#the way he delivers 'please forgive me' rips my heart out of my chest and puts me in 2017

[kinkshame-puncher-666]

Does anyone even listen to bad religion in their most emotional state??

[whumpasaurus101]

Look at me posting this on the deadline LMFAO BUT ITS NOT LATE SO LOOK AT ME GO WOOOOO. This is for @epiclamer's and @save-the-villainous-cat's super cute ask game which was GENIUS!!! This was so so much fun thank you!!! @hufflepuffwritingstuff22 had an ask in their inbox: “Hero being brainwashed and forced to fight their friends.”

---

"Please, Hero!" Sidekick's desperate voice sounded through the room. "I know this isn't you. Think of who I am! C'mon, Hero, please!!!"

Tears streamed down their face as they desperately kicked away fro the 'stranger' before them. That wasn't Hero/ Surely Hero wouldn't do this!

They whimpered as their back hit the wall, gulping hard as they watched Hero continue to stride towards them, switchblade twirling in hand.

"Oh, but Sidekick, don't you understand? This is me. All this time I have been trying to hide it,but now, bow it's too late. You've gone too far. You're a disappointment to not only me, but yourself."

Sidekick gulped as the words carved antagonizingly slow into their heart, their chest growing tight as they tried to keep their breathing level. Their eyes flickered up to Hero's, tears threatening to fall. Their voice came out as a weak rasp, "This is-isn't you..."

They had given up hope at this point, how were they supposed to get through to Hero???

A fist tightened in Sidekick's shirt and hauled them to their feet before they were suddenly slammed against the wall. Sidekick wheezed as they felt all the air leave their body, their eyes blowing wide.

They flinched hard as Hero raised their fist, squeezing their eyes shut as a whimper ripped from their throat but Hero's fist quickly collided with their cheek.

Blood splatted against the ground as they coughed, "He-h'ro... 'm.. pl'se..." Blood ran down from their mouth, their vision spotting. Punch after punch was delivered until Sidekick screamed, breaking into sobs as their body shook with each cry.

As Villain entered the door, Hero instantly dropped Sidekick to the floor. "Hero, to me."

Sidekick watched in horror, wheezing on the floor as Hero quickly made their way over to Villain before dropping to their knees.

Sidekick tried to swallow back bile as they slowly sat up, "Wha-what did you do?"

Villain chuckled softly, a cool smirk painting along their face as they looked at Sidekick, "Oh, this? Oh honey, what I did to Hero is exactly what I am going to do to you. Now Sidekick," They clicked their finger, "I need you to focus on my voice and my voice only."

Sidekick flinched back as Villain's hand rested against their head, a sudden presence filling their head as they lost full control. And suddenly it kicked in. Their thoughts weren't theirs. And as they approached Hero, a clenched fist either side, they had to watch as someone forced them to fight their mentor. Fight the last person who had fate in them. How would Hero ever forgive them?

[peachycoreroo]

i was thinking, what about boys from haikyuu losing game and taking their anger on their s/o in bed to the point s/o is saying safe word, crying? if that's too much, just make them really angry, hurting s/o with words.

i was thinking about Suna, Kita and maybe Shirabu?

characters: suna rintarou, kita shinsuke, shirabu kenjirou

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fem!reader, angry boys, established relationships, spanking, one (1) face slap, choking, vaginal penetration, oral m!receiving, usage of ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’, heavy degradation, semi-public sex, pretty harsh words are said, safe word is used

authors note: uuu this is my first darker piece for hq, but it does end in fluff!! i tweaked it so it fits the timeskip, but just a friendly reminder that this is pure fiction, your favs love you and would never hurt you<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt.2: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tsukishima kei

suna rintarou:

it wasn’t often that your boyfriend resorted to pounding the living shit out of you immediately when you had sex, usually opting for teasing you till you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to fuck you or took the reins in your own hands and rode him till you were both shaking from overstimulation.

this time, was bad though.

the japanese national volleyball team just lost the finale of the olympics, resulting in them only getting the silver medal. no matter how amazing the second-place sounded, it still hit hard to miss the big gold by a hair.

just like how hard suna was currently hitting your ass, as he fucked into you in the empty changing room of the team. you only wanted to check on him when you saw how dejected he looked as he left the field with the team, when the tall brunet just ripped down your clothes and bent you over, fury dancing in his greenish eyes.

you knew how hard rintarou and his teammates worked for this. it was only natural they couldn’t celebrate. losing is still losing, no matter if you’re getting a medal.

“f-fuck, rin, it hurts”, you wailed, tears already streaming down your face from the full-force slaps that were delivered to your sore ass cheeks. being bent over with only the locker in front of you and sunas’ hands on your hips as a leverage to not fall face first on the floor, slowly took a troll on your tired body. it also didn’t help that your legs were barely able to keep you up with how powerful his thrusts were.

“shut the fuck up and take it, worthless whore”, he growled furiously, thrusts only increasing in speed, and a hand sneaking to your front, wrapping itself around your neck. the cruel comments that usually caused your cunt to flutter and eyes roll back, suddenly made your heart sink.

you knew he was angry at being defeated by the opposing team and not at you, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest, or the tears that seemed to multiply at his cold remark.

when the adjustment of his hips caused him to hammer his fat tip painfully against your cervix and his hand tightened harshly around your throat, your knees gave out and you tried to scream only for nothing to come out of your mouth.

“useless, fucking bitch, can’t even stand upright. why do i even keep you around?” he aggressively huffed, not paying any attention to your comfort. you couldn’t take this anymore.

your body went completely limp, as you whispered a small, choked ‘silk’, not even being sure if he heard, when his mind was so clouded by rage.

but he did. and his heart painfully clenched when he recognized the hurt tone in your voice, instantly letting go of your bruised throat and ceasing his thrusts.

guilt filled him as he pulled out and finally looked at you to see you sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapping protectively around your form as if you were afraid of him hurting you.

“hey… hey, y/n, sweetie, look at me.” suna’s gentle tone had you looking up at him, your vision blurry as your pained expression met his tender one.

“’m s-sorry i couldn’t help you, r-rin’. ‘m sorry y-you lost”, you stuttered out helplessly.

here you were, crying and in pain, but still thinking about him. the brunet was sure he didn’t deserve you.

“no, i’m sorry, pretty. i got carried away”, the tall volleyball player whispered softly, his large palms cupping your cheeks, “i love you and i never want to hurt you. please, forgive me.”

the guilt etched into his handsome face showed you just how bad he really felt, your lips lifting in a small smile. “’s ok, rin’. i love you too.”

the tall male breathed out a sigh of relief as he embraced you tightly and kissed your forehead. suna rintarou would never get carried away like this again. that, he promised himself.

kita shinsuke:

when kita got home, all dejected and upset because some assholes decided to trash grandma yumie’s precious crops in the darkness of the night, you opened your arms with love and understanding. what you didn’t expect however, as you asked how you could help, was to end up on your knees with your boyfriend abusing your throat for what felt like hours.

your knees were aching from the uncomfortable position on the hardwood floor, throat painfully contracting around his thick length as he pounded your mouth as if it were your cunt, jaw hurting from holding it open for so long.

you felt like you would pass out any minute, and while normally kita would immediately sense any of your slightest mood shifts when you were being intimate, he didn’t this time.

where there was usually a caring boyfriend who wouldn’t take his gaze of your face and always asked if you’re doing okay, was a guy who had a far away look on his frowning face, only using you as an outlet for his anger.

the white-black haired male was almost scarily quiet, only occasional grunts and growls escaping his lips. your gurgling and gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat with every forceful thrust were painful to listen to, and you couldn’t wrap your head around your boyfriend not realizing what he was doing to you.

as tears streamed down your numb face, you weren’t able to stop your teeth from grazing his fat cock, your throbbing jaw not cooperating with your brain anymore.

kita let out an animalistic growl as he pulled out of your wet mouth at once, a sudden slap to your tender cheek startling you.

“you asked how to help and you’re doing exactly that, but can’t even do that for me, huh?”, he spat almost hostilely.

the hurtful words, the harsh slap and the rage painted on his usually calm and kind face made your heart ache, as you sobbed out a ‘peach! shin’, please! peach!’

kita suddenly felt as if he awoke from a hypnosis, when he heard you cry out your safe word. as his -now clear- gaze fell on you, he couldn’t help his chest from painfully tightening. you only offered to help, and he’s gone and hurt you like never before.

falling on his knees in front of you, he pulled you into his strong arms, rocking you both side to side as he apologetically murmured ‘i’m so sorry, angel’ and ‘i love you’ over and over again into your messy hair.

“m’ okay, shinsuke. just wanted to help", you sniffled against his chest, making kita close his eyes out of pure shame that he did that to you.

“let’s get you into the bathtub and i’ll cook your favorite, how does that sound love?”, he whispered softly, as if afraid that any of his next movements would make you break.

the next few weeks you barely got to do anything, kita shinsuke always glued to your side and immediately taking over any task that was thrown at you.

shirabu kenjirou:

being a med student was fucking exhausting. shirabu had spent months writing a very important thesis about certain brain tumors on newborns, only for his professor to give him a c. something about it not being detailed enough.

“fuck you”, shirabu spat as he was sitting in front of the fire place in your shared apartment, throwing all 80 pages of the “not detailed” dissertation into the fire.

“ken’? what are you doing?”

“burning this fucking nightmare. ’m gonna drop out, fuck this shit”, he almost growled furiously. coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, leaning down to ask lowly: “you want a better way to deal with your anger?”

that’s how you found yourself bent over his lap with your panties dangling at your ankles. the spanking wasn’t new, your boyfriend being super pissed while doing so, was.

the first few slaps went as usual with you clenching around nothing and enjoying the rubs to the tender flesh shirabu hit a few seconds prior. after, it suddenly went downhill.

all at once, the soft caresses ceased to a stop, his calloused palm from years of playing volleyball coming down on your ass with full force and the copper-haired man spewing some of the most degrading stuff you’ve ever heard.

“fucking slut, getting off to this. you like it when i use you to let out my anger? i’m having a hard time while you’re just being a horny, selfish fucktoy”.

at the last sentence, you froze. did he really think you were using him? you only wanted to help, but his cold words continued. “gonna beat your ass till it’s sore and aching, you won’t be able to sit without remembering what a useless fucking girlfriend you were while i needed support.”

the logical part of your brain knew, that your boyfriend didn’t mean it. the anger got the best of him, and he just threw around accusations like he wished he could do at his asshole of a prof.

but the bigger, sensitive part of your brain convinced you that he meant every single hurtful word. you weren’t even hearing what derogatory stuff was spilling from his lips anymore, vision blurry and ears ringing from the pain you felt in your chest as well as your ass cheeks.

was this your fault? was it wrong to try and help? maybe you should’ve given him some space.

a particularly hard spank brought you back to reality, suddenly tasting the salty wetness of your tears seeping into your mouth as you cried out a loud ‘pumpkin!”, trying to push yourself out of his lap and landing on the floor with a loud ‘thud’ as his hands instantly let you go.

shirabu could only look at you wide-eyed when he saw how you were choking on your sobs and crawling backwards, just to get away from him.

“please don’t hit me anymore!”, were the words, that would haunt kenjirou for the rest of his life. he could feel himself tear up when it hit him what he did to you, his precious girlfriend, just because he was angry at a prof.

“baby, i- please i would never hit you like that on purpose, i- “, the male felt his throat tighten up and with a quiet sniffle he embraced you tightly, craving the warmth of your body. “forgive me, i love you so much, please don’t go.”

as you started to calm down, your arms wrapped themselves around him, wanting to be close to him as well, because no matter what, he was your biggest comfort and you still loved him.

“’m not going anywhere, kenji’. just… please don’t do that ever again”, you murmured against his temple.

“never.”

[uncouth-the-fifth]

congrats on the new followers! what about 108 + 126 with dami and wife!reader?

108. "If you leave the house wearing that, then the second you come over I'm bending you over the bed," and 126. "Y-you're not...w-wearing anything under that, are you?" with Damian Wayne.

ty! i feel like damian would marry someone able to keep up with his sass while throwing some of their own back at him, so a bit of a bratty reader for you <3 i also exposed my slight daddy kink so don’t hate me 🔫

You were trying to goad him. Unfortunately for Damian's ego, it was working.

He watched you twist around in front of the mirror, enjoying the shape of your figure in your new clothes. It'd taken hours of convincing (and a couple threats), but Damian finally coaxed you to let him take you on a shopping trip. Wayne Enterprises had granted him a raise for work that was completely his own. The only way Damian wanted to celebrate was by spoiling another thing that completely belonged to him. He'd worked hard to be his own man in the past few years, and today he'd seen the fruits of his labor. His beautiful wife was happy because of something he'd orchestrated. Damian's reputation was great, and not because of his name or his titles. He lounged by the fireplace in your bedroom, twice as smug as usual.

"Really, Damian, thank you," you told him, sounding bashful. "You could've spent that money on anything, but you spent it on me."

He watched you slip out of one of the party dresses you'd picked out for yourself, the light of the fire throwing soft shadows along your nude body. Damian openly stared, but without (much) sexual intent - just pride. Pride and love. This was his wife, and she enchanted him with every step. You pulled the fabric around your hips until it dropped around your ankles, and Damian's cock twitched in his pants.

He clicked his tongue. "TT." Damian lifted the rim of his teacup to his lips, rumbling, "You needed clothes."

To seduce me with, Damian thought, eyes wandering. You found something comfy to change into and hopped into it right in front of Damian, snugly snapping the waistband of some sweatpants around your middle and dropping a loose shirt over your nude chest. He made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, and you turned back to him with a smile.

“I was thinking about running to pick up some stuff for a night in. Popcorn, desert, that kind of thing.” You danced around the back of his chair and draped your arms over his shoulders, kissing sweetly at the side of his face. “Maybe we could watch a movie together.”

Damian pressed his lips together, eyes squinted with displeasure. “Now?” He grunted.

“Yes, now, Damian.”

You released him to perch on the arm of his chair, making it all too easy for Damian to hook an arm around your waist and drop you down into his lap. A deeper warmth blazed across your face at his blatantly possessive scowl. “But you’re not wearing anything under that.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you roll your eyes, “it’s hot out and who’s really going to see? Some cashier who won’t give me a second glance?”

Damian set down his cup and flushed his hands around your ribs, mapping upward and brushing your breasts beneath the fabric. You were pulled into his body until his chest was snug against your back, dropping a gasp from your lips.

Petulantly, Damian dragged his mouth down your neck and mumbled, “Someone other than me. That is who will see.”

He didn’t actually mean it. Damian, after years of years of being treated like an object himself, was well aware that you both were entitled to control of your bodies. He was playing, which made it even cuter. The whole “you belong to me thing” was sexy, and was made sexier when it was something you could both flick on and off at will. At the moment... you did not want him to shut it off. You wanted to be his, wanted him to take you.

To tease him, you set your hands on the armrests and started to push out of his hold. Damian let you, but if his hands didn’t pull you back, the power in his voice certainly did. 

“If you try to leave the house in those clothes,” he warned, “I’m throwing you on the bed and bending you over my knee.”

“Ooh,” you fake-shivered, “I’m so scared—”

In an instant, Damian’s hips were thrust forward into your ass, and your wrists were snapped together and pulled closer to him in one harsh tug. You yelped in strained surprise, which Damian met with a smooth chuckle.

“Hmm,” he purred. “It appears all the coddling I’ve done today has made you bratty, Mrs. Wayne. I think I’ll give you a spanking either way, if you plan to be in such an indulgent mood. Are you going to test me further, Y/N?”

You glared at him, but holding in your excitement was too hard. A grin pinched your cheeks. “Kiss my ass, Damian—”

Twice as fast as before, you were whipped onto your belly and your sweatpants were torn down your legs, exposing your ass once more to the humid air. His hand viciously struck your left cheek, and the dual sensation of the sting and your pussy throbbing wrenched a whine from your throat. Being pushed across his thighs like that had shoved your shirt up and over your tits. Volcanic lust burned deep in your gut - in less than a second, he’d ripped back the curtain to reveal the slut beneath. You struggle to balance, recklessly bracing your palms on the floor. The slap on its own was orgasmic, but coupled with Damian’s anger and the debauched scene - your pliant body greedily lapping up his punishments - you were effectively soaked.

Like this was every other day for him, Damian leaned over you and took a refined sip of his tea.

“I hate you,” you mewled.

Damian snorted. “That wedding ring on your finger tells me otherwise. Now, count to ten. Naughty girls get ten spankings.”

His voice dripped with blistering enjoyment, and you knew that the villainous delight Damian was spending on you now was the last sadism from his assassin days. Damian wasn’t evil anymore, but this was the one time of day where your heart would skip a beat on the subject - if there was ever a moment he’d start plotting to take over the world, it was probably this one. Needless to say, it was fucking delectable.

“Ready?” He purred.

You closed your eyes, snapped your teeth around the bunched fabric of your own shirt, and nodded your head - probably with hearts blazing in your vision.

Damian reeled back his hand and delivered a blow worthy of a world-class assassin. You felt your own ass jiggle, literally jiggle, from the weight of the hit. You poured a shuddering shout into your homemade gag, “O-One!”

Again and again, Damian rounded on you. He’d punished you enough times to perfect the process, so his hits were periodic, but with enough time in between to let you gather your bearings, and yet still short enough to make your ass burn just how you adored. You sent a mental thank you to whoever had given him that beautiful brain, because Damian was quick to deduce what you wanted. If the sound you made was a little too soft, the next slap would come harder, ringing through the room in loud, solid notes. His hand must sting. He must like it, since he kept going with such revelry.

After the tenth, your toes were curled in and wounded tightly to your under-thighs, which were crossed, desperately clenching for any stimulation you could get. Delighted tears slipped from your eyes. Finally, you spat out your shirt and said with aching lips, “D-do you forgive me, daddy?”

Another vicious slap, this time on the left. Damian’s voice was sharp. “What did I tell you about calling me that, pet? Go on. Tell me precisely what I said.”

“I-if I called you that... I...” you squeezed your eyes shut, “m’ only supposed to say it when I really want to be fucked... when I want you ‘t make me forget my own name...n’ I do.” You sucked in a breath, “I took my spankings so well, Damian... please?”

He sipped his tea. He thought on it, turning the idea around in his mind. You could feel his thumb stroking your behind, no doubt admiring how red it was because of him.

“Ten more,” Damian said, his smile downright crocodilian, “and perhaps I’ll consider it.”

[221bshrlocked]

Eyes on Me

Pairing: The Thief x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Oral (female receiving).

Words: 3320

A/N: @ezrasbirdie threatened me with a good time (and fucking delivered) and steal your heart is taking a while because I want it to be perfect so I had to retaliate with something tonight. This is to all the Pedro Whores out there, including me. RIP. Sorry it's tame, I'm saving all the filth to the series ;)

There was something different about the show tonight. You weren't sure what it was, or if it had to do with the several important names your friends kept throwing out every time they spoke to one of the security guards. It was never this nerve-wrecking to perform, especially when it was such an elegant performance and not the usual risque programs you were so used to being a part of. You danced during the opening and you were due to enter once more towards the end with only a few others before the final piece.

As you were changing your make-up, you couldn't help but overhear one of the girls nearby gushing about a certain guest. It was always irritating to hear all of that noise and you prided yourself in never being one to gossip about the after parties or who would be there. But you were intrigued, and not because they kept on saying how rich and mysterious this man was. It was the fact that no one knew his real name. Not one person in the industry ever had the pleasure of being in his inner circle and even those who were close to him only received a pseudonym. The only name the world had for him was El Diablo. You chuckled as they kept on gushing about how dangerous and hot it sounded because only a narcissist with an ego the size of Alaska would ever call himself that. Did he not realize how ridiculous it sounded?

Before you could ask them if he would be in the after party of the Opera House's owner, you were ushered onto stage once more. Probably for the best you didn't take part in this now...

As you made your way through backstage, you were about to preparing to enter onto the stage when a man bumped into you, almost throwing you onto the ground with how firm and broad he felt. As you stood up and cleaned your fragile dress, you felt your chest rising in anger with how close he came to ripping your costume and ruining the event.

"My god can you watch where you're going nex-" The words died in your throat, along with the heat rising up your chest, as soon as you looked up and saw who bumped into you. Your eyes widened in shock at how sinfully handsome this stranger was and before you could even stop yourself, you were apologizing profusely. From the looks of his attire, you were sure he was one of the important guests tonight and you feared that you would lose your job on spot.

"Sir I am so sorry I- I didn't see where I was walking and I am about to get on stage and...oh god, please- I I didn't..I'm-" Your stuttered through an apology and felt tears forming in your eyes when you were met with a pair of piercing brown orbs staring right back at you.

"Please, the fault was all mine hermosa. I was so busy admiring everything behind the scenes that I didn't notice the most breathtaking of jewels coming towards me. Are you alright, have I hurt you in any way?" His deep voice was like a siren's song and you parted your lips in a haze when he stepped closer to you and checked to make sure you weren't hurt. Had anyone else said such words to you, you have laughed in their face because no on could ever speak that way and make it sound sensual. And yet, here he was.

"I- I umm...no."

"I would hate to cause harm to such a beautiful little flower as yourself. Please, forgive me. I do not think the show would be remotely as good if you are not a part of it." He says again and you realize instantly how much trouble you're in because in the span of thirty seconds, he has said things to you that you've never heard in your entire life, things that you only read about in books.

"Me? I- I'm just one dancer." You try to laugh it off, thinking he was just being awfully nice but when his smile drops and he steps into your space again, you quiet down and close your lips.

"No, that is not true little star." Before you can say anything, he's grabbing your hands and raising them to his lips, never once breaking eye contact as he laid soft kisses on each wrist.

"T-thank you sir."

"I can assure you the pleasure was all mine bebita. Now go on, I cannot be the cause of your delay, the show cannot lose you." You miss him before he even backs away from you and you notice the way he clasps his hands behind his back tightly, as if he was trying to deny himself another touch of you. As you shake your head to try to remember the steps to the dance, it occurs to you that you haven't even asked him what his name is. When you turn around to do so, he is already gone, and you silently swear to yourself because he managed to take your breath away with just a handful of words.

As the show goes on, you force every muscle in your body to focus on the performance and not the way the stranger smiled at your or how his cologne and natural musk put you in a daze. By the time you're all on stage and enjoying the standing ovation, you feel like you're being watched but you throw the thought aside when you remember that the hundreds in the audience are, in fact, staring at you. As you move to leave the stage, you allow your eyes to roam the top private booths and your heart ceases to beat when you instantly see your stranger form earlier sitting by himself and looking your way. You think that perhaps it is your imagination but when he lowers his binoculars and smiles at you, you know that he was returning your gaze. You can't take your eyes off of him and almost trip over your steps when he leans forward and doesn't try to hide the way he's eyeing you. God, how was it possible to be so enamored by someone you've met only for a few minutes?

You don't have too much time to dwell on the brief glimpse, however, because as soon as you're back in the changing rooms, your director is asking you to dress quickly so you could make it to the after party in time.

"Hey, I'll just use the bathroom quickly okay?" You tell one of your friends before you enter the room and shake your head in irritation when she holds you back by your shoulder.

"Oh I know that excuse. You said that last time before you ditched us for that stupid movie."

"Casablanca is not stupid and I promise I'll be back, I just really need to go." She narrows her eyes at you for a moment before she nods and lets you go.

As you make your way through the now empty hallways of the building, you can't help but think back to the man who bumped into you and managed to occupy all of your thoughts for the night. It was strange how deeply you already felt for him, as if he was your soulmate from another lifetime. But no, that couldn't be. Men this perfect and mysterious and kind only existed in fairytales. So busy thinking of when you might meet him again, you don't hear one of the side rooms opening and revealing someone. You look up just in time to see him leaving the room and fixing his hair.

"Oh." You don't know what else to say but thankfully, the stranger doesn't give you any room to think of something else because as soon as he notices you staring at his plump lips, he takes three strides towards you and takes once of your wrists before leading you back to the room and shutting it behind him.

"I-"

"Little flower, I must tell you something and I hope you can forgive me." He's at least five feet away from you and even though you're thankful for the distance he's created, you can't help but feel a little hurt that he doesn't want to be close to you.

"Y-yes?"

"I lied to you earlier tonight, when I ran into you." You try to think back to anything that he's said but nothing comes up, causing you to question him again. You take a step closer to him and sigh in relief when he doesn't move away.

"Oh?"

"I- I did it on purpose bebita. I have seen your past two performances and I couldn't stop thinking about you, how you move so elegantly, how you dance like a butterfly that has mastered fluttering in a garden of roses. You plague my mind every minute of every day querida, and I dream of you every night, of having you to myself, kissing every inch of your skin, worshiping you until you can no longer stand the pleasure. I'm...forgive me, I have- I know how this must sound but...I couldn't lie to you again. Please." He pleads with you lowly, clenching his jaw and fisting his hands tightly to prevent himself from reaching towards you and pulling you into his arms.

You feel a multitude of emotions wash over you at his declaration. You're not sure if you should be angry at being lied to so effortlessly and a little voice in your mind tells you to run, to not tie yourself to someone who was so charming and dangerous. But with the way he's looking at you, as if you were the most precious jewel to ever come into existence, easily makes you set aside all of those intruding thoughts. You unclasp your hands and slowly walk towards him, your throat drying quickly when you notice the way he's staring at the floor, expecting rejection.

When you're only a hairbreadth away from him, you raise your hands and rest them on his chest, biting into your cheek when you feel how warm and firm he feels beneath the velvet suit jacket. You swallow the lump in your throat and force yourself to look into his eyes. When you do meet his gaze, it's like everything has fallen into place so perfectly, every step you took to get to his moment, every little mistake and perfected twirl that brought you to this Opera House. All of it makes sense and you pray to God that he can understand what you're trying to say with your eyes.

"Little flower, I- you should know, if I take you into my arms, I will never let you go. I will fight the heavens to keep you forever." You should be scared by his words, you should excuse yourself and run far far away from someone who was so intense and unforgiving in their words. But something tells you that he might be worth staying.

"I'm yours." Giving yourself completely to someone shouldn't revolve around two simple words, and yet, as soon as you say them, you feel like a genuine star from above. Not because this stranger was reciprocating his affections, far from it, but because of the way your words seemed to affect him. You never thought that a genuine smile could look like a fallen star, if that's what you could even call it, but that's what it was to you. His lips widen in a deep smile that pointed to two dimples which you wished you could kiss over and over again.

"You mean that mi alma?" He asks one last time, wanting to make sure that he wasn't forcing you into anything and that he was in fact hearing you correctly.

"Please," you plead one last time and moan in ecstasy when you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a passionate kiss. It's an instantaneous reaction, the way you melt into his arms and allow him to take whatever he wants, and it feels more exhilarating than an opening night of a new performance.

"Little flower," he pulls away for a second to attack your jaw and neck with wet kisses, growling into your skin when you slip your fingers into his long locks and tug on it while you moan for him.

"Will you let me taste you? Please cariño, I- I need to have you. Por favor mi flor." You'd think he was begging for the most expensive delicacy in the word but it's just you, and you pray that you never get used to how desperate and needy he sounds for you.

"Yes, please...take- take anything you want from me sir. I'm- oh god...oh g-god yes-" Your breath hitches when he backs you into the couch and pushes you onto it before he kneels in front of you.

"But my- my dress?"

"Don't worry bebecita, I will buy you a thousand more. Whatever your heart desires, it's yours. All yours. Just let me taste your pretty little cunt." You almost choke on your saliva when you hear the vulgar words leave his mouth and as you nod shyly, you brace yourself for the onslaught of attention that he was surely about to give you. There is no time to prepare because in an instant, he's removing the sheer leggings down your legs along with your panties. You bite into your wrist when you see him pushing them into the pocket of his surely expensive suit and as you try to ask him what he's choosing to keep him in his pocket, he winks up at you before he dives below the skirt of the dress. You almost jump in shock and overstimulation as soon as you feel his lips wrap so deliciously around your outer lips and your hands shoot instantly for his hair and pull on it when you feel two fingers push into your wet heat.

"Oh- oh my god, fuck please...yes, y-yes!" You're screaming incoherently and gripping his hair tightly, surely to the point were it's painful, but it only spurs him on further and he haunches his body completely against yours to prevent you from removing yourself from him. You're a shaking mess in seconds, and you fight to breathe every time you feel him shove his thick fingers into your cunt and pull them out along with your juices. He's growling and heaving against your skin and you find his need to pleasure you and make you see stars more of a turn on than what he's actually doing.

"Cum for me little flower, drench my fucking face." He orders once before he shoves his tongue deep into your wet pussy again, rotating between kiss your clit and sucking on it when he feels you begin to shake in his arms. He can't believe he can finally have you writhing underneath him so willingly and beautifully and as soon as he feels you clenching around him tightly, he adds a third finger.

"But- your...your suit-"

"I don't care about the fucking suit, make a mess of it. I'll wear it proudly and show everyone how good I can make you feel. Fucking cum on me and drench my suit baby. I want it, need it." He pulls away for a moment, and you look at him through heavy lidded eyes as he continues to ram his fingers in and out of you. He can tell you're enjoying his words because you tighten your grasp around his hair as soon as you hear him say that he would wear your cum on him wherever he goes like it was the most normal of things.

"That's it love, cum. Now!" He moans the last order just as he descends on your overused cunt and as soon as you feel the scruff of his face scratching your inner thighs, your back arches off of the couch and you cum on his tongue, body shaking violently as his fingers refuse to let up. A string of heat uncoils in the pit of your stomach the more he licks your clit and before you can warn him, you're gushing on his face and marking his velvet jacket. You swear you could hear a little chuckle escape his beautiful lips but you couldn't care less about it as he brings you down from your high with shallow and soft thrusts of his fingers. As he stops, you remember how painful it must be for him that your hands are still combed into his hair and you force yourself to remove them, covering your eyes instead to try and hide behind them.

"Never hide from me hermosa, always keep your eyes on me. Please," he smirks when he sees you flush underneath his piercing gaze and he pushes your skirt down before he stands and puts his three fingers into his mouth.

"I knew you'd taste sweet bebita, but I didn't think you'd taste like an exquisite flower." The compliment is too forward and you can't look away from him even when he laps at his fingers like a starved man.

"Thank you my little star, for giving me the pleasure of, well, pleasuring you." He's a little cocky with the way he says those last words and you smile at him before you try to stand up. As soon as you're off the couch, your legs turn into jello and you almost fall. But like earlier, warm hands wrap around you easily and pull you into a firm chest and you thank him quietly before you try to right yourself.

"Come with me? I am hosting an after party for your company and I would like to enter with you around my arms. You- you don't have to of course, but I- I would really like it if-" You're confused by the sudden shyness that overtakes him but you find it endearing nonetheless, the fact that someone who managed to make you cum in minutes could stand here and feel awkward while trying to invite you.

"Yes, I'll go with you." You take hold of his hands and nod at him, turning away when you see him throwing you that dashing smile again.

"I- I didn't get your name." You ask as the two of you turn around to exit the room and the sudden stop in his movements makes you question whether it was okay to ask him for his name or not.

"I will tell you my name soon mi alma." He turns around and swipes a hair away from your face, hoping that you wouldn't push him further right now.

"When?" You can't help but ask and you bite your lip when he raises an eyebrow at you before he pinches your chin.

"When I have you in my bed begging for my cock cariño," he laughs at how quickly you avoid his gaze again, loving the way you seemed to act so innocent around vulgar words when he literally just had his tongue in your cunt.

"I promise I will tell you my name little flower, but I want it to be special. When you and I are finally in each others' arms." He says more sincerely this time and deepens his soft expression when you nod and kiss his knuckles.

"So, what should I call you until then?" You ask as he leads you out of the room and down the hallway. As he takes you back to the changing rooms which have been emptied completely, you look at him questioningly again, hoping that he would give you something to call him because you couldn't just continue to say 'sir.' Although that wouldn't be such a bad idea...

"For now darling, you may call me El Diablo."

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Begin Again | Thranduil

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

Genre: Fluffy new beginnings

Warnings: ---

Words: ~2k

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page 💕 Also, I’m big dummy and lost the original request, so I couldn’t remember what all you wanted in this one-shot. So requester, whoever you are, I’m so sorry! And if you’d like another part to expand on your full request, please let me know!

  It’s strange.

  You’re whole life, you’ve always heard about how horrible it is for an elf to lose the one they love. It’s been described as feeling as though you’ve been ripped into two pieces, forced to live on without your second half. You’ve heard it feels like tiny needles stabbing into your heart until you can’t feel anything but a stifling anguish that seeps into your bones, poisoning your body from within until you eventually fade away.

  Yet you feel none of that. You feel nothing at all, like a soul wandering aimlessly for the rest of eternity, cursed with never finding a purpose or reason to stick around. But being forced to endure, none-the-less. You can sail, as an elf that’s your right, and perhaps you would find peace, wrapped in the warm embrace of Valinor as you forget all your fears and pain.

  But you don’t want to be happy, because being happy means you forget, and you're not ready to forget your beloved yet.

  The forest floor beneath you is damp from the rain that blessed Eryn Galen a few days ago. The mud sinks in between your toes as you nearly melt into the soft ground. The forest around you is lush and green, wrapping you in its warm embrace that allows for a moment of respite from your thoughts.

  The forest is empty, only the gentle sway of the trees and emerald leaves falling to the ground your company. You stare up at the sky that peaks through the canopy of leaves, the stars are out tonight and they burn brighter than you’ve ever seen them. And you wished to climb to the tops of the trees if only to feel the soft glow of moonlight on your skin.

  But that would be a foolish thing to do, a whimsy only a child would fulfill. So you simply stand in the clearing, selfishly hoarding the only spot you’ve discovered that the sky is visible.

  You thought yourself alone, something you covet more often than not. 

  And yet.

  “Forgive me, I did not realize this spot was currently occupied,” a baritone voice sounds behind you.

  Your heart pounds against your chest, the owner of the voice easily recognizable through your deep daydreams. Whirling around quicker than you’ve ever moved, you see King Thranduil standing at the edge of the clearing. He’s lacking the usual extravagant attire he usually dons, instead opting for a slightly more casual outfit. But he still wears clothes that could’ve been woven from silver and gold, the cloth glittering in the dim light.

  “My king,” you say, immediately bowing your head down in respect, thoroughly inspecting your dirtied feet. “I will take my leave.”

  “There is no need, it was I who interrupted you,” he moves further into the clearing and closer to you. His movements are smooth like a cat, his icy blue eyes lazily focusing on you.

  “Yet you are the king,” you reply, voice hardly above a whisper.

  King Thranduil is an intimidating figure, anyone within five feet of him would agree. Not in the way that lady Galadriel of Lothlorien is - her power so great you can’t help but feel suffocated, yet it is her kind smile that soothes even the most skittish. Lord Elrond carries himself with a warm presence, like a father he is kind and caring, but stern as well.

  No, King Thranduil carries a sense of tragedy with him that can’t be masked by his cold eyes or looming figure. He is the shining example of how horrible things could get for an elf when their other half passes. So far gone is he, they whisper, that not even his son can pull him from his melancholy.

  “Then as king, I order you to stay. It would be nice to have some company,” he responds, leaving no room for argument. So you nod your head in agreeance, but keep your head lowered, tracing every speck of mud covering your toes.

  “Would you not even look at your monarch?” he asks, but his voice isn’t laced with anger or malice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think there’s a hint of humor in it.

  “I apologize, My King,” you say, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes meet his and for a second, you jolt, a sensation filling your body, something you haven’t felt in years.

  “I have never seen you before. How have I never seen you?” he questions, thick brows furrowing in frustration and confusion, but his eyes remain locked on you, as do yours.

  “Y/N, My King. I just arrived here a few moons ago from the Lorien,” you respond. He says nothing for a few moments, keeping his intense gaze locked on you. And for a brief second, you swear that he could read each and every thought that passes your brain, that’s he seen every memory you have.

  “Well then, allow me to formally welcome you to Eryn Galen, Lady Y/N. Tell me how have you found my kingdom, thus far?” he asks, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture as he welcomes you.

  “It is very beautiful, My King. The trees are so tall and the leaves so green,” you say, glancing up towards the sky, enraptured by the emerald canopy above you.

  “Do they not have trees this tall in the Lorien? I was under the impression their forest was quite beautiful,” he replies, sharp eyes locked on you.

  “They do but not quite like here. Do not misunderstand me, the Lorien possesses great beauty, the mallorn tree is magnificent to look upon, but Eryn Galen offers a different beauty. I find myself in great need of change these days, it would seem.”

  “Perhaps one day you could humor me and tell me of what would need to warrant such a drastic change?” You turn to look at him, meeting his steely gaze, and he raises a single eyebrow at you. However before you can open your mouth to speak, he turns and leaves. Leaving you behind in the small clearing, and for a moment, your heart starts fluttering in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

  And you turn back around, watching the leaves dance through the sky, free from the confining grasp of the branches. A small smile rests on your face, losing yourself in daydreams you never thought you’d see again.

  “Lady Y/N, how lovely of you to join me,” King Thranduil's voice is crisp and clear, perfectly projecting across the large room. He sits languidly at a chair, carved from wood with delicate engraving dancing on the tops of them. A glass of wine in one hand and the other slung over the top of his chair, he is the picture of ease.

  “It is my pleasure to join you, My King,” you reply, lowering your gaze to the floor once he meets yours. With slow and tentative steps, you move towards the open space to his right, where a glass of wine already poured. Your heart is racing, sweat building up in the palms of your hands as you open and close them. What feels like a lifetime later, you reach the chair, a guard so still he could’ve been a statue, pulling it out for you as you sit in it. 

  “Thank you,” you quietly say as the guard pushes your chair forward.

  “Please, leave us” Thranduil’s voice is commanding and firm, not allowing any room for questions he does not wish to answer. Silently and quickly, every guard in the room filters out. And as their light footsteps disappear, you and Thranduil are left in the room...alone.

  A small burst of courage surges through you, your gaze leaving the fine china it was tracing over and over again to meet his gaze. His eyes are just as icy blue as you remember, but somehow they seem softer than they had been in the forest. Or perhaps the light is playing tricks on you.

  Everyone knows that elves only truly love once.

  Your mouth is dry, nerves suddenly overtaking you. What are you supposed to say; to do? You’ve never spent much time in the presence of royalty, often preferring to stay in the shadows, content with a simple life. Yet fate seems to have other plans for you. Or is this just simply Thranduil, and the gods have nothing to do with his intentions - whatever they may be?

  “Do not be so nervous. Please, drink. The food will be ready momentarily,” Thranduil says, motioning towards you with a wine goblet in hand. You nod, still silent as ever.

  With a shaky, damp hand, you reach towards your wine goblet, grasping the cold metal in your warm hands. Taking a deep breath, you pick it up, bringing it towards your lips. The wine is smooth as it pours down your throat, cool and soothing to the dessert inside your mouth. It’s slightly sweet, not at all holding the bitter aftertaste the wine of Man possesses.

  You set the glass down, turning your attention to Thranduil. He watches you with sharp eyes, an expectant look on his face.

  “It is very good, Your Grace,” you mutter, and in exchange for speaking so quietly, you manage to keep your voice steady.

  “Excellent.”

  You smile, and it’s all nerves and anxiety, closely resembling a grimace rather than a beaming grin. Your heart is fierce against your chest, and you fear in that moment he will hear it. But if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

  “If I may be so bold, Your Grace, might I enquire as to why you’ve called me here?” Your voice is louder this time, but there’s a slight waver towards the end, betraying everything you feel.

  He’s silent for a moment as if he’s gathering his thoughts, figuring out a way to deliver whatever is running in his mind. You nearly crack, the apology for overstepping your boundaries on the tip of your tongue when he finally speaks.

  "Am I not allowed to simply get to know my subjects?" Thranduil asks, a sly smirk resting on his lips. He brings the goblet of wine to his lips, slowly sipping it. He lowers it slightly so that it rests just below his chin. 

"Of course, but I suppose I'm just curious as to why you've invited me to a private meal with you. Am I correct to assume you don't do this with every one of your subjects?" you say, your eyes wide like a doe, with hands in your lap. Your fingers intertwine with each other, a way to distract you from the anxiety in you. 

  Thranduil continues to watch you, an unreadable expression in his ocean eyes. He inhales deeply, leaning farther back into his chair. After a few moments of silence, he opens his mouth. 

  “I find myself wanting to get to know you better. I find you intriguing.” Your mind turns blank, all sense and reason leaving it. For a moment you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly, not grasping that a king would be so curious about you.

  “I do not understand, what about me is so interesting? We’ve only met once, hardly having a full conversation,” you say. Your voice is firmer than before, drowning with disbelief.

  “Then it would seem you’ve made an impression.”

  You open your mouth, and then promptly close it, not sure how to proceed. Your heart is fluttering, though due to anxiety. Not this is something… different, a type of nervousness, but not due to fear. A light feeling that also leaves you light with giddiness and not weighed down by dread.

  But it can’t be.

  Elves only love once. Yet the mantra you’ve repeated over and over again seems to be losing its weight, the words no longer feeling as true as before.

  “Would it be alright, if I were to get to know you better, My Lady?” he asks, his voice softer than before, his fair face still neutral, yet less austere than it had been the first time you met.

  Elves only love once.

  And yet.

  “I would like that very much, Your Grace.” Your smile widens, less unsure than before, your eyes shining like starlight. The prospect of something new is exciting yet also terrifying at the same time. You should run and hide, fiercely guarding your already fragile heart like a dragon watches over its treasure hoard.

 Elves only love once. And yet.

  You push aside those fears, in favor of welcoming a chance at a new beginning.

  And yet.

o0o0o

Tags: 

@lunatichaotiche​ | @aearonnin​ | @emiliessketches​ | @vibratingbones​ | @moony-artnstuff​ | @ranhanabi777​ | @kenobiguacamole​ | @ceinelee​ | @thranduil​ | @samnblack​ | @abbiesthings​ | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit​ | @keijibum​ | @lifestylesleep​ | @lilith15000 | 

[melzula]

The Promise

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: this was requested by an anon and yes, it’s based off of the comics

summary: with tensions rising in Yu Dao, Aang seeks the Princess’s help in an effort to sway Zuko in the right direction

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

Aang’s heart is heavy with dread as he approaches the Southern Water Tribe for the first time since having left it nearly two years ago. Half constructed buildings peer out from the clouds, and as Appa nears closer to land the Avatar can see the statue of the south’s beloved leader. Her permanently etched smile does little to ease his nerves as he mulls over how he’s going to deliver the news to her, and though he hates to break his promise to Zuko he has found lately that some promises aren’t meant to be kept.

The moment the flying bison lands in the snow all the school children are quick to rush forward and excitedly crowd around the animal and the Avatar. In the distance you stand, a delighted smile on your face at the sight of your friend whom you immediately pull into a hug.

“Aang! It’s so good to see you again,” you exclaim before pulling out of the embrace. “Did you get taller?”

“I think so,” he chuckles sheepishly. “It’s nice to see you too, Princess. Or should I say Chief?”

“Please, Chief is only for formal occasions. You can still call me Princess if you’d like, just y/n will do too.”

“I was so sorry to hear about what happened to you,” Aang admits earnestly. “I wish I could have helped.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Aang. It was my decision to keep Koa a secret so that I wouldn’t pull you and Zuko away from your obligations. And everything turned out alright in the end, didn’t it?”

“I suppose it did, and I’m glad you’re alright. The South seems to be doing pretty well,” he notes with a faint smile, enjoying the way your eyes seem to light up at the mention of your home.

“We’ve already accomplished so much in just a short amount of time! The outer tribes are beginning to grow in number and our people have been mingling with those from our sister tribe. Oh, Aang, you have to meet my students! They’ve only been practicing for a few months but some of them have already passed the beginning level and-”

“That all sounds amazing, y/n,” the Avatar admits with a weak smile. However, his strong front doesn’t fool you in the slightest, and you immediately are able to detect that something is wrong, “but I didn’t come here for a friendly visit. There’s... There’s something we need to talk about. It’s about Zuko.”

He doesn’t miss the look that flashes briefly in your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, and though he can tell how anxious you are Aang admires your ability to remain poised and collected in front of your students.

“Let’s talk in my office,” you utter quietly, and after dismissing the children for the day you and Aang are quick to head inside for a private discussion about the matters at hand.

“I’m so sorry to have to barge in on you like this when you already have so much on your plate but I didn’t have a choice,” Aang explains gently.

“What’s going on Aang?” You ask uneasily, and the worried look on your face doesn’t make things any easier for him. After all you’ve done for him and your friends, he doesn’t have the heart to break yours.

“The night the Harmony Restoration Movement was announced I made two promises to Zuko. I promised him that if things began to get out of hand and history began to repeat itself, I would end his life before he could have the chance to become like his father. The world needs peace and balance, and we can’t have anyone jeopardizing that. You know I’m just a peaceful monk, I couldn’t even kill Ozai, but Zuko is my friend and it meant so much to him that I had no choice but to agree.”

“And the second promise?” You murmur quietly, your mind reeling at the information given to you. Horror and panic flash across your features and you feel nauseous, you feel as if you can’t breathe and the walls are closing in all around you, and a newfound sense of desperation washes over you.

“The second promise was not to tell you. Zuko knew that if you found out you’d delay your return home to try and talk him out of it, and his mind had already been up. He didn’t want to worry you-”

“Why are you telling me this now, Aang? What’s changed?” You interrupt, though you fear you already know the answer. The Avatar refuses to meet your gaze.

“Zuko has withdrawn from the Harmony Restoration Movement and refuses to compromise. If things don’t work themselves out soon I might have to fulfill my promise...”

The room is heavy with tension and deathly silent as you process the news Aang has given you. It doesn’t sound like Zuko at all, and this promise doesn’t sound like Aang either.

“Aang, you’re my friend and I love you. But if you choose to fulfill this promise of yours I’ll never be able to forgive you.”

“Trust me, y/n, I don’t want it to come to that. That’s why I’m here,” he says earnestly. “I’m telling you all of this because I want you to talk to Zuko. You’re the only person he’ll listen to, so maybe you can get through to him and this whole mess can be resolved.”

“Where is Zuko now?”

“The last I heard he’d locked himself away in the palace back at the Fire Nation.”

“Spirits, so much for an honest relationship,” you grumble quietly to yourself. A small, defeated sigh escapes you and you nod. “Alright. Let me get my affairs in order and then I’ll go talk to Zuko.”

“Thank you so much, Princess. I know how hard all of this must be for you, and I wish there was another way but-”

“It isn’t your fault, Aang. At least not entirely. You only did what Zuko asked you to in respect of your friendship, and now in respect of our friendship I ask that you allow me to sway him in the right direction before any decisions are made.”

“Yes, of course,” he nods earnestly, and sensing that you need a moment to yourself, the Avatar excuses himself. “I’ll go make sure Appa is ready for the trip. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

A breath you didn’t know you’d been holding leaves you the moment the door shuts behind Aang, and it takes all of your will power to keep your rising tears at bay. To think that Zuko had gone to the extreme to reassure himself of the fact that he’d never repeat his family’s footsteps broke your heart; Zuko was nowhere close to being the cruel man Ozai had been, and you thought he was past this by now. You were worried about him and how he must be feeling, but you also felt it to be unfair of him to keep such a thing from you. He had been so distraught when he had learned about Koa and after that you had both sworn to tell each other everything no matter what, yet now it seemed Zuko had no intention of keeping that promise to you. Promise. It seemed like such a heavily loaded word now, and you were beginning to resent it entirely. You couldn’t wait another minute, you had to see Zuko.

It takes you no longer than an hour to get your affairs in order— Hakoda and your mother are left in charge to oversee the tribe while you’re away, and Pakku is to continue lessons without your presence. You pack your bag and join Aang on Appa’s saddle, and with the quick utterance of the phrase yip yip the two of you are riding high into the skies and making your way towards the Fire Nation.

The wind blowing through your hair is a bittersweet reminder of your days fighting the war alongside your friends; you had once believed that things would be simpler after the Fire Nation’s defeat, but so far nothing had seemed to be any easier than you had hoped it would be. You wished they were here now, you could really use some reassurance from Sokka or Suki, and you know Katara would probably have just the right thing to say to ease your nerves. Instead, the ride is silent and tense as you journey to see Zuko.

In the throne room sits the Fire Lord, tense and distracted by the millions of thoughts that whiz by in his head. He knew he was making the right decision by allowing his people to remain in Yu Dao, he was their ruler and it was his duty to look after their best interests, and backing out from the Harmony Restoration Movement would prevent the disruption of the peaceful lives they’d created for themselves there. Seeing the Mayor’s family, their daughter born of both Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom heritage, it allowed him to see his own future, one in which he selfishly realized what the movement would mean not only for his people but for himself.

Your portrait sits in his lap, face poised and stoic yet with a hint of a smile on your face, and it is this portrait that brings him solace and comfort during his time of turmoil. He’d purchased the photo from a vendor back in the South during the celebration of your coronation, and looking at it now he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Everything had become such a mess and all he wanted was your comfort; you were busy rebuilding a tribe, and after Zuko had made such a fuss about maintaining honesty between you two he felt foolish to try and tell you now. Surely you’d leave him for it, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand that heartache. Not again.

A knock on the door rips his attention away from your portrait and an immediate scowl forms on his features. He’d made it specifically clear that he didn’t want any visitors and was to be left undisturbed. Where were the Kyoshi Warriors to keep away the arrivals?

“I will see no one,” Zuko bellows, shoulders tensing when the door slowly begins to open despite his proclamation. However, when his eyes take in the sight of his beloved the Fire Lord does a double take before immediately relaxing at the presence of his Princess.

“Will the Fire Lord make an exception for me?” You ask with a meek smile, carefully shutting the doors behind you

“Y/n!” Zuko exclaims before scrambling out of his seat and rushing towards you. You can’t help the delighted laugh that leaves you when Zuko lifts your figure off the ground and holds you impossibly close to his chest. Tears well in his eyes as he nestles his face into your shoulder and breathes in the scent of fire lilies and snow.

“It’s nice to know you’ve missed me,” you giggle softly, though your smile fades once Zuko sets you back on the ground and you’re able to see his face. Carefully you rest a hand upon his face, Zuko immediately melting into your touch. “My love, you haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

“How can you tell?” Zuko asks with quiet surprise.

“I can see the restlessness and turmoil in your eyes. You’re troubled.”

“That’s an understatement,” he scoffs quietly. You frown.

“What’s going on with you, Zuko? Aang told me you backed out of the Harmony Restoration Movement.”

“Is that why you’re here?” The Fire Lord replies, a harsh edge suddenly coating his tone. “Just to talk me back into it??”

“I’m here because I’m worried about my boyfriend,” you emphasize, and you don’t miss the look of guilt that flash’s across Zuko’s face for snapping at you. Quieter now, “Aang told me about the promise he made to you. I want to hear your side of the story, and I want to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t go that far.”

Zuko is silent for a moment, and after a beat passes he nods. No more secrets, it’s time to tell you everything.

You end up in the palace gardens by the pond, loaves of bread in your hands as you enjoy the breeze and feed the turtle ducks. The Kyoshi Warriors stand in the distance to guard you both, and Suki gives you a quiet nod when your eyes meet across the way. You wanted to give Zuko a comforting atmosphere where he could feel safe to talk, the tone of the throne room was a bit too intense for the both of you, and after recalling stories he had told you of his mother you figured this was the perfect spot to do so. It takes him time to gather his thoughts and process his emotions, but you wait patiently until he’s ready.

“I want to start by saying that I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I knew you’d worry and drop everything to try and talk me out of something I’d already decided, and I didn’t want to take you away from your people, not again,” Zuko explains quietly. “But my family, selfishness and destruction runs in our blood, and I needed to make sure that I’d never make the same mistakes they did.”

“Zuko,” you utter gently, your hand coming to rest upon his bicep, “you are nothing like your father or your grandfather. You’re a good person, you’ve already proven this time and time again. Yes, you’ve made mistakes, but you’ve also made changes, good changes.”

“I can’t make any more mistakes, y/n. That’s why Aang is there to stop me. But backing out of the Harmony Restoration Movement is not a mistake.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?” You repeat in bewilderment. “I-I don’t understand.”

“I had the chance to visit Yu Dao and see what my people had created, the life they spent generations building for themselves. As Fire Lord it’s my job to make sure my people are happy, and they are happy— coinciding with earth kingdom citizens. You should have seen it, y/n. Best friends, business partners, families made up of two different nations. I know Aang believes there can’t be any harmony unless the four nations are separate, but Yu Dao proves that that’s not true, and so do we.”

“The mayor’s wife of Yu Dao invited me to stay with them, her an earth bender and her husband a fire bender. They had a daughter and together they were a beautiful family. And do you know what I saw when I was with them?”

“What did you see?” You ask quietly, your eyes welling with tears as you hang onto Zuko’s every word.

“I saw us. I saw you cradling a baby in your arms while you sat in the gardens and watched the older children play. It was peaceful, and even though the odds have always been against us it didn’t matter that the mother of our children was of the Water Tribe and the father was of the Fire nation. All that mattered in that moment was our family. A family that can’t exist if we keep the four nations separate,” Zuko emphasizes desperately. “If it’s selfish of me to base my decision on my own desires then I’ll take the hit, but I’d rather die than ever have to be kept away from you simply because we’re different.”

Zuko’s eyes have grown wide and his shoulders rise and fall with each anxious breath he takes as he gauges your reaction. You’re silent for a long while, your own gaze settled upon the pond as you watch the mother turtle duck look after her ducklings. You wanted to be a mother some day, and you’d be lying if you said you could picture yourself being with anyone other than Zuko. He was it for you, the only person you’d ever want to be with, and no one had any right to tell you otherwise.

“Zuko,” you say quietly, lifting your gaze to stare into his golden irises, “you’re absolutely right.”

“I-I am?” He splutters in response, surprised at the fact that he’s truly in the right for once. He’s always relied on you as a moral compass, so to hear that you agree with him is a weight lifted off of his shoulders.

“You are,” you reaffirm. “How can you have peace if everyone is expected to keep to themselves? That’s not harmony at all. It’s isolating and it’s lonely and it’s sad. Those families shouldn’t be separated, and you need to do whatever you can to keep them together.”

“I will,” Zuko nods quickly. “Will you help me?”

“I’m on your side Zuko, but I can’t fight my friends,” you lament gently. “I’ll try to reason with Aang, and if it comes down to it I’ll stop him from fulfilling his promise to you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to remain neutral.”

“I understand,” he murmurs gently. He takes your hands in his own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for hearing my side and having my back.”

“I always will, Zuko. You’ll never have to worry about that,” you reply, smiling as he pulls you into a tight hug. Despite the conflict going on between your boyfriend and your friends, you have a feeling that everything is going to work itself out. It has to. It must.

And it will.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @sirkekselord @protect-remus @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @draqondance @taeeemin @user12345321 @just--artemis--with--ghost @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @neighborhoodpansexualdisaster @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch |

[bellsarefun]

Din Djarin/The Mandalorian Yandere Headcanons [Your Captivity]

【ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ：A few of my personal headcanons (very rough ideas) on how Din would keep you captive until you allowed him to “love you.”】

【ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：The Mandalorian x Reader】

【ｒａｔｉｎｇ：.PG-13 — no explicit content in this part, but in later parts of this series will have NSFW content. 】

【ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ：1.3k 】

You didn’t think that would come to this, Din had been such a kind and wonderful friend. But, you had no idea the darkness that he harbored in his mind—it was like a switch flipped in him. He was possessive, overprotective to the point of suffocation, and completely infatuated with you.

You had managed to persuade him that letting you walk around the Razor Crest freely, but that was the only place you were allowed to go. He forbade you from leaving the ship unless it was with him, even then he didn’t take his attention off you for one moment.

Your only company was Grogu. The little one wasn’t able to comprehend the abuse you were suffering, but he provided you with a stable rock to hold on to and a hope that things could get better. The child grew to be your only other companion other than Din and the sole reason you didn’t plot of a way to leave—and Din knew this.

In Din’s eyes, this was the only way to protect you. He needed to preserve your innocence because you were the light in his life filled with bounties and danger. After a long day of work, he’d want nothing more than to cradle you in his arms and pour all of his love into you. But, you weren’t nearly ready to fully accept him and all of his intimacy just yet, so Din was forced to play the waiting game.

To him, it was only a matter of time before you allowed him to touch you, hold you, and love you. He fantasized about the day when you would throw your arms around him after a long day of bounty hunting work, your eyes filled with happy tears to see him back safe and sound. 

You on the other hand, didn’t know what to do. This was your friend, you cared about him. But, at the same time, this Mandalorian had imprisoned you in his ship and isolated you from everyone except him. You felt sick to your stomach at the thought of him touching you and you only wondered with growing dread about the wicked thoughts swirling behind his beskar helmet.

He did everything he could to get you to trust him again, it was like you now seen him as something to be terrified of. That was the last he wanted. He forced himself with great restrain to keep his hands from grazing your skin and he limited his speech when talking to you. He thought that once you cooled down to this new life, you would find that he was doing all of this for you and the little family you all shared.

However, you continued to get worse and worse. It was like you were withering away and with Din limiting how much he spoke to you, you felt like you were losing your mind. You wanted human connection with someone, anyone. The only thread that kept you from spiraling was Grogu, he was your light and your only reason to continue living. He needed you. He relied on you for safety and support. You couldn’t leave him.

Din had delivered your foot in the backroom that had become your prison. It was a meager meal of soup and a chunk of bread, nothing was spoken between you both. Grogu cooed up at you softly, shaking your knee with his tiny hands. Din stared at him then looked at you with unseen eyes that burned holes into your emaciated form.

His heart was breaking into pieces in his chest, he hated seeing you like this. You were like a flower withering away in front of him, now matter how hard he tried to tend to you.

“(Y/N), say something.” He said but your dull (E/C) eyes refused to look at him. Din was forced to take a step towards you, his fists were clenched by his sides.

“Please forgive me. Just- Say something. Anything.” He pleaded, kneeling beside the bed. You finally turned to look at him, staring him directly through his visor as you picked up Grogu from your side. He cooed up at you softly, his head burying itself into your chest.

“Let me out.” You voice was strained and raspy like you hadn’t spoken in years. Din’s head perked up from his spot, his fist clenched the fabric of his pant leg so hard he thought it would rip.

“I can’t. I can’t lose you.” He said and you simply casted your gaze towards the far wall. “(Y/N). (Y/N), look at me.”

Your head leaned against the cold wall, the sound of Grogu’s babbling noises cut through your spinning head.

“I said look at me.”

Your head didn’t budge.

“Look at me!” He shouted, his hand grabbing your shoulder. “I love you, dammit! I’m doing this for you. All of this is for you!” Your eyes snapped towards him as he shoved you back on the wall, Grogu letting out a whine of surprise and was jostled like a rag doll on your lap.

“Why can’t you see that? I can lose everything, but I can’t lose you.” Din repeated, his voice had lowered now and this was the side of the Mandalorian that you had first seen when he handcuffed you to the bed the first time.

“I can’t do this without you. Grogu needs you, (Y/N). I’m not taking a chance that you might die.” He said, his hands reached out to take Grogu from you. You pulled the child closer to your chest, shielding him from the Mandalorian’s grasp.

“You will realize it, you will.” Was the last thing he said before he grabbed Grogu from your hands, walking out of the room. Your desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as he left you in the room with a crying Grogu. You didn’t want to be left alone—even if that meant having Din with you. But it was already too late and the door to your room shut tightly, the lock turning with a sickening sharp click.

You leaned against the wall of your prison cell, the cries of Grogu ringing in your ears. Hot tears streamed out of your eyes, running down your cheeks and over your cracked, bleeding lips.

You cried for what felt like hours, your voice growing ragged and raspy from the wailing sobs that escaped your broken form. That is, until the sound of the lock untwisting and your head snapped towards the door, the figure of Din stepping into the room making your skin crawl. All at once, you were overcome with anger and disgust for him, you wanted him dead for what he was putting you through.

Din watched silently as you pounded your fist onto his chest, your loud sobs racking your form. He felt sorrow that tears streamed from your perfect eyes and for a moment, a flicker of doubt that this was right shot through his mind. But it was quickly discarded as he laid a hand on your shoulder, your body instantly relaxed into the comforting gesture.

You had tried yourself out from the lack of sleep, the crying, and refusing to eat that you bordered on delusional. So, when you felt Din’s arms wrapping around you in a tight hug—your body couldn’t help but practically melted into his warmth. He cradled you like a broken doll, gentle and careful, and while you whimpered into his shoulder, he stroked your hair tenderly.

You couldn’t remember when you fell asleep, but the coziness coaxed your mind into the inky darkness and into the land of dreams. The feeling of the Mandalorian’s strong body pulled flush against yours felt safe enough, the first time in a long time.

[akampana]

25, Caster Gilgamesh with Arturia.

Archer Gil heart might be with Enkidu, but maybe Caster gil heart, who got over the loss with a harsh lesson, can still hope to find solace in those emerald waves inside Arturia eyes?

25. “I want you to be happy. And I would love it to be with me.”

CasGil X Arturia

this is connected to that other drabble you're referring to, No. 11 Gilart :)

_____

"You would dare make even a king plead, King of Heroes?" Arturia seethed, crushing her sword's hilt as she pointed Excalibur at Caster's throat. "Do not humiliate me further. Leave."

"I will not," the older one insisted, letting the blade slide just past his collar. "The same way you will not strike a man unarmed, Arturia."

The king flinched at the sound of her name in that familiar voice. After all the months that passed, he could still disarm her with just that.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice quivering like a leaf in autumn, barely clinging on to its branch.

"I am asking you, Gilgamesh," she managed as her heel clicked against the cold walls. "Leave, please. You have taken enough from me."

A gentle hand brushed the tears from her cheek, caressing her face the same way he did on temple grounds once before.

"The sins of my younger self are not my own. You are no fool, you know this. You know me," Caster stressed, willing the words into existence because he knew them to be true. The wise king was not so careless to toss aside one treasure in favor of another. He learned to see the beauty of each.

"This is the third time I've heard your voice say you love me—"

"Yet, the first time it was I that delivered those words and not that hedonistic idiot," Gilgamesh said, trying not to let his irritation take over. The king leaned forward, his headdress slipping from his hair as he pressed his forehead to hers.

Arturia stared straight into his eyes, a pair of rubies whose splendor she'd long memorized. Her gaze traveled downward, to the lines below his lashes that his younger self lacked, then to lips that spoke words less harsh.

There was a time Arturia would have been ready to believe him—the other him—maybe even debate that silly proposal he threw out every now and then. But that time had long passed. The person she was back then was dead and buried, six feet under together with all hopes she might have had of meeting Shirou once again.

"Gil," she enunciated his nickname, which she'd been allowed to use to differentiate him from his duplicate. "How am I to believe that I am more than something expendable in your eyes?"

Slowly, her hands crawled up his vest, pressing lightly on his chest to keep him from coming any closer.

"How can I believe that it truly is me that you want, Caster?"

The wise king of Uruk let out a long breath, anger brimming in his iridescent red eyes. He didn't think his hatred of his youthful self could go any further, but right now it was reaching a record high.

"I forgive your lack of faith, on account that it was myself that shook its foundations, but..." he trailed off, enveloping her hand in his. "However strong my efforts to distance myself from him, at our core we remain similar. There isn't a King Gilgamesh that does not want as strongly as we do, nor one that ceases pursuing his desires."

Her nails dug into the fabric of his vest, threatening to rip the fabric, but Caster stood steadfast.

"You expect me to believe you on account of that? Then you are no different—"

"I am," he interrupted, holding her chin so that she faced him.

"My younger self pursued you because he wanted a queen. He wanted you to fill a void that something he lost had left," the king declared.

"I want you to be happy," he said, finally, meeting her wide green eyes with his scarlet ones. "And I would love it to be with me. Therein lies our difference."

Gilgamesh held Arturia as her guarded heart let down its walls, circled her once stiff shoulders in his arms as the anguish that once held her upright crumbled into dust. King and King sank onto the unworthy floor, sitting amongst the rubble of her hate and doubt. But no matter. Together, they could make foundations that were stronger, built in trust instead.

Arturia whispered her response to his confession, touching her lips to his. Gil told her he wanted to make her happy. She, without fear, believed him.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 1.7k 

↣ warnings: some self inflicted pain (nothing major!), cheating mentions, serious heartbreak. 

↣  song recommendation:  tolerate it - taylor swift 

↣  preamble (as written by haik-choo):  akaashi keiji doesn’t get that not everyone can understand how someone feels with one look. he puts an extra sugar in his coffee and expects you to know that he wants to go out to a bakery, he clicks his red pens a few extra times and expects you to know that he needs refills – he says he has a lot of work tonight and expects you to make him midnight snacks. to him, that stuff is easy. why can’t you understand him? he does it for you – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud. you should already know what he’s thinking. if you don’t, maybe you don’t love him as much as he thought you did.

The complexity of love has never been accurately represented in the media. Films present reality through the lens of a fractured mirror to provide viewers a sense of emotion they cannot find elsewhere. Fairy tales are perhaps the worst form of media to exist. They are created to be consumed by young impressionable children who develop unrealistic expectations that are later thrust upon the unfortunate souls that become their partners. You were one of those children who bought the falsities sold to you. Love was something magical, the intertwining of two hearts.

You were sixteen when you fell in love for the first time. Enthralled by how one emotion could paint new colours in the horizons, you allowed yourself to fall… it was perfect, until you found yourself crying on the bathroom floor, wondering why the fairy tales lied to you.

You were seventeen when you first experienced heart break. Even now, you can remember the shame that drenched your soul when you learned that the one you loved, had slept with someone else. Each inch of your skin was tainted by your “prince charming.”

That night, your mother had to drag you out of the bath. The pads of your toes and fingers had shriveled up, while your arms and legs burned a bright crimson from the incessant scrubbing. Yet the tingling of your skin was merely a scratch in comparison to the laceration inside of your heart, and there was no band aid that you could apply there.

That was December 3rd 2014 – the date you abandoned your foolish ideals.

You met Akaashi Keiji exactly six months later.

If you were ever asked to describe the mystery that is Keiji, where would you begin? Were there truly any words that could accurately capture the very essence of his kind soul? Or the depth of this mesmerizing eyes? How would you possibly begin to explain how a single caress by his calloused fingertips had melted away the imaginary grime that had coated your skin? If anyone was prince charming, it was him.

But little did you know that sometimes he doubted whether you were his Cinderella. His happily ever after…

The first indication of his veiled concerns occurred in your last year of high school. With the departure of his third-year friends, Akaashi was titled captain of the boy’s volleyball team. While he enjoyed volleyball, he was never obsessed with the sport like his best friend. Volleyball was his hobby, nothing more and nothing less. He was more concerned with maintaining his high academic record than securing a ticket to nationals. Last year balancing the various fragments of his life was simple. But the absence of his friends weighed on him, each day the anxiety increased until he could barely sit without jitters swarming his limbs. As his girlfriend, you should have known the stress he was battling… Sure, he was pushing you away, but you should have known why.

Yet, when you attempted to thwart his efforts to establish distance, you were chastised for your lack of understanding.

“Y/n. I am busy. Please do not disturb me during practice.” Not the slightest bit of respect was allocated to you, despite your status as his girlfriend. And while his pointed response was undoubtedly directed towards to you, his attention was on the practice commencing inside of the gym. “Listen, I need to go back. If you want to talk, consider picking a more appropriate time in the future.” Rolling the towel within his grasp, he refused to acknowledge you beyond sharing these words.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” To even utter an apology stole the limited resolve you had to address the situation. How much did you have to degrade yourself to fix a relationship he evidently did not want?

But the following day at lunch period, a dozen roses were delivered to you with an apology note attached to the stems. It was only natural for you to grant him the forgiveness he sought. Dismissing his actions was simple once you rationalized it as a normal reaction to an abundance of pressure. Diamonds may be created under pressure, but he was no diamond, and neither were you.

The second indication of his concealed doubts did not emerge from a set of actions, nor did it include the exchange of harsh words. Rather, it was his silence that nurtured your insecurities and provided you confirmation that while he was your happily-ever-after, you may not be his.

To celebrate Keiji’s 19th birthday, his mother had offered to host a gathering at his childhood home. When the details of the party were conveyed to you, excitement had fluttered to life inside of your stomach. It was the perfect opportunity to develop your relationship with the woman who had raised your wonderful boyfriend. Yet, not even the purest of intentions would save you from the humiliation that awaited you that night.

At one point of the evening, Keiji had vanished for a considerable amount of time. Naturally, you searched the house for your boyfriend. When you peaked inside of the kitchen, you found him engaging in a conversation with his mother. You almost called out to him instinctively, except your vocal cords denied you access when you caught the end of their conversation.  

“Has she been tending to your needs yet? Or has she remained as useless as before?” The older woman clutched the stem of her wine glass, with a scoff clawing at her throat. It seemed that the liquor coating her tongue had turned the muscular organ into a knife.

Keiji stood with his back pressed against the kitchen island, listening without a reaction. The nonchalance emanating from his demeanour indicated that this was not the first occurrence. No, this had happened before, otherwise he would have had some form of a reaction. A flinch – a twitch – anything. But he stood still, emotionless, distant. The targeting comments were equivalent to a whisper in the wind – not deserving of a response, nor a stir.

“Keiji, you are aware that you are wasting your time and yet you stay with her?” The sigh falling from her stained lips was extended to emphasize her distress, and the gentle sound was enough to weaken your knees.

No longer able to support your own weight, you leaned against the wall, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Your fingers tangled with the fabric of your shirt as you waited for his response.

Say something – anything. Just tell her she’s wrong.

Yet the denial never came.  

The first two indications were shoved aside, dismissed with excuses that would serve as a band-aid on your decaying relationship. But then came the third.

The third indication of his doubt occurred on an average college night when you were in the process of selecting your outfit for the night. Bokuto had arranged an unofficial Fukurodani reunion for the boy’s volleyball team. As Keiji’s girlfriend, the invite was naturally extended to you. Usually your boyfriend would be in higher spirits knowing that he would soon be in the company of his high school friends. But tonight, a frown remained etched into his features, not wavering for even a single moment.

“Which one? I don’t want to be underdressed. But on the other hand, Kou is always dressed really weird. So, I don’t know.” Two outfits were presented towards the male, a scarlet cocktail dress and a navy pantsuit with a low cut.

“Does it matter, y/n?” The sharp remark was blown out with a heavy sigh. It was as though he could not muster the energy to care for your feelings. Or perhaps, he simply chose to display his inner conflict, with no concern of the consequences of his decision.

The noise was startling enough to strip you of the excitement that once animated your movements.

“I guess not, but is it wrong that I want to look good for my boyfriend?” The counter question was voiced barely above a whisper, with each word sounding fainter than the last.

“Maybe if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t have to ask.” His eyes did not meet yours, rather they stayed fixed on the writing utensil within his grasp. “It’s not that hard, y/n. You just don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

The verbal assaults implanted daggers into your chest, but the pain would only become worse – since he was not done just yet.

“If you refuse to love me with your entire heart, what is the point? Let me go.”

“Keiji!” Pain cut along the inside of your throat from the shriek erupting from your chest. Had you ever screamed his name in quite a harsh manner? Liquid blurred your vision, and with your air-filled organs wheezing in distress, your words were stated between staggered breaths.

“I am not a fucking mind reader.” The fog of desperation encompassing you was comprised of poison, one that soon threaded throughout your system. The properties of the poison enflamed your lungs, burning the organs and halting the flow of air. Instinctively your hands were sent to your skin, clawing at the flesh as if you could simply rip out the emotions suffocating you. “Just because I don’t love you the way you think I should, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Whether the words spilling from your lips were responsible for the bitter taste in your mouth, or the tears now gracefully parading down your cheeks was unknown. Either way, the release of the steaming liquid eased the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’m done, Keiji. I’m done.” Slowly claiming your insides was a thin layer of ice. By now, you had run out of excuses for his behaviour. There were no longer any band-aids you could use to tend to the wounds. The question of whether your boyfriend considered you “the one” was answered.

Despite the ache weaving into your muscles, your feet dragged you to the front door. A piece of you desired to catch one final glimpse of him – as your heart knew this would be the final time you would see him. But afraid you would lose your resolve to leave, you pressed the car keys against your palm, and remained fixed on the exit.

Behind you, the brunette voiced a weak apology – you were unable to catch the exact words, as they were muffled by the fabric of his sleeves. But not even the sweetest words could remedy the situation. Since, now you had accepted the truth.

Love was never a fairy-tale, and Akaashi Keiji was not a prince. Love would never be what you wanted it to be, and it would always hurt.

Love would always hurt.

A/N: I ended up finishing this today because I got into a bad mood and so I needed to channel it into something lol 

Taglist: @sayakaaaaaa @sanitisegermsfree @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui​ @neobakas​ @azumane-kun @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​   

~ message me to be removed from the general taglist + bolded means I can’t tag ya 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Request: What about an s/o with overhaul that went out and basically got found by toga to steal her blood and pretend to be her to infiltrate the hissekai base and overhaul believed it a little at first then because of like one single thing he just knows its someone else? You dont need to do this

"You take care of her or else I'm ripping your heart out of your chest and sticking it into your ass." He growled and for once Rappa shivered at the threat of Overhaul as you snorted.

"Don't take his words seriously." You giggled kissing his covered cheek... not noticing the fire on your boyfriend eyes and the threat he made by overhauling his glove.

"Jesus fucking Christ I GET IT!" Rappa raised his hands up as you laughed, getting out of the house as Chisaki crossed his arms.

The only bad thing about the work on the yakusa was that he couldn't always afford time to be or to even get out with you, but when you needed a bit of space he sended one of his most trusted subbordinates to out along with you.

None of them were able to so it had to be Rappa this time.

He watched as you and that filth get out with a sigh, walking back to his office and just anatacipating your arrival.

.

.

.

He bounced his leg, work forgotten and put aside for him to finish up later as he in each five minutes at the clock... you were late.

This was never a good sign. You being late wasn't never a good sign. You knew about how he was pontual dammit.

The door opening mad ehis heart jump a bit but his face remained stoic as ever as listened to Rappa's voice. If he wasn't panicking then it must meant you were safe and sound...

"Here. All (your weight) delivered. You own me a match." Rappa said as Chisaki only gave him the look that could scare even fucking all Might "Geez. When it involves your girl you have the guts dont you? See ya around (Y/n)."

"Bye~" you giggled while twirling your fingers at the man, an action that made Chisaki to arch one of his eyebrows up.

"Care to explain?" He said nonchantly as you looked at him with a smile, walking towards him "You're late." He hissed.

"Ahh someone missed me~?" your hands went to hold onto his arms and he let out a confused sound when he felt the hives starting to appear... never on his relationship with you of 3 whole years.

He slapped your hand away by instinct and you laughed.

"Okay, okay! I will go to sleep then!" You walked past him giving him a wink over your shoulder "Good night my dear Overhaul~"

In one motion he grabbed your wrist harshly and twirled you around to grab on your throat and hit your back on the wall, making you cry out and whimper.

"Y-you're scaring m-me honey, please let go!" You squirmed n his grip as his gloves slowly started to dissapear as he narrowed hsi eyes down at you.

"Quit the games. You're not my (Y/N)." He growled, watching drops of tears roll down your cheeks as you sniffed.

"H-How can you say that?" You whimpered as he applied mor epressure on your throat.

"(Y/n) would refer me as Overhaul. And the way you talk and walk cant even be compared to her." He growled, narrowing his eyes at when your figurine widened your eyes before starting to cackle, a goo started to melt your face away while laughing and showing the face he wanted so desperately to punch if it wasn't important.

"So you two are that close?" The girl smiled sadically before grunting when he applied more pressure on her throat.

"Where. Is. She? I know your quirk you psyco brat, you hurted her?!" He shouted as the blonde started to cackled before looking at him dead in the eye while licking her lips as your face faded away.

"Maybe~?? Her blood is tasty though.. you should taste it." His right eye twitched before throwing her on the wall as the others came to notice the startled.

"You-!" He pointed at Rappa before overhauling him out of no where and only putting him back to normal as he lifted the poor man by the hem of his shirt out of the ground "I WARNED YOU! KEEP. AN EYE. ON MY GIRLFRIEND!"

He let go of him and run towards the secret place he had constructed. Shouting at the other to keep an eye on Toga as he ran on the corridors.

"H..Help.." he widened his eyes at the sound of your voice and shouted your name, following your voice and quickened his run and widened his eyes at seing you throw at the floor.

But as soon as he crouched down to pick you up he heard more and more of your voices... each one of them coming from different places and each version of you looked injuries and talked about how the other wasn't you.

"Twice..." he growled under his breath before slapping his hand on the ground, damaging all the replicas of you enough to fade away, even the one whose was close to him.

He got up and looked around in a panic yet collected state until he heard Twice's voice and barged a room, deadpan expression as the man shouted as Chisaki got closer and closer to him, jaw clenched as he extended one of his fingers out at the masked man.

"Tell me where is (Y/n). And I will think about it how I wont make you a second version of Rappa or transform you into a garbage can..." his fingers were mere inches away from Twice's face as the man himself shaked his hands in front of him.

"TRUST ME THEY ARE OKAY! That bitch suffered lots!" Chisaki deadpanned at the man's words before he listened to a faint call.

"K..Kai?" He widened his eyes at the closet and made a cage out of concret to prevent Twice to get out and opened the door to see you, coughing and with a serious cut on your forehead and dropping onto his arms.

"Angel.." he sighed shakily, holding you protectively on his arms as he used his quirk to repairs the damaged and cutted skin as you winced "Forgive me..."

"Aweee that's such a sweet encounter! Ugh that's gross get a FUCKING ROOM!" Chisaki looked over his shoulder with wide and threatening eyes at Bubaigara before he felt a sweet hand, one that didn't formed hives on him, touching his own.

"Leave it... is not their fault." You whispered softly as Kai looked at you like you were crazy.

"You cant actually be serious-"

"Hon you killed a teammate of his. Even is she did attacked you first they were hurt... leave it like that or else it will cost you the problem..." you mumbled on his chest as he scoffed, picking you up like bridal style and walking out of the room, touching with only one finger to free Twice as his subbordinates lead Toga to stay along with him.

"If I were you both I would kiss my girlfriend feet. Because she is sthe inly thing that kept you both alive for now..." he narrowed his eyes, Toga only blinking as Twice yelped "If you ever dare to touch her again, I will make sure that neither of you have hands anymore." He growled before walking out of the place as Toga made a thoughtful expression as Twice looked at her with confusion.

"Thinking about what Toga-chan?"

Her thoughtful expression soon transformed into a pisco one, eyes squinted as her smile almost seemed of like one of those creepy dolls.

"No hands huh? Tomura-kun will like the idea.." she giggled before picking her cellphone...

[imagine-loki]

Everyone's Problem

TITLE: Everyone’s Problem CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her. + Imagine HYDRA has been quietly watching Loki living a quiet life on Earth. They decide it’s finally time to bring him into the fold. It doesn’t exactly work out the way they intended. RATING: T

NOTES/WARNING: Hi, y'all! I haven’t written in a fair while, so I did a quick little one-shot with Charlie to get myself back into shape. It’s probably rough, but cut me some slack! If you’re interested in reading other Charlie stories (there’s a bunch!), you can find them on my masterlist here. Language, mentions of violence, attacks and blood, one v angry human, and typos probably.

XX

“Loki, it’s a stomach ache. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” Charlie remarked for the fiftieth time that morning as she gently shoved the darling Asgardian she called a boyfriend away from her.

Loki huffed for about the same number time. “According to your interweb healers, it could be an autoimmune disorder, an ulcer or gastric cancer! Forgive me if I’m a little worried about–”

“WebMD is not a qualified physician, Loki Odinson! Settle. The fuck. Down!”

Though her tone was no-nonsense, a smile was tugging at the left corner of her plump lips, evidence that she was not nearly as cross as she portrayed herself to be. When she brushed past him, Loki circled his arms around her waist and tugged her into his body, peppering her face with kisses as she made noises of weak protest. Despite his best advances (and really, he was doing his best work here) her laughter began to trickle down and out of existence.

“Loki, stop,” she said firmly, though he was only half listening.

“Stop!” The Prince froze, holding her loosely in his arms. Her tone wasn’t exactly what had caused her to stop his affectionate attack, though. It was the fact that her whole frame had stilled, and her eyes danced from spot to spot as she concentrated on something. “Can you hear that?”

Loki tilted his head and focused. It took a moment, as out of practice in paranoia as he was, but eventually he heard the very distinct pounding of military-grade rubber on linoleum. “Boots.” Quietly, he righted himself, taking silent, measured steps around the furniture, leading Charlie along with him. “Come on. Bedroom. Quickly.”

No sooner had he gotten those words out, the front door slammed open, leaving Charlie to yelp behind him, a handful of his gray heather t-shirt keeping her anchored to his frame. As Loki saw it, there were three men in the immediate vicinity, waving odd-looking guns that bore the signature of the Chitauri. These were not aliens, though. They were humans, who somehow found a way to retrofit the technology to make more powerful weapons. Many had been foolish enough to try it throughout the years, but only one entity bore the skull and tentacled monster on their insignia.

HYDRA.

This was definitely not a great time to still be without magic.

At once, he tried to school the rhythm of his heart, knowing that Charlie was distinctly in tune with the beat and would worry if it seemed like he was in a panic. With delicate fingers, he stroked at her curls, intending to burrow into his side. “Put your arm around me, tuck your head in, don’t let go. Got it?”

She offered little resistance to the order, humming her consent and wrapping her arm tightly around his torso. The feeling gave him comfort, funnily enough, that he was still the warrior that he had trained to be in his youth, despite having lived like a spoiled house cat for the last couple of years. Where in his youth there was glory and blood to be won, today there was only one objective–keep Charlie safe. Loki moved the second the intruders set their scopes on him. Reaching to his left, he grabbed a handful of kitchen knives which would have to do in this pinch and engaged with a growl.

Charlie whimpered, her legs struggled to keep up with his. She could not anticipate his movement and was mostly just being pushed and pulled around the floor while Loki seemed to be skillfully weaving like he was dancing. It also didn’t help that with every jerk of her body and awkward moment, there was the sickening sound of injury filling her ears. In one very distinct occasion, she could feel the breaking of some sort of bone reverberate through her own hand as Loki delivered a blow. Surely, it would be a lot easier for Loki to fight if he didn’t have to worry about Charlie behind him, and the awkward shuffle he had to do to make sure she was never exposed to any of these intruders took significant mental acuity.

When the three in the room had been dealt with, Loki reached for one of their weapons and Charlie’s mobile. He wasted to no time in moving them back through the bedroom door and locking it. Surely, more men would come.

“Stark!”

“Loki, I am, er, dealing with something right now!” The sound of bullets and flying mortar filled the line along with FRIDAY’s voice in the suit. “I’ll need to call you back!”

“Loki.” Charlie’s voice was small and trembling beside him.

Sighing, Loki wrapped his free arm around her and pulled Charlie into his chest. “I have you, love. Don’t worry.”

His lips pressed into her crown. A little bit of battle had shaken away the rust of his instincts and he could feel the distinctive prickle of enemies closing in. He prayed quietly to any entity that would bear to hear his prayers that they would be left alone. There was more noise beyond the door and Loki was left to coo Charlie into silence. He understood her fear, everything to her was a surprise, doubly so when she was scared and couldn’t bring herself to concentrate on her surroundings.

“I’m going to need you to run to the bathroom and lock yourself there, dove.”

Her hazel eyes zeroed in on him with rage-filled acuity. “You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you.”

“Darling, I cannot protect you if I’m busy minding you from getting hurt!”

Her eyes widened. There was panic in her empty gaze if the fidgeting of her fisted hands was anything to go by and it pained him to think that he could not even offer her an empty promise. “No, please! Please, don’t leave me. I–I can’t deal with it if you’re not with me.”

Loki smiled, sighing at the sweet ache of her words on his heart, and cupped her cheeks, dusting them with speckles of others’ blood. “You are braver than this, Charlotte Camden.” His thumbs brushed over her bronzed cheekbones affectionately. “I know you are. So you go and keep yourself safe and I will–”

The bedroom door rammed open with a deafening crash of cracked wood and rained splinters over the couple.

“Go! Go now!”

Charlie reluctantly disengaged, taking a running leap towards the bathroom door and slammed it behind her. Her ear pressed up against the wood to hear the scuffling. It sounded like a bigger force had come in and Charlie swallowed the panicked yelp threatening to bubble up her throat. Loki was a great fighter, but without his magic there was little for him to do if he was incapacitated. All she could do was hope that he was faster, stronger, better than these intruders.

And that’s when she heard it.

His voice.

Screaming.

Screaming like he did when he had a nightmare.

Screaming like when he remembered the blood and gore that he caused and the damage he had done.

Screaming like when he discovered that the extent of his monstrosity went beyond a lineage he had been lied about and the fickle lies he had been fed by a tyrant.

And then she heard it again.

And again.

And again…

And just when she thought her heart could take no more, she heard a body thud onto the ground and the shuffling stop and she feared the worst.

And then her bracelets activated.

Nearly a year of having the damn things on her and she had forgotten that they served any purpose other than setting off the metal detectors everywhere she went. The nanites built up around her in one swift wave. It took Charlie a moment to orient herself back to the seeing world. The colors on the screen still gave her a headache, her eyes still were unfocused, but that was due to her nearsightedness more than anything else, but it was still usable. And the updates Tony had made to the AI over the years made it easy to navigate through the controls.

She kicked the door open at once. Five figures turned back to her while another three were trying to get Loki’s annoyingly heavy body onto a cot to wheel him away. There was blood on his shirt, wounds seeping the dark treacly liquid from stab wounds used to subdue him, he looked pale, but his chest was still moving air and he was muttering deliriously under his breath.

He was alive.

So every one of them now had to die.

The gauntlets whined as the blasters charged and knocked them clean out of their boots. She supposed Tony didn’t think she would ever try to blast anything at full power, but lo and behold her rage was transcendental. They tried to restructure, protect the ones trying to take Loki away while fighting her off. Bullets ricocheted off her armor, letting her forge forward, blasters pumping out energy and leaving a trail of crumpled bodies. Taking a run, her body propelled off the ground, landing with a loud thud just in front of the door and cutting off their escape.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Rifles came up to point at her. Seven in total. They fired in unison, and she raised her arms, flinching instinctually from the projectiles that were intent on ripping into her armor. Charlie’s teeth grit tightly as she waited for the jolt of bullets to knock her backwards. They never came.

I thought it might be helpful to unlock Loki’s magic from the bracelets, the AI spoke into her ear.

When she blinked up, a blanket of green held the bullets in place, swirling in the ether of his magic. Her breath caught. This was definitely not something Tony had mentioned the last time she went in for a tune-up. He had failed to mention that the dampener Loki wore, implanted just under the skin of his bicep was feeding directly into the nanites or that there was any way to access the power. What was stranger was that the magic even listened to her, in the first place. By Loki’s tales, it was untamable force and most sorcerers never got very far without proper instruction. This was most odd.

Guns cocked and reloaded, breaking her out of her reverie. With a flick of her fingers, the bullets turned and resumed their trajectory, delivered back to sender. Another flourish, she disposed of the ones carrying the medical backboard with Loki in it and he fell to the carpeted ground with a groan.

Headache in full swing, she ran to his side, pushing away bodies to fall to her knees beside him. Nanites receded from her hands to touch his cheek.

“Loki. Babe, look at me.”

A wry smile curled his lips. “I am. I’m just very tired.” He chuckled, ending it with a cough and a groan. “Well, that answers the question where has my magic gone all this time?” He blinked a little longer each time as the darkness threatened to drag him down.

“Don’t close your eyes. Please. I need to get you to Tony’s.”

He giggled a little deliriously. “Magic suits you, petal.”

“Jesus, I really do need to get you to Tony’s.” Nanites back over her hands, she pulled his long frame into her arms and heaved. Even with the armor, he was decidedly heavier than any human she had ever met. For a second, she debated going out the front door, but seeing as her apartment was pretty much totaled, anyway, she burst through a window and into the New York skyline.

X

Loki blinked awake to the sounds of Charlie berating someone to within an inch of their life. He smiled, settling back into the covers with a grin despite the obvious pain radiating from just under his ribs and the dull ache in his skull. He peeked an eye open to see Stark, actively cowering backwards, away from her tone, narrowly avoiding her walking cane whenever she gestured wildly.

“It would have been nice to know how to activate the damn thing before Loki got fucking stabbed or I felt absolutely sure that he was dead because you put in a life or death trigger on the damn suit! And don’t get me fucking started on the fact that I’ve been carrying Loki’s magic for the last year and had no fucking clue about it!”

“I’m sorry! I was trying to keep you from playing with the suit for funsies instead of–”

“WE ALMOST DIED AND YOU WERE BUSY WITH YOUR OWN HYDRA ASSHOLES! WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? WAIT FOR YOU TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED BEFORE–”

“Charlie, love,” Loki hoarsed, and the tirade immediately quieted. Charlie rushed over to the bedside, briefly tripping over a chair leg before clambering onto his cot and covering his face with kisses. “Dove, I’m bound to be disgusting at the moment,” he protested weakly, but still pulled her closer by the waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you, too. My savior.” He cupped her face in his hands, absorbing the warmth from her beaming smile. “Glorious. Truly glorious.” He ran his fingers through her curls, bringing them back into shape from their crumpled form. Clearly she had been sleeping here with him and not necessarily keeping up with brushing–that was usually his task, anyway–but her crumpled clothes and dark circles under her eyes belied the worry she felt for him. It made his stomach warm several times over.

“I found your magic.”

He chuckled. “I recall. You can keep it safe for me.” He looked briefly at Tony who was pretending not to smile in the corner. “Do we know what happened?”

“Looking for you, buddy boy. They were a little disappointed you couldn’t do the hocus pocus stuff, but they caught onto the problem pretty quick.”

“I’m the problem,” Charlie muttered, snuggling into his side.

“Mmm, what a lovely problem to have,” he whispered before kissing her crown.

“Look, I’ll talk to your old man and see if we can’t get your sparkles and pixie dust ban lifted–”

“Don’t bother. I can teach Charlie how to use magic if you give her access. He said I couldn’t use seidr, not that I couldn’t teach someone else to wield it.”

Tony looked apprehensive, wincing slightly at the suggestion. “You sure you want to give Live Wire there that kind of ammunition?”

“Oh, if they don’t want to allow me to use my power, that is fine. But I am making her everyone’s problem. Aren’t I, sweet?”

Charlie simply snickered, leaving Tony to groan loudly as he stepped out of the hospital room.

[sondepoch]

Wake Up

Tales of Our Love (Simeon x Reader)

Angels and humans don't belong together. Simeon knew that, and yet he still allowed himself to fall in love with you. But while he was able to pull himself together when the two of you broke up, he never could have predicted where his actions would end up driving you. So when he found your body, only one plea danced on his lips—for you to just wake up.

~Part of a series but can be read as a oneshot:

He Chose God | Wake Up | Astronomical | ✎ |

MASTERLIST

Superman.

That's what you always joked: "Simeon, you're my Superman."

The angel never failed to chuckle, only vaguely understanding the reference, always accepting the compliment by stealing a kiss from your lips. But you meant the words with all your heart.

Superman. The strongest man in the world.

And Simeon was just that.

You learned early on in your relationship that the angel was built like a Greek god, from the way he would wrap an arm around your waist and lift you with one hand to steal you away from whoever was holding your attention—and then there came the day when you got to see the muscles hidden underneath the clothes, and you learned he really was like Superman. Strength, stamina, and endurance to boot.

Indeed, Simeon was among the strongest individuals in the entire Devildom during his yearlong stay, and you never forgot that fact for a moment.

But you only understood the scope of his mental strength on the final day of the exchange program.

"W-what do you mean?" You asked, your eyebrows furrowing. You didn't understand. Surely you were hearing Simeon wrong. "Goodbye? Won't we be seeing each other after this?"

"Little lamb," Simeon said affectionately, but he was using the nickname he hadn't used since the beginning of the school year, back before the two of you ever grew involved. He was being distant. "You must understand that an angel and a human can never truly…"

He didn't finish the sentence, knowing that you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

"You told me…" You swallowed hard, feeling the thickness in your throat and the tremble of your lips. "You told me you would always love me."

"And I will," Simeon repeated. "But from afar. You must return to the human realm, and I have Celestial duties to attend to."

"Y-you said you loved me. You—you said you were in love with me—" You choked at the end of your words, the thickness in your throat growing almost too dense for you to bear. But you continued on, the accusatory tone of your voice never dropping. "Were—were you lying?"

Silence.

You took a step forward, tears suddenly threatening to spill from your eyes. But you never faltered. You had to know. You had to.

"Tell me, Simeon—were you lying?!"

The angel turned to you, sorrow lacing the clear blue eyes you'd grown to love so much, but they weren't sad for his sake. They were sad for yours. He gazed down at you with pity.

"I never lied to you, little lamb," He raised a hand to cup your cheek. "You have captured my heart. But we cannot be together. It's unnatural, for an angel and a human, and...we cannot."

You let out a sound that sounded almost like a child throwing a tantrum, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as you grabbed Simeon's shoulders. You attempted to shove him away from you, to put some much-needed distance between your bodies so that you could suppress the dam of emotions threatening to break free, but the angel was too strong for him to even realize you were trying to push him away.

Superman, you thought. The affectionate nickname left a dark shadow where it passed through your mind.

Unable to push him away, you gripped his shoulders, hating that you were using him to steady yourself even as the guy was breaking up with you.

"Bastard!"

Deep down, you knew that insulting Simeon wasn't the way to go to release the bubble of emotions you were feeling. Hell, you were more upset than you were angry, but when you felt the tiniest better after that first insult, the rest seemed to flow from your lips as easily as, well, water from a dam. And it seemed that you had finally broken. "You're awful, Simeon—absolutely awful! How could you be so heartless? So cruel? I—I—" You hesitated, wondering if you were ready for your next words.

"I hate you!"

You beat a helpless fist against his chest, knowing that it wouldn't hurt him.

Fucking Superman.

And it was at that moment—when you were so broken and emotionally ripped apart that you had yet even to process the fact that tears were streaming down your cheeks—that you looked up into the sapphire eyes you had grown to love so much.

You regretted it.

How? You wondered numbly, staring at the angel's impossibly clear eyes as he stared down at you, not a trace of emotion in his eyes.

He's already gone, you realized, for the first time understanding the scope of Simeon's mental strength. He's already distanced himself.

You stared helplessly into the eyes you were once so familiar with, not recognizing the empty look.

That was the day when you learned that your Superman wasn't just physically strong but mentally jacked, the angel so in tune with his mind that was able to close off the part that was in love with you completely. You stared into his eyes, realizing that the Simeon you loved was already gone. Already locked away. Probably never to resurface ever again.

The Simeon in front of you was different.

He made no motion to follow you when you took a trembling step backward, fearful at the sudden blankness of his gaze. It was a shield, you would one day understand. He hid away the part of him which could get hurt by your cruel words, the part of him that would beg for forgiveness and kiss you to make you take back the "I hate you" that left your lips.

"You're horrible," You murmured, taking another step backward. The Simeon you knew would have winced at the words, cringing in discomfort because you so obviously meant them—but the angel in front of you had steeled himself. Having hidden away everything vulnerable the moment he began to break things off with you, you realized that this relationship was already over.

The Simeon you loved was gone.

"I wish I had never met you," You said to him, before you couldn't bear to be in his presence a moment longer. You ran at top speed away, though you knew he wouldn't be following. You ran and you ran and you ran until you miraculously ended up at Diavolo's castle, sobbing desperately as you asked the demon lord to send you away.

"But the brothers…" He began to protest, knowing that the demons in the House of Lamentation would hardly be pleased to learn that their human had left without being able to properly bid you farewell.

But Barbatos urged the lord to reconsider, and soon enough, you were on your way, whisked back to the human world where there was nothing to remind you of the angel you loved.

Nothing to remind you of your heartbreak.

It was easier than you expected—returning to your usual life.

Everything went back to normal so soon.

You were grateful that your friends never asked where you went, grateful that your family never forced you to talk about your time spent away. If they had asked, you doubted that you'd have been able to say a word without bursting into tears.

Because the memories of Simeon were still so raw.

And no matter how you tried to forget him, you couldn't.

It got to the point where you were crying yourself to sleep every night, your heart aching for his touch and your mind refusing to let go of the affection you stupidly harbored for the angel.

It hurt.

It hurt so fucking much.

Some nights, it felt like you couldn't breathe. Like your own love was choking you do death as you raised a hand in the darkness reaching for—for what? You certainly weren't reaching for Simeon. He had made it all to clear that he was no longer yours, that he had moved on.

So what did you reach for?

An escape.

Fuck.

The moment those words crossed your mind, you should have stopped. You should have picked up your phone and called your friends, or summoned one of the demons to get your mind off things, or done anything to halt the train of thoughts which was beginning to gain speed.

But there was no going back, was there?

An escape, you thought drily, knowing all too well what the words meant. There was only one escape from your pain.

You reached for the sleeping pills.

Slipping them into your mouth, one after the other, delicate sips of water in between, you'd never felt calmer. For the first time since returning from the Devildom, you were at peace. At last, the rhythm of your heart beat steady, understanding that you would soon be from this perpetual cycle of ache.

An escape.

Freedom.

Death.

When you gave in to the temptation of slumber, you knew you would never be opening your eyes again. You found it in your emptying heart to mentally apologize to all those you'd be hurting—but you knew that the one you loved wouldn't care. Why would he? He had made it so painfully obvious that his affection for you had vanished.

You closed your eyes, memories of your time with Simeon playing out in your head against your will. And though you didn't want them, they brought a quiet smile to your face before you were truly gone.

But where you were finally reaching eternal peace, the angel you had fallen for was cast into a state of turmoil.

Simeon heard the beat of your heart as it pounded against your chest in a final, futile attempt to keep you alive. He felt it in the constriction of his own throat, when he sensed the part of him that he had locked away tremble.

For a moment, he resisted. He looked back at the paper he had been assigned to deliver, marked URGENT, and considered staying on his task. He considered remaining in the Celestial Realm, and ignoring whatever was going on with you.

But then the part he had locked up inside began roaring with a ferocity he had never felt before as it realized that the connection to you had been severed—and that realization was all it took to bring Simeon to your bedside, shaking your body frantically to wake you up.

"Little lamb?" He whispered in the darkness, fearful eyes glancing down. He pressed his hand against yours.

"MC!" He shouted, practically pouncing on your bed as he began shaking your shoulders. "MC, wake up! My love, my sweet, my angel, wake up!"

He hardly noticed when tears began streaming down his face, when his fingers grew clammy and his breathing turned erratic.

He was too focused on waking you up.

"Angel," He whispered, recalling the nickname you had both adored so much. "Wake up. Wake up, I know you can do it, my angel. Wake up, please, and I'll never leave you again. I am so sorry. I was so foolish, if you wake up I will never leave your side again so please, please, just wake up—"

He shook your form violently, fear constricting his insides and making it feel like he was dying from the inside. He had to remain composed, for your sake. He had to be strong. He had to be like Superman, like the confident and mighty angel that you fell in love with.

But would Superman have hurt you like this? Would Superman have hidden his emotions away for the sake of propriety, never realizing just how much you would be hurt in the process?

"Wake up, my angel. Wake up," Simeon whimpered, rocking your body back and forth as he clutched you in his arms. The two of you had always slumbered together in the Devildom, and there had not been a single morning where he hadn't raised you, always with a kiss—so why wasn't it working now?

Simeon was desperate as he crashed his lips into yours, meeting.you in a despairing union that could hardly be called a kiss as the angel tried, to no avail, to breathe the life back into you.

"Wake up!" He shouted once more, slowly realizing that you wouldn't. "MC, please! Please just wake up!"

He kept shouting until his throat was hoarse, until your shirt was drenched with his tears, until your body was cold and all the warmth had vanished. Until it felt like he had repeated those two words so much that they lost all meaning, and yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything else.

"Wake up," He pleaded, gazing into your closed eyes.

You never did.

MASTERLIST

He Chose God | Wake Up | Astronomical | ✎ |

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: Fuck life has been crazy for me for these past few weeks, and I've hardly been in the right headspace to write fresh content - but this is me pushing my shot at getting back into it. Far from my best work, but i need to start somewhere, and mindlessly rewriting this isn't going to help me get back into the groove of things 

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[jjmaybanksblog]

Good Old Days - JJ Maybank

Gif credit @toesure !

Summary: you and JJ meet once again after a harsh break up.

Word count: 1,982

Warnings: cheating, angst underage drinking, implied sex at the end. I do NOT condone the action of going back to someone who cheated.

You sat alone in a booth at a local restaurant, diagonal from where your friend Nicole sat with an unfamiliar boy. You had offered to 'be a look out' for the girl when she brought up how her friends had helped her get a blind date. Nicole had the fear that she might embarrass herself or something might go south, so you decided to lend a helping hand to calm her down.

You subtly flicked your eyes up and down from the menu to your friend as a waitress came up to you. "What can I get you hun?" 

"Just a vanilla milkshake and fries please." The lady nodded and took the menu from your hands. You reached inside of your bag and pulled out your notebook. Finding a pen, you began to mindlessly draw little doodles of whatever came to mind. 

You were actually enjoying the peace and quiet until the front door bell chimed. Before you could react, JJ Maybank took the spot right across from you. "Can I help you?" You scoffed, closing the notebook. 

"Nope. I'm helping my friend out and it looks like you happen to be doing the same thing for your friend too." JJ said, looking behind his shoulder to see his friend give him a thumbs up. You rolled her eyes, defensively crossing your arms.

"Okay, well how about you move to the other booth where you can 'help' by yourself." JJ dramatically put his hand to his heart, "does Y/F/N Y/L/N not want to spend time with me?" "The last time I was near you it didn't end well." You hissed. JJ immediately got quiet as the waitress came up to deliver your order.

"Oh! Would you like anything dear? On the house for the couple!" The waitress smiled, "oh no we're not-" "actually I would love a hamburger and a chocolate milkshake please!" JJ grinned. "Coming right up." 

"Seriously JJ why can't you just sit somewhere else?" You asked as you dipped a fry into the milkshake. JJ furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you take a bite. "What? It's good." You defended.

"See I could, but Steve made me promise to help him out. And now I get to talk to you which is exactly what I want to be doing on my Friday night." Sarcasm dropped from his voice as you bite your tongue.

"Well you can leave. You never were good at keeping promises anyway." You seethed, taking the cherry out of the milkshake and popping into your mouth. JJ became quiet once more as the sudden flashback hit him.

Flashback:

2 years. 2 years was all it took for something so positive and bright, to turn into something dead. 2 years was all it took for JJ Maybank to own, and then break your heart. 

You two had been dating for a full two years, both of you guys admitting you were in love. Making promises that you two couldn't keep. One of them being, 'I'll always love you.' 

JJ broke that the minute his lips touched some tourons at an end of the year school party. You had lost sight of your boyfriend in the middle of the party after telling him you were going to the bathroom. It took you 10 minutes to find him with the unknown girl. 

"Have you seen- oh." Your words slipped your mind as you saw a boy and girl break away from a kiss. Only to reveal that face that made your heart break. "I better... I better g-go." You stumbled over your words, your legs moving as fast as they could out of that house and far away from JJ.

You didn't know what to do, what to think, how to act, what to say, everything just became numb. Like someone had just ripped your heart from your chest, and dangled it in front of your face as if it were mocking you. So you just ran, and ran all the way to your house. Dried tears stained your face as you were panting, on the verge of passing out. 

Your mind felt fuzzy, as if it were an old TV and an antenna was knocked loose, like all you heard was static and a ringing. You shook your head frantically as you paced in the living room. A rapid knock echoed in the silent room as you let out a sob. You slowly walked to the door, your hand shaking as it hesitantly reached out.

You twisted the handle and pulled the door open to reveal a frantic JJ. "Y/N please let me-" "Don't even fucking start JJ." You said, cautiously backing away from the door. JJ walked into the house as he tried to grab hold of your wrists. 

You pulled your wrists back from JJ's grip as you began to have trouble breathing. "You fucking kissed some random girl. Who knows what the fuck would've happened if I didn't walk into that room." You mumbled to yourself as your head began to ache.

"Y/N you know I wouldn't do that!" "When you're in a relationship you don't fucking kiss somebody else! I didn't think you'd do that yet here we are!" You raised your voice as you paced again.

"Open your fucking eyes, it's so obvious I'm in love with you!" JJ yelled back, causing you to flinch, his breath smelled of alcohol. Your eyes suddenly fell to the ground, afraid to look at him without breaking down.

"You need to leave," your voice wavered, "you need to leave and not come back. You can't look at me. You can't speak my name. You can't have anything to do with me, Maybank. We're fucking done." You breathed out, feeling as though you had a boulder crushing your body.

"Y/N. I made you a promise that I'd love you, please let me keep going with that promise." JJ begged, his eyes burning harshly with tears. "You broke your promise, you can't come back from that."

JJ let out a sigh as his head slumped down, forcing his legs to walk out the front door, and out of your life.

Memory over.

"Look, this isn't a guilt trip: I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you." JJ said, fidgeting with his fingers. You sighed as you swirled the straw around the milkshake. "I don't dislike you as a human, I fucking despise what you did to me." You admitted.

"I've changed Y/N. I haven't been with any other girl, I haven't spoken with that other girl since then. Please just give me a break. I've been busy trying so fucking hard. I'm doing the best I can. Please, please don't ask more of me." JJ frowned, his leg now anxiously tapping.

You let out a scoff, but you couldn't lie to yourself. You missed being with JJ, you missed him so damn much, but you didn't want to admit it. Your eyes flickered to your friend who was standing up and giving Steve a kiss on the cheek. 

Their date was over, but you and JJ sat firmly in the booth. "Let me just drive you home like the good days, just hear me out." JJ begged. You cracked your knuckles, a habit you gained after the break up. "Fine. But so help me Maybank if you fuck it up you will never, I repeat ever come speak to me again." JJ let out a breath of relief and thanked you.

You couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of luck when he offered, glad that you chose to walk to the diner. You two sat in silence for a bit of the ride before JJ turned on the radio. 'Wonderwall' by Oasis played through the sound system, memories of this song hitting you in the face like a brick.

JJ began to obnoxiously shout the lyrics like he would when you guys went on drives together. He would roll the windows down, blast the volume and just let it all out.  At first you were annoyed with the boy, but as soon as he nudged you with his elbow you began shouting the lyrics as well. At that moment, things felt normal. Like nothing bad happened between them, and that scared you shitless.

When the song ended, JJ turned down the volume and began to speak, "you know, I never took your school photo out of my wallet. It's still there. And every night after... we broke up, I would just look at it and cry. Because I drank and I ended up losing the best thing I ever got in life. And believe me I know drinking is no excuse for what I did. I lost the one person that understood me more than my other friends, than myself. And I fucked it all up. And I know I can't take back what I did. Saying sorry won't change the hurt I made you feel. But I want you to know I'm truly trying my best to be a different person than who I was before." His voice was shaking as he found it hard to look at the road.

"I can try to forgive you Maybank, but that night has been burned into my memory. And it's gonna take a lot of time before I can forget it." You mumbled, looking out the window watching the trees zoom by.

"I'd wait 100 years if it meant that you would talk to me again." JJ muttered as he pulled into your driveway. "Do you.. want to come in? And like, catch up?" You wanted to punch yourself in the face for your offer, but again you couldn't deny how much you missed him.

JJ was shocked at your words, his mouth slightly open as he nodded his head. You walked into your house and to your luck, nobody was home.

You guys sat in your room, silence filling the air once again. You walked over to a picture frame on the desk and picked it up. The picture was of JJ after he had fallen asleep with his head in your llap. "Remember this night?" You asked as he looked over your shoulder.

"Yeah. I came over to make cupcakes for John B's birthday but we ended up just throwing flour and eggs at each other." JJ laughed loudly, remembering how he would find flour in his hair and ears for days after. "Then we sat on the couch and you laid your head in my lap. I played with your hair until you fell asleep and you snored so loud." You smiled at the memory.

"God I fucked up." He whispered. "Yeah. Yeah you did. When you sat across from me in the booth I wanted to flip my shit. I wanted to go off on you and say something like, 'oh fuck off you piece of shit. You think I care about you? That I give a damn about your feelings? Fuck off.' I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me." You confessed. 

"Damn Y/N. I- I don't even know what to say." JJ said as you faced him. You couldn't help but stare at his lips, the lips you craved so desperately. You hated yourself for this. You hated yourself for making this move, but you leaned in anyway and kissed him. You were taken back at your actions, but your knees nearly buckled at his touch.

JJ gently held the side of your face as he pulled back. "I don't want to hurt you." He said, his words echoing in your head. "I'm desperate. And I'm pretty sure you are too. This is a one time thing until you gain my trust back. But for now, just shut up and have sex with me."

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter five venom

May you be dead long before you realize what I’ve poisoned you with. 

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 8.5k warnings: mature language and themes, nsfw content included in this chapter series masterlist

Time could be an enemy. Time could be a friend. Time could heal wounds, and time could rip them open, letting them fester and bleed and scar. Time could even do all of these things, all at the same time.  

Time had done those things already. All of them, all at once, all to you.

You were alone again in your apartment. You were alone a lot these days. Mariposa had disappeared, like she always did, and you weren’t sure it was for a mission any more than it was for herself. You knew she was tangled between sheets somewhere near, sleeping in his arms, being comforted by him. Time had brought them together, little by little, and time was drawing them close, so close you knew soon they’d be nothing but inseparable.  

She had even done a few jobs beside him. Opening up doors with a flash of her sweet smile and letting Harrison pull the trigger. They were reckless together. They were chaotic together. And you were furious, but every time you went to confront her about it, how could you say no to that sweet face? Mariposa was happy. Mariposa was loved. Mariposa was getting the attention that you could never give her, and every time you went to yank it away from her, you failed. Not to mention Harrison was looking after, watching her back. She wasn’t alone anymore, and Harrison always had one hand on her and another on his gun, and you couldn’t say the same, because in the end, you really only looked out for yourself.

And I hate myself for it.

You knew deep down inside that your love would never be enough for her. But his could be. And God, dammit, you couldn’t do that to her, not anymore. It had gone too far, she was in too deep, and you knew she would never forgive you if you took him away from her. You knew that she would say that it was okay, but that she would forever resent you deep down inside her pretty heart.  

Time was a bitch.

There were nights like this when you were alone, and Tom would be here. There were nights when you would have your head in his lap, and you would talk, and somehow the sun would be coming up, and you would be kissing as it rose. The shadows on his face would change, from purple and blue to orange and red, and you would kiss and kiss until you didn’t have any more words left to say.  

I miss you.

Then he would leave and come back, leave and come back, and you realized there was so much depth in the darkness of his eyes. Before you had just seen one, continuous color of dark coffee brown, but now you saw something else swimming in there, things you wanted to know, to learn, to figure out. Tom himself was someone you wanted to figure out.  

You couldn’t count the amount of times you both were sitting in your living room, drinking, laughing. Sometimes you would curl up on the couch with a movie, and other times you both preferred the silence after a long, long day. Other nights neither of you could stop talking.

I am yours, and you are mine.

You felt like such a snake on nights like those. Both of you would spill secrets into each other’s mouths, kiss, tell each other stories. If this was any other man, you might even say you were falling into the deep end with him, but you knew when you opened your eyes, there would have to be a gun on his head, and you would be pulling the trigger.

Maybe I’m not yours, but you are all mine.

You weren’t sure when that time would come when you had to wake up from this dream. There was venom in every kiss, poison against every touch, and sometimes you lied awake at night, tears falling silently down your cheeks when you realized how deep this was starting to go.  

You wondered what he would do when he found out that you knew all along. You wondered what the look on his face would be. You wondered if he would be surprised, or angry, or maybe just broken. You wondered if he would love you or hate you or maybe, just maybe, he would feel nothing at all.  

We’re all broken inside. You just might have a few more pieces left, that’s all.

You wondered what he would do when you finally put a gun to his head. Now that you thought about it, you figured he might just let you kill him. You figured he wouldn’t fight back. He had said it to you, a few nights ago, and now that you thought about it all, you knew he probably hadn’t been lying.

You laid your head on his shoulder, one arm around his middle as you both looked out at the bustling below on Park Avenue. The wind was blowing, a chill running through you, and Tom wrapped his arm around you tighter, taking his suit jacket off the back of the chair and draping it over your bare legs.

“I’m sorry you got into trouble tonight, love.”

You sniffled a bit, shaking your head. Tom always said he was sorry. You liked to believe that he was, that he was sorry. You liked to believe that he worried about you, sitting in his office, waiting for the phone call that told him the job was done and that you were alright.  

“Tom, you…you didn’t know—”

“But it happened,” he interrupted you, and you closed your eyes, putting your cheek against his chest. It had been a long time before you were scared the way you were tonight. They had cornered you, grabbed onto you, and you only got free enough to pull the fire alarm that had everyone swarming around you, pushing you all, throwing them off of you as you fled. All you did was send one text, and Tom was picking you up, and you had fallen into his arms in the car, staring into nothing as he held you.  

Now, Tom was holding a glass full of hard liquor that you were both sharing, but it didn’t do much to numb what you were feeling. You called Tom. He was the only person you could call because you knew he would be there. You could’ve called De Luca, but he would’ve yelled at you. Tom, you knew Tom. Tom would hold you.

“I should kill you for sending me,” you tried to joke, and Tom just shook his head.

“You should,” he replied, licking his lips. “Fuck, I should’ve…”

“Tom. It’s okay. I got out. I didn’t get hurt.”

“But you almost did. And shit, y/n, when you called, I…fuck, I was so worried,” he murmured. “I know things haven’t been…I know I haven’t been delivering on my end, but you have, and for that…if something had happened to you, then I would’ve gone back on my word, and shit, that would haunt me.”

“To go back on your word?”

“To go back on my word when it comes to you, love,” he said into your ear. “I don’t want to be someone you can’t trust.”

It was sweet, his words. But they were toxic. He was lying. He was so good at it, it almost hurt you. Tom was playing a part, and he played it so well that you wanted to believe it because right now, you needed his tenderness. You needed it all.

“Kill me if I am.”

You stared down at your hands. They were bloody, so bloody, and it was dried under your fingernails, seeping into the cracks of your palms. You were shaking a bit as you fell onto the floor of your apartment, and you scrambled for your phone, putting it to your ear as you heard it dial. You couldn’t stop shaking. Nothing would stop the shaking.

“Please, Tom, please,” you stuttered, stuck against the wall. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t move anything. Your feet even had blood on them; it had seeped in through your heels, and your dress was in tatters. The phone call went to voicemail, and you whimpered, getting the courage to pick yourself up off the floor. There was something inside of you screaming for him.  

Tom. Tom. Tom.

It was your only motivation. You got into the back of a taxi, barefoot and still covered in blood, and you screamed an address at the driver, and he drove with his eyes screwed to the front. You dropped a wad of bloody hundreds into the front seat as you got out, and you made your way into the autobody shop, opening the door with the key in your hand. You left bloody handprints everywhere you went, but you didn’t care. When the doors finally opened, Tom’s men couldn’t stop staring. They didn’t say anything, and you were glad for that, even if they were gawking at you.  

A few of them seemed like they wanted to ask you what was wrong, but someone had broken the rule before, talking to you before you had talked to them, and Tom had put them in their place at that. Now you were just walking through the shop, covered in blood, going for the staircase that led up to the second floor.

You grabbed a hold of his office door, but nobody warned you. You pushed it open, expecting to find him sitting at his desk, a drink in his hand, ignoring you slightly as usual. But that’s not where he was. The closet doors were opened, and Tom was standing there, his eyes on the woman in front of him. You didn’t get a good enough look at her except for the dirty blonde waves that bounced as Tom moved her against the wall, their grunts and moans like nails on chalkboard in your ear. You just froze. You couldn’t explain why.

He always answered my calls. And this is why he couldn’t?

You stepped back, still barefoot, continuing to back up until you hit someone from behind. You turned around, looking up into those familiar baby blues, and you had tears in your eyes.  

Because he was cock deep in a woman he doesn’t even know?

There was relief inside of you, looking up at him. Because his brows were furrowed, and he was looking at you, worried. Harrison cared. He cared about you because Mariposa cared about you. Even if you weren’t precious to him, you were precious to her, and that was enough for Harrison to put his hands on your shoulders cautiously, concern etched in his handsome features.

“y/n?” Harrison breathed. “What…what the hell happened to you?”

The tears fell slowly, and they were visible on your dirty face because as they fell, they left behind clear skin. Your cheeks had been dried with blood, just like your hair, tangled and matted with it, and the sight was gruesome. Harrison reached around you and pulled Tom’s office door shut, trying to ignore what he just saw, the noises muffled as it shut behind you.  

“I couldn’t…I just…”

“It’s alright. It’s alright, love.”

Harrison looked around, at Tom’s lackeys who were still staring, and he bent down and picked you up. He cradled you to his chest, and you let him, and he glared at anyone who continued to stare.

“Get back to fucking work!” Harrison snapped, carrying you down the stairs. “You shouldn’t have come here, y/n.”

You put your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his chest, and he could feel you shaking almost violently. You didn’t answer him smartly or say anything at all. You just stared blankly behind him, at the now shut door to Tom’s office. You didn’t know how to describe how you felt.

Empty, maybe. Like his promises.

Harrison held you for a long time. The car rode as smooth as it could, but there was traffic, moments when everything stood still, and it was just you in Harrison’s lap, holding onto him because if you didn’t, you would’ve burst into tears. Harrison rubbed your back, keeping you close.

“y/n, you’ve got to talk to me, love,” he murmured. “Who did it?”

You said nothing. You were still thinking about it, truthfully. You could still feel his hands on your back, in your hair, pulling on you, growling in your ear about how much he wanted to kill you. His blood had been so…warm. So eerily warm, and you tried to wipe it off your arms sometimes, but it had dried there, was stuck there, and Harrison would push your hands off gently, keeping you still. He didn’t think low of you because of the way you clung to him. In fact, Harrison thought maybe this entire time, his ill opinions about you were just because he was misinformed. You had gone out alone tonight, and you had come back alone tonight. Clearly, something had happened, and although you were covered in a mess of someone else’s blood, you were alive. You had survived, and there was nothing more admirable in Harrison’s eyes than that.

He was sorry. He was sorry because he had thought you were just a spoiled, ill-trained heiress from sunny California. You were anything but. There was determination inside of you, strength. Being vulnerable like this didn’t make you any less, it just made you human.

You didn’t count the minutes like you usually did, but the driveway and the house that emerged after the drive was familiar. Harrison brought you out of the car, with you still in his arms, and he walked past Tom’s brothers, gathered in the kitchen, and went upstairs, carrying you towards the nearest bathroom. He set you down on the counter before he started up the bath, and then you heard clicks of heels against the wood, familiar curls emerging in the doorway.

Her eyes widened so big, and as soon as she saw you, her face was flushed. Her y/n, not even recognizable anymore.  

“y/n,” Mariposa came towards you, and she wiped your matted hair off your forehead. “Oh, y/n, who did this to you?”

Her voice was so soft and angelic, and all you felt was tears as she cooed soft things in your ear.

You still said nothing. Mariposa took your shaking hands in hers, looking back between you and Harrison. You stared off into space, not caring that you were rubbing off dried blood onto her hands. Harrison shut off the water, and Mariposa helped you off the counter, getting your clothes off. She came with you to the bathtub, helping you get in, and as soon as you sat down, the water was turning a dark, ugly red.

He’s still everywhere. I can’t get him off.

“I’m going to…grab a few things, I’ll be right back,” Mariposa whispered, getting up and hurrying out. Harrison stood there, rubbing his chin, and you looked at your hands still dark red and stained. He let out a breath through his nose before he took his suit jacket off, rolling up his sleeves before grabbing the sponge from the side of the bath. He knelt down beside you, but it was like you didn’t even notice anything happening around you.

Empty. Empty is the right word.

“y/n, who did this to you?” Harrison asked, dipping the sponge in the water. You shook your head, and he gently put the sponge to your face, wiping it down softly. You leaned into him as he wiped some of the blood off of your cheek, your skin a little cleaner. “y/n, you’ve got to talk to me. Tom sent you out on a job tonight?”

You nodded slowly, and he dipped the sponge in again and started to wipe your hands clean. Your hands were the most stained. They felt sticky and frozen, but Harrison was gentle,  

“y/n, who was it?”

Mariposa came back into the room. She was holding some of her clothes and a first aid kit, and she set it down on the counter before coming towards the bath, kneeling beside Harrison.  

“Harrison, just let her be,” Mariposa said softly, reaching into the bath and getting your hands into hers, starting to clean them more thoroughly. Harrison wet the sponge again and rung it out over your head, wetting your hair. The bath got redder, darker, and Mariposa grimaced a bit. “It’s okay, y/n. I’m here, okay?”

Harrison got most of the blood out of your hair before Mariposa pulled the plug out of the drain, letting the water go down. She shooed Harrison out of the bathroom, and Mariposa turned the bath back on once it was all clean again. She took the soap from the edge of the bath and scrubbed the blood out of your matted hair and off your body, and when she was satisfied that no more blood was on any part of you, Harrison was waiting with a towel by the door, and Mariposa took it gratefully. Their eyes met for a moment, and Harrison just shook his head. Mariposa was close to tears. She was so angry that it hurt. Harrison put a hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead gently before she turned and made her way back to you.

She helped you out of the bath, brushing your hair out as you shrugged on the tank top and sweatpants she gave you. She sat behind you as you sat on the floor, braiding your hair back and out of your face as you stared at the floor. As she braided, Harrison took care of the cuts and bruises along your arm and the blister on your hands. He could tell you had fought well tonight. Your knuckles were yellowing all over and split open, and your palms were cut. He was careful, but you barely reacted to his touches.

Why today? Why today, Tom?

Mariposa took your hand and helped you up off the floor, and she guided you into the bedroom and onto the bed she made up for you. She tucked you in gently, and you curled up against the sheets, closing your eyes, and she promised she would be back in a moment as she gathered your bloody clothes, following Harrison outside.

“You tell me what happened right now, Harrison,” Mariposa demanded, throwing your clothes onto the ground. “What sort of death mission did you idiots send her on?!”

She was so angry. Her face was red, and she was pushing on his chest, and her tears were daring to fall.

“Ri, I promise, I had nothing to do with that,” Harrison assured her, putting his hands on her cheeks. “She…she just came into the office, looking…looking like that. And God, shit, she went into Tom’s bloody office and saw…Jesus…”

“Saw what?” Mariposa narrowed her eyes. “What did she see?”

“Tom and his fucking whore,” Harrison put a hand to his forehead. “God, he had a whore in there, and he was just…”

Mariposa’s nose twitched a bit, and she sucked in a breath. She wasn’t there. She hadn’t been at your apartment when you came home. She was here, in Harrison’s bedroom, waiting for him.  

“Oh, no,” she closed her eyes. “Oh, God, she needed me, and I…I was here. I was here, waiting for you.”

“Ri—”

“No!” Mariposa shrugged off his arms. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Trouble in paradise, aye?” A dark voice laughed, and Harrison and Mariposa turned their heads to look down the hall. Tom was taking his jacket off, strolling towards them, and Harrison was too focused on what he was going to say before he could stop Mariposa. She bent her knee, snatched the heel off of her foot, and she threw it at Tom, hitting him square in the face. She kicked off her other heel before running towards him, her hands on him, smacking him and beating on his head.

“Ri, stop!” Harrison cried, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her up. She screamed and kicked in Harrison’s arms.  

“Let me go! Let me go!”

Tom pulled his gun out from his waistband, pressing it to her forehead. She fell limp in Harrison’s arms, and he let her down gently, holding her to his chest. Her chest was still heaving as she panted, and she struggled against Harrison, trying to break out of his grip. All Harrison could see was the gun on Mariposa’s forehead and Tom’s finger grazing the trigger.

“Tom,” Harrison said lowly. “Tom, you tosser, put the fucking gun down.”

“I wanna know why this little bird thinks she can put her bloody hands on me and think I’ll be straight with it,” Tom growled, cocking the gun to the side. Harrison brought Mariposa’s head back, putting his hand between Tom’s gun and her forehead. Tom didn’t care, and Harrison knew that Tom would shoot through his hand to get to her if he truly wanted to.

Mariposa didn’t seem to mind that there was a gun to her head. She glared at Tom, leaning forward into the barrel and spitting right in his face. Tom scrunched his nose at that.

“For what you did to y/n,” Mariposa said weakly, wiping her mouth. “Fuck you, you piece of shit.”

Tom lowered the gun, and Harrison put Mariposa behind him. He shoved her back a bit, keeping a hand on her to hold her there.

“What are you talking about?”

“Where did you send y/n, Tom?” Harrison asked, shaking his head. “Where did you send her tonight?

Tom put his gun into the waistband of his pants, lighting a cigarette. He was unbothered still. He couldn’t really fathom the idea that anything happened to you. Sometimes you got in a pinch, but you always got out alright. You were always okay. After so many jobs, Tom didn’t think it was necessary to worry so much.

“I sent her to Midtown. What the fuck is it to you?” Tom snapped. “’s my business.”

God, the prick doesn’t even know.

“And when were you supposed to get a call back?” Harrison questioned.

Tom sighed a bit. “Shit,” he muttered, going into his pocket and pulling out his phone. There it was, your name lit on the screen. “I missed it.”

“You forgot about her, pendejo?” Mariposa spoke up. “Of course you did!”

She fought to get around Harrison, but he held her back, and Tom let out a breath of smoke. He narrowed his eyes at her, a silent warning for her to cool down before he did something about her.

“I’ve got to call her back,” Tom shook his head, and Mariposa pushed Harrison aside.

“She’s right here, you asshole!” She snapped. She picked up the bloody clothes from the floor and threw it at his chest. “You sent her into a death trap, and she held up her end of the deal, because that’s who she is. And you—!” Mariposa leaned forward, shoving Tom backwards by putting her hands on his chest, “she needed you! But instead she saw you fucking someone’s brains out!”

Harrison grabbed her arm before she could hit him again, and Mariposa had tears in her eyes.

“y/n has feelings for you—”

“Ri—”

“No, he needs to hear it!” Mariposa snapped at Harrison, pushing him away from her. She turned back to Tom, her angry tears finally spilling, and she jabbed a finger into his chest, hard. “She has feelings for you. And maybe she’ll never admit it because t-that’s who she is, she’s a hardass, but she has feelings for you,” Mariposa whimpered. “But you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve her. Not for one second! And I hope she never forgives you!”

Tom fingered the bloody dress in his hands. He was so stiff and tense as he looked down at it, and he let out a cracked breath as he saw the zipper of the dress a bit torn. Someone had touched you.  

My girl. Who touched my girl?

“Where is she?” Tom swallowed. “Haz, where is she?”

“Mate, it’s not a good time,” Harrison murmured, shaking his head. “It’s…it’s not a good time. She needs to sleep.”

Tom grabbed the front of his dress shirt, “Haz, don’t give me that, where is she? Where is she?”

“She came into the office, Tom,” Harrison said lowly, staring him down. “She was barefoot and covered in blood, from her feet to her bloody hair. She came, and she was looking for you, Tom, because shit happened tonight, you led her into something that almost killed her, and she needed you. And she saw you. She saw you, and she couldn’t even move.”

Tom’s face scrunched up in anger, but Harrison continued. He wanted to hurt Tom. Tom needed to understand that with women they cared about, with women that were special to them, they couldn’t just be special when they were together. They had to be special together, apart, and always. There was no picking and choosing, no sometimes and occasionally. It was all or nothing for men like them, and if Tom kept going the way he did, Harrison knew he would lose you. Tom would lose you before he realized how much you meant to him.

You’ve lost me. There’s nothing left.

“I brought her back here to clean her up. And I doubt she wants to see you, mate,” Harrison finished, his voice low and dark and menacing.  

Tom let go of Harrison, running a shaky hand through his hair. He paced for a bit before pushing past the both of them, going into the room behind them. He pushed the door open, and the knob banged against the wall beside it. You were laying down still, not moving, and Tom came towards you.

Empty, empty, empty.

“Jesus, y/n,” he murmured, climbing onto the bed, and you stiffened.

Fuck you.

“Don’t touch me,” you whispered harshly when he reached a hand out. He dropped his hand, clenching his jaw. There was nothing more he wanted to do then brush your baby hairs out of your face and look at you sweetly. Your eyes were blank, hollow, not even a reflection in them.  

Empty.

“y/n…love, what happened? Tell me what happened,” he demanded weakly. You met his eyes for the first time, and he was ready to wreak havoc on the room when he could see the tears on your face. It made him angry. It made him so angry to know something had gotten to you so deeply that you felt the need to cry. He ached to his bones. “Tell me.”

His voice was begging, and you took pity on that. Tom Holland never begged.

You looked away from him. “Viktor was there,” you said, your voice cracking. Your throat was dry, but you managed to talk. You said more words in the past minute than you’ve said in hours, and you could feel it. “Viktor was there, Tom.”

“But…no. Tonight—”

“I don’t know who gave you that intel,” you interrupted him, practically spitting it out. Your voice was venom, but he needed to know. “But it was wrong. I walked into a goddamn trap, and I barely made it out alive.”

“Tell me,” Tom demanded lowly. “Tell me what happened.”

It was simple. Get in, get out, smooth operation. Tom had asked something simple of you. Viktor had skipped town ever since his encounter with you, but his club was still causing a ruckus in Midtown. Tom needed you to bug the private men’s bathroom, and that was all. Get in, smack the device under the sink, and get out. Easy.

You wore black, dressed like one of the waitresses, and it was easy to sneak into the private bathrooms at the back when you were holding a tray of alcohol. You slipped into the bathroom, putting the tray down as you put the device under the sinks at the counter. When you stood up straight, you were looking in the mirror, and he was standing behind you.

Viktor. He had healed completely since you last saw him. From the rumors, you heard you had cracked his head open, and he spent a few months in recovery because of the severe concussion you gave him. Maybe the asshole would learn to think twice before touching another woman, but as you met his eyes in the mirror, you realized he hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. He had a dark look in those eyes.

Is that what lust looked like? Or revenge?

You slid out of the way as he moved to punch you, ducking under his arm before pulling your arm back, elbowing him in the ribs. He fell over for a second, but then he went for your legs, tackling you onto the floor.  

“Get over here!”

You kicked and grunted, using your stiletto heel to pierce his head. He yelled out in pain, and you managed to scramble away, but he caught your ankles, yanking you back down to his level. He wrapped his arms around your neck, standing with you, choking you. He threw you onto the bathroom counter, so hard your back hit the mirror and cracked it. You let out a pained gasp as you hit it, feeling the breath knock out of you for a moment. You barely had time to recover.

You ducked quickly when he moved to hit you again, and his fist collided with the mirror, the glass shattering and falling around you. You grabbed him by the head and brought your knee up, hitting him square in the nose. You could practically feel his nose break against your knee, felt it crack, and when he looked up at you, his nose was gushing blood practically, dripping onto your legs.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” He grabbed you by the waist and yanked you off the counter, throwing you over his shoulder, but not before your fingers grabbed for a shard of glass and stabbed him in the back with it, your fingers stained with blood almost immediately. He dropped you onto the floor, crying out in pain, and that’s when you moved to run. But then you heard the click of a gun. “Don’t…don’t move a fucking muscle, I’ll blow your head to shit all over the fucking walls.”

You froze, putting your hands up, turning around to face him. You stared him down, wiping your mouth, stripes of his blood now painted across your face. He looked pathetic, even with a gun in his hand, and you hoped the disgust was coming across in the look on your face. You didn’t have the gun, but you couldn’t show that you were afraid. Men liked that far too much. He was kneeling on the ground, his back still bleeding, but he slowly got to his feet. He came near you, putting the barrel to your forehead, and he nodded his chin at you.

“Against the wall, princess,” he growled. “You’re going to give me what I want. You’re not going to walk away this time.”

You backed up as he pushed you, and he spun you around quickly, forcing your hips against the wall. One hand left the gun to trail down your spine, and you sucked in an angry breath as he pulled on the zipper of your dress. You scrunched your nose angrily as you felt it rip a bit.

“You know…you almost had me,” he chuckled, and he leaned in to breathe against the skin of your shoulder. “You almost had me fooled. Your pretty face is deceptive. But you’re pathetic. And after I’m done with you, I’m going to throw every piece of you into the fucking Hudson.”

“Won’t you at least let me spread my legs?” You asked with a seductive giggle as he yanked your head back by your hair. “Make it easier for you.”

He smirked down at you, and you put your feet apart. You let one hand fall to the hem of your dress, where you hiked it up a bit, and he licked his lips, so distracted by the thought. His eyes rose back up to meet yours, and you let out a calm breath before wrapping your hands around the blade in your thigh holster, bringing it out slowly. You tossed your head back, knocking him in the forehead with the back of it, and then you pushed his arm to the side, hearing him pull the trigger. The light above you shattered from the gunshot, but you kept going, turning around and forcing the knife right into the side of his neck. He dropped the gun, and it clattered to the floor, and he fell on top of you, gurgling, bleeding, struggling. You started to breathe heavy as you shoved him off of you, grabbing the handle of the blade and pulling it right out. There was so much blood. Too much blood.

And then you saw stars in his eyes.

“You killed the bastard,” Tom muttered. “If you ask me, it’s about time.”

You swung your arm back and slapped Tom across the face, sitting up. He didn’t react. He just clenched his jaw, looking down.

Yeah, I deserved that.

“You can go fuck yourself,” you snapped. “This deal? Whatever deal we had between us, Tom? It’s over.”

“y/n, you signed your name. It doesn’t work like that.”

“That was before you played with my fucking life, Tom!” You shot back. “That was before you started treating me less like a partner and more like an expendable piece of ass for you to use for your own personal gain! I—I can’t believe that I trusted you! You said you’d protect me, but you know what Tom?” Tears flowed down your cheeks, wetting your flushing face, and you came close to him, yanking his face to yours with a tug on the collar of his shirt. “You used me. Like I knew you would. You know for a second, I thought maybe Tom Holland had a fucking heart. But you don’t. You pretended you cared about me, but really, I’m just another whore for you to use. The only difference is my job doesn’t involve fucking you.”

You let him go with a cry, sitting back against the headboard. You scooted to the far side of the bed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Get out of my fucking sight,” you breathed. “I’m sick of looking at you. I told you! I told you, Tom! I told you about my father…about the shit I went through to get here, and it doesn’t mean anything to you! You’re just a selfish, arrogant, disgusting human being, and I hope that woman was worth all the shit you put me through. I hope she was worth it all.”

Tom stood up from the bed, but he circled to the other side. He was shaking his head, a defeated look on his face. She wasn’t worth it, nothing about her was worth it. Tom Holland never did the right thing, but tonight was the only night that he wished he had.

Why couldn’t you just pick up the goddamn phone?

“Tom, don’t you—”

He put both of his hands on your cheeks, tilting your head up to his. He kissed you softly, one hand sliding up and touching your hair, feeling the curves of the braid you had it in. You growled between kisses.  

You can’t do this to me. You can’t do this.

“Get the fuck off of me, you bastard,” you whimpered, but there was no fight left in you. You needed his touch so desperately, and you hated how much you needed it.

“y/n, she meant nothing to me,” he breathed against your lips. “She meant nothing.”

“I hate you,” you cried, pushing on his chest, but he stayed there, holding you closer. “You’re such a bastard, Tom.”

“She meant nothing,” he repeated, closing his eyes. Tom could feel the tears coming down your face still. There was hurt in your eyes, and he hated looking at it. “And I will make it up to you. I swear I will. I will make it up to you.”

“I hope you rot in hell,” you croaked, and Tom leaned over you, kissing you furiously. You whimpered as you kissed him back, letting him climb onto the bed, letting him wrap his arms around you. “Tom, you weren’t there…why weren’t you there?”

“y/n, fuck—” He pulled away slowly, leaning his forehead against yours. “I am so fucking sorry. I’m sorry. I will never let you go, I promise. For as long as I live, I will never stop watching your back. I will never stop watching you, I don’t care what the fuck it takes—”

“You said that before,” you sniffled. “You said you’d protect me. You said I was family. But you don’t care.”

Fuck you for making me feel like this.

“y/n, God dammit!” Tom breathed, his fingers going into your hair, pulling tightly, forcing you to look at him. The look between your eyes was intense, but he wanted you to see his own face. The regret, the pain, the undying guilt inside of me, he needed you to see it. “If you believe that, then you’re a fucking idiot. You know why I bury myself in girls like that? You want to know why, eh?” His voice was so raspy, cracking and low against your ear, and you let out a gentle sob. “I bury myself in women like that because I can’t have you! Do you hear me, y/n?”

“That’s a shit excuse,” you snapped back, and Tom laughed bitterly, holding your face to his.  

“I know. I know it is, darling. And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just need you to know it,” he muttered. “I need you to hear it. Because after what happened tonight, I fucking hate myself. I hate myself, and I just need you to know the truth.”

The truth.

You tilted your head to the side, and he moved his head the other way, and you both kissed again, desperately.  

“I wasn’t upset about her,” you whispered. “Tom Holland doesn’t have meaningful sex, I know that much.” You pulled away to look at him, your eyes watery and red. “Tom, I just thought…I thought you would put me first. I thought after everything that’s happened these past few months, when I really needed you, you’d pick up the goddamn phone. But you weren’t there—”

Tom shook his head before kissing you again, and you whimpered between kisses.

“You weren’t there, Tommy,” you said weakly. “The one time I needed you, a-and you weren’t there.”

Tommy.

“I’m here now,” he whispered harshly, hugging you close to him. “I’m here. I’m here, y/n, and I swear to God, I’m going to kill every last Russian in this bloody city to prove it to you.”

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, putting your head on his shoulder, and he hugged you right back, so tightly and securely. Your tears wet his shirt, and he wanted to hit something, break something.  

You caused those tears, you piece of shit. This is your doing.

“That’s a lot of bodies,” you whispered in his ear, and he pulled back to cup your face with one hand. You adored when he did that. Grabbing your face, making you look at him, his dark eyes on you.  

I am yours, and you are mine.

“I don’t care,” he said huskily, licking his lips. “I don’t bloody care. I’d pile those pricks up one by one, y/n. That’s what happens when you touch my family.”

Family. Pathetic.

“Is that how you plan on making it up to me?” You asked softly, and Tom reached up with his thumb, wiping the tears from under your eyes.

“Aye,” he said lowly, and you laid back on the bed as he kissed you. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, closing your eyes as you kissed. The kisses were gentle, but desperate, and he brought you to sit up in his lap, cradling you to his chest as you straddled his waist. He leaned back against the headboard as you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your fingers across his handsome features as your mouths moved together.

He slid his hands down the waistband of your sweats, and you let him, only breathing out the softest moan as he squeezed your ass gently. But this time, it wasn’t to claim you or tease you or objectify you. He was touching you because you needed him to, and you hooked your fingers into the waistband, pushing them down your legs.  

You let out a whine as he rolled over on top of you, pressing you back into the soft sheets as you kissed. He trailed a hand down between your breasts, splayed his hand flat on your stomach, then walked his fingers down to the waistband of your lace panties, slipping his fingers underneath it. You grabbed onto the back of his neck, keeping his lips to yours, and you gasped as he ran his index finger through your folds, your back arching a bit as you broke the kiss. You were pooling between the legs, the heat coming off of you warming the palm of his hand. Tom figured there was something between you, an attractive, warm, hotness of undeniable sexual tension, but he didn’t realize how tense it really was. He had barely touched you, only kissed you, and you were wetting your panties, staining them already.

Kill me now, she’s so beautiful.  

“Jesus,” you breathed, hiking your leg up around his waist, and he watched your face as he brought his hand up to his mouth, licking those same fingers. They were visibly wet and sticky, and your lips parted as you watched his eyes roll back a bit at the taste, releasing them to stare back down at you. He grinned as you moaned a bit, breathlessly.

“Sweet,” he muttered, and you hit his chest.

“Stop being an asshole for one second, and—Oh!”

Tom grunted as he ripped the lace of your panties trying to pull them off, the thin, gentle fabric tearing in his hands. You tossed your head back and groaned, and he moved to touch your chin with that hand, running his thumb over your bottom lip before slipping two fingers into your mouth gently. You hummed a bit he did, looking up into his eyes as you wrapped your lips around them and sucked gently.

Did she do this for you? Was she as good as this?

“God, sweetheart, didn’t know you had it in ya,” Tom snickered, and you let his fingers go with a pop, bringing him down to kiss you again.

“You know, I hear a lot of talking and not a lot of making it up to me,” you whispered, shivering as his wet fingers traveled down your stomach again. “You think you’re so—”

You closed your eyes almost immediately, feeling his fingers circle your clit, drawing your legs open a bit wider for him. He leaned down and pressed soft, airy kisses around your mouth as he stayed there, his deft fingers just teasing you to no end as you writhed under him, your breathing starting to get heavier and heavier by the minute. He would collect a bit wetness by dipping the tips of his fingers into you, dragging them back up to touch your clit. You hated how good he could make you feel with just a few simple touches.

“Does that feel good, angel?” Tom murmured, and you held onto his biceps, nodding desperately as you dug your fingernails into his arms. He gritted his teeth a bit at that, but it felt good to be wanted, especially by you.

Angel. Angels don’t fuck, do they?

“Y-Yes, Tommy,” you whimpered, and he smirked down at you. Those eyes danced with a knowingness that you hated. He was so smug, so skilled and so confident in his own skin. He was so dominating, leaning over you, his hand between your legs, making you feel so foolish but so pleasured all at once.

“That’s good, love, that’s how I want it,” he whispered in your ear. “I want you to feel good. I want you to feel safe. Because you’re in my arms, darling, and ‘m going to take care of you.”

Liar.

“Please, Tom,” you brought his lips back to you, kissed him again. It felt good to kiss him, it felt good to hear those words, even if they were painted with lies. “Please.”

“Shhh, I know,” he licked his lips. “Relax, sweetheart. Relax.”

You put your head into the crook of his neck as he buried those two fingers inside of you, your hips bucking up against his hand as he kept them there, closing his eyes. He groaned a bit as moved them, hissing when he could feel you so tight around those two fingers, clenching like you needed more.  

“Fucking hell, y/n,” Tom muttered, “don’t tell me your bloody sweet arse is that of a virgin.”

You laughed in his ear, your voice like music, and he kissed your neck softly as he gently curled his fingertips, his thumb on your clit as he tried to learn how your body reacted. Tom adored it. The way your hips moved with every movement of his hand, the way your lips parted to invite his kisses back to you, and especially the lustful, half-lidded look in your eyes that told him you were enjoying every second his hand was inside of you.  

I hate how much I need you.

Oh, and when he curled his fingertips just right, when the pads of his fingers swiped across that spot, you were a mess underneath him, a gorgeous little angel that moaned his name so sweet, dripping like honey in his ear. You were so gorgeous, so beautiful, so completely wrecked that he found himself pumping his fingers faster not for his own sake but for yours, because he wanted to see what euphoria looked like on those beautiful, dangerous features.

“C’mon, angel,” Tom grunted huskily, and he gripped your chin with his other hand, forcing your eyes on his. Your mouth was gaping open, your breaths coming out as gentle moans, and you held onto him desperately, the look in your eyes so wanting. “Don’t tell me you need more.”

Truthfully, if Tom even uttered one more husky word in your ear, you would’ve finished right there. But then all you could see were the top of his perfectly tousled curls, and his tongue was on your clit, and he was planting wet, sweet kisses onto you, curling his fingers in sync with his kisses. You cried out in pleasure as he sucked, his tongue working so methodically, as if he knew exactly what you wanted. He kept his eyes on yours as he rose back up your body, and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, his fingers working you through the most mind-blowing, shivering orgasm. You wet his fingers generously, but he couldn’t be bothered as he watched your face. Your eyes rolled back into your head, your back arching off the bed and further into his chest. Your knees bent, coming up as your whole body tensed to his touch.

Goddamn you, Tommy. Goddamn you for all of it.

It was worth it. Even as you relaxed, the flush of your body, the heat you gave off, it was the sexiest sight he had ever laid his eyes on, and he wished he could repeat that moment over and over and over again. He thought maybe if he shut his eyes hard enough, he could remember it just fine.

But he didn’t want to remember. He wanted to be the only man on this Godforsaken earth that ever saw you with blinding lights in your eyes, he wanted to be the only man to ever touch you like this, and he knew it was selfish, he knew it was wrong, but he didn’t care.  

I am yours, and you have to be mine.

“That was…” You shook your head, breathless, and Tom smirked. He picked up your sweats and helped you slip them back on, and he brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face, trying to find your eyes.  

You kissed him for the hundredth time, not being able to resist. You held him close, your fingers tangled in his own hair, your breath finally calming enough that you could speak.

“Swear to me,” you said softly, brushing his curls off his face. “Swear to me that you’re not lying to me. Swear to me that the empty answers in Brooklyn…the ghosts that we’ve been chasing…swear to me that it isn’t for nothing. Swear to me that you’re going to find who did this, Tom, and that the things I’ve been doing for you won’t be for nothing.”

Tom cupped the back of your neck, nodding. He seemed so sincere. Everything in his face seemed like he was telling the truth, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. You hated how safe he could make you feel even though you knew his promises were anything but the truth. It burned a whole inside of you knowing he could make you feel like this, make you feel like everything was so real, and still spit in your face with his words.

“I swear, y/n. I swear.”

His voice was poison. His lips were toxic. His words were a lie.  

And so were yours.  

You hugged Tom tightly, putting your head into the crook of his neck, staring out into nothing as your face fell serious. There was a part of you that thought maybe you would tell Tom the truth. There was a part of you that thought maybe you and Tom could drop the façade, could break down your own walls, and start new again. A few hours ago, you would have been ready to sit down and tell Tom the truth.

But Tom Holland didn’t care. He didn’t kiss you because he cared, he didn’t fuck you with those sweet fingers of his because he felt for you.

You were Tom Holland’s weapon, and he didn’t want to let you go. Tonight proved that much. Letting him touch and kiss you would be your forgiveness, but you were still alive inside, alive with an angry fire that could only be put out when you put a bullet in Tom’s head.

Fuck you, Tom.

If you bit Tom now, how long would you have to wait to see the venom seep into his body?

Would he die slow? Would he die quickly? Would there be enough time to look him in the eyes before death set in?

Will I get to see stars in his eyes, too?

read chapter six

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Chapter 13

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi

Chapter Summary: THIS SHIP IS SAILING

AN: Fluffy

Previous Chapter here 

------------ Yoongi sat in his office, drafting a letter to Taehyung. If you wanted to leave, this would definitely be the fastest way. Originally he hadn’t planned on sending the letter for a few days, given the missed reaping and his own selfish desires. But after the incident in the library earlier, he decided that sooner would be better. You wanted to go home. Of course you did. 

Taehyung,

I am in need of your legal expertise regarding a contract between my brother, Namjoon and Hoseok. This contract is in relation to both the ownership and transference of ownership of the goddess Persephone. I know your duties in the Plane of Judgment keep you busy. However, as Lord of this Realm I am requesting your immediate assistance. Please show this letter to the three judges so that they will release you to my care as soon as possible.

His Infernal Lordship,

Min Yoongi 

There. Yoongi sat the letter on the edge of his desk. He tapped his fingers a few times;  feeling twitchy, he stood up. He looked out the window and across the Desert of Sorrow. How could things change so much in a few short days? He wondered. He sighed and heard a knocking at the door. He knew it was Lethe. Everyone in the palace had their own unique way of knocking on the door.  “Enter.” 

“M’Lord. I’ve brought some coffee for you as requested.”

“I didn’t request coffee this afternoon.” He said, turning around.

“You didn’t?” She responded, sounding confused. “I’m sorry m’Lord, the days are running together for me. You usually take coffee this time of day.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but have more patience with Lethe than the other servants. She actually tried and cared about people. “I do. Thank you.” He walked over and took the cup. “Ahh...an excellent brew.”

“Thank you sir.” Lethe slowly took her time gathering the tray in the hopes Lord Yoongi might ask her about….

“Persephone? Did you get a chance to check on her?” He asked, sipping the coffee.

“I did. I bandaged her hands up and got all the blood out of her dress. Speaking of...are you still wearing a bloody shirt?” She asked, suddenly examining Yoongi’s tunic and getting closer to him.

“Aish, it’s nothing. I’ll just throw it away.” He waved her concerns off.

“Sir, you shouldn’t wear bloodstained clothing around, It isn’t befitting of royalty.” Lethe was aghast.  To her shock he just started laughing.

“It’s fine. Really. Royalty is a bit far reaching. It’s not like we keep a Court or anything. They just needed to make sure someone keeps Tartarus in check and hides the dead bodies. This isn’t fancy like the Athenian court. Blood stained tunics and barefoot goddesses are allowed here.”

“Whatever you say, you are of course the Lord. But, I do think you should change clothes before you see Lady Persephone again.” 

Yoongi sighed, turning to face the window, and said quietly. “Ahhh she doesn’t want to see me so I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Lethe quietly clicked her tongue. 

Yoongi straightened up, shaking his bangs out of his face. He turned to face Lethe, “Why did she say something about me?” He tried to play it cool, but he was falling straight into Lethe’s trap. 

“As I said, you should change into a clean shirt.” And with that Lethe left Yoongi’s office with  a smile playing across her lips. Someone was going to help these two clueless kids out.  For better or worse, if there was one thing the Athenian Court had taught her, it was this: a simple word dropped here, an insinuation there, and boom; there was always a result. 

-------

You laid on your bed for a while. Did Yoongi like you? Did you like Yoongi? You did like him. But did you like, like him? Did you want to leave? Did you want to stay? How long did you want to stay? Why were your powers being crazy? Could you control your powers? Ughhhh you wanted to scream. There was too much to think about. You got up off the bed. A week ago your biggest concern was Hoseok and his friends trampling over your flowers. You decided to get out of your room for a while and hopefully not run into anybody. You still had a lot to think about.

You walked out and went to the right, down to the garden door. To your pleasant surprise most of the garden was still intact. You hadn't been actively supporting it these past few days, wanting to check the soil composition. If what you read earlier was true and the volcanic ash was fertile, there was no reason why you couldn’t transfer some of it to here and other places in the Underworld to support a self-sustaining habitat. You smiled a bit while nerding out over the plants.  You wanted to regrow the Chrysanthemums but you were afraid it might hurt your hands again. You frowned, looking down at the bandages. 

You heard the door open and cringed slightly, you had come here to be alone. But when you turned around, you couldn’t help but smile. Yoongi walked down the few steps and onto the grass. He was holding a book and wearing a white shirt for a change. 

“Hey.” he said. “I thought you would be in your room resting so I thought I’d bring you this exciting book, Ancient Chthonic Botany. To help you sleep.” He held up the book you had been reading earlier.

You walked over, “Thank you.” You took it. “But this will actually keep me up all night.” He likes you, you heard Lethe’s voice replay in your head. You suddenly blushed, having used the phrase up all night and feeling very embarrassed suddenly. 

Yoongi didn’t seem to notice. It seemed as though even though he was physically there, mentally he was somewhere else. “How are your hands?” He asked, casually putting his hands into his pockets.

“They hurt. I wanted to fix my flower bushes, but I’m afraid of my wounds ripping open so I won’t.” You pouted. To your surprise, he didn’t react. “I like that shirt on you. I didn’t know you owned anything that wasn’t black.” You teased.

Yoongi sighed, ignoring your compliment. “I wrote the letter to Taehyung. I’m going to give it to Charon tonight.” 

You thought he was going to wait a few days. He had just told you a few hours ago it would take days. You look up at him. “I thought you said it would take a few days. You just skipped a reaping.” 

He shook his leg slightly, and looked away. Finding a very interesting spot in the grass to stare at.  “Yes well, you said earlier that you want to get out of here, so that’s the fastest way I know how to do it.” He sounded slightly irritated.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” You said, walking closer. “I was freaked out about my hands and not wanting to hurt people. That’s the only reason. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just...I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control of my powers. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you again or hurt Lethe and I just wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

Yoongi didn’t really respond to what you said, rocking back his heels. He continued to speak to the grass. “So. Yeah. The letter is all written out. I don’t know how many days it will take for him to respond. But we’ll get it figured out.” He firmly pressed his lips together, looked back up at you, and gave you a dismissive smile, turning to leave.

He was pulling away from you, you realized. After what you said earlier. You reached out and put your hand on his arm. “Yoongi?” 

 “Don’t.” You heard him say quietly. “Please. Just. Don’t make this harder.” He looked down and pulled back.

“Yoongi? Are you listening to me at all?” you asked, closing the space between the two of you. You put your hand on his cheek and gently lifted his head, encouraging him to look up at you. He immediately averted his gaze. “Hey, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it like I wanted to leave you. Is that what you’re upset about? You can tell me.” You tried to stay calm even though your heart was beating out of your chest. Yoongi didn't respond, instead opting to chew on the side of his cheek, but at least he wasn’t trying to walk away from you anymore.  “I meant what I said on the beach. I like it here. I like spending time with you. Ok?” 

He nodded his head, but you felt like he still wasn’t listening to you. 

“Yoongi, why aren’t you talking to me?” You asked him, becoming worried.

“...I just...I can’t right now. There are things I want to say and shouldn’t. I don’t want to bother you. This was a stupid idea.” He mumbled and started to leave again.

“I like you. Like. I really really like you. Please, just talk to me. You’re not bothering me.” You blurted out. 

Yoongi froze. Had he heard you correctly? He had come here to tell you that he liked you. That he couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving him and that he had been practicing what to say the entire way over here. Then, when he saw you, he froze. You had looked so pretty standing there, in your own element. There was no way someone like you, so beautiful and alive, would want to stay down here with him. So he abandoned that plan. Opting instead to completely shut you out to make the inevitable less painful on himself. But, what now? He slowly turned back around.

“I’m sorry. I must have misheard you.” 

“Seriously?” You sighed. “I like you. Like if this was Earth I would ask you out on a date. I think that’s a thing humans do? So please, don’t be upset with me, and stop shutting me out.”

Yoongi blinked a few times. “Are you being serious right now?”

You were becoming impatient. “Do you need me to say it three times? Does it like, lift a curse or something if I do?” You walked closer to him. “I. Like. You. Believe me you weirdo.”

A smile crossed Yoongi’s face. “I”m sorry, I just couldn’t believe you. I like you too.” 

You gently sat the book down on the grass and wrapped your arms around his waist. Leaning up against his chest. Yoongi stood there for a second, confused at how this was all happening, but very glad all the same. He returned the embrace. “Sooo….would you like to go on a date tomorrow?” You heard his deep voice ask. You took a deep inhale of his scent and then giggled. 

“A date? Where? I thought you said there wasn’t much to do down here.”

“It’s either a yes or a no.” He teased, suddenly sounding much more like the Yoongi you had grown to care for these past few days.

“Of course it’s a yes. I just said I wanted to take you on a date.” You responded, gently pulling away to pick the book back up.

He walked over to the exit, “Good. Well.” He stood thoughtful by the door. “I’m still going to send the letter to Taehyung. It’s not right that your brother and Namjoon are treating you like property when you’re not.”

“Thank you Yoongi.” You said. Feeling shy. “For everything.”

He raised his eyebrows and walked back over to you. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip.  He took your hand and gently pressed his lips against your knuckles and then let go. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You felt like you were on fire suddenly. Where had this flirt come from? 

Yoongi walked out of the garden feeling the best he had in centuries. He ran a hand through his hair and headed off to gather his letter to Taehyung. You didn’t belong to anybody. Not Namjoon, not Hoseok, and not to him. A gummy smile formed on his face.  He had a date tomorrow with a Goddess. Who liked him. Today was a good day. NEXT CHAPTER