sending him to puffy’s therapy must’ve done something by the looks of it. but of course you couldn’t know since you hadn’t talked about it yet. but all you could think of right now was how much you’d missed him.

you placed your lips on his, kissing him gently to get used to his lips again. you’d missed his kisses, his presence, him him him. he kissed back, pulling your chest against his as he soothed his thumb over your chin. he tilted his head for a deeper angle, letting his tongue run across your bottom lip. you let him in, electricity shooting through your body, leaving you with a fuzzy feeling.

he pulled away and wrapped his red cape around you, resting his chin on your head. “I missed you so much, kid.”

and the words he spoke were true. he’d missed you so much that when he left you it felt like his lungs would collapse and his blood would run dry and like his whole body was shutting down. he loved you more than he’d ever thought he’d be capable of loving anyone or anything. like you were the sole purpose of his life, the end goal. you were everything to him.

and yet he had this feeling that he shouldn’t be with you. that he should stay far away from you, like you weren’t meant to be. it was draining and it was there with him whenever he thought of you or was in your presence - this breathtaking and anxious feeling ripping the love right out of his heart.

he squeezed you to him, kissing the top of your head. you smiled into his cape. “I missed you too. so much.” 

[redemptionif]

Intro Post

Christmas is over, and we are heading towards a new year! 🎉

Before I introduce to you our lovely interests, I may as well add my progress here since I'd rather not make another post. Anyways, progress is good lately, however I'm still writing in a slow pace, since I'd rather take my time and produce a viable product. Until I'm contented with whatever I got, I may post the demo somewhere around January.

I was just thinking to split the first chapter into 2 or 3 parts, then move on to the next since the first chapter is rather long. The demo upload would contain possibly around 18k words, as an estimate.

Still, I would do my best to really push the demo to January since I have all the time because I'm on vacation.

Anyways, have blessed new year, and belated Christmas to everyone!💙

Character Introduction

“Lys” ka / andra Vertlas (M/F)

"Once you see your objective clearly, you pursue it. No setbacks, no regrets, nothing."

Platinum blond hair, styled in a tossed look, flowing down at neck level for him; and in a wavy pattern at the end of her shoulders, this contender is nothing short of stunning. A set of sky blue eyes pierce their direction, always the confident sort. A signet ring adorns her soft beige finger, marking her lineage.

The duelist is a rather intricate sort. Showing invulnerability despite themselves leaking of it. Sure they seem to facade a hard shell, thinking anything that is an inconvenience is an obstacle. While this may be true, but their term of inconveniece is a subjective definition. Emotions, relations, desires, or even the taste of rewards are all but deceptions to their path.

Their older siblings after all failed their tasks after having to constantly meet their... companions. Lys took this as a lesson, a moral to never commit before achieving their goals. Yet, as a human being, striding this path leads to utter loneliness. You, out of all people, managed to break through their shell; igniting their cold, yet desperate heart, either as love or friend.

Alas, all things must come to an end. No matter what, their goals is an outmost important agenda in their life. Striving to be recognize by their father, and live as a threat to whom who dares to duel them. And thus, you are seen as a mistake. Of course it will break you that they suddenly drop you, and as for them? Well, it is rather complicated. The opportunity arises when you got dispositioned in the academy, and they vanished in your life.

Now that your fates are intertwined, perhaps there is an underlying affection left for you, or shatter everything entirely.

Page Dehan (M/F)

"In parallel life, I could be a comedian depriving this world of humor!"

Auburn locks fashioned in a long, braided form adorns their fair skin. Dark red swirls shine through their prominent eyes, a highlight to their above average height. A silver bracelet is worn in their left wrist; their dominant hand.

Take all things not to heart when near Page. Some may enjoy their company, others find it offensive. An airhead with all jokes and no brain; one can provide an enough details that what is in their mind is a space filled with "well crafted" jokes. It is not easy to tell whether they are sarcastic, or serious, if you know them well enough.

To those near them is fortune and a misfortune, Page is the epitome of luck. Which side of luck doesn't matter, prosperity will come, but soon does misery follow soon. But that doesn't stop Page from enjoying life, even if the wheel of fortune chose a terrible tragedy.

You saw them inside the academy, after years of trying to get in touch with them, will it be now that you choose to finally close that gap?

Yuna Retazu (F)

"It is easy to be compassionate, you just have to learn your softer side."

Raven black hair that pours just above her shoulder, fashioned straight. A gold necklace with a moon accessory is worn around her pale colored neck, which is hanging outside the hems of her shirt. Her blood red eyes are always beaming with positivity, even when everything is forlorn.

A half foreigner that is on visit, Yuna is mangled with the culture of Deshea. She has her own style of dueling back in her roots, though her father is a Deshean who taught her and mold her form.

She is fierce in fighting, but her attitude is exactly opposite. Philosophy of dueling says that stance reflects to the shape of your personality. Perhaps there is an underlying notion beneath the compassion she is built with.

If a problem does come within, would care enough to lend your hand?

Serai Penlance (M)

"It isn't a competition, it's an objective."

Some strands of dark hair is tied into a short ponytail, else it flows freely until his shoulders. A pair of brown eyes scrutinize every move and space around him. His dark skin is paired with an obsidian-like color brooch that is worn on his left chest to hang and see, as a reminder that he is from the Penlance nobility.

A brooding tall figure that could be possibly the most annoying person to interact with. Like Lys, he is objective. Unlike Lys, he will stop if there are some complications. He can be considered rude, or blunt, but he is more just.

He has a younger sister who his parents entrusts with, ever since their adventure. It was his idea to compete in tournaments to help aide his family, as there are complications inside.

If you can, will you try to find out more about this intriguing person?

Elaine Penlance (F)

"Perhaps the journey was the real treasure... I know it's cliché."

Chocolate-colored curly hair flows across her dark brown shoulders. Two brown eyes wander, as if they are deep in thought; contemplating every action. She has the same black brooch, but with a different frame located on her waist, signifying as the younger child of Penlance.

As the younger sibling, Elaine thinks that her actions should be directed by her brother, Serai. However, she still acts in her own accord, albeit rarely. Elaine is rather quite sort, choosing only to be with herself and sometimes with her brother. it can be lonely at times, but she can deal with it by reflecting with herself.

She didn't have any interest in dueling, but rather the aspect of it. She finds theory is more interesting than practice, which she has a lot of books regarding the history of dueling Deshea. Though, for her brother's sake she had to join the competition.

When you have a chance, will you be a companion to her?

If you are wondering where Rain is... you have to wait for his arrival. 👀

[nightcourtseer]

Breaking Point

Part 4/(now 5)

Summary: The tension between Rhys and Azriel finally comes to a head. The relationship between all three brothers is tested.

Read Part 1

Read Part 2

Read Part 3

Faelights flickered throughout the willow above her head. Gilding her unbound hair in a halo of gold as she looked up to the stars, as if she could find some answer that she sought within them. Still sitting primly on the iron bench, ankles properly crossed beneath the rumpled dress and stained apron she still wore.

Lucien said nothing as he crossed the garden path to sit next to her. The movement rustling the hanging branches just brushing the top of his head.

Elain did not turn to look at him, or indicate that she would acknowledge his presence. He didn’t mind. He had learned, over the brief periods he had spent with her, that she often needed the time to collect her thoughts. Had observed her interactions with the spymaster, even if it had made his very blood boil to do so.

Azriel had never pushed her to speak, to open up to him. Rather, he waited patiently, sat next to her in the garden or by the fire, perfectly fine to let her thoughts mull as he waited.

Lucien did not have a patient bone in his body. He could barely stand it in fact, when Elain had refused to speak, to tell him what was wrong.

Jesminda had never been that way. From the very moment she had set eyes on Lucien, she had teased him. Had spilled every thought that had entered her mind immediately like a pouring jar, flowing from her head and then out of her lips like a song. Lucien had watched her, in awe, as she spoke, hung on every word with bated breath as she opened her mind to him, flinging its doors wide open and ushering him in with a wide smile.

Lucien’s heart clenched, as it always did when he thought of her.

Jesminda.

A sharp inhale broke the silence of the empty garden, as Elain turned to look at him. Clutching a small, flour-dusted hand to her chest as she observed him, brows furrowed.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Lucien was not surprised that she knew. He had figured that Feyre would tell her sister about his past at some point or another in his absence. It hadn’t mattered too much at the time to him, as his focus had been directed on other matters.

But sitting now in the presence of his mate, Lucien felt as naked as he had ever felt before her.

“Yes,” he said carefully, willing his chest not to tighten once more as he spoke her name. “Jesminda.”

He tried not to cringe at what felt like a betrayal to her memory, to her spirit, wherever it now resided outside of his fire heart. Speaking it aloud to the woman who the Caudron itself had deemed to be a better choice for Lucien than her, the woman who he would never forget for as long as he lived.

A pink blush spread across the tops of Elain’s cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place to know.”

She ducked her head, shamed by the knowledge that she had most likely not even asked for.

He could not stand the urge to say something any longer.

“You apologize too much, Elain,” Lucien admitted as he turned to face her more fully, puling up one of his knees to rest on the bench seat.

He could feel her shock reverberate through the bond. The most blunt and straightforward he had ever been with her.

“Do you ever say ‘no,’ Elain?” Lucien prodded, tilting his head to the side so that he could watch her more fully, his unbound autumn strands falling across his shoulders.

Elain opened her mouth to respond, but stammered through her response.

“No, I… I mean… yes, of course.”

The pretty pink blush turned scarlet as it deepened across her features, her brown eyes wide as her gaze flickered between Lucien’s own and her shoes.

“Elain, I’m going to tell you something. I have spent too much of my life mediating between others wants and needs, placating any ruffled feathers or hurt feelings, following my duty, every instruction to a tee.”

Elain turned to look at him, captivated by his words, her fidgeting stilled at the gravity in his tone.

Even as the thought of another plagued his mind, the sight of her open, beautiful face still caused the bond to tug sharply on the rib in his chest. Some innate, conniving thing urging him to claim, to bed, to wed the female sitting across from him. Even as nothing else bridged the gap between them, besides the words he spoke as much for her as for himself.

“But if you do not stand up, if you do not say no for yourself, no one else will. Until it is too late.”

Another pang in his chest. Always too late.

The garden grew silent once more around the pair. The chaos of the night having quieted, although he could feel a lingering pair of eyes glaring down at them from the second story window.

“You always have a choice, Elain. And I’m sorry, that the rest of us have never made that clear to you.”

He paused, weighing how much he should tell her. But maybe it was the mating bond, or something else, but Lucien felt the need to go on.

“I have seen others fall victim to this, Elain. Too many of our parents, my own mother, even, miserable for centuries because they did what they were supposed to do.”

His voice grew fierce, as he felt a spark in his blood, a flicker of flame that reminded him of the vibrant, all-consuming fire of love that had once captivated him.

A reminder of the woman, the bird of fire, who waited for him on the other side of the fallen wall. A chance not yet taken, a new path not crossed, until this had been resolved.

“Neither of us deserve unhappiness, Elain. But it seems as if we ourselves have been the ones wringing that fate upon us.”

Elain’s eyes softened, as she listened to him. Not interrupting, no violent change in her expression. A quiet, observant listener that reminded him so much of any past conversation with the shadowsinger.

“We deserve happiness, Elain. If we will allow ourselves that.”

Finally, Elain nodded slowly. The slow breath that she released forming a warm cloud of air in the chilled night between them.

Lucien felt lighter, with each second that passed. Although that tug in his rib still pulled, it was weaker than it had ever been before. He hoped the same held true for Elain, as well. For the first time since she had emerged from the cauldron, he felt no desire to pull back, to strengthen that golden cord.

He could live with it. With this.

Lucien looked at Elain, truly looked at her, and saw her eyes had begun to fill with tears as they gave themselves permission, for the first time, to say “no.”

“Thank you, Lucien,” she spoke in a quiet voice, lovely as ever though it prompted nothing to flame inside of him. “I’m sorry that things are not different between us. And I’m sorry, for what you’ve lost.”

Lucien could not resist, as his head felt clearer than it had ever been in her presence. His heart no longer a stone, but weightless.

“What did I just finish telling you?” He chided, raising an eyebrow and letting his mouth twist into a feline smirk.

Elain could not help but laugh at the look on his face, biting her lip as she tried to resist, even as a tear fell down her face.

Lucien dared to brush it away with his thumb, a friendly comfort to a female that he hoped would someday truly be able to call him a friend.

“Maybe in another life, Elain Archeron,” he gave her a small, reassuring smile. “But not this one.”

Letting his hand fall back to his side, he uncrossed his leg and stood, stretching and then offering her a hand.

She looked up at him, question in her eyes as she blinked just once before taking it.

“I think there’s someone else who may wish to speak with you,” he explained as he escorted her inside on his arm.

“And I don’t think you should waste any more time.”

A/N: I was nervous since this was my first time really writing Lucien, but wow, I actually really loved it. I hope I did justice to his character, as I always try to do in headcanon stories with any non original character. I am expanding this also as you may have noticed, to include at the very least an Epilogue, if not a more in depth conversation between our favorite seer and shadowsinger.

Tag List: @illyrian-dreamer

[the-broken-truth]

Nevermore's Fading Light - Wednesday Addams [1]

Broken Truth: I don't usually write this type of content, and I won't make it a habit, but I have an idea that has been stuck in my head, and I want to see how you all would react to it. The story will be in five parts, and it will be angsty and dark - blood, gore, and everything else I could think about. There will be mentions of death, so if you're not comfortable with it, please don't read it. I'm hoping to stir some emotions and create an engaging read. Let's begin and see where the story takes us.

Nevermore was already a rather dark and soul-draining place - even with the range of different species that roamed its grounds, the school just had an aura about it that made it really hard to enjoy; most got used to this and accepted their fate, flowing with the crowd, but there was one who refused to fade into the darkness and shined brighter than the sun itself. That someone was [Name] [Surname].

[Name] [Surname] was a ball of sunshine and positive energy - spreading it around to the people who knew her. People were happy to see her and loved the energy she radiated, they loved having her around, listening to her speak, and loved it when she helped the school have functions with her family's vast wealth. Her smile was as bright as a star, she gave everyone the same respect no matter what their past consisted of and gave them a chance to prove themselves to other people - she wanted to see the good in people and make friends with everyone who crossed her path. She was best friends with Enid Sinclair - The Residental Gossip Werewolf - and Yoko - A Very Funny Vampire - She was even close with Bianca - The Queen Bee of Nevermore. Everyone loved [Name] - everyone except Wednesday Addams - The Darkness of Nevermore. [Name] remembered the day she met Wednesday - Enid introduced them and [Name] immediately became attached to Wednesday, wanting to be around her and help her see the beauty in Nevermore but Wednesday didn't care about any of that, all she wanted to do was solve the murders and escape this prison but it was clear that [Name] was going to be a thorn in her side.

[Name] would bake things for Wednesday to chew on while she was writing her novel but Wednesday would throw them all away.

[Name] would invite Wednesday to Jericho but the Addams Girl would refuse her invitation.

It was clear that [Name] was falling in love with Wednesday, Enid found out when she looked into [Name's] Art Book and saw drawings of Wednesday in it with hearts around her. Enid tried to warn [Name] that falling in love with Wednesday would hurt her more than she could ever understand but the Sunshine of Nevermore wanted to be with Wednesday and be the one to make her smile. That was her goal in life and she wasn't going to give up. It is said that pressure can burst a pipe or it could make a diamond... and let's just say... Wednesday's Pipe was close to bursting.

One day, it was raining outside - Class was out and Wednesday, along with Enid, and Yoko were walking down the hall when [Name] ran up to catch up to them. She greeted Enid and Yoko before turning to face Wednesday - who was shaking in anger after another dead end in her investigation caused her to get tense and [Name's] Voice was already irritating her. [Name] decided it was going to be the day - she was going to ask Wednesday on a date this weekend and confess her feelings to her. [Name] walked closer to Wednesday with a blush on her face and opened her mouth to speak.

"Wednesday, I have something to tell you - Would you like to go to Jericho with me this weekend? Just the two of us?" [Name] asked.

"No." Wednesday growled under her breath while her hands were trembling in anger.

"Oh, are you busy this weekend? It's okay, we can reschedule for another time and..." [Name] tried but Wednesday turned around and struck faster than a pit viper, grabbing [Name] by the front of her blazer and slamming her into the lockers, making her grunt in pain and getting the attention of the other students in the hallway.

"Wednesday!" Enid and Yoko called out in shock as Wednesday gripped the girl by her blazer, glaring into her eyes with pure hatred burning in her usually emotionless eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I want NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! YOU ARE AN ANNOYING WASTE OF SPACE! A PARASITE THAT FEEDS OF THE ATTENTION OF OTHERS! A STUPID PEOPLE PLEASER THAT HAS NO LIFE OF THEIR OWN AND TRIES TO FIND A REASON TO CONTINUE YOUR WORTHLESS LIFE! YOU ARE A WASTE OF SPACE AND FLESH! YOU SHOULD JUST DISAPPEAR AND STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" Wednesday yelled in [Name's] Face - the Sunshine of Nevermore's eyes were wide and trembling, tears threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes.

"I...I...I just wanted to make you happy, Wednesday..." [Name] whimpered in a low voice - her heart breaking into pieces.

"If you want me to be happy, then leave me the hell alone! Or better yet, disappear completely! You're a Burden and burdens should just disappear." Wednesday growled.

"...Would that make you happy, Wednesday? If I left you alone, if I disappeared, would you finally be happy? Would you smile?" [Name] asked in a hushed voice as her head hung low. Pain is clear in her voice.

"Yes! If I never see you again or hear your fucking voice, I'll be happy!" Wednesday yelled in [Name's] face before Enid finally had enough and pushed Wednesday away from [Name], who just looked at the ground. Enid and Yoko yelled at Wednesday, who just glared at them.

"I...I understand." [Name's] voice caused all 3 of them to look at her, her head was lifted: a smile on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. "Your wish shall be granted. Goodbye, Wednesday Addams." With that, she walked down the hall with her head hung and the smile never leaving her lips as the crowd of people separated to let her walk down the hall towards her dorm. Enid and Yoko glared at Wednesday as the Addams rolled her eyes and walked down the hall in the opposite direction. She needed to start back on her novel.

The next morning, Wednesday was awakened by the sound of Enid's Phone ringing - she heard the werewolf talking on the other end before she heard Sinclair yell 'WHAT?!' before throwing her blanket off her body and running out of the door, slamming it behind her. Wednesday was confused, about what caused Enid to run out of the room in such a panic. Wednesday got out of bed and opened the door, seeing Enid and some other students run down the hall; she raised her eyebrow and followed them. They were led to another hall - everyone was crowded in front of a room with the door open, Wednesday heard some people crying in the crowd.

"What the hell is going on?" Wednesday's voice caused everyone to look at her - glaring at her with hatred in their eyes.

"Oh, great! She's here!" Someone shouted with disgust in their voice.

"Lave Addams! You're nothing but a murderer!" Someone else yelled.

"This is all your fault! We don't want you here!" The last person yelled as Wednesday saw Enid marching toward her.

"Enid, what the hell is going-" Wednesday was cut off by the feeling of Enid's fist coming in contact with her cheek, sending her falling on her butt and holding her cheek - Enid just struck her.

"This... This is all YOUR FAULT, WEDNESDAY ADDAMS!" Enid barked at Wednesday, her hands shaking in anger and tears rushing down her face.

"What? I don't understand." Wednesday asked.

"It's [Name] - SHE'S DEAD, WEDNESDAY!" Those words made Wednesday's eyes widen and her heart freeze. [Name] - The Sunshine of Nevermore - was dead?

"That's... That's impossible - we just saw her yesterday." Wednesday said as she picked herself off the ground. Enid pointed at the open door - silently telling Wednesday to go look for herself. Wednesday looked at the door and slowly started walking through the crowd of pissed-off people until she reached the opened door and walked into the room. The sight caused her blood to freeze in her veins.

[Name's] body was lying in the middle of the floor - a blood knife weakly clutched in her right hand while a folded piece of paper with a [Lipstick Color] Kiss Mark was in her other hand; a deep gash across her neck. The blood was splattered all over the ground by [Name's] neck, it was clear what happened - [Name] had slit her own throat.

As an Addams, Wednesday was used to death but this...this was too much for her to bear. Wednesday looked at the paper in [Name's] pale hand and reached down to pull it from her grasp, opened it, and started reading - each word made her heart break more.

Dear Wednesday,

When you first arrived at Nevermore, I was amazed and enchanted by your beauty - your eyes were deep and beautiful like black pearls, mysterious and alluring. I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to see the real Wednesday Addams, not just the myth that everyone was talking about; I knew that there was more to you than what everyone was saying. The longer I was around you, the more I learned about you, and the deeper in love I fell for you. I don't know what it was about you but I knew that I wanted to be the one who made you smile, who showed your love, who made you happy. All I ever wanted was to see your smile, hear your laughter, and make you happy. I have given you your wish, I have removed myself from your life, and even as I take my last breath, all I can think about is your smile. Please, smile for me, Cara Mia. Smile and be happy now that I am no longer around to anger you.

I love you

Goodbye, My Love.

Goodbye, Wednesday Addams.

Wednesday's hands were shaking, and her eyes were stinging with tears, as she looked down at [Name's] body - mainly, the small smile on her pale face. Wednesday fell to her knees as she dropped the letter and wrapped her arms around [Name's] cold body, picking it off the ground, pulling it in her lap, and hugging her - resting her head on [Name's] chest as if she was listening to her heartbeat. However, there was nothing there.

No sound.

No warmth.

No rhythm.

The Sunshine of Nevermore was gone...and she was the one to blame.

[End of Part One]

Broken Truth (Closing the shadows in her hand): Well, that's my first time writing angst. What are your thoughts? Did I tug your heartstrings?

[rynneer]

Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing.

She’s carrying his child

Chapter Three: Mine

Nighttime secrets.

do you remember, we were sitting there by the water? you put your arm around me for the first time

-Mine, Taylor Swift

Soft, silvery moonlight floods your bedchambers, casting everything in an eerie glow. You groan and pull the blanket over your head, doing your best to block out the light that has kept you from sleep for the past two hours. Normally, you’d be in awe of how clear the night sky is in Middle Earth, how bright the moon. But tonight, all you want is sleep. It was a long, hard day of riding before the Company made it to Rivendell. You close your eyes and focus on the sounds of the valley.

Running water and cascading waterfalls.

Crickets and cicadas.

Footsteps outside your room.

Footsteps outside your room.

You sit bolt upright and fumble for your dagger by the bedside, cursing as it clatters to the floor.

“I hope you weren’t planning on stabbing me.” Fíli appears in the doorway, hands up in surrender. “May I come in?”

You sigh in relief. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Jesus, Fíli, you scared the shit out of me.”

The golden-haired dwarf steps through the threshold, slowly lowering his hands. He looks calm, but you can see a nervous twitch in his right hand. “I was wondering if you would join me for a walk?”

“Now? Fíli, it’s–” you check your watch, “–one a.m. Why are you even awake?”

“I could not find sleep.” With just a few strides, he’s beside your bed, hand outstretched. You take it and let him pull you to your feet, smoothing your nightgown with your other hand. He glances at your chest for a moment and quickly turns his head away, cheeks flushing. You’re suddenly very conscious of your appearance. The elves gifted you several nightgowns made of sheer, white fabric, leaving little to the imagination. Your cheeks flush as well and you cross your arms over your chest tightly, mumbling something about a chill.

The stones are cool beneath your bare feet as you and Fíli make your way down a winding path to the river at the bottom of the valley. “I found a nice place to sit,” he says, taking your hand and leading you to an outcropping of large, flat rocks that hang over the water. You lower yourself down and let your legs dangle over the edge, toes just barely brushing the water’s surface. Fíli settles beside you. For the first time, you notice that he, too, is wearing clothes of elvish make. A plain, silver tunic over matching pants. He starts when you touch his sleeve, rubbing the silky fabric between your fingers.

“Better not let Thorin see you in this,” you chuckle. “He’d throw a fit if he knew his heir was wearing elvish jammies.”

Fíli shrugs. “He can say what he wants—it’s comfortable.” His eyes find yours, and he lifts a hand to brush against the flowing sleeve of your own elvish nightwear. He trails his fingers along the back neckline until they reach your other shoulder, where he changes trajectory, bringing his hand down to your waist. Fíli doesn’t break eye contact, but his touch is shaky, hesitant, as if waiting for an answer.

With your heart in your throat, you settle into him, laying your head on his shoulder. Giving him permission. “Is this still part of Thorin wanting you and Kíli to keep an eye on me?” you murmur.

Fíli smiles slowly, tightening his arm around you and pulling you closer. “No,” he whispers. There’s a pleasant pressure as he rests his head against yours. “This is just me.”

The two of you sit like that for a while in silence, holding each other up. You wonder if he can hear your pulse racing. You had always admired the pair of princes as the youngest and prettiest dwarves from the movies. The two were obviously intended to be heart-throbs, and it worked. But it was completely different actually being in Middle Earth, seeing them in flesh and blood and learning their personalities. Kíli is hotheaded and impulsive. Fíli shares his fire, but tempers it with more caution as he watches out for his little brother. It was that caring nature that first attracted you, making you long to be the object of his attention, his protection.

And here, beside the river, wrapped in his warmth, a wicked thought enters your mind.

“Fíli?”

“Hm?”

“You can swim, right?” You pull away from him, tilting your head with what you hope is an innocent face.

“Of course. Why–”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as you push him into the water, dodging the splash and giggling. Fíli pops back up and shakes his long hair from his face, looking back up at you in shock. “You little devil!” he cries, grabbing your foot and pulling you down into the cool water with him. You shriek as you go under. Your feet find the bottom quickly, and one push into the mud sends you back above the surface, the water reaching up to your shoulders. Opening your eyes, you find yourself face-to-face with the dwarf. Fíli’s impossibly blue eyes are wide, as if seeing you for the first time. Then his gaze shifts down to your chest, where the wet fabric clings to every little curve. He bites his lip.

You blink innocently. “I guess we should go change out of our wet clothes before the elves find us.”

Fíli frowns. After a few seconds, a slow, devilish smile spreads across his face. He moves his arms beneath the water to grip your waist, heaving you up onto the riverbank before pushing himself up. He lets you gather your dripping skirt before scooping you up with a grunt. You lean into his broad chest and wrap your arms around his neck. Through his wet tunic you can hear his racing heartbeat. It’s oddly comforting, knowing he’s just as nervous as you are. Or excited…

But you’re disappointed when Fíli leaves you alone in your chambers with a polite bow. Crestfallen, you slip into a dry nightgown and retrieve your dagger from the floor, replacing it on the bedside table.

“I thought we agreed there’d be no stabbing?”

A shirtless Fíli leans in your doorway with a sly smile. He closes the distance between you, placing his hands on your hips. His expression turns tender as he leans close, resting his forehead against yours. Heat coils in your core, and you press into him. Droplets of water from his still-dripping braids sneak down the back of your nightgown, making you shiver. Fíli’s grip moves up to your waist and he lifts you up, placing you on the bed. He pulls back, lightly running his knuckle down your jawbone. In his eyes is a question, a request for permission.

Instead of speaking, you reach out and finger the bead at the end of one of his braids. Fíli reaches up and catches your hand, sliding the bead off and into your palm in a single motion. “Turn,” he orders softly.

You do, and he gathers your long, wet hair in his hands. His deft fingers work quickly, intertwining strands like weaving together cloth. In no time, you have two delicate braids joined at the back of your head.

He reaches for the bead in your hand, but stops. “Y/N,” he murmurs in your ear. “Do you understand what this means? If I put this bead in your hair?”

Breath hitching, you nod. Fíli takes the bead and ties off the braids. He turns you to face him, and in his eyes is a new look of wonder, a new tenderness, but it’s still tempered by hesitation. The unasked question remains unanswered.

You answer it now. Leaning in close, you tangle your hands in his hair and press your lips to his.

Fíli smiles against your mouth and deepens the kiss, pushing you down onto the bed. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss and pulling back to look at you. “For you.” He drags his fingers lightly down your jaw, your neck, brushing your collarbone so gently with his calloused hands. It draws a whimper from you, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down, the two of you rolling over to put you on top.

“I’ve waited longer,” you breathe, kissing him again, running your hands down his sides, now slick with sweat. His warm hands sneak up your arms and pull the loose sleeves from your shoulders at the same moment that you hook your thumbs around the waistband of his pants. The rest is a blur, until the two of you collapse in a sweaty, euphoric daze, drifting into a warm and hazy sleep.

Kíli knows something is wrong as soon as he wakes and his brother is not beside him. You and Bilbo received private quarters, while the dwarves were doubled up in rooms lower down in the valley. He kicks off the blanket, and stumbles sleepily to the door.

“Fíli?” His shout is met with nothing more than the faint twittering of birds in the misty dawn light. Frowning, he climbs the pathway to where he saw you head last night after dinner and drinks—maybe Fíli passed by your room on his way to… wherever he is.

“Y/N? Have you seen–” Kíli can’t even finish. His jaw hangs open as he takes in the sight before him: his brother, his big brother, tangled in the sheets with a woman. With Y/N. “Heh. Heh heh heh.”

Kíli’s building laughter rouses you from sleep. You blink blearily, sitting up with a deep sigh. You look around in confusion for the source of the noise and yelp when you find Kíli doubled over in your doorway. Color blooming on your cheeks, you snatch up the blanket to cover your chest and smack Fíli on the arm. “Go get your brother,” you groan in lieu of a good morning.

Fíli leaps from the bed with a strangled cry and tackles his brother, nearly choking him to shut him up. “Have you never heard of knocking?” he hisses.

Rolling your eyes, you gather the blanket around your shoulders and get out of bed, yanking Fíli off of Kíli before he smothers him. “I was having such a lovely dream,” you grumble.

“Was it before or after the se–” Kíli doesn’t to get to finish his sentence before Fíli is on top of him again. He shoves his older brother away, then freezes, staring at your hair.

“What?” you ask with a glare.

“Fíli,” Kíli says quietly. “Thorin is going to kill you.” He picks himself up from the floor and reaches for your hair, lifting the bead at the end of the braids to the light.

Fíli scrambles up off of the floor as well and swats Kíli’s hand, pulling you against his side protectively. “I– she–” he stammers. Kíli raises an eyebrow, and Fíli takes a deep breath. “We won’t tell him. Or anyone. Right?” He fixes Kíli with a stern glare, an expression nearly identical to Thorin’s own glower.

“Fee, it’s not a matter of telling or not telling. A courting braid? That is telling enough. You know that.”

It’s strange to hear Kíli be the voice of reason, scolding his brother. Gently, you release yourself from Fíli’s hold, laying a hand on his arm. With the other, you reach behind your head and remove the bead from your hair, pressing it into Fíli’s palm. Then you lower yourself back onto the side of the bed, pulling him with you. “Fíli,” you murmur. From the look on his face, his dejected eyes, you’d think you’d kicked a puppy in front of him. “Fíli,” you say again. “I don’t want to make any trouble for you with Thorin.”

“But–”

“Shh,” you interrupt, squeezing his arm and doing your best to smile. “Let’s see this whole quest bullshit thing through first, hm?”

“Gandalf doesn’t seem too eager to leave Rivendell for at least another week,” Kíli adds. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to fu–” This time it’s you who shuts up the younger prince with a well-timed pillow aimed at his face. Kili holds up his hands in surrender, finally relenting and ducking out of the room.

Satisfied, you lean in for a soft kiss, Fíli’s mustache braids tickling your cheeks. He returns the kiss, placing his hand on your back to pull you in. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. “Now get out of here before Thorin wakes up.”