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k-hotchoisan · 1 year ago

Note

(Updated version because I forgot to add one more detail!) Hello! Can I request an ATEEZ smut based on the song I Want You by SB19? Any member will do please?

Here's the Music Video: https://youtu.be/s25Yi6pZnMs?si= ZpzmmV6Yvy1Wa4bZ

And the sound Audio:

https://open.spotify.com/track /16GGH8OF6LISUTTbm8421f?si= 2zklm5olQIKxp2yodrwv1Q

Note: SB19 is a boy group from the Philippines (Which is my country (I'm born from the Philippines by the way haha))), which they became super popular because of the song "GENTO" (Which the song became super popular they did the dance challenge.) (San did that dance challenge! (https://youtu.be/zn8GzEhPqkl?si= qrHRBKWcasrAW2HC))

Thabk you and have a great time. 🌹

~Queennie

Hey Queennie (and also to my fellow readers) Thank you for waiting for this. I was in a rut and not mentally doing well. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me 😭🩷

Also note: YES IVE HEARD ABOUT SB19!! The song got me side eyeing in the best ways possible HAHAHA

The girl in front of him is stunning, but even when he’s all over her, he can’t seem to get you out of his head. So when his phone buzzes and it’s you, he finds himself standing before you with another chance he’s willing to gamble.

Genres/warnings: smut, angst(?) cream pies, orgasms, unprotected sex, fwb to exes to lovers?, Mingi is actually so hung up on you, reconciliation

🩷 Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs

10 months.

10 months since you both stopped talking.

Mingi thought he’d move on by then. The girl in front of him was absolutely stunning, her hands hanging loosely around his neck. She smells like vanilla, but he feels that it’s overpowering. He can’t really see her under the dim flashing lights of the club, but he doesn’t pull away when her hands pull his neck closer to kiss her.

He tastes the fruity cocktail in between her lips, and he can think about is the taste of yours, the feeling of your lips pressed against his. The mere thought of it quickly turns into something he craves. Something he was deprived of for 10 months. Mingi’s hands that were on her waist shift lower down her sides, while she pulls him closer and deeper into the kiss. She thinks they’re getting lost in it. Mingi is definitely lost, though, not in the kiss.

All he thinks about is how your waist feels when he slowly touches her up, and his cock strains against his jeans when he thinks of the way you would moan in his mouth, while your hands run all over him, and how you’d edge him slowly with your hands around his cock while you make him melt against your lips. He’d always pull back breathless and desperate. Always.

His eyes slowly open when she pulls back.

Fuck.

Mingi feels guilty. It’s as if he’s doing something wrong to you. It’s driving him fucking nuts that he can’t see you, and the worst part of it all is that it was his fault. So damn fucked up that he was the one who initiated to stop whatever the two of you had.

“Mingi”, she calls out and his attention snaps back to her. This is his third date with this chick he met online, but for some reason, she simply looks like a stranger. Her fingers tap along his jaw.

“Should we go your place or mine?” She asks as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

Mingi doesn’t even realise he’s half hard. But she probably did. He weighs his decisions. And then he realises he really wants to fuck.

But fuck her? He’s hesitant. He obviously has someone else in mind.

“Not today. I have plans early tomorrow”, he lies. She’s about to pout and try to convince him, until she’s interrupted by Mingi’s phone buzzing in his pants.

“Sorry, give me a moment”, he pauses to take the call. He puts his cell to his ear and his breath is stuck in his throat when he hears who’s at the other end of the line.

“Yunho…? Could you pick me up?”

Mingi blinks. The fact that you broke the no contact meant that you never blocked him even though you said you would. His heart is racing in his ears.

“Hello? Yunho? Are you there?”

It makes him snap out his trance a little.

“Yeah. Where are you at?”

“Uhh, the family mart near xxx club. I’m tryna sober up.”

You’re near. It’s not too far away.

“Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks. Oh, and don’t tell Mingi.”

That’s all you say before you hang up on him. He’s still in disbelief. No, wait, maybe it’s a chance. He glances down at the girl, who’s starting to look impatient.

“Uh. Something just came up. I’m sorry we had to cut this short but it’s kind of an emergency.”

That’s when Mingi realises he’s a fucking terrible liar.

She rolls her eyes, evidently annoyed at the interference. Mingi doesn’t even let her respond before he nods quickly and disappears into the crowd and out of the club. He knows that this will have repercussions, but it’s one he’s willing to risk.

There you are. Still looking absolutely breathtaking even when you’re trying to keep yourself together despite the alcohol. It was as if the 10 months never happened. He’s breathless from almost sprinting to where you were at.

He stands before you, watching the way you’re scrolling through your phone mindlessly, the light from the screen illuminating the tear stains on your cheeks. Were you crying? He takes a breath, wondering how you’d react to seeing him after 10, long, agonising months.

“Y/n.”

Your eyebrows scrunch for a second at the familiar husky voice. You look up, and your mind blanks out when you see Mingi standing right before you.

“Mingi? What the fuck are you doing here? Did Yuyu send you here? Fucking son of a-“

“It wasn’t Yunho,” Mingi cuts you off. “It was me who you called.”

You blink slowly at him, processing what he just said before narrowing your eyes at him.

“There’s no fucking way. I’m pretty sure I blocked you”, you reply with a frown, before opening your call logs, scrolling through and your frown is replaced quickly with wide eyes and disbelief.

Goddamn, did you sober up quick after that. You glance back at Mingi, who has an unreadable expression on his face. You cover your face with your hands, feeling your face flush, but definitely not from the alcohol this time.

Mingi takes a seat beside you, leaning forward towards you. His heart is racing as fast as a race car right now. It’s been forever since he’s this close to you.

“Ugh. This is so embarrassing”, you mutter in your hands before you drop them to your lap.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about”, he assures, which only makes you more flustered and borderline irritated.

“You could have called Yunho. You didn’t have to come”, you jab, not wanting to look at him, because he’s staring at you so intently. To Mingi, at least, you’re like home. The relationship you both had no label, all because he was so fucking foolish for thinking it would never be more than what it was.

He was wrong, clearly, because now he’s here beside you, and he wouldn’t ask for anything else.

He’s determined.

Determined to make things right, at least.

“I was the one who you called, not Yunho,” Mingi replies, unwavering.

“It was a mistake”, you sigh, feeling the tears pool around your eyes. Even though Mingi is the last person on earth you wanted to see now, you can’t help but crave for him.

“No it wasn’t. Do you know what’s an actual mistake?” Mingi retorts back. His back is straightened, and he wears a frown.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. Probably coming over? Probably seeing you again? Probably you? You remember how it started like it was fresh from yesterday—it started when he had trapped you on the couch, his tall frame looming over yours when he was trying to get back at you for teasing him.

Like a spark, it ignited bright and burned like a forest fire. So intense that you couldn’t get him out of your system. You pretended you were okay with the arrangement even though the flames were burning through your feelings too. Everything about it was so addicting. If this was forest fire, you were the moth. Until three months later, he suddenly called it off.

“We should stop. I’m not sure what I want right now.”

You shut your eyes and your head spins. “What?”

Mingi swallows hard before his words leave his mouth, “whatever I said 10 months ago. That was a mistake.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, staring at Mingi. And it was a fucking mistake. He’s looking at you with those fucking puppy eyes he knows you’re weak for. Well, now you’re completely sober. But you don’t follow. Why the fuck is he telling you all of this now?

“Elaborate”, you challenge, facing the male.

Mingi covers it up very well but you can tell that he’s getting nervous and flustered.

“Calling it off. It was a mistake,” he answers, his fists balling.

You scoff, even though your heart is bursting. No, you’re not surrendering to him. Not yet. “You’re telling me this now? Weren’t you seeing someone?”

“Was”, he replies a little too quickly, a little too enthusiastically. “Then you called.”

There is a drawn out silence between the both of you momentarily.

“Let’s go. I’ll bring you home, y/n.”

You stare at him for a moment as another load of silence follows. You know it’s a bad idea. You know you shouldn’t let him in again.

Mingi seems to pick up on your concern and distance, and especially your coldness. “I won’t do anything to you. I promise. I’ll leave if you want me to. But it’s not safe for you to just be alone here.”

You know he’s right. He may be an asshole for doing what he did but at least you know Mingi is a man of his word.

His hand is outstretched towards you, and you hesitantly let your fingers graze against his palm. Mingi swears he feels electricity shoot down his spine just from your touch, and a simple one—just a soft brush of your fingers has him ready to be on his knees for you.

You let go quickly when you regain composure and follow Mingi to his car.

The ride back is quiet, much to your relief, letting you sober up as you let the cold night wind brush along your cheeks. What you don’t realise is the amount of glances Mingi casts you when he stops at the red light, and he sees the soft glow of your tear stains.

Mingi pulls over, and as before you could unbuckle the seatbelt with your own two hands, Mingi’s big frame looks over you, his face inches away from you. His gaze catches yours and you hold a breath, expecting him to do something.

Which he does—unbuckle your seat.

In truth, Mingi really wants to kiss you. So bad. To feel you up. He’s so starved it’s insane how he survived ten whole months after foolishly breaking off something that shouldn’t even mean anything. Something that was just simply casual.

“I won’t lay a finger on you if you don’t want me to”, Mingi reminds you as he pulls the car door open for you to leave.

At your doorstep, he doesn’t leave just yet though. He haphazardly dumps his keys onto the little tray you have to hold yours. You don’t say anything. After all, this place was once where he resided with you. He knew it like the back of his hand.

Just like you.

It’s a hard feeling to shake, you think. The familiarity rushes back to you, as if the 10 months never happened. You wish it didn’t.

You push past him and he watches you (thankfully) walk a straight line towards your bathroom. He lets you freshen up, and tells himself he won’t stay for too long—just long enough to make sure you’re alright and going to sleep in peace. He shuts his eyes for a while, letting the soft, cold blows of the air conditioner prick his cheeks.

You step out of the shower, and you see him sprawled on the couch, his slow breaths heavy and steady. Despite every bone in your body telling you not to, you take a seat beside him. He stirs slightly before his sleepy eyes meet yours, barely open before he turns away, combing back his hair.

“You shouldn’t drive if you’re tired, Mingi”, you say. “Go take a shower. I’ll pass you your clothes.”

A prick blooms at the corner of your heart when you say that. You never had the courage to contact Mingi to return his clothes when he was staying over. You were sure you had your clothes kept at his place too. Mingi nods as he leaves for the bathroom, leaving you with your web of thoughts. The resentment was boiling whenever you thought about it, and especially when you are in your room, pulling out the lowest drawer and reluctantly reaching out to feel the fabric that Song Mingi wore, some you wore too and you knew he loved it when you did that.

How did you let him lure you into a situation ship like this?

You dump his clothes onto the counter and climb onto your bed. There was no awkwardness, just tension, and a lot of unspoken words. Words that you were determined to pull out of him so you could finally move on in peace.

There he was, leaving the shower looking like a whole new person. His eyes look a lot softer now, accompanying his damp hair when he has his make up removed. He doesn’t get on the bed.

“What are you trying to get at, Song Mingi?” You question, your eyes darting to him, your fingers tugging each other in anxiety. “We weren’t anything to begin with.”

Mingi presses his lips before he speaks, making sure he doesn’t say it wrongly. “I’m not over you.”

He says it with such distinction that you’re almost taken aback. He catches your confused gaze. But he continues.

“I can’t move on.”

You only scoff. “And that’s my problem, because?”

It’s only then he slowly inches towards you, and you’ve never seen it before in his eyes—desperation?

But you hate that you’re feeling the exact same way. Deep inside you wonder if things could go back to the way they were.

“No. That’s my problem, y/n.” Mingi responds, his finger nervously pinching against the bedsheets. “I’m still hung up over you even after all of this.”

It’s a trap. A trap so big and obvious that a bear could fucking see it from a mile away.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was immature and confused about where that would have gone”, he sighs. “Especially during all the days you’d spend with me. And before I realised what I had done, I had already fallen for you, so hard.”

Your eyes narrow.

“Coward”, you spit, knowing you were in the exact predicament, for a spilt second, on the end of being foolish—thinking that it had meant something to him.

His fingers brushed against yours, his eyes wandering to your figure as more tears stream down your face. Why were you even crying again? He’s obviously playing around with you.

Mingi is on the bed now, inches away from you, his hands gently lifting your face, his thumbs brushing away the burning tears.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. Out of every mistake I’ve made with you, this was the worst.”

You’re lured into his pretty eyes again, like a puppy begging for forgiveness. You grow so weak every time. You press the side of your cheek onto Mingi’s large and warm hands, the comfort of it never once foreign to you. He brushes his thumb against your cheek.

And Mingi then decides to just throw all of his cards in, his heart like sledgehammer as he lets those words slip from his lips.

“Tell me you want me”, Mingi whispers, his fingertips brushing against your neck to hold your gaze with his—so intense, so overwhelming. “And I’ll be yours.”

Such an obvious trap.

“I want you”, you whisper back, looking at him through your wet lashes.

Mingi feels his heart pounding and fireworks explode in his head. He was ready for you to push his hands away, chase him out, tell him you never want to see him again.

Mingi glances down at your lips and then back into your eyes, before you shut yours and let him completely trap you. Rash decision, stupid decision — your mind is screaming at you while you’re tasting the memories Mingi left you in his kiss. His hands slide down your back, letting lie down properly onto the bed. He pauses in to take in the sight of you—so endearing and gentle. He feels that he should be jailed for wanting to ruin it all and keep it for himself. The thought that no other men could have you like this comforts him, for now, at least.

Mingi tugs against your nightwear, lifting it over your head in one swift gesture before he’s back to kissing you with much desperation. There it is. Your taste. The only one that matters for the rest of his life. His cravings will never be satisfied. If it’s you, he wants more, more, more.

He pulls back, watching the way you’re so flushed and gorgeous. He turns you around, letting your shoulder hit his chest and he presses against you, his erection enough to convey how he feels, that’s for sure.

His fingers brush so lightly against your shoulders, the electric running down your back until he reaches your waist.

“I love you. I adore you”, he hums into your ear, melting every and any sense of rationale that remained in you, no answer but soft whimpers escape your lips as he kisses the nape of your neck to your shoulders, his fingers wet with spit, rolling your nipples in between them. Jagged breaths are the only thing that barely keep you intact for now, before your head is on his shoulder, begging for him.

“It’s been awhile. Don’t you think that’ll be a tight fit, baby?” Mingi questions, his boxers now off and his cock pressing hard against your ass.

You squeeze your thighs in response at the thought of his cock just splitting you open like before. It’s so tempting.

You feel something press against your wet folds, and it’s his fingers. Mingi’s free hand coaxes your thighs to open up and relax for him as his fingers slip right into your sopping cunt, and you gasp. Mingi’s arm snakes around your waist, and one of your opened leg is trapped by Mingi—he’s making sure you don’t close, not until he makes you cream and scream everywhere. You palm against his bare erection, pumping him so painfully slow for the sake of listening to his low, breathy groans right in your ear. He never fails to tell you how much he loves it—when you flick your wrist teasingly at make sure he hears the wet squelching sounds. But for now, your concentration is everywhere, especially when Mingi is stuffing you full with two of his fingers, brushing teasingly against the spongy spot he knows that drives you up the wall.

Your eyes flutter open, completely letting go of his cock. “M-Mingi”, you squeal when his fingers not only curl against the spongy area, but also repetitively fucks your pretty hole stupid, cream completely staining his fingers as it only lubes your clit for him to rub his finger on. Your mind is in a haze, only the thought of letting Mingi finger fuck an orgasm out of you prominent.

So good that you try to wipe the drool seeping past your lips. The feeling builds up so quickly, Mingi notices the way you’re clenching around your fingers. The way you’re grabbing onto his arm and pressing your face into his neck, telling him, “cumming. I’m cumming, Mingi. Fuck me”, was enough for him to pull his fingers out, and stuff his cock in—while you were still mid orgasm, clenching and fluttering with his cock in you. Mingi has his eyes rolled back at the sensation of you just clenching around him, giving your clit wet circular movements to send you over the fucking moon. You’re barely down from your high, panting when you realise that Mingi is inching himself inside you.

Your breath is stuck in your throat when his cock is fully in you, all the way to the brim. Mingi sighs in pleasure—this is what he loves. This is the familiarity he could never get tired of—or rather—crave so fucking badly.

Your mind had completely been melted. Sex with Mingi was always so mind blowing. You hate to swear that you would never get enough. His cock is so big and you love how well he fits into you, and his comments of, “fit me so fucking good, baby. I think if I move I’ll just cum”, as he hisses and forces himself to hold back for bursting.

Mingi’s fingers press against your jaw, your attention seeping back to him. He looks at you lovingly before he watches your face contort with pleasure the moment he pulls back, then fucks you with a thrust.

“You don’t know how much I want you”, he whines, even with his cock just pounding into you from below. “I promise I’ll treat you better. Love you better. Fuck you better.”

You’d let Mingi do whatever he wanted with you. That’s the honest fucking truth. You know you were gonna regret this. Everything is screaming at you at one moment and then completely muted when Mingi’s husky voice lulls you over.

“That’s my good girl. Oh god. You’re good at taking my cock.”

Heaven would jealous at how good you’re feeling being fucked by Song Mingi.

You tremble slightly, more tears pooling at the corner of eyes. Not from sadness or melancholy. The only kind that Mingi is able to pull out from you when his cock is deep inside you.

“It’s okay. That’s a good girl. Let it go for me”, he hums into your ear, his arms holding you down despite the fact that your orgasm is hitting you in waves, spots of white bursting into your eyelids as you feel tour cunt convulse against Mingi’s cock, cream just gathering at the base of his dick as he still continues to jut his cock right into you, sending your legs shaking with pleasure. He swears he wants to record your orgasms and seal it somewhere where only he can access it. He could get addicted.

His thrusts turn more desperate. The loud sounds of wet cock fucking a wet pussy echoing around the walls while you’re crying Mingi’s name.

“That’s a good princess”, he assures, rubbing your thighs, even though sticky with fluids before he thrusts himself right into you for the final time, your legs trembling.

“So much. Mingi, that’s so much”, you swallow hard as you feel him pump his cum right into you. Even that feels so fucking heavenly.

“It’s all for you, princess. We can keep going. I’ll always have more for you. So much that it’ll leak out of your pretty hole for days on end”, he utters so softly in your ear. Your eyes are still glazed from the mind-numbing pleasure. The last thing you could remember was a kiss planted on your forehead before a muffled “Goodnight”, before you completely doze off, your worries saved for the next day.

Morning kicks in, and your eyes are barely able to open, the exhaustion weighing on you from the previous night, so does the realisation. Fuck. You rise up, your hand on your forehead. Then you realise another thing—the other half of your bed is empty. You reach out to your phone on the nightstand—no messages either. Frustration builds in your body. But this time, it was your own foolishness to blame you think to yourself, as you slide off the bed, the soreness of your lower body a burning reminder of what transpired the night before. Instead of the bitterness that lingers in your mouth, you wonder if that should have been your closure.

Freshened up, you walk to your kitchen area to grab a meal, and your eyes widen.

Mingi stands there, pulling the plastic cover off. He pauses briefly when his eyes meet yours.

“Hey. Good morning”, Mingi greets, his morning voice dropping an octave lower. He seems completely fine, as long as you aren’t able to hear his heartbeat going at miles per hour. Would you just chase him out? Would you promise to never see him again? His mouth is dry again, even though he’s had a couple of glasses of water thinking about what to say to you.

“I bought takeout. Come and have some”, he gestures. You don’t question it, taking the seat across him. You follow his movements—the way he settles the utensils—handing you yours first, before he pours you a cup of water. Then he sits himself comfortably.

There is another moment of silence before you speak up.

“About last night…”

You see the grip on his chopsticks tighten.

“Wasn’t a mistake either”, he says, his gaze trailing the food before he meets yours.

“Is it?” You reply, shoving a couple of egg rolls into your mouth. You didn’t expect that answer from him.

“I thought I could move on. But no matter how many girls I came across, it was always you. No one felt as right as you did. I was scared before, but I’m not now.”

You can’t meet his eyes. You’re unsure if it’s because of swirl of emotions that have started bubbling, or because you’ve denied it for so long, that it’s beginning to slowly bleed out.

“Let me make it up to you. For the 10 months”, Mingi professes. “If you’ll have me.”

You finally are able to hold his gaze. Your mind is swimming is dopamine, but you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction, just yet. A small smile curls at the corner of your lips.

“Then you better do a good job.”

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cursedbycain · 1 month ago

Text

unlocked - Yan x Lane

tagging: @rc-catalog

synopsis: Yan isn't going to let a cell get in his way

tw: kissing, mentions of getting shot, rated T

wc: 1.2k

“Do you want me to get you out of here?” Yan offers. It’s tempting but it’s not what Lane needs. She shakes her head, pulling her sleeves over her fingers.

“I’ll be released soon.” The answer doesn’t sit well with Yan. He stands and begins to fiddle with the lock. She raises an eyebrow at his actions.

“What are you doing?” She asks. He doesn’t respond, just yanks at the lock, and somehow, it snaps open. He smiles as he opens the door.

“Donovan uses shitty locks.” Yan steps into the cell, sitting next to her. His warmth radiates from him and she presses herself closer.

“They might think you tried to break me out.” She lets her head rest on his shoulder. It had been a stressful few days hiding out with Cain and Abel. It was nice to see Yan again.

“Who cares what they think? I’m just glad you’re alright.” She can’t help but look at him quizzically. It felt odd to hear him say these things. Sometimes she wondered if she even knew Yan at all, if they had gotten close simply because of their shared loneliness.

“You are alright, right?” He seems to take her silence as a sign she’s been hurt, looking over her more thoroughly.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just….exhausted.” He frowns slightly, in that cute way that always makes her wish she could take a picture of him.

“You do sleep pretty restlessly. Do you want to try and sleep now? I’ll keep watch.” Oddly, she doesn’t want to sleep. Talking to Yan was more energizing than rest.

“No, I’d rather just stay up and talk for a bit.” She intertwines their fingers, his bandages rough against her. He stares at their hands for a moment too long.

“I never thought it would bother me, not being able to feel my hands. I used to be relieved, cause I couldn’t feel any pain. It didn’t occur to me that I would miss…other sensations.” His hazel eyes are darkened as he looks at her.

“Will you tell me about it?” She didn’t like to pry too much into Yan’s past. It was clearly a painful time for him, from what she had pieced together. He’s quiet for a moment.

“I went to military school after boarding school. That’s where I met Pavel. Dmitry was put in charge of us, since he was more experienced.” His hand tightens at the mention of his old friend.

“Some things never change.” She notes and he smiles ever so slightly.

“Yeah. One day, Pavel and I got sent out on a mission. There-there were so many infected. We both got hurt pretty bad. He was…covered in veins. I barely got him back to the base. Dmitry found us.” His face flashes with anger at the memory. She rubs his arm and he takes a breath.

“He couldn’t let us in. Said something about a damn security risk or something. I could barely think. All I remember is watching him put a bullet in my only friends’ head. Then he pointed it at me.” She leans up to press a soft kiss to the edge of his scar. The anger in his eyes simmers down.

“He gave it to you?” She confirms, and he nods. Lane pushes her anger at the General aside. When they’re safe, she’ll deal with him.

“I assume he wanted me dead too. But he missed. I woke up alone, in the snow, with half my face blown off. I had to run before they came for me and found out I was alive. That’s why I can’t feel much. Fingers damn near froze off a couple times.” He traces shapes onto her hand, not wanting to meet her eyes.

She pulls her hand away, wrapping her arms around him to hug him tightly. He stiffens for a moment before returning it, hugging her just as tight. Yan tugs her down to lay next to him without breaking the hug. It’s messy and their limbs tangle but it couldn’t be more comfortable.

“I’m glad you’re alright. And that you’re here. I think I would go crazy without you.” She mumbles into his soft black hair. It’s a vulnerable thought, one she’s never shared with him before. But it was true. He shifts to tilt his head up and look at her eyes. She can’t quite believe how pretty he is sometimes. The flecks of green in his eyes and the softness of his lips always called to her. Even when she barely knew him.

“I think you would find company.” His voice carries a hint of teasing and she furrows her brows.

“What do you mean?” She lets her fingers card through his hair as he laughs and shakes his head.

“So many people around here can barely tear their eyes from you. But I suppose you’d have to tear your nose out of that book to notice.” His grip tightens just a bit, still smiling. She can only roll her eyes in response.

“I noticed you, didn’t I?” He tilts his head back to laugh.

“I suppose that’s right.” Yan lays back down, his face mere inches from hers.

The exhaustion starts to ache in Lane’s bones but she can’t bring herself to close her eyes. His hand rests on her hip and all she wants is to be closer to him. As if he can read her mind, his grip tightens and he pulls her closer.

“You look tired.” He whispers, warm, minty breath fanning over her face. She shakes her head and presses a kiss to his lips.

“I don’t want to sleep. Not yet.” His fingers run along her spine, making her shudder. He kisses her jaw lightly.

“I was really worried for you. Nearly gave me a heart attack when you jumped into those abominations. Then you were gone for days. I-I was worried that you…” He swallows the words, looking at her tensely beneath his lashes. She shakes her head, running her hands over him. She isn’t sure how much of it he can feel, but he seems quite soothed.

“I had some…things to get in order. If you can fill the squad in, maybe we can find a way to Rotkov and…” She sighs as the plan jumbles in her head. She starts to speak, trying to untangle the plan, but he stops her with a kiss.

“It’ll work out. Don’t worry just yet. For now…just focus on this.” He presses soft kisses along her jaw and the column of her throat. Lane sighs, letting her eyes shut and pushing every thought out of her head except for Yan.

After appearing at the fork, the General instructs her to go right and upstairs to find Anna. Lane nods, hesitating for a moment before turning to him.

“General?” He turns around, looking at her quizzically.

“What?” He doesn’t have time to react before her open palm connects with his cheek, a loud slap reverberating through the empty hall. He touches his fingers to the stinging skin. It's the same side as Yan's scar, a fact that makes her smirk. Dmitry’s eyes are wide with bewilderment as her eyes narrow at him slightly.

“See you in an hour.” Is all she says, turning and heading out to find Anna.

#romance club #rc hsr #heaven's secret requiem #rc lane #rc heaven's secret requiem #rc yan #yanlane #rc yan x lane #yan x lane #lane📕#yan🎭

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captain-astors · 9 months ago

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Finished my reference sheets for @tokyoghoulartfight2024 at long last! (Note: I removed Aoki’s gold earring because it looked weird)

Individual profiles

Shizuya Kei: Quinx, Blood Type AB+, 5'10. 28.

A solo-operating First-class investigator who underwent the Quinx surgery with a Bikaku kagune from an ghoul known as Kelpie. Prior to meeting Aoki he was almost completely apathetic, but as the two have collaborated, Aoki's requests have rejuvenated a desire for life in him. Also, his vision is awful. He sees blurs of color at best.

Aoki: Ghoul, Blood Type A-, 5'3. 24.

The infamous S~ rank Kakuja, codenamed "Kelpie", currently imprisoned in Cochlea; the grey oversized clothing is his prison attire. However, as opposed to being forced there, Aoki is there by choice, comfortably living in safety from his fellow ghouls as he directs Shizuya to eliminate various ghouls and gives him the advice needed to do so. (Note: I accidentally switched his earrings around for the Kakuja form, the base ref has them right) DO:

Draw them in ships, they have a weird gay thing going on with each other but they can absolutely be weird with another person, just know they're a package deal. If one of them is dating a character the other one either will be too or will be third wheeling.

Draw them interacting with canon characters/your OCs

Change their outfits/hair/whatever as long as they're them, Aoki's markings are just little patterns he he's taught himself to make on his skin with RC cells out of boredom in Cochlea so they can take just about any shape.

Blood/gore/angst

Ask me any additional questions about them!

DO NOT:

Draw NSFW of them

lighten Aoki's skin (lighting and stuff affects it of course but he's not pale)

Mutual Story (under the cut for length but I strongly encourage anyone interested to read it!)

Shizuya grew up in an entirely unremarkable lower-middle-class family with even less remarkable grades; he was never really expected to go far by anyone, so when he was accepted into the CCG training school he believed it might finally be his time. In reality he just had an aptitude for fighting, and by looking at his records V determined that if he were to die in action his body would not be highly sought after and therefore make suitable food for the garden.

Though he doesn't know the latter, he managed to figure out the prior by the time he graduated, but continued as a rank 3 investigator on the principle that he simply didn't have anywhere else to go. Despite being a talented fighter, he was so severely dispassionate and depressed that he never rose through the ranks and amassed scars from simply being careless in fights. The only thing that really interested him was joining his coworkers at bars and such after their shift, but Shizuya didn't know how to start up a conversation and mostly just ended up listening silently as they chattered and feeling emptier than before.

Aoki, meanwhile, grew up on the streets with a burning resentment towards just about everyone. Despite being claimed as part of a "pack" of ghouls, they abandoned him and his mother when they were cornered by Investigators, and his mom, who had been sharing her food with Aoki, didn't have the strength to outrun them. Instead she hid him as best she could in an alleyway, covering him in tattered blankets as she was cornered. Aoki watched, horrified and powerless to help as they killed her and called ghouls heartless beasts.

Aoki has never been able to forgive the ghouls that abandoned him, nor himself for not trying to help her, even if at such a young age couldn't have done a thing regardless, so he channeled his self-loathing into external hatred of his own species. He almost strictly consumed ghouls, eventually developing his Kakuja.

The "Kelpie" name is more fitting than just aesthetics, as one of his main strategies was to use his day job as a dancer to lure fellow ghouls to his home under the guise of kinship, just to devour them. However, this worked progressively less as he developed a reputation among ghouls and the CCG alike, and counterattacks became increasingly threatening in spite of his strength.

Their meeting was little more than coincidence. Shizuya was assigned to dispatch some ghouls that had been causing trouble in the 10th district, and Aoki happened to be attacking the same group. Shizuya got to them first, while Aoki watched from a distance, undetected. Aoki was overcome with an idea as he saw Shizuya dispatch these ghouls without a single spark of the hatred that he'd seen in the investigators that killed his mother, just melancholy.

Aoki attacked Shizuya, fully covered in his Kakuja. Aoki slashed his face, and Shizuya realized rather starkly that this wasn't like his other fights, where he was injured out of a lack of caring; Aoki was fully capable of overpowering him. However, as the two fought, Aoki managed to pin him to the ground and have a conversation with the Investigator. Shizuya admitted he felt aimless, and Aoki promised to give him purpose if he guaranteed the latter's safety. Shizuya, who, as predicted had no real allegiance to humanity or morals and just wanted to feel wanted, agreed. Their "fight" then proceeded, and Shizuya, under Aoki's direction, gouged one of his Kakuhou out of his back.

The first Kakuhou he took from Aoki was turned into his harpoon-like quinque, and shortly thereafter when the primary Kakuhou had heald, it was extracted and placed within Shizuya. The concept was to leave the ghoul alive and regularly transfer RC cells from the original host so that the Kagune would acclimate and be controlled with much more ease and less risk; and all the while Shizuya was supposedly torturing Aoki for intel and compliance.

However, this was really anything but the case. Aoki allowed this all for the technical protection of Cochlea, specifically entrusting Shizuya with his Kagune. With the publicity disaster with Shiki Kijima shortly before Aoki was taken into custody, Shizuya managed to arrange for all monitoring of the room to be shut down while he was "interrogating" Aoki, so that the public would never get the chance to form empathy for a mistreated ghoul. In reality though, Shizuya merely uses this time to deepen his relationship with Aoki, and seek his direction in which ghouls must be killed, and which investigators might be lost along the way. Their path is one of mutually assured destruction.

Though before Shizuya had no particular love for anything, now, as long as he's killing under Aoki's request, he does so with a deeply unnerving bloodlust, but it is nonetheless a passion.

Aoki is a surprisingly capable emotional support, (he just willfully ignores his own problems), and tenderly caring for Shizuya's wellbeing has actually done wonders for the deeply hateful worldview he's surrounded himself ever since the death of his mother.

They're anchored by each other, and their time together in Aoki's cell is usually just embracing and consoling each other in a weirdly tender way as Shizuya tells Aoki about anyone he's killed for him, and Aoki advises Shizuya about using his Kagune or who to hunt.

Shizuya keeps Aoki safe, Aoki keeps Shizuya sane.

Also they kiss, I'm not really sure where to mention that, there's not an exact label on their relationship it's just desperate attachment and fondness, "dating" doesn't exactly cover it.

Other facts:

Their rings are a sign of promise to eachother, Shizuya usually hides his under a glove but he deeply enjoys wearing it visibly when he can.

Shizuya regularly delivers meat to Aoki, so that if needed Aoki can always break out. It's not foolproof but it's better than nothing. He also makes sure Aoki's administered RC suppressant dosage is way too low.

Aoki doesn't technically have a last name but between them he is Aoki Shizuya, Shizuya said something about "sharing his" and it stuck.

#tokyo ghoul #my art #tg art fight 2024 #tokyo ghoul oc

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oneeyedsparrow · 2 months ago

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Ya know what I think would be interesting?

A ghoul with an autoimmune disease. I think that would be really fascinating.

How would said disease affect their RC cells?

Instead of regenerative abilities, would the RC cells damage the body, like how white blood cells act like rumitoid arthritis in humans?

It would probably be extremely rare for a ghoul to have such issues.

#personally i like the idea of a disabled ghoul #maybe its because im disabled myself but who knows haha #tg headcanon #tg headcanons #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul headcanon

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snow--witch · 1 month ago

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My cell phone died, I took it to technical assistance this morning and the technician saw a bunch of RC screenshots in the gallery 😂😂😂😂😂

Yeah bro, I'm a weirdo who plays and falls in love with visual novel characters, so what? 😂😂😂😂

#rcbookclub #romance club

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angelasscribbles · 8 months ago

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Audrey's Broken Heart

Fandom: Astrea's Broken Heart (Romance Club)

Pairings: Audrey (F!MC) x multiple LI's

Word Count: 2,479

Rating: MA for mentions of violence

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of violence (canon), slight sexual innuendo.

A/N: So that last chapter (season 2, chapter 1) left something to be desired in my mind. So I rewrote it and tweaked a few things.

I have no idea who to tag other than @harleybeaumont because I don't know who is into this story and I can't even remember the RC blog that is like CFWC so here it goes out into the ether. May the odds be ever in it's favor!

My other stuff: Master List.

The world spun as I lay on my back, gazing up at the stained glass window above me.

So this is how I die.

The fucking irony.

I had escaped one religious cult only to fall victim to another… after a lifetime of avoiding and rejecting even the most mundane churches and religious philosophies.

How? How had I ended up here?

This was Ruth’s fault.

Assigning blame wouldn’t help me now. I needed help, but there was no one to call. My cell phone was gone, and no one even knew where I was. Instead, I prayed. I prayed to a God I had ceased to believe in. I prayed fervently as I cast my eyes around the church searching for a way out… a weapon… an ally…. Anything of use.

There was nothing.

Nothing and no one. And no response from God.

I closed my eyes against the inevitable. A deep, all-encompassing grief spread through me.

I wasn’t ready to die.

Faces flashed through my mind, but not the ones you would think.

It wasn’t my parents or a lost love that occupied my dying thoughts. No. It was the four men who had inexplicably become my whole world.

David. He had offered to come with me or at least drive me here, but I hadn’t let him. I should have let him. But then he’d be in the same predicament. David. Sweet, sarcastic, passionate. The world needed him in it. At least I could die knowing he was safe. That was some amount of comfort.

Mikael. Would he be disappointed? Sad? I thought so, but I wasn’t sure. There seemed to be a connection between us, but nothing tangible, nothing ever spoken. He was the consummate professional. He would be there to comfort the others.

Cassiel. His job was to protect us. Where was he now? Would he blame himself? I hoped not. He was already too serious, too angry at the world. Despair filled me as I realized that the progress we’d made would die with me. All those cracks in his armor would refill and seal shut forever.

Raphael. He lived with a deep, pervasive sadness. This would only make it worse. It might destroy him. He was too good for this world. Compassionate. Caring. Vulnerable. As I lay dying, I swore I could feel his soft lips on mine again.

There was a commotion and my eyes fluttered open, but what I saw didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it did.

I saw an angel, which was appropriate because I was dying. Had he come to collect my soul?

I could feel my life slipping away. I was too weak to fight anymore, too weak to even cry out for help, too weak to understand what was happening around me.

No one was trying to kill me anymore. The cult members had scattered. A booming voice filled the room, promising damnation and darkness.

The angel was raining vengeance down on the evildoers. It would have made me happy if I’d had the energy to feel anything at all.

Through the last vestiges of consciousness, my fog addled brain registered something wholly impossible.

The angel…. It was Raphael.

My eyes closed again as I sank into the darkness.

The next thing I was aware of was the warmth of my own bed.

My body was leadened. I couldn’t move or speak, but I knew I was home, and more importantly, alive.

Barely.

I was vaguely aware of voices as I faded in and out of consciousness. Distressed murmurs. Fervent pleas to live. Voices that rose and fell in discord and grief.

When my eyes opened, I was in a verdant valley of lush green grass and rolling hills. The sky above me was a vibrant blue.

Across the valley was a glimmering golden light pulsating from an open portal. I could feel the peace emanating from it. I felt pulled toward it. I wanted to go to it, enter it, and forget all the pain and chaos of the world I’d left behind, but when I took a step toward it, I felt an equally compelling pull in the other direction. I turned to look back and found myself staring down at my own body.

Mikael perched next to me holding my hand, heedless of the blood covering it, and now him. “I can’t hear her.” His voice was filled with despair.

I felt his touch and the pull to go back became slightly stronger. I took a step in that direction and paused again, casting a glance back at that golden glow that promised peace.

My mother appeared beside me. Laying her hand on my shoulder, she gave me a look filled with compassion, love, and regret. “It’s up to you if you go back or not.”

“Mom?” My voice quivered. I opened my mouth but couldn’t decide which of the million questions spilling through my head I should ask.

Before I could process the fact that my mother was with me, that I was being offered a choice between continuing life or not; before I could ask her anything, the pull from my body grew stronger.

“You were sent to us for a reason, Audrey…”

I looked back to see Mikael holding my body close to his. Mikael covered in my blood. Mikael pouring his healing energy into my broken body. Mikael with tears of grief pouring down his face. My choice was made, and I was suddenly back in my body.

“I’m sorry, Audrey, but healing souls is beyond my power…”

What power was he talking about? I still couldn’t speak, couldn’t open my eyes. Everything hurt. He lowered me onto the bed and laid his head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat. He started to pull away from me, but I finally managed to move, wrapping my arms around him weakly.

He froze. Hope filled his voice. “Audrey?”

I clutched at him tighter, and he moved so that he was lying next to me, cradling me in his arms. “It’s okay, Audrey. I’m here, I’m here.”

“Audrey?” It was Raphael’s voice, and it flooded me with memories of dying. Quiet but terrified sounds issued from the back of my throat.

He tried again. “Audrey, you are home. You are safe.”

Yes. Home. Safe. Raphael was here, Mikael was here. I was safe. My eyes fluttered open and my heart surged with joy and relief when I saw his face. Then my gaze dropped to his white shirt, rumpled and soaked in blood. Was it my blood? Or the blood of the cult members?

No. That was impossible.

The image of Raphael as an avenging angel came back to me, and I swear I saw him that way again. Standing in my bedroom at Astrea, glowing with wings sprouting from his back. I clutched harder to Mikael as I shrank away from him.

Pain flashed through Raphael’s eyes. “Audrey, I saved you. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

I blinked several times. One moment he had wings, the next moment he didn’t. I was losing my mind. Of course Raphael would never hurt me.

Mikael held me tight and reassured me. “It’s okay, Audrey. Raphael would never hurt you.” Then to Raphael, “She’s been through a trauma. She needs time.”

“Of course, I’ll go.” He sounded so broken that my heart shattered.

“Wait!” I cried out. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Audrey. Would you like me to take away the memory?”

I blinked up at him as he approached. “What?”

“I can take away the memory of what you saw.”

“How?”

He gave me a sad smile. “The same way Mikael healed you. There are things about us that you don’t know. Your memories will be recoverable, but this will give your mind a chance to heal before we confront all that.”

“No.” I shook my head as a vision of my mother in a verdant meadow flashed through my mind. “Don’t take my memories. Just…. Hold me for a moment?”

Mikael released me as I was engulfed in Raphael’s arms. I clung to him as if my life depended on it. He had saved me. Twice now. The memory of him catching me when I had fallen swirled through my mind. I had no idea what he was or if my mind had been playing tricks on me in that church, but to the very core of my soul, I knew that this being would never hurt me. None of them would. The tears started as my body began to shake, a delayed reaction to the horror I had experienced.

A clatter in the hallway drew everyone’s attention. Mikael excused himself to check on it. I heard raised voices in the hallway. Mikael’s and David’s.

Snippets of the conversation floated in to me. Enough to discern that David had done something to the villagers and that Mikael wasn’t happy about it.

I pushed away from Raphael and looked up into his face. “Let him in. I want David. Please!”

I needn’t have asked. The next moment, he was barging through the door. “Audrey! Audrey, are you okay?”

I pushed myself up into sitting as he threw himself onto the bed. Another man covered in blood, but not mine. David hadn’t been there like Raphael and he wasn’t the one that had healed me like Mikael.

The cult members. The villagers. I instinctively knew whose blood it was and why. He hadn’t been there in time to rescue me, but he had avenged me, and I loved him for it.

“I think so,” I answered as he pulled my body this way and that, inspecting me for injuries. When he was satisfied that I was no longer dying, he embraced me fiercely as tears slipped down his face. “I thought we had lost you!”

“I’m here. I’m alive. Thanks to Raphael and Mikael.”

Raphael wrapped his arms around me from the other side, and the three of us sat that way for a long while.

When David pulled away to wipe the wetness from his face, I looked around the room to find Mikael standing awkwardly at the end of the bed. I gave him a weak smile. There was only one person missing.

Before I could ask where he was, Cassiel appeared in the doorway, as if summoned by my thoughts.

“How is she—” his question was cut short as his eyes fell on me sitting up in the bed.

He then did the most un-Cassiel thing I’d ever seen. A smile of relief and joy lit up his face as he bound across the room and leapt onto the bed unceremoniously knocking the other men out of his way as he scooped me into his arms and hugged me firmly against him while raining kisses on the top of my head. “Audrey, you’re alive!”

“Yes!” a laugh burst out of me despite the terror I’d been through. Cassiel acting like an over exuberant puppy was possibly even more surprising and unlikely than me being kidnapped by a deranged cult.

I looked around at the other three men, but none of them seemed upset at being displaced.

David was a little bemused while Raphael radiated nothing but happiness. Mikael wore a thoughtful expression as his eyes traveled from me to each of the other men.

The image of wings sprouting from Raphael’s back was still occasionally there when I gazed at him, but it was fading as I convinced myself that part had been a dream.

But I was healed. Raphael had managed to save me somehow. Mikael had done something to bring me back. Raphael had admitted to having powers. And David had somehow gotten to the village and back in a time frame that didn’t seem wholly possible.

I pushed all of that to the side. There would be time for questions later. I needed a shower. And food.

Cassiel released me and moved away as if suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I told him before requesting privacy for a shower.

I stood before the bathroom mirror and inspected my body. There were no cuts, scrapes, bruises, or other signs of the torture I had endured.

How was that possible?

I hugged myself for a moment before stepping under the spray of hot water. Whatever had happened, I was happy to be alive and whole again. At least physically.

When I emerged from the shower, there were fresh, clean sheets on my bed. I sank into it gratefully.

One by one, the guys showed back up. Mikael brought food with him. I devoured it. I guess almost dying works up an appetite. I noticed they had all showered and changed as well. All physical proof of my ordeal had been erased. My body had been healed. My mind and soul were going to take a little longer.

Cassiel was the first to move toward the door. “I guess we should get out of here and let you get some rest.”

My cheeks flamed red as I stared down at my comforter and asked, “Could one of you stay?”

David spoke up immediately. “I’ll stay!”

“We’ll take turns.” Mikael’s tone brooked no disagreement.

“Fine,” David acquiesced, “I’ll take the first shift.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Raphael said. “You’ve been through a horrible ordeal. It’s normal to need support.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be here in two hours to relieve you,” Cassiel told David, then turning his attention to me said, “We won’t leave you alone and I promise no one will ever hurt you again.”

Something in his tone made my heart race. I believed him.

The others trailed out of the room. Someone clicked the light off.

David gazed at me with the same intensity he always did, but all the playfulness was gone. “Tell me what you need, little witch.”

The familiar nickname earned a small smile from me as I snuggled into the covers. “Just talk to me until I fall asleep.”

“I can do that.”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to lay in the bed with me?”

His mischievous grin finally returned. “If I ever say no to that, go ahead and shoot me because I’ve clearly lost my mind.”

“Stop it,” I scoffed, “I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

He climbed into bed and tenderly wrapped his arms around me. As if he were afraid I would break. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” My body relaxed into his. I listened to the sound of his voice as the horror of the day receded a little.

As I slipped off to sleep, I knew one thing for certain. Everything bad that had ever happened to me had happened outside these walls. Whatever was going on in here, I was safe. I was surrounded by love. I was home.

#romance club #rc abh #rc david #rc cassiel #rc mikael #rc raphael #angelasscribbles #rc fanfic #rc fanfiction

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agattthaa · 3 months ago

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It's never over

Paring: Dmitry/Yan

Rating: T

Word count: 1.032

Warning: Angst, no happy ending. Past non established relationship. Unhealthy relationship.

Summary: It rained on Oxford and Dmitry wasn't used to the wake up cold. Not when Yan was around.

Tagging: @rc-catalog @lanesrequiem

It wasn't a foreign sensation to wake up with rain in Oxford and neither was foreign to wake up with that sinking feeling on his chest.

What was foreign to Dmitry, at least now, was to wake up under the same roof as Yan.

It was even more foreign to wake up on a cold bed when Yan was there.

He had accepted that the other man was dead for a long while now. He thought the constant pain in his chest was because of it. Because he knew that he was the one to put an end to the man he… to Yan's life. That perhaps Yan was still haunting him and squeezing his chest hard as a reminder that now Dmitry's bed was empty, and that he was the one to blame for that.

But now, the man was on his side.

But not like he used to be in the past.

Alive and laying on Dmitry's side, like in the past. But now, he slept on his back. Now he didn't feel the need to pretend to be asleep just to tangle himself around Dmitry at night and not have to make any explanations in the morning.

Now he had his own bed.

He had his own bed and Dmitry's was cold and the weight on his chest was not the weight of Yan's head, was the weight of it's absence.

Now merely meters away from Dmitry, Yan had his own bed. He shouldn't have it. He shouldn't need it.

He was so close. Close as Dmitry never thought they could ever be again. So close that if Dmitry was sneaky enough, he could even unite the two beds without walking the other man up. And perhaps, if he was lucky enough, this time Yan would actually be asleep and tangle himself around him once again. One last time.

But he had no right to do anything. Not even to hope.

He had lost that right. He had lost it on the exact second he had decided to pull that trigger.

He had chosen to pull it.

And although he had made that decision and never expected to see Yan again, he had to pay for his crime, for his choice.

He had to accept that what he had done was sign off an eternal banishment from the land that was supposed to forever belong to him.

Ever since that fateful day, he had accepted the emptiness on both his life and his bed. As if by killing Yan, he had killed himself too. As if with only that single stray bullet, he had dig both their graves. As if he had died with Yan because one could not stay alive if the other didn't live.

But Yan was alive.

Yan was alive.

Alive and breathing and once again sharing Dmitry's room.

But not like he once did.

Now there was none of those messy and hurried kisses or pushing and pulling and biting and whispers filled with longing and possessiveness.

No.

Now Yan only stayed on his room because Dmitry said he didn't trust him around his squad, that he needed to be watched, that no one knew his objectives so he was a potential danger.

That he didn't trust Yan.

That he didn't trust Yan...

What a shameless, blatant lie.

Every single cell of Dmitry's body knew Yan. His presence, his smell, his taste. What every single one of his smiles meant. The very core of his being. His beliefs and morals and the way he liked to eat his eggs in the morning and that he rathers to cook his breakfast himself because Dmitry could only cook to kill someone. The way he always matched his pace to Dmitry's without ever being asked to. They way his eyes shined when it rained…There was a point on their lives where he trusted Yan more than on himself.

And he supposed that the opposite also used to be true.

Until he pulled that damned trigger, making the word stop spinning.

He still remember how he turned his whole face around, refusing to look at Yan as he shot him down. The most coward act of his entire life.

His father always told him that one man must look into the other's eyes when he took his life out.

And that's what he did.

Every single time.

Even with Pavel.

But he couldn't do it.

Not this time.

Not with Yan.

He could not bear to even imagine seeing the life leaving those bottomless black eyes. He couldn't do it or else he would've turned the gun around and pulled the trigger once again.

So he foolishly trusted his aim, which had never failed him before and killed the only one who still made this world worth living on.

And believing it was done, he left. Not once looking back.

And perhaps that was the biggest blessing of his life.

Because Yan still breathed softly. He still smelled like a soft mix between cigarettes and wood and home. He still had that incredibly annoying smirk and those bottomless black eyes that Dmitry would lose himself into.

He was still alive despite Dmitry, and not because of him.

So he had no right to anything. Especially to hope. It was meaningless to. He could see the pain and resentment on the other man's eyes whenever they were around each other. That smile that was reserved for Dmitry only, now seemed to be the only thing that died.

So truly, it was completely foolish to care, to want, to hope, to so desperately crave for someone.

But still.

Dmitry hoped.

The ghost of his smile and his touch still haunted Dmitry's memory, and although it it hurt to admit it even for himself, there was nothing that Dmitry wouldn't do to have it all back.

But it still rained on Oxford and his bed was still unbelievably cold. So after one last look towards the back he used to hold close, Dmitry turned around, decided to fall back asleep.

Missing the moment the owner of his thoughts and the owner of his being turned around to see him one more time.

#rc dmitry #rc yan #heaven secret requiem #rc hsr #romance club #fanfic #fuck you aleksandra

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perfectly-cell-centric · 3 months ago

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In the RC AU, would cell try to help 17 at his nature preservation park?

That'd probably be the closest thing to "community service" he'd get if he did. I don't know though, I don't see Cell doing it willingly, maybe if he was forced to or unless he thinks it'll benefit him in some way, even if it's just for amusement. He'd probably figure if he can't absorb him this time, might as well be a thorn in 17's side in other ways

Typical brother behavior XD

#answered ask #emporerreality

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javaghoul · 8 months ago

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the text books/research papers a decade or so after ghoul legalization: how do they refer to ghouls? Are they classed as Non Human Animals like dogs, cats, higher primates etc?

Does a new category open up? Humans/Extra RC Cell Beings/Non Human Animals?

U just know that a bunch of scientists and linguists will spend years and tonnes of funding debating this shit before putting "Ghouls" in the dictionary.

And I bet they'll do it without consulting one ghoul in the process.

#You guys are writing beautiful fanfic and embroidering the TG world #Creating fan art and memes #Headcanons and analysis #And I'm over here going HEY BUT HOW DO THEY CLASSIFY THEM GHOULS HUH??#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul re

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cursedbycain · 2 months ago

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haircut - Cain x Lane

tagging: @rc-catalog and also @kazu-naito she's to blame for this

synopsis: even immortals need haircuts

tw: literally just fluff, allusions to sex, rated T

wc: 1.4k

It started with a subtle shake of the head. At first, she thought he was just disagreeing with whatever was said. But then he would do it even if no one was speaking.

Then she noticed the irritated look. Once again, not very unusual for Cain. He often looked displeased when he was forced to sit through squad meetings. Lane knew he wasn’t a fan of sitting still, always tapping his fingers or shifting his wings. But usually his face conveyed boredom.

The last piece of the puzzle was the angry way he would thread his hands through his hair, pushing it back only for the ash blond strands to fall right back into his eyes.

That’s what it was.

She wasn’t sure if immortal’s needed haircuts. The idea of an immortal hairdresser in heaven was quite a silly thought. But if they aged, surely their hair would grow? Anhea probably knew but there was never exactly a good time to ask.

The rattle of her window nearly makes her jump out of her skin. She opens it quickly and Cain slips in, smiling ever so slightly when he sees her.

“Hi.” He pushes his hair back once again.

“You know you can come in through the door right?” She sits back down at her desk, returning to her notes as Cain settles on her bed.

“I was on patrol. It’s quicker this way.” Lane hums in response as she starts to get sucked in. But when she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, the question returns to her. Turning to the immortal on her bed, she watches him for a moment.

His eyes are shut as he lays on his back, hair surrounding him like a halo. His wings are spread as much as the bed will allow but she knows he’ll eventually turn to his side to prevent them from going numb.

“Will there ever come a day where you don’t stare at me the second my eyes close?” He smirks at her.

“Does your hair grow?” She blurts the question and his face shifts to confusion.

“It does. But it grows as slowly as our cells age on Earth so it’s not very noticeable. I’ve never had a haircut, if that’s what you’re asking.” He sits up to look at her as she shuts her notebook.

“Do you want one?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s been getting in your eyes.” She notes. Something about that makes him smile cockily.

“Perhaps if you looked at the book as often as you looked at me, it would be translated by now.” A wave of embarrassment washes over her as she turns away.

“Nevermind.” She mutter and he chuckles as he stands up.

“I’m kidding. I’ll take you up on that offer actually. It was starting to get irritating.” He stands by her, reaching over her shoulder to gently close the journal on her desk.

“…Alright. Sit here.” She stands and he takes her place on the wooden chair. Grabbing a clean towel, she wraps it over his shoulders. He lowers his wings to fit underneath it and standing in front of him, he almost looks like a swaddled baby.

Pulling out the hairbrush from her backpack and a small pair of scissors from the desk, Lane starts to realize she might be painfully underqualified for this.

“You have no idea what you’re doing.” Cain says knowingly. She can’t help but frown at the very true observation.

“If I give you a bad haircut, how long will you be stuck with it?” She busies herself by gently brushing the soft hair at the back of his head.

“Decades. Maybe centuries depending on how badly you mess up.” The smirk comes through his voice and she has the vague desire to smack him with the brush.

“I’m not gonna mess up. Besides, I’m the one that has to look at you, remember?” The bold statement slips out before she can think it over. Of course they hadn’t officially discussed whatever it was they had, but it definitely went beyond friendship.

He’s quiet after that so she takes it as a sign to start slowly snipping the hair at the base of his head. She doesn’t focus much there, stepping around to trim the sides. Slowly, she starts to get the hang of it, holding pieces between her fingers and taking the tiniest bit off. She had told the truth earlier, messing up would only be bad for herself. Besides, Lester would probably never let Cain hear the end of it.

The strands are quite long, and without thinking much she takes a piece and splits it into three, deftly making a small braid. She secures it with a small red hair tie, admiring the way the red is almost entirely drowned out by the white. It’s not unlike when his eyes take on a similar tone.

When she finally stands in front of him, he’s watching her intently. His eyes are still blue, which always makes her feel slightly more at peace as opposed to the blood red.

“You should close your eyes for this part.” She instructs and she brushes some of the hair forward. His eyes close and Lane takes the moment to admire him.

She had known Cain was beautiful since that day in the manor. His face inspired many feelings in her. Some of them were painfully unfamiliar. She had never felt the warmth in her chest that Cain brought out for anyone else. It was almost nauseating to like him this much. The worst part was the fact it was reciprocated. Sometimes he would look at her so warmly it would make her tremble.

There was also that night they spent together.

It had felt unreal to be that close to Cain. She couldn’t quite believe it and yet, she knew every word out of his mouth was nothing but the whole truth.

‘You are mine,’ He had whispered to her.

“I’m done.” She brushes the trimmed strands back into their usual style, no longer in the way of his vision. He opens his eyes and smiles softly.

“Thanks.” She can’t bring herself to step back, or pull her hands out of his very soft hair.

“Of course. Do you wanna see?” She’s about to reach for her bag to pull out a compact but he grabs her wrist, eyes never leaving hers.

“No. If it looks good to you, that’s all I need to know.” He pulls the towel off, letting it fall to the ground as he stands from the chair.

Her mouth goes dry as he gently presses her against the desk. For a moment she thinks he’s going to kiss her but instead he takes her hand and pulls her towards the bed.

Blood pounds in her ears as he maneuvers her into laying down. Just when she thinks they’ll have a repeat of the other night, he rests his head on her chest, laying down.

“You should sleep.” Is all he says. She strokes his hair slowly, and succumbs to sleep as he taps a rhythm against her hip.

She’s in the middle of chewing when she hears the comment, loud enough to reach the whole squads ears.

“Is that a braid?” Lester’s voice cuts through and she raises her head to find the whole squad staring at the immortal. He’s facing away and the braid completed with a tiny red rubber band at the back of his head is very visible. He slowly turns around, face unreadable as he looks at her.

“Eat your food.” Is all he says to him as he crosses the room, settling next to her. All eyes switch from the immortal to her and her face burns as she slowly swallows.

All she can do is shrug and look back down at her plate. Eventually the squad resumes their conversations. When she sneaks a glance at the immortal sitting next to her, she could swear he’s smiling into his food.

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