#♡— letters to ash | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aixeko · 4 months ago

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-`♡´-≐ “ IF THE WORLD WAS ENDING, I'D WANNA BE NEXT TO YOU ” ≐-`♡´-

| Starring | Soft!Arlecchino x Harbinger!Reader

| Setting | Genshin universe

| Scenario | [ SHORT FIC ] FLUFF! Soft with a hint of angst. Pronouns are not used. A bit fast paced. Not proofread.

► RADIO CHANNEL [Author note]

× This is so mid and I refuse to reread. I’m so sorry if the quality of the fic is not up to par with the others. × Fluff is so boring I'm sorry, It's not my cup of tea.

[ Word count: 2034 ] | Art credit: Blufyrein on Twitter & Instagram

August 20 XXXX…

“The house of the hearth has been blazing with activity ever since the children heeded the upcoming anniversary of my birth. Even with my reluctance, they insisted on celebrating this occasion, one in which I won't prevent seeing the amount of effort and enthusiasm they are collectively putting into this yearly ceremony.

It has been some time now since you last celebrated with us; in fact, it was four years ago exactly on this day, August 20th. Four years in which you had left for your mission issued by the Taritasa to Natlan, and four years since we last heard of your welfare. The children, in spite of the low possibility of attendance, still persist in accounting for your awaited arrivals, and I too bide my time for the day you return home to us.

If it isn't an inconvenience for you, please do not let their hard work wither into nothingness; perhaps even a response letter would be utmost appreciated by the children.

The hearth is set ablaze, anticipating your safe homecoming; the children miss you."

Two days have passed since Arlecchino sent her most recent letter to you, and the day of her birthday has arrived with the expected ghosting from your side. Her hands focused on providing perfection to the barbecue, moving on their own like a second conscious being, while her gaze stared blankly at the grill, her mind stuck in deep thoughts.

Arlecchino is not one to sugarcoat or disprove the factuality of a situation, but with the lack of responses, or rather no response, over the past four years, the overwhelming, woeful truth has become more prominent than ever.

Her grip on the tongs tightened; with the amount of pressure she was applying, it could bend the steel into a useless apparatus. Furrowed eyebrows follow along with a frustrated sigh and a shake of her head. No, impossible. How can a Harbinger who is soon to be awarded the ranking just below her fall victim to the accursed consequence of life, such as death? It's impossible; the odds are practically none unless you have run into trouble with the almighty archon of Natan; then that is the only possible outcome that can lead to your ultimate demise. Even the mere thought of that possibility is unbelievable; the person whom Arlecchino has married is not one known to be the hostile type despite ranking as a highly potent Harbinger. To hell and back, your personality is enough to make even the devil himself view you as a passive mortal being; you are not married to a woman such as Arlecchino herself for no good reason.

"FATHER!" A young adult male screamed out in horrorstruck desperation.

The sound of her being called awoke Arlecchino from her trance; her head snapped to the young man, whose skin, once flawless, was now bruised, with short ash-blond hair and wearing magician-like clothing that was now dirtied with his own blood. The apron wrapping around her, along with the tongs in hand, was thrown onto the ground as she rushed to her bloody child. The other children near the area hurried to their brother, their expressions sharing concern and anger at the sight.

Arlecchino catches him once his body gives up; desperate, inaudible cries escape his mouth, with the only few words being coherent: Lynette—everyone—hurts!

Those words are enough for her X-shaped eyes to light up to a color akin to flame. Arlecchino's face visibly darkened at the announcement; from its tone, the situation was a lot direr than she could have expected. She gently but hastily lowered Lyney to the ground, her voice booming with command to the children to aid him while she raced to where he had come from. The children who specialized in combat rather than the medical aspects hurtled with Arlecchino despite not being in their Fatui attire; their bodies, enraged, moved on adrenaline alone.

Another one of the children who is limping sees the reinforcements approaching and points in the direction of the ongoing battlefield onslaught. Distant screams are heard, and Arlecchino has no time to properly bring her children to safety; thus, some of the others take charge in retreating the injured to let her focus on eliminating the source of the massacre.

Once she arrives at the cluster of her heavily wounded children and spots the suspect, who's draped in a dark cloak covering their whole body, Arlecchino takes no time transforming into her stronger form.

Arlecchino's scythe bolts at the infiltrator in synchronization with her body, whose speed could be described as quick as lightning. Arlecchino is left with constricted pupils as the mysterious figure dodges the attack with absolute ease, like they have just vanished into thin air.

"It seems like the great supreme Knave has gotten weaker."

The unrecognized tone of a whisper against her ears has her swinging her scythe at a 360-degree angle; this action causes the person to leap backward with a laugh. Arlecchino stands poised, her eyes scanning the figure to make out some sort of recognizable appearance. By the sound of their voice, Arlecchino feels a sense of familiarity coursing throughout all 206 of her bones, yet she can't place her finger on why the stranger is able to invoke such a feeling.

"You made a grave mistake daring to step forth against the House of the Hearth."

One of Arlecchino's hand ignites in a surge of power, and with that, she leaves no time for a response as her scythe hurls at the figure, with a burst of multiple flaming sword-like shapes surrounding the weapon.

Arlecchino's hand snaps out, catching the leg hurtling at her head. Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and full of mockery: "Too slow."

"Not bad!" laughed the person as they disappeared once more, causing a tsk of irritation to be emitted from Arlecchino.

Arlecchino figured that enough was enough and unleashed various attacks all at once, and not a single one landed; it was like this stranger had already calculated and understood every single little detail about her fighting style. The fact that they didn't actually attack but rather used dodge gave Arlecchino a bit of insight; they were playing a game of speed while she was playing a game of strength.

The gleam in Arlecchino's eyes intensified, sparking with otherworldly vigor. Her hand rose, mirroring the spark within as she muttered, "So be it." Her voice breathed life into a realm unseen by mortal eyes, with only an unlucky few witnessing its crimson moon.

The unidentified figure struggles in their stance, proving to be immobile. Play as you like, but to challenge a Harbinger of her standing is nothing to be confident about; daring to try to manipulate the outcome to your desire against another manipulator is pathetically laughable.

Or so Arlecchino thought, because what she didn't expect was for the stranger to be able to move of their own free will, but also to strike her domain as useless and nonexistent with a familiar style.

Her eyes narrowed once back to the real world, for there had only been one person who was informed about how to elude her realm, and based on the dependence on speed rather than strength, it was already a giveaway. Moments later, her suspicion proves true, yet not as anticipated as she presumes as she sees the stranger dashing towards her—well, not a stranger but the one who swiped her caged heart away into a loving shelter, you. You sprint towards her, shedding your cloak through the stride. In a heartbeat, you jump onto her, embracing her tightly with your warmth for an unexpected reunion, but one with no complaints.

"Peruere!"

Arlecchino freezes momentarily at the sudden action, but once recognition dawns, she returns your grip with an equal amount of fierce.

"You're home."

"I'm home!" You grin and draw back to study the face you longed for and missed for the past four years.

Her eyes, no more did they fume with fury; rather, in replacement of it, there radiated a tenderness shown to a small selected lucky few. A rare softness graces her features, an expression reserved only for children and, more intensely, for you.

"Happy birthday—"

You're interrupted by a peck on the lip; honestly, if it weren't for how unexpected it is for the likes of Arlecchino, it would have completely flown past you as some sort of dust.

"I figure the odds of you arriving today would be little to none, but nonetheless, welcome back home, my dear," she paused. "Although that little stunt of yours is not one easily forgiven or overlooked."

Arlecchino glances at the gathering that has formed all around her, more specifically at the young man who is hiding behind his twin sister with a nervous smile.

"Still as stone-hard as ever, I see, but I do admit my twisted plan for a reunion could have been alternated for a sweeter one," you give her an apologetic smile. "My sincerest apologies, Peruere."

"Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" Arlecchino asked, turning back to look at you and settling you down to your feet to your dismay.

"I did!" you perked. "It just seems like Natlan is a horrible fit for communicating with letters since, somehow, it keeps getting lost and burned to ashes in the lava."

"Your face betrays you, darling." Arlecchino's fingers danced through your hair. "Your face says it all; it's a given that you know there is no hiding anything from me. Don't lie to me; you didn't know I had sent you letters."

"Haha... Look, in my defense, my mission was a mess, and doing anything is a whole other disorder; I'm thankful that the Captain is taking over because that region is a headache to deal with."

Arlecchino places a hand on your waist, pulling you close as her lips make contact with your head. "Setting everything aside, let us use our time together again to celebrate instead of bickering."

The children cheered at the public display of affection between their parents, and the one who was "tending the wounded" was, in fact, actually bringing the barbecue from the House of the Hearth to the large field.

"The children miss you," Arlecchino whispers into your ear, her head pressed against yours.

You wanted to laugh at the children's excuse; she really had not changed much in the past four years, still playing off a cold demeanor to hide the soft shell hidden beneath it, one you had already melted through.

Your eyelids lift, catching her smile, which reveals her pearly white teeth. Your gaze softens. In reality, many things have changed since you first met her, yet she refuses to give herself credit for it. She was once only known as Arlecchino or by her Harbinger title, The Knave, but over the past years, the facade has lowered greatly to divulge the true identity of Father, The Knave, Arlecchino to just Peruere.

"I miss the children too."

For the rest of the day, that smile didn't leave; no, it was displayed for the whole world to see and ravish in. Nor did she leave your side once, insisting on even public displays of affection in spite of being surrounded by the children, and in her own words, "It's to make up for all the time that has been lost."

If only she knew that in the far future, when all of her hair turns white, with yours matching hers, she would realize it was the worst lie she had ever spoken.

If only she knew that in the future she had accidentally made an unspoken oath with herself to spend the rest of her time loving you to make up for the other half of her time that was spent hiding how much she loved you.

The smile, unbeknownst to both of you, would be a permanent fixture. It would endure through your remaining years, brightening each day until your final moments together, when life's inevitable decline finally claims you both.

Even when the world was ending, at least you both would be next to each other, dying with a smile stretching across your features.

#erise short #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino x you #arlecchino fluff #arle fluff #arlecchino genshin impact #arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin wlw #genshin impact #peruere #the knave #genshin arlecchino #peruere x reader

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calicoheartz · 8 months ago

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Write one where Paige & reader get into a heated argument lots of angst happy ending

From Ashes to Affection ; Paige Bueckers ﹒⟢

꣑୧ — summary | you and paige were known for your self-deprecating jokes towards one another, but after tension builds and threatens to boil over, will your relationship spoil or will you manage to save it?

wc ; 662

— warnings | swearing , arguments , lots of angst but w a happy ending (yay) massive tw : self deprecating joke about anxiety

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : ooof I feel like I haven’t been writing as much angst lately so it was very fun to write ! enjoy ◡̈

After a long week of final exams and nights filled with books sprawled across your desk, you took the opportunity to spend the eve of the incoming weekend with your girlfriend Paige.

Your differing schedules and commitments had left tension to build for weeks, simmering beneath the surface until it finally boiled over. It started with a harmless comment, a joke that was meant to be lighthearted, but it was taken the wrong way, triggering a chain reaction of hurtful words and unspoken frustrations.

Paige knew how much you struggled with your anxiety, it was something that had plagued you for a majority of your life. You two had always made self-deprecating jokes at one another, the atmosphere was light and loving, giving you hope that maybe you were moving past the rough patch of your relationship. All until…

“Well thank god having bad anxiety isn't an olympic sport because you'd definitely have a gold medal.”

You felt your heart sink, you felt tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, due to the shock at the words the blonde had just said.

"I can't believe you would say that, Paige," you said, your voice filled with hurt. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Paige's expression hardened, her own hurt turning into anger. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought," she retorted, her words cutting like a knife.

The argument escalated quickly, both of you saying things you didn't mean, words fueled by hurt and anger. Before you knew it, Paige was storming out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered remains of your relationship.

You packed a bag, leaving your promise ring on the bedside of the blondes bedside table, and headed towards your best friends house in order to calm down.

Days turned into weeks, and despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Paige only seemed to grow wider. You missed her more than words could say, missed the way she would smile at you, the way she would hold you close when you needed comfort. But you couldn't bring yourself to reach out to her, to try and mend what was broken.

And then, one day, you received a letter from Paige. In it, she poured her heart out, apologizing for her part in the argument, for the hurtful things she had said. She admitted that she missed you, missed the way things used to be between you.

Torn between anger and longing, you found yourself faced with a choice. Could you find it in your heart to forgive Paige, to try and rebuild the trust that had been shattered? Or was it too late for the two of you, the damage done irreparable?

With a heavy heart, you penned a response to Paige, laying bare your own feelings and fears. You admitted that you missed her too, missed the way things used to be. But you also expressed your doubts, your fear that history would only repeat itself if you were to reconcile.

Weeks passed, and as the days turned into months, you found yourself thinking more and more about Paige, about the possibility of a future together. And then, one day, you received another letter from Paige, this time with a different tone, a tone of hope and determination.

"I understand if you can't forgive me, can't trust me again," Paige wrote. "But I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, to prove to you that I've changed. Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read Paige's words, words filled with sincerity and love. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still loved her too. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your pen and began to write, ready to take the first step towards healing and forgiveness.

sorry for the short post my loves !! ive been super burnt out from writing and have been suffering from writers block so I hope y'all enjoyed this one <3 as always, thank u sm for reading !

#wlw #wlw imagine #wcbb #my hcs #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #headcannons #wcbb x reader #uconn wbb #paige buckets #uconn vs iowa #angst #positive mental attitude #mental health #anxi4ty

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aviiarie · 2 months ago

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˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ HAUNTED HOUSE — feat. lyney event masterlist.

synopsis. your new house is a bit strange. doors keep slamming, there's whispering in your ears, and you have the distinct feeling you're unwelcome here. warnings. none (?) notes. requested by anon. ghost!lyney au. gn!reader. 2.2k words. IM SORRY THIS IS LATE. i was busy and forgot :((

“Four bedrooms, two bathrooms—not including an ensuite in the master bedroom—and a very large garden. There’s a lake towards the south of the property, and it is within walking distance of the local town.” The real estate agent flashed you a dazzling smile. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Houses of this quality aren’t typically offered at this price.”

You looked around, admiring the delicate architecture. The paint might have been peeling in some places, but the arched windows and carved pillars gave the place a timeless and elegant atmosphere. With a little fixing, the house would return to its former glory in no time.

“Why is it priced so low, then?”

“While it is still in good condition, the house will require a lot of upkeep. There are renovations and repairs that need to be done, but nothing that isn’t salvageable.” The woman explained.

The reasoning wasn’t unplausible, but it still didn’t sit quite right with you.

“Is there not any other reason?” You pressed further. “You told me there weren’t any other buyers lined up. Why is that?”

Her smile dropped minutely, and her hands clutched her clipboard tighter. “I-I suppose that would be the fault of its… um, reputation.”

“Reputation?” You frowned.

“Oh, just silly rumours. It’s nothing to be concerned about, but the townsfolk are a superstitious lot.” She replaced her smile, gesturing to the front door. “Shall we look at the interior now?”

-----

It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. She was right, it was an unmissable opportunity; there wasn’t a chance that you were going to find a house as nice as this one on a budget as tight as yours.

You moved in over the weekend, settling all of your belongings in the spacious, already furnished rooms. The inside of the house was just as pleasant as the exterior, filled with expensive-looking furniture covered with dusty sheets, and hanging chandeliers that cast a warm glow over every room. Even the gardens, covered in dead leaves and debris, were oddly quaint.

It was perfect, almost too perfect.

“Mail… got to check the mail…” You muttered, fumbling for the key to the mailbox. It was your third day, and you had already almost fully settled in. Most of your possessions were out of their boxes, and almost all of the rooms had been cleaned and dusted.

When you opened your door, there was a woman stood on your porch, staring up at the house with a melancholic expression. She looked much older than you—in her fifties, perhaps—with ash-blonde hair streaked with gray, violet eyes and pale, wrinkled skin. On her left cheek was a faint, star-shaped mark, like a tattoo that had long-since faded.

“So, it’s true…” The woman murmured, eyeing you up and down. “They finally sold the place…”

“Can I help you?” You asked hesitantly. She stared at you for a long time, before shaking her head.

“No… just reminiscing.” She straightened up, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “Good luck. He is fickle, but not unreasonable. I hope for your sake you are able to reason with him.”

Bewildered, you watched as she shuffled back down the street into the direction of the town. Her words made no sense, but her tone was enough to make you uneasy. The way she spoke of a ‘him’ made it sound like there was someone for you to be wary of, a hidden face to fear.

When you made it to the mailbox, it took a few turns of the key for the lock to click open. You peered through the slot, fishing out a flyer, two letters, and a folded piece of paper shoved into the corner of the box. The flyer was a promotion for a new pizza shop downtown, the letters were both bills, but the last item caught your attention most of all.

Tucking the others under your arm, you unfolded the note. The paper was fragile, almost crumbling under your fingers, but you managed to pull it open anyway to reveal an old advertisement that looked to be cut out of a newspaper.

Lyney & Lynette’s Magic Show. The title was printed above a cartoon drawing of two magicians, with one holding a large top hat and the other pulling a rabbit out of it. At the bottom, in much smaller text, was the date of the performance: February 2nd, 1985.

Despite being decades old, the advertisement was still intact and fully readable, even if the colours were slightly faded. And yet, as you moved your hand, you noticed a smudge of black on your fingers.

You flipped the paper. On the back there was a simple message, scrawled in fresh black ink: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

-----

The note should have been your first sign to leave, you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you crumpled the paper up and threw it in the garbage bin outside, chalking it up to some kid trying to play a trick on their new neighbour.

You had more important matters to concern yourself with, namely the attic that you had yet to clean. It was filled from top to bottom with enough dust to make you cough and splutter as soon as you opened the trapdoor. Still, you pushed forward, covering your mouth with a cloth as you cleaned away the dusty furniture and boxes that were stacked along the side.

Leaning against the attic window was what looked like a frame, half-covered in another white cloth. With a gentle tug, the fabric was pulled free to reveal an oil painting, depicting a family portrait. There were four figures, a tall woman with white hair and sharp eyes, a young boy with a blonde bob and grave expression, and a pair of slightly older children with matching ash-blonde hair.

The dust covering the frame was twice as thick as the rest of the attic, as if the painting hadn’t been touched in decades. With the fabric shielding the family from view, it was as if whoever lived in the house previously had hidden them away, out of sight.

Absently, you stretched out a hand, intending on wiping away some of the dust with your fingertips.

Crack.

The sudden noise made you jump, pulling your hand back to your chest. With a pounding heart, you looked over to where a floor-length mirror, one that was leaned against the wall only five minutes prior, had fallen onto the floor and shattered to pieces.

“No!” You hissed, leaping to your feet. You hurried down the ladder to grab a garbage bag and broom from the kitchen, returning to sweep up the broken glass and quickly dispose of it.

In your rush, you never noticed that the oil painting had been covered up with a cloth once more.

-----

After that, the strangeness kept adding up.

Doors slammed at random times of the day, glasses shattered in your hands before you could take a sip of your water, whispers sounded from the corner of your room in the middle of the night. You couldn’t keep telling yourself you were overthinking things, not when the signs were so clear.

Whatever apparition was haunting your house, you could sense how unwelcoming it was to your presence. There was an anger that hung in the air, as if it resented you for simply being there. It didn’t seem as though it was trying to harm you—not directly, at least—but it was clear that it was hell-bent on driving you out. When scaring you didn’t work, it seemed to redirect its strategy to irritating you instead.

One morning, you woke up to find all your left socks missing. With a scowl, you put on a mismatched pair and walked to the store to buy several new pairs.

The next day, all of the furniture in the living room had mysteriously moved to the bathroom, including the television. Unfazed, you simply curled up on the armchair and watched your favourite show right there.

That same night, you stumbled out of your room to pour yourself a glass of water, only to realize that the cups and glasses were stacked on top of the refrigerator. You didn’t even bother to drag a chair over to retrieve them, you just found a decorative teacup out of the display cabinet, and sipped your water out of that.

It was persistent, but unlucky for it, you were stubborn. This was your house now, and you weren’t going to let some ghost scare you off.

The final straw came when you were relaxing by the fire, reading a book. It was a long day at your new job, and coming home to a warm house was a dream come true. But you had barely opened up your book when all of the lights above you flicked off, and the fireplace was suddenly snuffed out.

The room was plunged into a thick darkness, and your precious warmth was stolen away, making you shiver. Something inside you snapped, and the annoyance you’d built up over the past month finally made you crack.

“That’s it!” You shut your book with a click, slamming it down on the table.

You stood, scanning the darkened room. The shadows of the furniture loomed across the walls, twisting into ominous shapes by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. “I know for a fact you’re here, so listen. I don’t care what vendetta you have against me, but this needs to stop. I’m not going anywhere, this is my house now.”

There was long pause, before you spoke again. “You can hate me as much as you want, but I am not going to let you push me around.”

You glance around, waiting for some shift in the shadows, some sign that the spectre was hearing what you were saying. “Am I clear?”

The room fell into quiet again. It stretched on for what felt like hours, leaving you wondering if there truly wasn’t anything there at all, and whether it was just your paranoia getting to you again. The air was thick and tense, the only sound being the distant ticking of a clock from another room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Finally, a voice cut through the silence. “…It is my house, actually.”

Your head snapped to the side, finding the faint, flickering image of a man sitting on the side of the couch with his arms crossed. He looked young, in his early twenties at the oldest, and was dressed in some sort of stage costume. On his cheek was a small teardrop marking, standing out against his pale face.

“Who are you?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Should I not be asking you that question?” The man raised an eyebrow, annoyance etched across his expression. “Considering you are the one who is trespassing on my property?”

“It’s not your property if you’re dead.” You said bluntly, internally wincing at how insensitive it sounded. Still, knowing how much he had put you through halted any pity you felt for him. “I bought this house, therefore it's mine.”

“It is mine.” His eyes narrowed. “I lived here for years. If it is not mine, it is my brother’s or my sister’s. You are neither of those people, so you are not welcome here.”

“Clearly neither of them want it, or else they’d already be here.” You countered. “I’m living here now. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

He glared at you. The edges of his image blurred and wavered, becoming indistinct. “That’s easy for you to say. Do you know how frustrating it is, having a stranger barge into your home? Having them rearrange your furniture, disturb your belongings? Sure, I’ll get used to you sifting through my family’s heirlooms and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. I’ll get used to it all.”

The anger in his voice didn't hide the trace of pain behind his words. He was clearly just frustrated, and you couldn't exactly blame him.

“Look, I’m sorry,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know… I know it must be hard for you. And...”

You chew the inside of your cheek in thought, looking away from him to observe the empty fireplace. There were still embers flickering at the bottom, even after the flames had been extinguished.

“We don’t have to be friends,” You turned back to him, smiling hesitantly. “How about you consider me your… roommate?”

The man stared at you unblinkingly. The proposition looked like it offended him just as much as the idea of giving up his house did, but there was something else that you couldn't quite figure out in his expression.

Was it... loneliness?

It made sense, in a way. Being trapped for however long since he'd died, without another soul to accompany him, loneliness was inevitable. You could only imagine how he felt, holing himself up in his house and lashing out at anyone who dared to disturb him. Even with the anger clouding his face, there was still a longing in his gaze at your proposal.

“A fresh start then.” He broke out into a sharp, painfully fake smile, and held out his hand in offering. “My name is Lyney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

#☆ — ghost stories.#✒️ : avie's writing . ⊹ ˚ .#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #platonic lyney x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader

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crybaby-writings · 6 months ago

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This is my mother preparing bread despite the war and bombing everywhere 😔💔 I hope you can help me, I want her to be fine 😔 Thank you very much my friends🙏🙏 https://www.tumblr.com/ahmed-ziad/752355342201028608/plea-for-safety-a-cry-from-the-heart-of-gaza?source=share

I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond, I haven't been feeling well in the last few days so I haven't been online much, but I'll do better at responding faster.

Hello everyone! This is Ahmed, a man from Gaza who is raising money to help himself, his mother, and his brothers escape from Gaza. They need urgent help as both the conditions and situations they are forced to live in worsen.

You can find their GoFundMe Here, they do not have a pinned post but instead, they tell their story through multiple different posts containing different topics which I urge you to check out because once again, the best context we can truly get on this comes directly from the Palestinian families who are affected by it.

Please remember that every reblog, like and share helps elevate the chance that someone else will see this post or another like it and will be able to donate, even if you can't. No amount is too small, and every cent counts.

As of the time I'm posting this they have £3,768 raised of their £30,000 goal

#♡— letters to ash #⊱ ─ return address (Ahmed-ziad)#palestinian #palestine #free gaza #free palestine #gaza #rafah #palestinian genocide #gaza genocide #free rafah #palestine genocide #palestine gofundme #gaza gofundme #rafah genocide #all eyes on rafah #all eyes on palestine #all eyes on gaza

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mapofthemazeinthemirror · 5 months ago

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This was so cute and sounds so perfect honestly 🥰

Hi again! I'd like to participate in the ship game with txt! Let's see if I can do it right. I like long drives, being in nature and animals. Always busy doing something with my hands, a jigsaw puzzle, playing guitar or piano, or doing art. I'm an Aquarius and an infp. My favourite places are the beach, forest and the library. I'm pretty quiet until I get to know someone. I hope this is enough info!

-🧇

hi waffle anonie!!

hmm….i think im going to ship you with soobin! it just feels right to me!!

I can see you and soobin having “quality time together” as your date activities. going on walks together while holding hands and chatting about whatever. maybe stopping at a coffee shop to sit near a window and watch people walk by. or sitting on the floor between his legs working on a puzzle while he reads a book. eventually, he puts the book down and leans over to kiss you or plays with your hair. in a bookstore you both might go separate ways but always meet back up to discuss your book finds! gahhhh you’d be so cute i have to shut up.

this is for my birthday event that is now closed!

#random thoughts incoming:#i think i realised lately that we soobin and i would be no good for each other 🤣#we're both chronically shy and i realised during the shopping part of the cooking to do ep -#the part where he had to go and ask the store worker something but he was hesitant and asked the to do staff what he should say -#that we would be like “you go ask” “no you go” and then neither would and we'd go home without accomplishing anything 😄#i think evelyn was right #letters 📤#moot ash ♡

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shot-by-cupid · 1 year ago

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ASHES ONE VOICE LINE WHERE SHE SAYS “I’m in charge, don’t forget that” GHAGRRRRHEGEHHR

Believe me girl I WONT !!!!!!!! DAMN !!!!

#lord have MERCY #weak in the knees #elizabeth caledonia ashe #self shipping #f/o post #♡.love letters

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wholoveseggs · 5 months ago

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hii

A gem was gardener part 1 wait ing for other parts desperately...

Also a tiny request plz make it a nice smutty happy ending cuz my heart broke after rules

Thanku love (in klaus voice:))))

The Gardener {Part Two}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Two

Your mission to seduce Elijah continues, and it's becoming harder and harder to separate your feelings for him from your duty. Your ancestors call out to you, warning of death and destruction, and tensions within the coven are high. Your time is running out, and you have to find the white oak ash, and soon.

♡♡ ...Hiii anon, don't worry about it darling! ... the end will be the end and I promise it won't hurt {a lot} ~xoxo.♡♡

4.2k words - Warnings: smuuuuut, oral sex {f!receiving}, interrogation with a side of breakfast, visions, angst, deception, lies, a stupid self referencing joke, blurred lines, Klaus ruining the moment and lots of tension...

{Part One}{Part Three}{Part Four}

{Elijah Mikaelson Tag-List }

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

The following week had been filled with work, keeping up the appearance of an innocent gardener. It was easy enough, the herb beds were finished and now all you needed to do was keep them maintained and watered. It was a pleasant task, especially compared to the tasks ahead of you.

You had been avoiding Elijah, Agnes told you not to use him unless absolutely necessary, and so far, he had left you alone. He had been polite, friendly, but his presence had been a constant shadow. Stolen glances and flirty smiles, he was clearly interested.

You had tried to ignore him, but every time you saw him, you felt a rush of excitement and dread. He was the enemy, and yet, his presence made your heart flutter and your stomach churn. It was foolish, reckless, dangerous, and yet, there was no denying the pull.

It was early morning when you arrived at the compound, the air was cold and misty, the sun had just started to peek above the horizon. The courtyard was empty, and the whole compound was quiet, almost eerily so.

"Gardner! Just who I was looking for," Klaus' voice rang out, making you jump.

You spun around to find him leaning against the railing on the second floor, a grin on his face.

"Good morning, Mr. Mikaelson," you greeted, trying to keep the fear from your voice. "What can I do for you?"

He strolled down the stairs and approached you, a cocky smile on his lips.

"I was wondering if you would care to join me for breakfast?" He asked, stopping a few feet away from you.

You looked up at him, your stomach twisting with anxiety. You had hoped to avoid him as long as possible.

"Come now," he said, his voice smooth and seductive, "don't be shy."

You nodded, giving him a forced smile. He led you to the dining room, holding out a chair for you.

"Please," he said, gesturing to the seat. "Surely, you're hungry, and we have some things to discuss,"

You sat down, and he sat at the head of the table, looking pleased with himself. A number of servants came and went, bringing plates and glasses. One stopped and slit their wrist, pouring blood into a glass for Klaus, their expression empty.

You looked away, your stomach churning, you hated the sight of blood. The smell of the food made you nauseous, and the thought of eating was unbearable.

"So, my brother tells me you are a witch, I don't recall seeing that on your resume," he said, picking up his wine glass and swirling the blood inside.

"I didn't think it was necessary," you replied, trying to keep your voice even.

"Yes, well," he paused, taking a sip, "I'm sure you are aware of the current...situation,"

You nodded, avoiding his gaze, trying to quell your nausea. Klaus chuckled at your unease.

"Eggs?" He offered, holding up a plate.

"No, thank you," you said, forcing a smile.

He shrugged, setting the plate down and digging into the pile of food in front of him.

"The witches have been rather troublesome, plotting against my family," he said, taking a bite of sausage. "Do you know anything about that?"

"I'm afraid not," you lied, looking at him.

"Hmm," he mused, chewing slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"Why do you think I would be involved in any sort of plots?" You asked, taking a bite of toast. "Awfully presumptuous to lump all witches together, like we are some sort of monolithic entity."

"You are a witch, and I am a vampire, and our relationship is...contentious at best," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "Besides, I have heard rumblings, whispers, of a new faction, a new coven-"

"Brother," Elijah's voice interrupted.

You looked over to see him enter the room, his expression stern. He gave Klaus a disapproving look before sitting down next to you at the table.

"Y/n," he said, smiling at you. "How are the herb beds coming along?"

"Very well, thank you," you replied, relieved by the interruption.

"Eggs?" Klaus offered, holding up the plate again.

"No, thank you," Elijah said, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"You love eggs," Klaus teased, shoveling a forkful of egg into his mouth.

"Yes, but I am not in the mood," Elijah said, his voice sharp.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, and Elijah shook his head.

"Are you planning on interrogating her the entire meal?" Elijah said, looking over at his brother.

Klaus shrugged, shoveling another forkful of eggs into his mouth. "Whatever do you mean Elijah? This is simply a friendly breakfast,"

"It doesn't seem friendly," Elijah retorted, "and I think the poor girl is uncomfortable,"

"You worry too much, brother," Klaus said, grinning. "She's perfectly fine, aren't you?" He looked over at you.

"Yes, I'm fine," you said, trying to hide the unease in your voice.

"See?" Klaus said, giving Elijah a smug look. "There's nothing to worry about."

Elijah sighed and poured you a cup of coffee, pushing it towards you.

"Please, drink," he said, offering a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, my brother can be a bit...difficult,"

"Hey," Klaus interjected, his expression indignant. "I'm sitting right here."

Elijah ignored him and continued, "how are the herbs? Do you need any help with anything?"

"Everything is fine, thank you," you replied, taking a sip of the coffee. "I... Do have a question though,"

"Anything," Elijah said, looking at you, his hand resting on the table next to yours. You could feel the heat from his body, the tension between the two of you.

"Your choice of herbs, was that intentional?" You asked, looking up at him.

Klaus' eyebrows shot up, his gaze curious. "What do you mean?"

"The herbs in the greenhouse," you clarified, "you chose them for their magical properties, didn't you?"

"We did," Elijah admitted, his gaze thoughtful.

"What did you hope to accomplish with them?" You pressed, wanting more information.

Elijah was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the table, then he looked at Klaus, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Call it a precaution," Klaus said, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

"A precaution?" You asked, confused.

Neither of them answered, but you could feel the tension in the room. There was an unspoken conversation going on between the brothers, and you were missing something.

"You worry about the wrong things," Klaus finally said, his gaze locked on Elijah. "Just get the job done and you will be well compensated,"

Elijah gave his brother a hard look, and then turned his attention back to you, a polite smile on his face.

"I can walk you back to the greenhouse," he offered, standing up.

"And leave all this food for me to eat?" Klaus exclaimed, his tone teasing.

Elijah ignored him and took your arm, helping you stand up.

"It was lovely having breakfast with you," Elijah said softly as he walked you to the door. "Perhaps we can do it again sometime."

"Sure," you said, not sure how else to respond.

The greenhouse was quiet when you returned, the sun streaming through the windows. You could smell the herbs, their fragrance filling the air. Elijah stood beside you, his hands in his pockets.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Of course," you replied, looking up at him.

He smiled, and reached out, taking your hand in his. Your heart was pounding, your stomach churning. You had to keep reminding yourself that he was a killer, not the handsome and charming man he was portraying himself to be.

"I was hoping we could continue where we left off the other night," he said, his eyes dark with desire.

You swallowed, trying to push down the feelings that were threatening to overtake you.

"Elijah," you began, but he cut you off, pressing his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, his hand resting on the small of your back, pulling you in close.

"I've been thinking about you," he murmured against your lips, "about that kiss,."

He stepped forward, moving you backwards until you hit the workbench. His hands rested on your hips, lifting you up and setting you down on the counter.

You couldn't deny how hot he was, or how much you enjoyed him taking control. You didn't have to pretend, not right now. The constant whispering of the ancestors fell silent, the stress and pressure you were under was lifted, if only for a moment.

You smiled against his lips, running your hands up his chest.

"I can't get you out of my mind," he whispered, his hand running through your hair.

You laughed softly, "Have I cast a spell on you?"

"If you did, I wouldn't mind," he said, his eyes dancing with amusement.

His hands moved slowly up your thighs, searching for the buttons of your pants. You giggled as he struggled, his fingers fumbling. He pulled back and looked down, frowning in confusion.

"You have to start up here," you smiled, biting your lip, pointing to the buckles of your overalls. "You probably don't hook up with a lot of women wearing these."

He smiled, mildly flustered. "I've taken off much more complicated garments than this," he said, flipping the buckles and tugging your pants down.

It was a bit of an awkward struggle to get them off, the two of you giggling and fumbling around. Finally, he was able to tug them past your hips, pulling them off and tossing them to the side.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, his tongue exploring your mouth. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. He chuckled against your lips and slid his hands under your shirt, caressing your breasts. You moaned softly, arching your back, pressing into his touch.

His hands moved down your sides, sliding over your hips and thighs, pulling you closer. You could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, pressing against you.

"Am I moving too fast?" He asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Not at all," you whispered, kissing him.

He grinned, his thumb gently grazing over the swollen nub peeking through your panties ,a little wet patch had formed, the cotton clinging to you. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckled and kissed you, his fingers moving slowly, exploring, teasing.

"Oh, you're so sensitive," he said, his voice low and seductive. "And beautiful."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, your eyes locked with his. He smiled, watching you react, enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"You like that?" He asked, his voice a deep purr.

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed.

"Good," he said, his finger slipping into you, making you gasp.

He hummed, his fingers moving in and out of you in a firm, steady rhythm. You were so wet, the filthy sounds were audible in the quiet of the greenhouse. He pressed his lips to yours, his fingers continuing their pace, driving you crazy. Your hands slid down, unbuckling his belt and fumbling with his zipper.

"In a hurry?" He teased, his breath warm on your skin.

"A little," you moaned, your eyes squeezed shut.

He chuckled, pulling his fingers from you, causing you to whine in protest. He knelt down, his hands sliding up your thighs, gripping the edge of your panties.

"Let me," he said, tugging the wet garment down and off.

You bit your lip, watching him, your heart pounding. He grinned, his hands pushing your knees apart. His tongue ran along the inside of your thigh, making you shudder. He paused, his gaze moving up, meeting yours.

"Is this alright?" He asked, his fingers tracing circles on the smooth skin.

"Yes," you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

He smirked and then buried his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your swollen, slick cunt. You let out a moan, your hand grabbing onto his hair, pulling him closer.

He was good, infuriatingly so, his tongue licking and swirling, driving you wild. You could feel your climax building, the tension rising, his hands gripping your thighs, his tongue working its magic.

You were close, so close, your toes curling, your body trembling. You couldn't believe how good it felt, how amazing his mouth felt against your skin.

The silence in your mind was intoxicating, the freedom addictive. The only things that mattered were the waves of pleasure coursing through your body and the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

The pressure built, and you writhed, bucking your hips, grinding against his mouth. Reaching, reaching, reaching for the edge, desperate for release.

And then, you fell.

The world exploded in a blinding light, stars dancing behind your eyes. Your body shook, a tingling sensation spreading from your core, to the tips of your toes. The voices came rushing back, and with them visions of the past, of a life lived, of a future yet to be written.

You could see plants wilting, rotting in their pots, a tree splitting, its roots exposed, a forest fire, a raging inferno, consuming everything in its path. Ashes like rain, falling, blanketing the earth. You could hear screams of children, of a mother crying, a woman wailing. You saw blood, so much blood, the air thick with its coppery scent.

You screamed, your eyes wide, your body shaking, the images flooding your mind. It was too much, it was all too much. You couldn't breathe, the weight of it crushing you, suffocating you.

You felt two warm hands on your shoulders, shaking you, a soft, muffled voice calling to you.

"Are you okay? Come back to me, come back,"

Slowly, the images faded, the voices silenced, the pressure eased. Your heart was pounding, sweat covering your skin. You looked up, Elijah's worried expression coming into focus.

"Y/n?" He said, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm... I'm okay," you managed, your voice hoarse.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

"What happened? You went away for a moment," He asked, his eyes scanning yours, searching for an answer.

"Y-you are just really good at that," you said, giving him a small smile, your voice shaking.

He wasn't convinced, his expression concerned. He was about to say something when Klaus' voice echoed through the greenhouse.

"Brother! Are you still here?"

You and Elijah looked at each other, his hands quickly fixing his pants, before he moved away.You forced a smile, the visions still lingering, the voices of your ancestors had returned, the blissful silence gone. He helped you stand, his hands lingering on your waist, his eyes full of questions. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he could see through it.

"Do you need anything? Water, or..." He trailed off, searching for an excuse to stay, to make sure you were okay. "Did I upset you? I... I didn't mean to push."

You shook your head, trying to put him at ease. "No, it's not you, it's... I'm sorry, I can't,"

You were embarrassed, confused. You needed space, time to sort through the images and figure out what they meant.

"You're sure?" He asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really," you said, trying to sound convincing. "Thank you, but I... I have work to do, I should go,"

"Okay," he said, reluctantly letting go of your waist.

You hurried to find your clothes, putting them on, ignoring the way the fabric stuck to your damp skin. He watched you, his expression thoughtful, his arms folded across his chest.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow?" He asked, his eyes hopeful.

You hesitated. "I'm not sure that's such a good-"

"Please," he said, his voice soft. "Let me take you out. We can have a nice, normal date."

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "Okay,"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Great, I'll pick you up,"

You nodded, mustering your best smile. You couldn't shake the unease, the fear, the dread that was starting to creep in. There was a storm coming, you could feel it, and you weren't sure what to do.

Agnes lit the last candle, the soft glow filling the room. She closed her eyes and whispered an incantation, the air thick with the scent of herbs.

Maeve wandered in and sat down beside you, watching Agnes.

"Is she trying to commune with the ancestors again?" Maeve asked, her voice laced with irritation.

"She is," you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

"It won't work," Maeve said, her voice harsh.

"I had a vision," you whispered, not wanting to distract Agnes.

"Of course you did," Maeve scoffed, her gaze fixed on Agnes. "They're always visions. Never anything helpful."

"Maeve," you warned, not wanting to argue.

You heard the sound of the latch being pulled and the other coven members entered, filling the room. Agnes signaled for the members to gather around the altar.

"Welcome," she said, her voice low and calm. "I have called this meeting to discuss an urgent matter,"

The coven murmured, exchanging glances, a sense of unease filling the room. Agnes looked over at you, gesturing for you to speak.

"We have a problem," you began, your voice shaking.

"What's going on?" A member named Ava asked, her voice concerned.

"I think I know what they want with the herbs," you said, your eyes scanning the group.

"Spit it out, girl," Maeve said, her tone sharp.

"We know they have been escalating this war, first with suppression, then an outright ban on magic. They have executed some of our families, and now they are planning to use the last thing we have against us," you said, taking a breath, steeling yourself.

"Which is?" Another member named Liza asked, her gaze focused on you.

"They're taking complete control of the vervain supply," you replied, "They're growing it, cultivating it, with the aim of controlling it,"

"That would explain why they were in need of a gardener," Beatrice said, her brow furrowed in thought.

"But why would they need complete control?" Liza asked, her voice full of concern.

"To take the last thread of control away from us," Agnes replied, her eyes full of worry. "They will keep it out of our water supply, and be able to compel any person they please,"

"And they will kill any competitors," you said softly, remembering the vision.

"Including you, with your little shop" Maeve said, her lips curled in a cruel smile. "So, you might want to focus on getting us the ash before they cut your pretty head off,"

"Any progress with getting the ash?" Beatrice asked, placing her hand on your shoulder, her gaze sympathetic.

"Not yet," you replied, shaking your head. "It's a delicate process."

Agnes nodded, looking around at the seven young women. "We must prepare, we need to find another way to protect ourselves. Our coven, our legacy is all that matters,"

The witches nodded, their expressions somber.

"Our ancestors are looking out for us, guiding us. We will survive, we will persevere," Agnes said, her voice resolute. "Y/n has seen it,"

"Oh yes, the vision," Maeve said, her eyes filled with sarcasm. "What have you seen?"

"I... I saw death and destruction," you said, your voice shaking.

"You can't be serious," Maeve scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You have had those visions hundreds of times,"

"Maeve," Agnes warned.

"No, this is ridiculous," Maeve shot back, her eyes narrowed. "We need the ash, and y/n isn't getting it. So, we need to find someone else who can."

"I'm doing my best," you said, trying to remain calm. "I have earned Elijah's trust, he will-"

"When and how did you have this vision?" Maeve demanded, cutting you off.

"This morning," you admitted, knowing there was no point in hiding it.

"Please dear, tell us how, perhaps it can add clarity to what is to come," Agnes said, her voice soothing.

You felt yourself blushing, your cheeks growing hot. "I... I was with Elijah, in the greenhouse," you began, avoiding their eyes.

"Your visions are usually caused by stress," Beatrice chimed in, her brow furrowed. "Was he threatening you in some way? Was it an argument?"

"No, no, nothing like that," you assured them, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "It was... I... It was after,"

"After what?" Liza asked, her interest piqued.

You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably. Everyone here knew you were trying to seduce him, that his blindspot was always with his lovers. But admitting that he had touched you, that you had let him, that was different.

"It was after he was intimate with her," Agnes said, her voice soft and understanding.

You could feel the judgment, the disapproval, the tension in the room. Beatrice took your hand and gave it a squeeze, trying to offer you comfort.

"How many times has that happened?" Maeve asked, her tone accusatory.

"Maeve," Beatrice warned, "she's making a great sacrifice for us,"

"Whoring herself out to an abomination," Maeve scoffed, shaking her head.

"That's enough," Agnes said, her tone sharp, cutting the argument short.

"It's fine, I understand her concerns," you said, trying to keep the bitterness from your voice. "I've been with him every day, I'm gaining his trust, it's only a matter of time before I find the ash."

The other members nodded, their faces grim.

"Y/n's way is the safest, they cannot know when we take it, or they will stop us with violence," Agnes said, her expression solemn.

"How long will it take?" Maeve asked, her frustration evident.

"I can't be sure," you admitted, shaking your head.

Maeve let out a frustrated groan and stood up, storming out of the room.

"I'm sorry," you said, looking around at the others.

"Don't apologize, it's a difficult task," Liza said, offering you a reassuring smile. "I could never have the will or strength to lay with a demon, much less one of the old ones."

You swallowed, forcing a smile, trying not to let the comment hurt. It wasn't exactly a burden to be with him, you couldn't deny that it had felt good. That there had been moments where the lines between what was an act and what was real blurred.

"He is a very handsome man," Beatrice added, trying to lighten the mood.

"That he is," Ava agreed, her eyes twinkling. "It's a shame he's so evil."

"Yes," you said, forcing a smile.

"I think that's all for tonight," Agnes said, giving you a kind smile. "As always, prepare, purify, for tomorrow could be the day we possess the ash."

You watched as the coven departed, their expressions somber, their shoulders hunched, each carrying the burden of your coven. You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, wondering if there was something more you could have done. If you should have tried harder, found a quicker solution.

"Are you okay, child?" Agnes asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine," you assured her, mustering a small smile. "I'll get the ash, I promise,"

Agnes smiled, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze..

"Do whatever it takes, sweet girl, and stay safe, we need you for the ritual," Agnes said, patting your shoulder before leaving the room.

You looked over at the altar, the candles casting flickering shadows across the walls, the vines, and leaves twisting and twining around each other. It was beautiful, and it filled you with a sense of peace.

You had made a commitment, a promise to your coven, and you were going to do everything you could to keep it.

It was an odd feeling, to walk around town on the arm of a man that everyone hated and feared. People's heads turned as you passed, and whispers filled the air. You wanted to tell them that you were on their side, that you would fight for them, for their freedom. But you knew it would only cause more trouble.

Days had turned to weeks, turned to months. Each one the same, each night spent in his arms. And yet, every time he held you, kissed you, whispered words of love, it felt like the first time.

You felt like two people.

There was the you that he knew. The one who smiled, and laughed with him. The one who melted into his strong arms. Who listened to his stories, his plans, his dreams. The one who woke up beside him, hair tousled and with eyes full of sleep. The one who loved him, even if you weren't supposed to.

And then, there was the other you. The one who had a duty. The one who had a purpose, a mission, a destiny to wipe out his family. The one who had to lie, deceive, betray him.

Neither of them felt like you. Neither of them felt right. Both felt like an act. Like a betrayal.

The worst part was the way he looked at you. Like you were the only thing that mattered, the only thing he cared about. You were raised to hate him, to expect cruelty, violence, abuse. And yet, here he was, always so gentle, kind and affectionate. It made it hard to believe the things your coven had told you.

He was charming, witty, and intelligent. He made you laugh, he made you feel safe, and cherished. He was nothing like the monster you had expected, nothing like the one the others spoke of. If he wasn't an abomination, you could see yourself falling in love with him.

You couldn't.

You shouldn't.

But you did.

And it would only make what you were about to do, that much harder.

{Part One}{Part Three}{Part Four}

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szkunas · 6 months ago

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KNOCK KNOCK, GUESS WHO! ౨ৎㅤsuguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤwhen things in your life go well for a long time, there will undeniably be a problem knocking on your door. this time, the issue is your ex-boyfriend, wanted by the jujutsu society — who is very angry with you, even after he stole your money. || PART ONE (previous)

featuring ♱ㅤsuguru geto (jjk0 / 2017 version) x FEM reader.

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤporn with very little plot ! toxic behavior ! suguru (GENOCIDAL man) ! unprotected sex (wrap it up) + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! reader and gojo are not in a relationship, but mutually interested in each other ! coercion / dub-con (both consent but just to be safe) ! genocide / death mentions (geto) ! stalking and breaking in ! bondage + choking ! spanking ! edging ! obsessed suguru agenda ! delusional suguru (you will see) ! seduction !

honorary mentions (inspirations, please read) ♱ㅤthis ask, by anon! all credits to them, i was not planning a part two, haha. whoever you are, i hope you enjoy it.

author’s note ♱ㅤso, today i was sitting down and thinking “im going to finish that yuta draft and probably start the sukuna draft for the event, since he’s winning the poll”. guess which of these two things I did? exactly. none. so, here is more suguru geto for you. i apologize in advance — i am not good at writing seduction. this is a bit rushed lol. repost because i can't see my post in tags

THERE IS NOTHING SCARIER than discovering that the person you love most is hiding a dark secret. it could be a lover, a second family, a dark past or a real, rotting present. that’s the feeling you get: everything is rotten. the walls around you and the space are shaped into a molten mist that rots as time passes, as you read the letter that someone slipped under your door.

the highly wanted criminal, suguru geto, was seen in your apartment two weeks ago, as shown in the photos below. we ask for your full and complete cooperation in the investigation, and soon some sorcerers will need to interrogate you. expect their visit at any time and answer the door when the time comes.ㅤ— the higher-ups from jujutsu society.

oh, hell. no. this cannot be happening.

as the procedure says, you burn the letter and get rid of the ashes.

although your situation is absolutely desperate, the secrecy of jujutsu comes before your disastrous love life. you turn to look for your cell phone, and the delay hurts your bones.

it seems like the object disappears when you need it most. when you find the damn phone, you don’t even hesitate. as you type the number that, at this point, your head knows by heart, your hands shake. this cannot be true. they are lying, they are trying to deceive me and defame suguru. but why? why would society need to do this?

of course, mentally, you suppress yourself. and a rational part of your brain — the part that isn’t driven by the love you feel for a man who’s been with you a long time — slowly realizes that this is the truth.

that’s why the disappearances in the middle of the night, the slight disregard for non-sorcerers touching you or him. the preference for privacy and not allowing you to post photos of the two of you together. he doesn’t have social media, he said. it feels very public. what a lie, he was actually a wanted criminal and cult leader.

no one answers the call, and you press the button once again. and again. and again. by the sixth time, you’re not sure if your hands are shaking with fear, disgust, or hate.

your money. your savings, built up after you left the witch life behind. a small guarantee of your future, a future you planned to have with suguru. a future stolen and lost, by the same man who once stole her heart. beautiful black hair and purple eyes really make a girl forget to pay attention to the red flags.

you leave voicemail after voicemail, until the box is full. then, messages. text after text while your fingertips digit furiously. it didn’t take long for you to realize that a response from him would be even worse, so your last messages were simple, direct. do not talk to me anymore. don’t ever appear in front of me again. and don’t you dare involve me in your affairs, you bastard.

pressing the send button through tears was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done in your life. and so, blocking the number seemed like the most sensible solution. it’s not like he would respond, even if you gave the number to the investigators — your exact intention.

so everything went as it should. 39 missed calls, 104 unanswered messages that changed her perspective of him forever, along with a letter that turned to ash, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. your life took a new direction, an unpredictable metamorphosis that made you move to another address after the entire legal process on your part was concluded. you didn’t know, and you had no involvement, as hard as it was to believe. and then the sorcerers left you alone, and this was your second new start to normal life.

lonely and with a betrayed heart, in a new apartment far from your ex. unloading the last box does not bring the relief of releasing a chain, but the pain. the pain of losing something. as if the chain had tied itself to one of your ribs and ripped it away, taking a part of you.

but the tears dry. time passes. the pain diminishes, and the space that takes it in the heart is hatred. you become your priority again, and in time, you rise again only to fall again. one last effort, a call to a certain sorcerer you once knew, satoru gojo. this was his noah’s ark, his last hope before resorting to more desperate methods.

he answered. and since then, a lot has changed.

it’s been almost ten months since suguru stole your money and trampled on your love and dignity. almost ten months in which you had your heart broken, and you slowly put the pieces back together. now, your latest relationship — it’s not really a relationship.

six weeks ago, you and satoru had sex in your apartment for the first time. since then, he has been very helpful in all aspects of your life and visits you regularly. he takes you on dates and even carried you when his feet got sore from walking. it sounds crazy, feeling so comfortable with someone after just six weeks, but that’s what happens.

gojo is more than an arrogant boy who uses humor in every situation he sees, he has a heart, and a very generous one at that. despite his insistence, the credit card that was entrusted to you is rarely used (and you managed to convince him to change the password, too). his intention was to ask for help, not to become a parasite that will take as much from him as he can. not when he’s a much better person than you expected. a kind of clumsy white knight, in a cute and a bit of a loser way at the same time.

so, of course, the dates have become routine now. cinemas, walks in the park, roller skating, going for ice cream. these experiences stand out in your memories, as sweet as scenes from clichéd romance films. kisses in the rain, desperate hands pushing you into the apartment — maybe this time, you might be able to tease him a little, make him lose it and have you right there, in a dark corner? the idea is exciting, dangerous, and so stupid it makes your heart flutter.

he still owes you a new bed, though. you keep fucking on your couch because you two broke your single bed the last time you did it.

checking yourself in the mirror before a date is, naturally, what everyone does. the red dress that adorns her body is a little short, the kind of thing you see on a seductive movie character. but satoru asked for this tiny — as tiny as the dress, in his words — favor and promised anything you wanted later if you wore that and hung on his arm all night. even when he’s being a pervert, he’s just a guy who’s whipped for you.

the idea makes you take a step back. satoru can’t be in love with you. yeah, okay. he does cute things often. he takes you on dates almost every week. he’s always trying to make you laugh and has already learned most of your quirks, likes and dislikes. he remembers you throughout the day, at random intervals, and buys you things so casually that you had to beg him to stop and not max out his card bill — he just laughed and said it was all cheap anyway. heirs…

but he can’t be in love. it’s all new, recent. perfect, but maybe it’s just hidden by the love fog at the beginning of a relationship. it has already blinded you to bad signals once, and you internally wonder if you are using gojo.

of course, part of you has already thought about it. having sex with your ex’s best friend and solve your financial problems. two birds, one stone. but satoru is everything suguru is not — true. intense and real, without a mask of sweet truth that covered a rotten truth.

honestly, you don’t want to think about it too much right now. this is a conversation that should be between you and satoru, not between you and your intrusive, insecure thoughts. he deserves to know the truth and he deserves to know that you’re just as interested as he is — not on the money, but on him.

a text message makes you smile right after spraying a sweet perfume on your neck. the screen lights up with that contact that has now become your favorite.

toru <3; ㅤ already in the dress? photos or else ill die (seriously)

a small laugh escapes your throat, and you immediately prepare to take a photo. stepping back a little and posing in front of the mirror, you could swear you heard something near your apartment door while simultaneously hearing the soft click of your cell phone.

one pose to show the front, and one for the back, with a soft, evil smile. satoru isn’t your boyfriend, but with his attitude, he could very well be. he looks at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and as if he wanted you forever. it’s beautiful. it’s such a beautiful emotion to see in those blue eyes that you can’t wait for the next time you look.

after texting back, asking what time the movie starts, your eyebrows come together in a frown. omnisity takes over the environment quickly, and you swear your heart stops beating.

this energy— it cannot be.

“hi princess. missed me?”

the whisper in your ear is so sudden that you immediately turn your face to look. a hand grabs your chin and forces your head to turn back to the mirror, and you gasp, immediately struggling.

suguru geto, on the flesh, the greatest traitor to have walked the earth since judas. traitor to the jujutsu society, criminal and mass murderer, and of course — your ex-boyfriend. right behind you, and forcing you to stare at the mirror as his free hand snatches your phone away.

you hit him with your elbow, but he barely moves. humming, as if he is amused. as if you are some game. geto’s hips press forward against yours, and he efficiently traps you between the sink and him.

this cannot be happening.

what suguru doesn’t find amusing, though, is your text messages with satoru. long or short, little flirtations or obvious nudes, these messages are simply something that makes him turn his nose up in disgust. how dare him. how dare satoru take the one thing suguru truly loved that way?

“get off me.” you murmur, your eyes widening. like any sorcerer, you know the basics of defending yourself, but panic runs through your veins like poison. your muscles feel like solid stone, and you can’t stop your breath from hitching when his hand stops cupping your cheek to grab you by the throat.

he’s a criminal who definitely must have had his share of fights. you are a sorceress who has not been in the field for almost ten years. in a real fight? he could drown you in that sink and satoru would only find out hours later.

satoru. the thought makes you immediately ramble.

“don’t you dare lay a hand on me. satoru will—” he squeezes your neck softly, a silent message for you to keep your mouth shut. suguru sighs, annoyed he needs to explain it to you, word by word. he really, really likes you, but he’s not in the mood after all these games.

this small action — squeezing your neck gently — makes you remember old times. old times, not good days. because, although they were good, the memory was effectively corrupted when he left you, almost a year ago.

“satoru will not do a thing. he doesn’t know i’m here, and he won’t know.” a break. “yet.”

your eyebrows shoot up, before your face contorts into confusion. what does he mean, yet? if anyone knows he’s here, he will be executed. why would he risk it, just to see you? is he here to kill you?

the thought brings visible panics into your eyes — the wonderful, pretty eyes you have. the window to your soul. your soul and body, which suguru would like to possess again.

again, what a ridiculous term. he never stopped owning it, in the first place.

maybe if you buy time, satoru will come see what’s taking so long. he will help. you’ll be safe.

but the date is only thirty minutes, and for satoru to come in person, you would have to wait another forty. one hour and ten minutes with your genocidal ex-boyfriend. wow. this must be some kind of twisted lottery of fate, where winning makes you unlucky.

you force your voice to remain calm, composed. he does not deserve the satisfaction of your fear.

“why are you here?”

“oh, look at her.” he mocks, as if you’re not even just there, listening. “asking why i’m here as if she has no idea.”

“i don’t.” you grit your teeth. “this is why people ask, imbecile. they want answers— ugh.” he squeezes your neck again, making you grow quiet until he relaxes.

“darling.” suguru smiles softly, but some veins are popping up on his hand. he is absolutely pissed, using that sweet voice to smooth you. “you know why i’m here. don’t play dumb. you— let satoru touch you.”

his tone is still soft, affectionate as the boyfriend you once called yours. but beneath the sweetness, there is an anger, a possession. like an animal whose territory has been pierced.

“did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he leans in, his hot breath making shivers run down your spine violently. “you underestimate me, my love. i’m a bit offended. coming from you, i expected so much more.”

his hand snakes all over your body, and close as he is, you’re sure he can hear your erratic heartbeat. thump-thump. thump-thump. thump-thump.

like the engine of a machine, accelerated to its limits. if your organs are your gears, you believe you are malfunctioning right now. a poorly functioning machine due to information overload.

it’s a lot to handle. his hands are warm as they gently pull your dress up, groaning. “i barely had to move it away. what, you enjoy dressing like a slut for satoru?”

it seems like your voice only works normally, as it should, when you feel your panties being pulled down, gasping. “suguru, no! you can’t!”

“oh, i can’t? why? c’mon, darling, just the tip.” he throws your phone away — the sound the device makes when it breaks against the wall is blood-curdling. he wraps both his arms around your waist, pressing his hips to yours. “pretty please?”

you grit your teeth. why the hell is this attractive? perhaps it’s because you barely heard geto beg before. but, no. you can’t. satoru, your satoru, he’s waiting for you — instead, you have your freak ex humping slowly against you. no way, is he wearing buddhist attire? like a monk or something. but these thoughts don’t matter. his words take you out of your head.

“i saw everything that day, you know. and a little before, and after that. getting all cozy with satoru, because i’m not here? you offend me, sweetheart. i’m a bit hurt.”

“oh, i’m not hearing this.” you curl your hands into fists, slamming them on his arms. “not after you lied about who you are, stole my damn money, and left! fuck you, geto! fuck. you.”

he smirks against your ear, grabbing your wrists and pulling your arms behind your back. you groaned, and he quickly decided to hit two birds with one stone.

tugging at the clothing strip that holds his robes together, he rips it off and uses it to tie your hands together as you squirm. he gives it a little tug, confirming it’s not too tight, and throws his clothings to the other side of the room.

“i know i haven’t been here.” he pauses, and you can watch him through the mirror as he forces you a bit down. “and i’m sorry. i wanted to tell you, i did. but i couldn’t. i know what you would think, and— i couldn’t lose you.”

it’s like a sincere admission, but you’re not foolish enough to feel sorry. not for him, definitely. throwing salt at the wound is your strategy right now.

“you lost me anyway. y’know, satoru really has a way with backshots that—” your words are cut off by a gasp, when he rips your panties off you and holds you down by the back of your neck. your back does a pretty arch for him like that, but suguru is not nearly amused enough.

“don’t be a brat. i made mistakes, but you, too. whoring yourself for my best friend? are you kidding me, love?”

“i’m not your love, don’t call me that.” he grabs you by the hair, tugging your head back up to look at his eyes through his reflection.

a pause, and suguru decided against what he was going to originally say, softening his grip on you.

“i missed you. i did. can’t i show it to you? just a little, baby, please?” he presses his hips into yours a bit more gently, and you can feel it.

his rock-hard erection, rubbing softly against your warm pussy. it makes you shiver and hum against your will. a part of you misses it. nothing wrong with satoru — he’s a great learner for an inexperienced guy — but geto knows just how to blow your back and be soft at the same time. an art satoru hasn’t mastered yet.

the idea of doing this to that white haired man who is so good to you — it brings tears to your face. how dare you want to say yes? but also, how could you say no when suguru’s head is rubbing deliciously against your entrance?

you close your eyes in defeat, not able to look at yourself.

“be quick. and don’t ever ask me anything again. you get this— and you disappear from my sight. forever.”

a deal with the devil. sacrifice something and gain something. your body for peace.

he chuckles, throwing his head back with a smirk. “oh, you and i both know that’s not happening, sweetheart. i’ll be here, forever.” he slips his hands down your waist, grabbing it gently and pushing his cock in.

the feeling is— exquisite. geto could try all he wanted, search in all the world, but he never could find someone like you. your body is almost poisonous — intoxicating is the right word. he just bottomed out and he’s already mixing his thoughts. that’s the effect you have on him.

suguru’s hips start moving at a restless pace, not giving you time to breathe or a warning. he can’t waste time with words, not now. not after being pulled away from you, his beloved, for ten torturous months. just when he was planning to come back and convince you to join his cult — or just grab you and lock you up, whatever —, he found you riding his best friend. sinking down satoru’s cock and making him cream all inside you.

the idea makes him huff, thrusting harder.

and you, under him? with your wrists tied up? well, you’re a mess. you’ll have to try bondage with satoru later, it’ll surely make his cock explode. your eyes widen, and you babble something — what’s wrong with your head? why are you thinking about satoru, then, suguru, then satoru again?

oh, lord above, maybe both at the same time? it’s a fantasy that makes you blush more than what you’re doing right now.

suguru guides your head up again, holding your neck gently.

“what are you thinking about, love? you keep—” he grunts. “clenching down on me.”

“nothing,” you stammer out. okay, there is something seriously wrong with you for enjoying this so much. a moan escapes you before you can stop it. “nngh— satoru!”

his eyes widen at the same time as yours. if your hands weren’t tied up, you would have brought one up to your mouth. the squeezing on your neck is firm, enough to not cut air circulation, but present. surely. the whisper of your name echoes through the bathroom.

“what did you just say?”

he looms over you, blushed cheeks and vulnerable expressions changing all the time, staring at your dumb little face in the mirror. suguru has a soft frown on his face, his eyes wide in horror, and his lips are slightly parted. but there’s a dark shadow oozing off him, a rage that cannot be contained.

he’s hurt. he’s mad.

you try to justify it quickly, to do damage control. “suguru! i said— i said suguru!”

but it’s a little too late for that, and lies only make it worse. he pins you down harder, his hips moving back at a ruthless pace this time. harder, faster — no mercy or trace of the sweet man who used to make love with you as if you were made of glass.

now, he fucks you as if he hates you, he hates your guts.

your moans and whines are muffled by the obscene sounds escaping where your hips meet. plap plap plap, mixed with a softly, slightly wet whisper of some sort. suguru lets go of your waist and brings his hand up.

you gasp when it hits the back of your thigh in a loud smack!

he forces you to look up, breathless as he murmurs.

“start counting.” he groans, harshly. and he smacks you again, right on the ass. he’s hitting so hard that you believe his intention is leaving a red mark — a present for satoru to look at later. and you’re right. his friend knows no boundaries and keeps taking what is his. what choice does he has, unless to mark you up?

smack.

you shiver, trying to squirm away and kick before he pins you down again.

“behave, brat. now start counting.”

smack.

“one—” you moan when his heat hits your sweet spot, huffing. smack. “two.”

“good girl.” smack. smack. smack. “how many is that, princess, mm? ohh, that’s the good pussy i missed so much. so— tight.”

“ngh! three! four! f—five?”

“is that a question, or are you answering me, my love?”

he chuckles meanly, thrusting into you again. you both grunt — near the edge already.

“suguru.” you throw your head back, whimpering. “i’m— i’m gonna—”

“ohh, you’re going to cum? that fast, honey? satoru hasn’t been good enough to you, i see.” he thrusts harder, laughing meanly at the way your eyes widen and tear up. “aww, he can’t treat you like you want. he fucks you like a good girl, i bet. but you want to be fucked like a slut.”

he leans down, peppering your neck with kisses and hearing your deep breaths. “it’s okay. i’m close, too. you have this effect on me, my love.” he grunts again, grabbing your hips. “throw that ass back on me, baby, yeah? yeah, juuuust like that.”

he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up as he presses his lips to yours in a upside down kiss. it would be romantic if it weren’t so possessive, visceral, crude. carnal. desperate.

when your lips part, he grunts and sighs softly, while you’re moaning loudly. nearly at the same time, your orgasms hit you both with everything.

suguru’s thrusts become messy, sloppy, and his skin feels a bit sticky against yours as he fucks himself using your pussy, pushing in ropes of cum to paint your insides.

you let your head fall forward when it’s your turn, squirming and whimpering softly. his forehead would have hit the sink if he weren’t holding you up. some more seconds, to dry out both of your highs. slowly, gently, he pulls out of you, watching the fat drops oozing out of your used hole.

suguru smirks as he undoes your restraints, kissing the back of your neck tenderly and adjusting your dress.

“don’t forget who has you first, mkay? i left a little gift for you and satoru here.” he sighs, sounding a bit sad. “i’ll have to go again, i’m sorry. but i’ll be back soon. don’t miss me too much. just leave your window unlocked, and i’ll be here again.” he grabs your face to turn it again, brushing his lips against yours. “unlocking them is a chore.”

geto leans back, and you shiver, confused. the sound of clothes being adjusted and thrown back into a body makes you turn your head moments after you heard it, still a bit too slow.

and he is gone. as you fix yourself up on your feet, you shiver as the realization hits you hard as a stone. no, no. satoru. no.

you stumble to the corner of the bathroom, picking up your phone. the screen is broken, but a call icon appears. you accept immediately, nearly sobbing.

“hey, senpai,” the nickname is soft coming from his lips. a small joke, playing with an honorific that he does not use with figures he should use. “you’re— a bit late. did something came up, or?”

“satoru.” you sob, and even through the screen, you can feel him tense up. his voice becomes more serious.

“what happened? are you okay? where are you? i’m on my way.” the scraping of a chair can be heard in the background of the call.

“i’m— my apartment. i have something to tell you. we need to talk, seriously, we—”

you shiver, and for some reason, you can picture your ex perfectly — walking proudly, with his nose up, the wind making his black hair flow behind him and cruel, purple eyes accompanied by a soft smirk.

“i made a mistake.”

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES.ㅤthank you for reading! <3

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ghostlyfleur · 1 year ago

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Hi lovely!!! I’ve missed you!!! I have so many Steve thoughts

oooh, i’m so excited. please, send me all thoughts on our sweet boy! i’m feeling inspired

(it’s 3:49am for me right now so i’ll answer them later)

#✉️ love letters #ash ♡

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fangdokja · 20 days ago

Text

He’d rather destroy you than let someone else touch you—because if you’re not his, you’re nothing.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Vigilante x Reader

♡ Headcanons. #2

♡ Word Count. 1,128

Jealousy: A Catalyst for Madness

For him, jealousy isn’t just an emotion—it’s a violent, all-consuming force that drowns every rational thought. He doesn’t see rivals; he sees threats. And threats must be eradicated.

The idea of someone else touching you, even brushing against you in passing, ignites something primal in him. His grip tightens, his breathing slows, and his gaze sharpens to a deadly focus.

He doesn’t trust you, not because you’re untrustworthy, but because he knows how irresistible you are. To him, you’re an object of perfection, a treasure others are foolish enough to covet.

“You don’t even realize, do you?” he growls one night, his voice gruff and venomous as he corners you. “The way they look at you. Like you’re theirs to take. I should kill them just for the thought alone.”

Possession Through Pain

Jealousy turns his love into something dark, something sharp and brutal.

When he’s jealous, his touches are rougher, almost bruising. He presses himself against you, trapping you in his arms, forcing you to feel every inch of his strength. “Do they make you feel this way?” he snarls against your ear, his breath hot and uneven.

He marks you in ways that are both physical and psychological. A hand wrapped tightly around your throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder, leaving bruises in places only he can see. He needs you to remember who you belong to, especially when you’re apart.

His voice is soft, almost a whisper, as his hands trail down your body: “When they see these marks, they’ll know. They’ll know you’re mine.”

Unleashing Sadistic Desire

His jealousy doesn’t just lead to violence against others—it seeps into the bedroom, where his need to claim you turns feral.

He doesn’t just want you to feel his touch; he wants you to feel his absence when he’s gone. His lips, his hands, his teeth—they all become instruments of torment, leaving trails of pleasure and pain that linger for days.

When his jealousy reaches its peak, he becomes ruthless. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. “Do they make you sound like this?” he orders, his voice a gruff growl. “No, sweetheart. Only I can do this to you.”

The room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the soft sounds he drags from you, and the quiet, almost heart-gripping words he murmurs against your skin: “No one will ever love you the way I do. No one will ever destroy you the way I can.”

Eliminating Rivals: The Horror of Possession

Anyone who dares get too close to you is a dead man walking.

He doesn’t just kill them; he makes an example of them. Blood is his love letter, written in crimson strokes that stain his hands and clothes.

When he returns to you after eliminating a rival, he’s still charged with adrenaline, his movements wild and desperate. He pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours with bruising intensity. “Say it,” he demands, his voice rough. “Say you’re mine.”

If you hesitate, even for a second, his grip tightens. “I’ll kill them all,” he promises, his eyes dark with madness. “Every single one. Until there’s no one left but you and me in our world.”

Dialogue: Words Like Chains

“Do you really think they could love you like I do? Hurt you like I can? No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to have you.”

His jealousy is a wildfire, scorching everything in its path, leaving behind ashes and scars. It doesn’t just consume him—it consumes you.

“I should break every finger that ever brushed against your skin. But I won’t. Because you’re the only one I want to ruin.”

When he touches you after a fit of jealousy, it’s as if his hands are dipped in blood, the heat of his rage seeping into your skin. His grip is both a warning and a promise: no one else will ever have you.

“You smile at them. You smile. Do you actually know how that makes me feel? Like ripping their throats out just to see the terror in their eyes.”

His love is a noose, tightening around your neck with every passing day. It’s suffocating, inescapable, yet you find yourself clinging to it, unable to let go.

“You think you have a choice, don’t you? You think you can walk away. But you’re wrong, sweetheart. You’re mine until the day you die. And I’ll make sure it’s me who decides when that day comes.”

The air grows heavy when he’s near, thick with the scent of copper and the weight of unspoken threats. His eyes bore into you, dark and dangerous, as if daring you to deny him.

“I’d rather see you dead,” he says one night, his voice quiet but unwavering, “than let someone else have you.”

Moments and Memories With Him

The Confrontation:

He finds you talking to someone else—a harmless conversation, a passing exchange. But when you return home, his mood is anything but calm.

He shoves you against the wall, his hands rough as they grip your waist. “What were you thinking?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you want me to kill them? Is that what you want?”

His lips crash against yours, desperate and punishing. His jealousy is a storm, and you’re caught in its eye.

The Aftermath:

He comes back late, his clothes splattered with blood. You know better than to ask where he’s been. Instead, you try to retreat, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you into him.

“They’re gone,” he whispers, his voice low but chilling. “You don’t have to worry about those fuckers anymore.” His hands slide down your body, controlling and unrelenting. “You’re safe now. You’re mine.”

The Breaking Point:

He sees you smiling at someone else, and it’s the last straw. That night, he ties you to the bed, his hands trembling with barely restrained rage.

“You need to understand something,” he says, his voice baritone and deadly. “You belong to me. Your body, your soul—everything. And if I have to break you to make you see that, then to hell with it.”

Closing Thoughts

His jealousy is an armed weapon, a double-edged blade that slices through both of you. It’s dark, terrifying, and inescapable—a testament to the twisted love he feels for you. “You’ll never leave me,” he murmurs, his voice soft as his hands tighten around your throat. “Because you can’t. And deep down, you don’t want to.”

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