#But I still don’t think he deserved to die the way he did after what the state of Alabama put him through

[star-writes-sometimes]

raaah I love tattooartist!thanos

what if like during our session we were to pass out (ik bae checks up on us but still pass out)

a/n - i absolutely love this ask thank you much!! i kinda hate how this turned out but it was driving me insane so im deciding its as good as i could do :)

c/w - fluff, tattoos, food/forgetting to eat mentioned, passing out

—

“fuck, beautiful, what’d i do to deserve this sight?” thanos asks teasingly with that dumb flirty smirk on his face.

you don’t have the energy to roll your eyes like you usually do. for the first time in a while you’re nervous about getting a tattoo. you’ve wanted a rib tattoo since you started your tattoo pinterest board but you know how much it’s going to hurt.

it didn’t help that the last over the last couple of months, your attraction to your tattoo artist turned has into a full blown crush. 

after your first tattoo you assumed his flirty behaviour was just his way of getting consistent clients. you didn’t mind, he was pretty and it felt nice to have his attention. yet, as you had more and more sessions, his cheesy flirting seemed to get more and more sincere and it’s left you wondering if he actually likes you.

you’re sitting on his tattoo bench with your shirt taped up at your boobs. the stencil is already placed and thanos is holding the needle in his hand ready to start but you can hardly focus. the air feels hot and your clothes feel itchy and your mouth feels dry and fuck did you remember to eat today?

you’re snapped out of your thoughts by thanos turning on the needle. he gives you a wide smile and runs his free hand along your stomach. the action would normally reassure you at least a bit but it all just felt wrong today.

“ready?” he asks sweetly.

and against your better judgment you nod.

as the needle touches your skin you relax a bit. it was just a tattoo, why were you so worried? you’d done this multiple times before, you knew what it was going to feel like-

fuck.

that isn’t the normal tattoo pain. as he moves the needle across the ridges of your ribs it feels a hot knife is carving a canyon in your skin. the pain is blistering and you have to squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to focus on your breathing.

after almost two full minutes of this torture he pulls away to check on you. you know he’s asking if you’re okay but it sounds like he’s underwater and you can’t focus on any specific word.

your shyness feels like the main villain because you want to tell him that something is wrong. you should tell him that something is wrong. but he’s glancing up at you with that stupid smile and he’s rubbing his thumb affectionately against your skin, patiently waiting for your answer and you just don’t want him to think less of you.

it’s entirely illogical but you don’t want him to think you were pussying out because of the pain. and you don’t want to admit you were dumb enough to forget something as simple as eating. and you most definitely don’t want him to know about your feelings.

his ego doesn’t need that.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay,” you finally say and offer him a small smile.

it must be convincing enough because he frowns but nods and turns the needle back on.

as the needle touches your skin again you immediately start regretting every decision you’ve ever made. the smart part of your brain knows that thanos would be more than kind if you asked to stop and reschedule the appointment. unfortunately, that part of your brain is being drowned out by the part of your brain screaming at the pain.

a rhythmic thumping fills your head and darkness creeps into the edges of your vision. your chest seems to get tighter and you wonder if this is how you’re going to die before you feel nothing at all.

thanos feels your body go limp and quickly turns the needle off, “flower?!”

his hands cup your face and he starts tapping on your cheek rapidly. your eyes flutter open and you squint up at him, flinching slightly from how close he was to your face.

“fuckin’ christ, beautiful, you gave me a scare,” he says with a nervous laugh. he pushes your hair out of your face and smiles softly.

“sorry,” you say, feeling your face get hot with embarrassment as you realise what has happened. you sit up properly and offer a small anxious smile as he hands you an unopened waterbottle, “thank you.”

“what happened, love?” he asks. god why did he have to look at you with such genuine care? why was it these moments were reserved for when you were alone together? why did he have to be so pretty?

you give a pathetic shrug and look away from him as you slowly sip the water, “i don’t know… i’ve never passed out before.”

he hums in thought and rests his hand on your thigh. his thumb rubs circles on your bare skin in a familiar and comforting gesture, “have you eaten today?” 

you wince as if he had asked a deeply personal question, “i think i ate lunch.”

his eyes go comically wide and he grabs your hands to pull you closer to him, “baby! that was six hours ago you know you need to eat before getting a tat!”

your shame only grows and you squeeze your eyes shut and nod, “i know.”

he sighs dramatically and stands up. he takes off his gloves and throws them out before offering his hand to you, “come on, pretty.”

you finally look up at him with a confused expression and try to speak, “what-”

“you know for most clients i would almost prefer it if they passed out during tattoos, but i like talking to you, flower. so, i want you at full strength, let’s go get you something to eat. then if you’re up for it, we can finish your tat or we can just reschedule,” he has a cheshire cat grin and makes grabby hands at you.

you take his hands with a small smile and he pulls you up. you untape your shirt and adjust your clothes to be appropriate again. 

“we don’t have to reschedule, i don’t wanna be annoying,” you say softly.

he laughs and throws an arm around your shoulder as he leads you out of his room, “honestly beautiful, i would almost prefer if you reschedule, it gives me an excuse to see you again soon.”

you smile and nod. the reception room is empty, everyone else had gone home for the day. but, before you two walked out of the building his arm tightens around you and he leans down to your ear.

“never pull that shit again, okay, princess? you tell me if you haven’t eaten or you're not feeling good or any other thing that feels even a little off. scared the fuck out of me seein’ you like that,” he whispers to you intensely.

you nod with wide eyes and you can feel your chest tighten nervously at both his proximity and low tone. does he even realise the effect he had on you? you hope not.

[cryptvokeeper]

Oh I just saw the news piece on this. Worth noting also that this is their SECOND TRY EXECUTING THIS MAN, because they tried to kill him using lethal injection AND IT FAILED.

and you may think “wow that’s lucky” but no! Lethal injections have a very high rate of failure, one of the highest among methods of execution! And they can be incredibly painful and lead to unnecessary suffering for the rest of the inmates life, however long that life may be.

during the news piece they actually talked to Kenneth Smith and it was super fucked. He said he was scared, not of dying, but because he didn’t trust the state not to fuck it up and basically torture him.

today the first person in the united states will be executed using a gas mask containing 100% nitrogen gas, meaning he will suffer and die of sudden hypoxia. although the state of alabama claims to predict that the nitrogen gas will "cause unconsciousness within seconds, and cause death within minutes,” medical experts have pointed out that there are risks that a person subjected to this form of execution could suffer from seizures, choking on their own vomit, and prolonged suffering, and claim that “alabama has refused to be forthcoming with the fine details of execution by forced nitrogen gas inhalation” affecting the defendant’s ability to “adequately make a legal defence.”

the UN has warned that this plan could constitute torture. the American Veterinary Association has advised again the use of nitrogen hypoxia for euthanasia of almost all mammals. experts also warn that safety issues for those in the vicinity of the execution could block prisoners right to have a spiritual advisor in the execution chamber as established by the supreme court in 2022, as well as the right to healthcare as established by the supreme court in 1976 should they not die immediately.

Kenneth Smith, who will be the the guinea pig for this inhumane punishment, could not be sentenced with the death penalty if his case was tried today as this sentence was imposed by a judge overruling the decision of a jury, which is no longer permitted.

the use of nitrogen hypoxia to kill prisoners has been approved in alabama, mississippi, and oklahoma, and is a risk in arizona, oklahoma, and nebraska.

you can sign this petition to several of these states’ governors and legislators here. if you’re a jewish community leader wanting to join the jewish community statement opposing the gas chamber you can sign here. you can also reach out directly to your reps, especially alabama governor Kay Ivey, who has the authority to stop this execution (although time is running very short) and other executions of this type in the future.

if you’re in “canada” like me, the canadian company walter surface companies, owned by a canadian private equity firm called onex corp is complicit in this execution as one of its subsidiaries is producing the gas masks that will be used in these executions. you can sign a petition here and do anything else you can to put pressure on these groups.

i’m horrified that any country still uses the death penalty. i’m horrified at the precedent that this particular execution sets. nobody should be okay with this.

[prncssguya]

on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

[affableramen]

when they finish earlier than you

mature content including sexual themes; established relationships

Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Baizhu

Wriothesley

He groans with emotion but it’s only a few seconds after he realises that you’re still beneath him, still haven't come. Wriothesley looks at your widened, surprised eyes and agape mouth. 

“Bloody hell—”, he spits with a shaky voice. “I’m so sorry, we haven't seen each other for a while and I—”

Wriothesley gently caresses your hip, while chuckling and looking at you half-blushing. “Shit, I must have missed you too much.”

It’s not a problem for him to bring you to the peak with his mouth or hands. 

Tartaglia

He squirts his release with a loud moan, pressing you close to his chest, his face buried into your neck. Those little bites shall leave radiant marks.

“Oh my god…” Ajax moans into your neck. “Oh f-fuck—I—”, he pats your back, “Fuck, I have never come so fast before. It’s not my fault, peanut, you’re too gorgeous for your own good.” He jokingly says, hiding his blush into your neck so you have no idea of it. Ajax is incredibly embarrassed and frustrated with his manhood that got too sensitive too soon.

Neuvillette

Neuvillette feels embarrassed and upset over losing his composure so quickly. He usually lasts long, and finding himself in such predicament gives way to the feeling of guilt and frustration.

“Darling, we can go one more round to get you satisfied. Please forgive me, my love.”

“No need to, Neuvillette, the both of us are tired. We can do it anytime during the week.”

“But I feel so guilty for coming first and not giving you the release you deserved. Let me at least satisfy you with my hands.”

“I don’t mind that, but please don't stress yourself out too much. It’s just sex, we can do many times better later. Nothing changes between us if you simply came early.”

Neuvillette caresses your face softly and speaks with emotion.

“You know that I usually last. I feel so defeated right now.”

To comfort your husband you place a kiss on the centre of his palm.

“Cumming early doesn't make my love to you fade, Neuvillette. In all honesty, I’m glad if I make you so excited that you can barely hold it together.” You give one other awkward but loving smiles. 

Pantalone

“I—I apologise. I did not foresee that, darling”, with a perplexed, disoriented look Pantalone pulls away. He gets purchase on the clean towel and covers his body in shame. A terrific sight, so rare for the Ninth Harbinger who is usually unabashed, especially in intimacy. 

“Oh my—how pathetic!”

You try to comfort him, saying that he must have been both too excited and tired after work, which ended up in premature peak, but Pantalone seems too distressed and angry at his inability to control himself as he quickly vanishes from the bedroom. 

Ayato

With a stiffled moan Ayato finishes, but somehow it feels so wrong - releasing much earlier than you, when his significant other’s orgasm is in question. 

Ayato grabs the towel and wipes himself clean, while looking down at you, your legs still thrown on his shoulders. 

“Oh my goodness”, he laughs at himself, but the laugh is nervous, not cocky or proud as it usually is. The man’s ego seems to die out ridiculously soon, as quickly as he finishes this time.

“We’ll have to go one more round after that…” he hisses, his member still very sensitive. “Once I get ready again.”

Capitano

“Hngghh—” 

Capitano pulls out with a well-heard grunt and pulls you closer to his chest. You are lying on top of him, your bodies are slightly wet when he makes a remark:

“I apologise, wife. It seems my stamina betrayed me tonight”, he gives a smooch to your cheek, brief but filled with devoted emotion. “Maybe if you stay a while like this, I can satisfy you longer. What do you think?” He delivers yet another kiss, this time to your neck. His voice sounds much quieter and he gently runs his hand through your hair.

“We should really stay together tonight. I feel like I need you more than ever. And not a word about this to anyone.”

Dottore

“Dottore, get out of the bathroom, immediately.”

“No!” A grunt and a curse escape from the inside of the bathroom. “I must learn what caused the fail in performance.”

“Dottore, I’m happy either way. Besides you looked quite funny.”

“FUNNY—she thinks I’m funny”, he utters to himself under his breath. “I’m going to check this little idiot for ruining our bedtime.”

Your amused laugh can be heard from the bedroom, as Dottore’s anger at his own manhood looks funny.

Alhaitham

“Oh, Y/N—f-fuck!” Alhaitham certainly does not expect himself to cum prematurely. His face looks red and his expression radiates emotion. You swear you have never seen a face sexier than this. You didn't know that he could ever be able to cum so hard (and so soon). 

Alhaitham scowls, looking at you. “What? You think this is funny? It’s just a one time occurrence.” Another moan escapes his mouth and he covers his face with his hand. “You shouldn't see me like this—”

Dainsleif

Dainsleif falls onto the bed, utterly defeated and pulls you with him. You notice how heavily he is breathing and judging by the perplexed look on his face, never he did expect rushing his own release. He was shocked, to say in the least.

“Don’t look at me like that. You think you’ve defeated me?” Dainsleif groans when you move to his chest. “I will make you finish twice next time, and believe me—much earlier than me.”

Baizhu

Baizhu lets out a moan he did not expect coming and immediately covers his mouth. His face is red and silly when he looks down at you. He is blushing extraordinarily, and the buds of sweat roll over his chest as he towers over you. 

“Let’s pretend this did not happen, my dear”, he runs his hand down your lips and onto your neck. “Oh my goodness, how embarrassing.”

Yet you just give him a sincere laugh. “Baizhu, it’s alright. I enjoyed it immensely.”

[unkreativstermensch]

"Still super jealous as hell by the way.“

"Okay, now, can you…get outta my face?“ Steve annoyedly swats a hand at Eddie’s chest and ducks out of his space.

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you-" He purses his lips, thinks. "You don’t…you still don’t like me very much, do you?"

At that Steve stops walking, huffs out an annoyed breath and presses his eyes closed. He turns to Eddie, looks at him with an expression Eddie can’t read and says, "No, Eddie. No, I don’t."

Eddie just watches him for a second, not sure what to do, studies his face, the furrow between his brows, the clear discomfort in his expression.

He scoffs. Getting a little angry. "Jesus, man,“ he says. "You just can’t get over it, huh? And here I was rambling on about how you were actually a good dude after all, but…no, turns out Steve Harrington is still just as much stuck in his stupid high school mindset as I would have thought.“

Steve just looks more annoyed now, a slight shift in his eyebrow and…he looks…frustrated? A little? How does that make sense?

"You,“ Steve says, voice low, but not because of the monsters, Eddie knows that much, "are unbelievable.“

Eddie blinks. "What?“

"Eddie, you’re the one who can’t get over it,“ Steve accuses him. "You always talk about that non-conformist shit and how people should just stop with the categories and drawers and labels but, dude, you’ve never judged people that way yourself! I have been saved in your brain as this dumb idiot jock ever since you’ve known me and…“ Steve huffs out an unbelieving breath. "And Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you…but you’ve never been nice to me. Ever. And when Lucas made the basketball team, which is amazing, by the way, you weren’t proud of him or supported him for that incredible achievement like you should have if he’s really one of your 'little sheep‘.“ He draws quotation marks in the air. "You punished him for it. You said you can’t make Hellfire? Fuck you. I’m just gonna have the most important part of the campaign without you, because you know what, you don’t deserve us anymore now that you’ve joined the dark side. Now that you’ve taken up a…a jock game. Because god forbid, somebody could actually ever enjoy playing sports.“

Eddie can’t follow. His mind’s lagging behind, still stuck on Steve apparently knowing DnD terms and saying he was never nice to him and-

Steve takes another step back.

"Eddie, for as long as I can remember you hated me. And yeah, sure, I was stupid and I did some stupid things, but…“ he shrugs one sided. "But I don’t think I deserve to be treated that way. I think I at least deserved a chance. And you never gave me one.“

Eddie blinks. "What do you mean I never gave you a chance, I-"

"Biology, sophomore year,“ Steve interrupts him. "We were assigned lab partners. I tried to really…put all of it aside, tried to get to know you, because actually, Eddie, you know what? I was sort of obsessed with you. Because you were so…loud and so unashamedly yourself, I admired you so much. You didn’t care about anything and you stood up for yourself and that’s something I’ve never been able to do, my whole life. I…“ Steve looks down, sighs a little. "I let people push me around because it’s the only way I feel like I can be of use. But you…you made me believe that maybe actually I…could do it, you know? Like, tell Tommy H. off or something…“ He looks so hurt. Eddie kind of wants to die. "But you…you acted like it was the worst thing ever, getting partnered with me. You didn’t even look at me. You…never gave me a chance, Eddie. So…sorry if one 'you’re actually a good dude, Harrington' doesn’t make me forget all of that, make up for it. Because I’m not so sure I believe you.“

Oh.

Oh no.

Eddie fucked up.

[lotus-pear]

ok so i finished the game and i fear this aged terribly

also like an absolute fool i did the true ending so i got no shuake angst on 2/2 like i was expecting……….i also didn’t have a file ready before the talk with maruki so it appears i’ll have to play the game for the third fucking time just to get the bad ending

finally started p5 royal ‼️‼️‼️‼️

expect some royal trio art soon they are my dearly beloveds (minus akechi i hope he dies in this reality too)

[kaisentine]

𝒲HAT IS THAT MELODY?

turn that shit up ! what popular song do bllk boys remind me of?

feat. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, mikage reo, itoshi rin, oliver aiku

note : YES… i did do research on what the songs’ meanings are and i understand some of them don’t fit as well but i’m also basing this off of certain lyrics as well so #don’tdiscriminate… also this has opened up my multi-character works 😁 expect more in the future LMFAO. also is this the right time to say i did not proofread

💿 MICHAEL KAISER is now playing… back to the basics by lana del rey (unreleased)

cw : uhm coercion (i think), implied toxic relationship (I LOVE KAISER DONT GET ME WRONG… but he’s still poopy anyway #keepingitreal☹️) + if you count that in, then there’s angst if you squint, thoughts of killing (JUST ONCE and it’s not serious, promise!)

“everybody’s saying that you’re no good for me”

it’s not hard to decipher you’re definitely in love with the star soccer player—michael kaiser. however, even with your rose-tinted glasses, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still an asshole. so now it honestly feels like it’s you and him (probably ness too) v.s your friends. they just don’t understand the euphoria hidden behind all his lies. but God was it hard to handle him now that he’s a hotshot within the athletic world—it’s like when you try to speak to him, he starts spewing nonsense and even more lies to you.

“c’mon, hase.” his plea sounds more like demanding no matter how hard he tried to sound convincing. it’s weird seeing a man like him on his knees begging so you avert your gaze with your arms crossed. you know you’re doomed to give into him and his sweet-talk again—like you always do—kaiser knows that, he just needs to find which button to press to make you give in faster.

this time you’re taking longer than you normally do. he’s starting to get impatient by your little game of trying to get rid of him. “kaiser… we can’t keep doing this anymore.” you finally say, something kaiser didn’t expect you to say. “last name basis already, huh?” he gets up from his (very awkward) position to tower over you—to intimidate you.

you try to stand your ground but with the way he’s looking at you, is it too late to run away?

“i know what you’re trying to do. my friends keep telling me.” you’re stubborn, aren’t you? you’re annoying when you’re like this, he hates it. “and you’re really listening to your friends over your boyfriend?” he keeps trying to talk but you cut him off, “ex-boyfriend. please, don’t do this.” you’re the one begging now and he really wishes he could relish in this sight forever.

SLAM

holy shit, did you just slam the door on him? i’m going to die—you think. kaiser chuckles on your porch after being met with your front-door i’m going to kill you—he thinks.

the next few weeks are bombarded by countless messages from ness. who you are quite acquainted with him because of kaiser. all of them are along the lines of ‘trust me, he’s changed’ they’re all full of bullshit that you can smell it and scrunch your nose up in disgust. but as fate would have it, it wasn’t on your side!

“took ‘ya long enough, hase.” the sickly sweet nickname rolls off his tongue like second nature. it’s a very familiar scene, he’s on your doorstep again. he’s towering over you and your eyes are glossed over with admiration and guilt. “‘m really sorry.” you try not to sniffle to keep it cool. you really despise the way kaiser can’t keep his stupid grin off of his face at your weak attempt not to cry. “aw, it’s okay. but it’s gonna take a lot for me to forgive you.” he says in faux concern before pulling you into a hug—his cologne filling up your senses and making it hard to breathe.

the urge to punch him in the stomach is futile by the way he basically crushes your bones in the hug. oh you hate the way you can never get rid of him, oh you hate the way you give into him, oh you hate the way he’s the one wanting the apology when it’s actually you who deserves such privilege.

‘i hate you but i really just hate the way i love you too much to let go.’

because eventually, you know you’ll always fall into his traps no matter how far you run away. however, the only thing on your mind is how you’ll never hear the end of it from your friends.

💿 ITOSHI SAE is now playing… no one noticed by the marias

cw : angst, hurt/little to no comfort (guys… please don’t burn me), OK but open-ending, uh sae might be a really super big asshole here, i also realized at the end that 7 weeks and 3 days by yungatita would’ve been better but YOLO

“come on, don’t leave me, it can’t be that easy, babe.”

as much as you’d like to make him stay, you know he wouldn’t. he wanted to be as free as a bird in the sky with no restraints—including a relationship. even after promising one day he’d come back, reassuring you that you’ll always be his answer, he then left without a trace. now you’re just starting to realize letting go is easier than it seems until the problem arises once again.

you know he already told you that he’d come back but why only now does he decide to show up? a lover of yours to whom you vowed to never love another before his return. it’s just been so long that you doubt he evens remembers the promise.

“didn’t think you’d actually turn up.” you spit out, he isn’t even phased by the malice in your tone. “i told you i would, didn’t i?” he responds. “yeah but that was like ten fucking years ago?” you emphasize the ten fucking years because seriously, ten years radio silence and he thinks he can just slide back into you life like that? he must be a crazed man.

for the first three years of those ten, you were content with waiting for him. the fourth and fifth, you began growing impatient. sixth, you felt like you didn’t care anymore. from the seventh to ninth year, you swore you hated him with a dagger aimed to your heart. lastly, on the tenth year (on which he decided to show up), you finally accepted he did not give a shit and that you shouldn’t either.

“i needed to prioritize my career before i could support any of my relationships.” he now sounds confused by the way you’re so upset at this situation.

he used the ten years you took to realize that dwelling on some dumb red-head wasn’t worth it to work on his soccer career? “you could’ve texted.” you retorted. “didn’t have the time to.” your jaw actually wants to drop by how ignorant his response is. he’s talking to the person he ghosted for a decade like this?

you’d like to joke around and say ‘damn sae, you’re just like an ex who slides back into your life’ but it isn’t a joke—not with him, at least. “didn’t have time to? it would’ve been better if you never had the time to. just let us go, itoshi.” the way you say his last name is deadly. he’s already been bitten by a snake once before so he knows he can survive your bite.

does he even know how much you sacrificed? did he put two and two together to realize how much he made an impact to you? so much so that at one point, anything would’ve reminded you of him.

“you’re being emotional, talk to me when you aren’t.” he says as if he wasn’t the one who started the conversation—the nerve!

“my number is the same but change the last digit to 8.” and off he goes, removing himself from your life like always.

the way you’re quietly dialing the phone that night completely destroys everything you worked for—like you’re crumbling down just for the thought that he might pick up.

💿 MIKAGE REO is now playing… show me how by men i trust

cw : guys it’s getting too angsty for me i might cry, still a lil angst and neglect but it’s not that bad 😭, i acc wrote this one last bc i didn’t know which song to use for him (my first option was shameless by avenoir), when i was writing this… i was thinking abt melania and trump’s relationship (WE LISTEN AND WE DON’T JUDGE.), reader eats meat… anyway… so this is significantly worse than everyone elses so uhm, cliff hanger who!

“show me how you care.”

everyone keeps commenting on how lucky you are that you managed to bag a billionaire’s son and you say thanks! because that’s how you should respond. but dear God, does he even know anything about you anymore? being in a chokehold relationship with mikage corp’s heir isn’t too hard until you start questioning reo’s love for you. yeah he’s shown you how he loves you but you need more words instead of actions and a credit card.

“reo, can we talk?” you ask the purple-haired male while he’s hard at work at his desk. “i’m a bit busy right now. we can talk later, yeah? go out and use my card as an apology.” he hums before returning his vision back to whatever he was doing. it’s the typical response you were expecting but you didn’t want to use his money—you wanted to talk.

you’ve already exited the room to go to the mall anyway. you’re left eating alone at some restaurant with shopping bags being used as your excuse for some company. the steak you ordered is bland like the way reo hugs you. his touches feel empty now, every time you go to hold his hand, he doesn’t flat out reject it but he doesn’t squeeze your hand the same way you do—the same way he used to.

one thing about reo is that it seems like he hates communication and in his world, the only way he knows how to say sorry is his credit card.

he doesn’t care, does he?

when you get back to his place, he acts like he doesn’t remember the way you said that you wanted to talk. he keeps trying to put off that talk for as long as he can. it’s gotten to the point you have that stupid look on your face—cheeks being slightly puffed out with your eyebrows furrowed. reo hates the look on your face so he approaches you with caution.

“you good?” he asks but you don’t respond. “need a hug?” he just keeps talking to the point you feel like something is boiling in your head. you shake your head to say no because you’ve started to dislike his emotionless hugs—feels like you’re hugging a log with brittle twigs. how would he feel like if you gave him the same treatment he’s given you? although, it is a bit more serious because you aren’t speaking to him at all.

his time will come where you grace him with your voice one again but that’s only when he actually asks you to talk to him! in his invisible diary, he write ‘it’s been 3 days since they’ve spoken to me, i can’t see through my right eye…’ sure he’s being more than overdramatic but he can’t figure out why you’re giving him the silent treatment.

oh but little did you know, he remembers that you did want to speak with him…

“can you just speak to me, please?” the way he says please is intoxicating to you. you’re waiting.

“fine. let’s have that talk.”

💿 ITOSHI RIN is now playing… lovers rock by tv girl

cw : unrequited love, angst, reader should go to r/aita 😭, uh kissing, this one is longer but rin isn’t even in my favs 😭

“because love can burn like a cigarette”

and it only hurts because you know you can’t have him. you’d love to kiss him right now but you understand that if you do then your whole life would probably blow up into a million pieces. it hurts so much that even if your life blows up, it wouldn’t matter. can it hurt that much to just kiss him? yes.

“oh he totally likes you!” you giggle at your friend’s flushed face after an encounter with her longterm crush—itoshi rin. she tries to shut you up in a joking manner but manages to only do so after she confesses something. “didn’t i tell you?” she asks which makes you raise an eyebrow. “tell me what?”

“…he does like me.”

wow, an arrow straight to the heart much? your expression of gloom is soon masked by raw surprise. “really?! when did that happen?” you force out a smile—to your credit, you were genuinely surprised by such because never once had she mentioned it before. “last week.” she sounds guilty, the type of guilty you’d only show your friends if you forgot to mention that you got married.

little did she know, you also had your eyes on the raven-haired man for quite some time now too. “ooh girl i’m hurt,” you start with it off with faking a shot to the heart and she laughs. “should’ve told me earlier!’ you almost fall to the ground for the effects (and also because your knees feel weak in sorrow) but refrain from doing so. “sorry, sorry! come to my house this saturday, i’ll introduce you!” she says before quickly running off to wherever.

“sure.” you whisper. walking to the nearby bathroom feels more like you’re dragging yourself to it. you can’t bring yourself to muster up the tears to cry over heartbreak because she really didn’t know you also liked rin. but the way you couldn’t even cry because now you’d feel like the asshole? you hated her.

you dreaded going to her house that saturday.

sadly, time stops for no one and now you’re here sitting in your friend’s room with rin all alone because she needed to help her mom with dinner. it wasn’t a crime to yearn for someone you couldn’t have but being with the someone you couldn’t have? someone bring you to jail already.

it’s quite awkward in the room due to the silence and both of you choosing to not speak. but being a chatterbox such as yourself, you’d soon come to regret it. “so… whats up?” you ask with caution. “nothing much. i only agreed to come because my soccer training was canceled.” he answers. you nod at his words—he looks really peaceful right now.

his black hair draping down his face, striking eyes bringing emphasis to his bottom lashes… his nonchalant expression. it’s just too much for you.

across the room.

you’re across the room from him and you hate the distance. all you know is that they both like each-other—nothing more—no labels—no launches. would doing something now really hurt more than how you’re hurting right now?

it’s quick. you were quick on your feet to get over to him, you were quick to bend down to where he was resting his back on your friend’s bed, you were quick to close the space, you were quick to move away.

rin is bewildered by your actions with no words to say. “sorry!” you apologize as fast as you dash out of the room—leaving him sitting there to question his thoughts, bringing a finger up to his lips—did his mu’s bestfriend just steal his first kiss?

“where are you going?” your friend’s mom asks aloud when she sees you dashing to the front-door. “my mom called! emergency! say that i said sorry!” those were the words you spoke before booking it out the front door.

later, when your friend comes out of the bathroom to question her mom what the commotion was all about, she just says that you had an emergency—she frowns because she really wanted you to try her cooking. after dinner, she brings rin back up to her room. just like you did hours before, she advances her moves to hover her face right above his—to give him a kiss, just like you, albeit, it’s longer and more drawn-out unlike yours.

“you’re my first kiss.” he mutters out.

💿 OLIVER AIKU is now playing… why’d you only ever call me when you’re high? by artic monkeys

cw : SITUATIONSHIP (bleuhhh), somewhat suggestive..? (idk but be wary cause idk how to write him w/o making it smth like that), angst, aiku is an asshole (BRO everyone is an asshole here i’m crying), mention of drugs

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?”

your lame situationship loves calling you late at night after getting with another girl and now you’ve grown to hate when he calls you but you just can’t stop picking up his calls.

you’re jolted up awake once you hear that fuck-ass ringtone coming from behind your pillow. the screen is bright so you have to squint really hard to see what was going on, you’re on your way to decline the call when you see his name pop up but your hand slips (!) and you swipe the call. “oliver, it’s three in the morning.” you groggily complain only to be met with heavy breathing on the other end.

“oh don’t even. call me when you’re done.” you gasp, then end the call. you throw your phone to the end of your bed and slam yourself back down onto your mattress. does that man ever catch a break? why do you even like him. it’s not like you guys are really anything else so is it really worth it to hang on and only hope for something you know you won’t get in return?

you probably get a good two hour nap before you’re awoken by another phone call. “you done?” you ask, more awake now since it’s 5AM already. “hi. yeah.” his voice reverberates along his bathroom walls—he’s gross, isn’t he? “you’re gonna make me pick up another phone call just to say that?” you sound irritated, and you are because it’s such a hassle to keep up with him like this.

“dunno, just wanted to hear your voice.” he replies in a wobbly voice. is he high again? “…are you high?” you ask in concern as if this wasn’t his 54th time calling after smoking something. “maybe.” he says. “you’re hopeless. you should go to rehab, you know?” you snake your way into his mind but it’s stupid to think he can even comprehend what you’re telling him right now.

“nah, i got better things to do, ‘ya know?” he chuckles at your pitiful attempt to help him get better. he knows you know that he isn’t keen on doing such—not anymore, at least. he’s content with his life as it is. “can i…” you breathe, “can i ask you something?” you finish. “what’s up?” he’s being as attentive as he can be through this state, he trying his best.

you hate the way how out of it he sounds, yet he’s still trying to hear you out. “do you still want this?” it’s like you had something get lifted off your chest only for it to get dropped on your head instead. “want what?” great, he doesn’t understand your question. not wanting to give this opportunity up, you rephrase it. “i meant, do you still want me?”

the other line is silent for a while. “sure, i still want you.” he responds. “so stop calling me when you’re high or you’re with another girl.” you winced at your own words. he’s really taking advantage of the way you understand that you guys aren’t anything more than a “oh, it’s complicated” type of relationship and that you guys are technically still allowed to see other people—but he’s the only one actually using it.

“let me ask you this. do you still want us?”

you loathe him but you can’t help but reply with i do.

“so don’t complain about my calls.”

thank you for reading this far :)

[twinsarekeepers]

“This isn’t the Arch, seaweed brain. You’re not pushing me into the stairwell again.”

First of all, LINE DELIVERY?? Leah Sava Jeffries is an ACTRESS because ‘seaweed brain’ is actually so corny and it would simply feel like fan-service if they included it earlier or in another context but this was so natural and I was so swept up by all the other amazing things happening that I was excited about it but also keyed into the rest of the scene.

But the way this perfectly displays her fatal flaw. She will not let this boy trick her again (spoiler: he does). She was caught off guard at the Arch because she wasn’t familiar with his game but now she’s ready. She WILL die for him and that is final.

“Yes, I am.”

This was CRAZY?? Percy Jackson #1 mentally unstable man because how is he determined to win every ‘sacrifice myself’ off with her? And he says it to her face too. He does not care for the games anymore, he’s fully telling her that he needs her to live.

“I’m not going to let you this time. It doesn’t work that way!”

This made me so incredibly sad. Annabeth is still thinking in transactions. She’s thinking about how he made a sacrifice in the Arch so it’s her turn now. This is how relationships work. This is how every relationship she’s had works. She literally can’t comprehend how he doesn’t see it that way. How he could be selfless enough to sacrifice himself for her TWICE. How he could care about her enough to believe she deserves it even after she was the reason they were in the Arch in the first place (my baby my baby say it with me now you’re my baby).

“It’s why you’re here!”

“Excuse me?”

This was so soft like I just *screaming crying gif*. The last time she said ‘excuse me’ to him she was pissed off about him bringing up Athena but now she’s just confused and sad. Like, she trying to figure out what he means by this. Does he think she’s so heartless and robotic that she’d just let him die for her own gain?

I also love how they don’t have her say ‘what?’ because it just adds this extra layer of how Annabeth has trained herself to be more mature in everything she does, even her language, because she believes that if she’s not perfect, she’s not worthy of love and affection and maybe even existing (literally sobbing wtf).

“When I was choosing my team, I told Chiron I needed someone who wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice me if the quest required it. He agreed. That was you.”

I was confused at first about this because I thought Annabeth knew Percy thought this about her until I went back and watched the choosing ceremony again. He’s definitely keeping his voice lower as he speaks to Chiron and both Chiron and him are raising their voice as they address the other campers so makes sense that she wouldn’t have heard him.

But also, this just adds so much to literally everything. Because, in the beginning, Percy didn’t think him and Annabeth would become friends. He genuinely did think that she would sacrifice him if she had to and he thought he’d be able to curb it. He thought he’d be able to fight Annabeth if it came to it because she might choose the quest over his mom and he couldn’t allow that.

But now here he is, after getting to know her, and seeing her vulnerability and bravery and strength and courage and wisdom and passion and everything that makes her so beautiful and wonderful and amazing and his friend. She’s his friend and she’d never betray him. She’d never sacrifice him. She’d rather sacrifice herself before she ever did anything to harm him.

And he’s apologizing to her. Listen to the way Walker says the last line (again, THE ACTING). It’s literally a confession because he feels so bad that he ever believed that about her. And now he’s making her do it. He’s making her do this thing that he once thought she’d have done without hesitation. He’s thinking about the Fates cutting that string and he’s thinking about his own words to Chiron and how Chiron agreed and he’s thinking about how Annabeth said that prophecies aren’t always clear and he fully believes that he’s figured it out. This is fate. Annabeth would sacrifice him and complete the prophecy. She’ll be the friend that betrays him but not because she wanted to and he will fail to save what matters most, his own life.

This entire exchange was very insane. It’s my Roman Empire. I can’t stop thinking about it because it shows their motivations and their viewpoints and their internal struggles so so so well like I can’t even … I’m having a malfunction.

[777heavengirl]

the one with Pobol y cwm

sirius black x reader ! - 1,091 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: HAPPY BDAY SIRIUS BLACK MY BELOVED- SURPRISE UPDATE IN HONOR OF HIM TODAY- oh dear pls dont look at this too in detail i am very sick and exhausted but i wanted to put something out for his bday...

Sirius had never been a crier. Yet as his nimble fingers dug into the soft material of your sweater, and his body shook with sobs— it became clear to you that he had just been holding it in. 

He hadn’t said much after he walked through his door, red-eyed and ready to crumble. 

But you knew. 

You had always been this way. Just knowing, him. Knowing somehow, what he was thinking, what he was feeling. You could tell, most of the time anyway.

You knew he felt sorry, and you knew he felt frustratingly heartbroken. Angry and furious, but deeply blue. The little boy inside of him had lost his mother, and there was nothing he could say to himself that would make it better. 

 Because through all her faults, her disgusting vile words, and even worse behavior. Through her hexes and unforgivable curses, through every bit of torture that Walburga had subjected Sirius through, it was still his mother.

She would always be his mother.

Disowned or not, abuser or not, the owner of his nightmares, the person he hated most. Nothing could ever erase the fact that for at least the first sixteen years of his life, she had been his mother, and in a way, in a deeply hurtful, and grief-ridden way, she would always be. 

So he cried. For the mother he had until age ten, for the mother he had been subjected to until sixteen, for the mother he never had in the first place. 

It didn’t matter how many times Sirius told himself to not cry over her, it didn’t matter that he truly hated her. It didn’t matter he once had half a mind to kill her himself. He realized that he’d never get the good relationship he had always secretly wanted. As long as she was alive, even though Sirius would rather die himself than admit it, the stupidest goddamn part of him was still holding on to that chance. 

He had never realized he was still clutching onto that.

Until the chance got ripped away.

So you sat, with his face buried in your stomach as he kneeled in front of his bed, in front of you. Sobbing. His arms around your torso and clutching at the material of your jumper with white-hot fists. 

You didn't know what else to do besides hug him back, trying not to cry. Your hands pet his hair, strong and steady, because you knew that was what he needed the most right now. 

Your reliability, your care, your unconditional love for him. 

And you did, love him that is. 

From the bottom of your heart, you loved Sirius Orion Black.

Even if you hadn’t talked in weeks, even if you felt like a ghost in the house, even if you had been planning your move out no less than thirty minutes ago in a fit of anxious desperation.

“I’m sorry Sirius” you didn’t think he heard you over his earth-shattering sobs, but he shook his head slightly, almost as if wanting to say no, don’t be. “I am sorry, I know she was horrid-”

“I hate her-” his words were hoarse and raw, he didn’t look up. “I still hate her, I need her to wake up so I can tell her- god I can’t tell her-” You could feel his words reverberating through his throat, 

“I hate her so much, I hoped she’d die in some- in some disgusting gruesome death, I just-” he took a deep breath, his breath ragged and shaky “I hoped it would be something ironic and karmic like getting hit by a muggle bus but that goddamn bitch had the audacity to go in peace- in her sleep no less merlin- I- I- just keep hoping that I’m dreaming and that she’s… there and rotting alive in that awful house” 

“I’m sorry-”

His voice was calmer now, still buried in your sweater, still embracing you. “I hate her and I am glad she’s dead, she doesn’t deserve to be alive and well after everything she put me and my brother through- but the stupidest part of me- is still mourning”

He loosened his hold on you, and he slumped between your legs, his face now only half-buried in your torso. You could see the red splotches that had bloomed on his porcelain skin.

“I don't know what I feel any more love, I feel out of control”

“I know”

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you”

“I’m sorry too-”

“Please don’t leave me… don’t leave me alone”

“I don’t think I could leave even if I wanted to Sirius- not that I do… don’t worry-” Your fingers carded through his hair “I will always be here”

“I’m sorry-”

“You don’t have to apologize- we can talk about that later… do you want to go for a walk?”

He lifted his head up slightly, enough to steal glances of your face as he wiped his face with his fingers. 

“Can we just watch Pobol y cwm-” his voice was low and gloomy, it broke your heart.

“Yeah, we can watch Pobol…” You tried smiling at him, it was a sad one, but he mirrored it nonetheless. It was hard not to get emotional while seeing him this way. 

Shattered and somber. 

Irrevocably burdened with the knowledge that while yes he mourned his mother, just some idolized version of her he buried deep within the confines of his mind— he would never get justice either. 

Sirius Black was relieved, he realized, as he laid his head on your shoulder and watched the advertisements on TV. His abuser was dead, it was more than he could ask for. Yes, he’d have to talk to you eventually, tell you how he feels, even simply explain why he got so upset. He’d have to write to his brother and not repeat the cycle of anger that was embedded deep within their veins. He’d eventually have to face his father. He’d have to face the fact that he, did indeed, have grief over the death of Walburga. 

But all of that could wait for tonight, he had you right now. 

With your arm around him, tucking his much larger form into your side, with his legs over your thighs and Pobol y cwm playing in the back. The soft of your sweater, and the sweet soft scent of your hair, the warmth from your hand drawing circles on his back. It was all that mattered right now.

It was just you and Pobol y cwm.

taglist ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth

let me know if you wanna be added ! or if i missed you

[inkedinshadows]

What Truly Matters

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: After the war, Y/N has fallen into an unhealthy routine of training and pushing everyone away. But Azriel had enough of it and wants to know why she's doing it.

Warnings: angst, language, mention of child death

Word count: 4.5k

֍֍֍֍֍

Sweat was dripping down her forehead, and Y/N took just a moment to wipe it away with the back of her hand before she got back into position in front of the target and started training again.

During the war with Koschei, the Illyrians had suffered substantial losses. Their victory felt almost like a defeat, and Rhysand had been trying to get them back on their feet since. Y/N was stationed in one of the camps with Azriel to help him do just that, though she had no idea why. As if being female wasn't enough, she wasn't Illyrian. She wasn't even a warrior, for that matter. She didn't understand why Rhys thought she might help. He must've known the Illyrians were only going to sneer and laugh at her.

But she didn't mind. Staying at the camp meant she could train all day. To get better, stronger, faster. So that what had happened during the war would never happen again. She'd fallen into the habit of arriving at the training ring before dawn and leaving after twilight. It helped take her mind off things.

She swung her sword at the dummy target, aiming for its chest, then arms, then head, just like Cassian and Azriel had shown her. She did it again, over and over. Her breaths came in sharp pants, but she never stopped.

She knew Azriel was watching her. He always was these days, but she always ignored it. She ignored him, just like she ignored all her friends and anything that didn't involve physical exercise.

“Y/N.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Azriel take a step forward. She didn't even look his way as she kept hitting the target.

“Take a break,” he said. She'd heard him use that tone before with the Illyrians. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order.

Too bad she didn't answer to him.

“I don't need one.” Her words came in between one lunge and the next, her eyes never leaving the dummy.

“You do need one.” Azriel stepped even closer but still kept his distance. “You're going to hurt yourself if you keep pushing like that. Your body needs to recover. You need to rest and eat.”

Y/N gritted her teeth as the next hit reverberated along her arm. Her limbs were sore, yet she welcomed the pain. “I don't. My body is fine.”

Azriel spoke again, something about her unhealthy habits and how she should stop. She did no such thing, and instead put even more effort and strength into her blows.

“You're distracting me.”

He was close enough now that his shadows pooled at her feet, sliding up her legs as if they could stop her. She glared at them for just a second before resuming her movements.

“Do you think I can't see what you're doing?” Azriel’s voice was cold as ice, colder than she'd ever heard. “You're punishing yourself because you think you deserve it. But you're just going to collapse if you don’t stop. Are you trying to die or something?”

“Maybe.”

The word was out before she even realized it. But there it was: the truth, now out in the open. The thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind for months. That maybe she did deserve to die for what she'd done. Or rather, for what she'd failed to do.

She finally looked at Azriel then. She saw the shock on his face, the hurt in his eyes. His shadows retreated back to his side as if even they couldn't stand the truth she'd revealed.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Y/N wiped her sweat away again, tightened her grip on the hilt, and went back to jabbing, hitting, lunging.

She suddenly stopped mid-blow, her sword raised, the tip just a few inches from Azriel's neck. He'd stepped in front of her faster than she could see and didn't even flinch when her blade almost cut through him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she yelled, her arm falling back to her side. “I could've killed you!”

Azriel didn't look bothered. Whether it was because he knew she'd be able to check that swing or because he would have stopped it himself if she hadn't, she couldn't tell.

“What do you mean, ‘maybe’?” he asked instead. “Do you really believe you need to punish yourself like this?”

She snapped then. “So what if I do? Why do you care? Shouldn't you be overseeing the Illyrians?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes and his jaw set. “You know damn well why I care, Y/N.”

She might know, but she didn't care. Couldn't bring herself to, not anymore.

“What I know is that you should go back to do your job.” She stepped around him to position herself in front of the target again. “And let me do my thing.”

Azriel gripped her elbow, forcing her to turn around and face him. “You're not doing ‘your thing’,” he growled. He was getting angry now. Good. “You've let your training become an obsession. You never stop. You barely sleep. You barely eat. You're hurting yourself, Y/N.”

He was right, and she knew it. But why couldn't he understand? Why couldn't he let her go so she could go back to training? But despite her effort of freeing her arm, his grip didn't loosen.

“So you've noticed things. Congratulations, you're good at your spymaster job.” She bared her teeth at him. “Now let me go, Azriel.”

“No.” His voice was firm and low. It was the voice of the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court. Y/N might have flinched, if she'd only cared about it. “You're pushing yourself beyond your limits. And you want me to stand by and let you continue like this?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do. Consider it a favor, an order, a command. Whatever you want as long as you do.” She tried to yank her arm free once more and when she couldn't, she glowered up at him. “Because you know what the alternative to training is?”

He didn't answer, but she noticed the tic in his jaw, the way his brow furrowed for just a second. He was trying to figure it out.

“Did you know,” she started slowly, “that they don't let females buy alcohol here? Especially if they're not even Illyrian. So it's either training or sex, Azriel.” She raised an eyebrow, staring right into his eyes. She stopped struggling against his grip. She knew she was being a bitch, and that none of this was his fault. Just like she knew her next words were going to hurt him, and yet she said them anyway. “Would you prefer that? Would it make you feel better if instead of training, I'd let every Illyrian in this camp fuck me?”

She could tell the exact moment her words struck home. Azriel froze. He went completely, utterly still. Even his shadows halted their usual swirling around his body and wings. But his eyes… She might as well have been staring at rage itself.

“Don't you dare,” he said. His icy tone, so at odds with the anger burning inside him, would send wiser people running from him. But Y/N wasn't exactly being wise right now.

“It's your choice, Azriel.” His grasp on her arm tightened so much it almost hurt, but the slight pain was a welcomed friend. “What will it be? Training or fucking?”

He was silent for a long minute, his eyes locked on her face. And for a moment, she could see it: the Spymaster, the Shadowinger, the one whose sight was enough to frighten people.

They were both aware of what Illyrians would do to her if she sought them out willingly. To them, she was little more than an object, and they'd stayed away so far only out of fear of Azriel's wrath. But if she was the one who approached them, things would be different. Y/N didn’t have any particular desire to let those brutes anywhere near her, but if Azriel was going to take away her training and she wasn't allowed to drink… she had to find another way to either feel something other than grief and guilt, or to numb everything.

“No one is allowed to touch you,” Azriel said through gritted teeth, as if struggling to control his rage. “I won't let them touch you.”

Y/N bit her tongue to keep quiet. A part of her, the one that was hurting and just wished for relief, wanted to lash out and tell him to fuck her himself if no one else was allowed. But another part of her, the one that still cared, knew she couldn't cross that line. She was acting like a spiteful bitch, but she still had limits. She wouldn't hurt Azriel more than she already had.

“Then let me train,” she replied instead. “Let me go, move aside, and let me finish what I was doing.”

“Over my dead body.”

They stared at each other, his hand still on her elbow, hers still holding the sword. She had to find a way to make him leave. She didn't even know why he was still there, still not giving up. She'd pushed everyone else away in the last few months: Elain, Nesta, Rhys… even Feyre and Cassian. All of them. And yet, Azriel was still here.

“Is this because of the children?”

Her heart stopped. Her body froze. Memories flooded her mind: screams and blood and cries; unanswered prayers, ignored pleas and evil laughs.

Suddenly, she moved, too swiftly for even Azriel to react. Yanking her arm away, she stepped back, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Don't,” she spat. “Don't even mention the children.”

Azriel's shoulders slumped as he realized what was going on. His anger seemed to disappear, and his gaze softened as he took a step forward. But she couldn't bear the pity in his eyes and retreated a step. She'd much rather face his rage than his pity.

Azriel's voice was calm and collected when he spoke again. “I know you're hurting. But this is madness, Y/N. Why are you doing this?”

“Because…” she started, her voice still loud with anger. But just the mention of the children left her feeling drained. Empty and spent, she stared at him without really seeing. There was nothing left inside her but an overwhelming void she had no idea how to fill.

“It should have been me,” she whispered in a flat voice. “It should have been me, Az.”

Her sword clattered to the floor and the cold ground bit at her knees as her legs gave out. Azriel was there in an instant, crouching before her and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“It was the only thing Rhys asked me to do,” she murmured. A sob shook her and tears followed short after. All the tears she hadn't shed since it happened were now flowing like a tidal wave. She didn't care if anyone passing by could see her. “To protect those children and lead them away from the battle. But I failed, and now they're all dead. Because of me.”

“Y/N–”

“The only thing, Az.” She shook her head, her eyes closed. “And I failed him. I failed them. I failed their families. I failed everyone.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and then it was the only solid thing as the world turned into shadows and wind. When she looked up, she realized Azriel had winnowed them away from prying eyes and into the cabin they shared at the camp.

“It's not your fault, Y/N,” he said gently. “No one blames you for it.”

“I do.” She pushed away from him, though she didn't try to stand up. Her legs were too sore from all the exercise, and now that she'd stopped and the adrenaline of training had worn off, it would take a while for her body to work the way she wanted it to.

“It's my damn fucking fault and you know it. Everybody knows it, and yet no one acknowledges it.” Anger surged once more and she almost screamed. “No one! Not even Rhys!”

Azriel’s eyes remained soft, his voice still gentle. “Because we know there was nothing you could do, Y/N.”

She couldn’t bear it, that pity. She wanted him to get mad at her, to yell and scream at her and give her the confrontation she needed.

“Nesta took out the soldiers all by herself,” she retorted. “Five soldiers. All by herself.”

“Nesta is a Valkyrie. She has more–”

“More training and experience,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “She had the element of surprise and all that. Can people stop repeating that already?”

Cassian had told her. Rhys had told her. Nesta herself. Yet it didn't change the simple fact that when those soldiers had found Y/N and the children, they caught her so off guard she barely had time to draw her blade before they seized her. And then made her watch as they killed the children. They were getting started on her when Nesta found them. Too late. Or too early, by then. A few more minutes, and Y/N would have died too. At least she wouldn't have had to live with that guilt and pain.

“I thanked her, you know,” she added in a whisper, meeting Azriel’s eyes. “Nesta. I thanked her when she saved me. But I didn't mean it.”

Realization dawned on him, and she didn't resist when he pulled her to him. She allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms, and in that moment, with just the two of them, she let go.

Azriel caressed her hair, unfazed by her sweat or the tears soaking his clothes as she cried into his chest. “Shhh,” he whispered in a soothing voice. “It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. Why do you keep punishing yourself like this?”

Deep down, a part of her knew he was right. That even if she'd got the chance to fight back against those soldiers, she wouldn't have been able to take down more than one and the others would have gotten to the children anyway. It didn’t make it any easier though.

“Do you know how old the oldest child was? Did Rhys tell you?” Her voice was muffled by her sobs, her face pressed against the crook of his neck. She continued before he could answer. “He was nine, Az. Nine. The same age my brother was when he…” She trailed off, unable to say the words even after more than a century.

She swallowed in an attempt to calm down and lifted her head to look at Azriel again. “What I'm trying to say is, I know what kind of pain their deaths brought to their families. And knowing I was the reason for it… it's just… it’s too much.”

A flicker of anger sparked in his eyes. “You know what kind of pain it brings,” he echoed. “So why push yourself until you collapse? Why would you bring that same pain upon your own family?”

“You know my family doesn't care if I live or die,” she retorted, her voice a bit sharper.

Azriel clenched his jaw. “Not your parents, Y/N,” he growled. “Your real family. Cassian would be crushed. Feyre broken. Even Amren. And… and me.” There was a vulnerability now in his voice that she'd never heard before. “I would care. I would be devastated. Not just as your friend, but… No, not just as your friend.”

She could only stare at him. Her real family. Not the one she was born into, but the one she'd chosen. The one that had chosen her back. How could she ever forget that?

Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, Nesta, Elain, Mor, Amren. All of them.

Azriel. Did he know?

Not just as your friend.

He probably did. But it didn't matter now.

She had pushed them all away. Because it was easier than accepting that they were right, that there was nothing she could have done to save those children. It was easier to stay away than to see their faces and know they weren't angry at her for failing, when she couldn't forgive herself.

“I'm sorry.” Another sob tore through her as she hugged Azriel. “I'm so sorry, Az… you're my family. I don't know why I lost sight of that.”

His hand drew soothing circles on her back. “Grief and guilt can do that,” he said softly. “They make you forget who you are and what truly matters… who matters.”

Azriel rested his chin on top of her head. They stayed like that for what could have been hours. Y/N kept crying all the tears she'd bottled up since the war until she was spent and her eyes stung, but never once did Azriel’s embrace falter. He held her through it all.

“Do you think they can forgive me?” she eventually asked.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I know they will. They're your family, Y/N. They're just worried about you.”

She lifted her head then, looked in his eyes and found concern staring back at her. “Can you forgive me?”

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Azriel cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the last of her tears. “Of course I can. I already have.” He smiled, and it started to heal something inside her. “Just promise me you won't push us away again. Let us, let me, help you.”

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. Azriel was right. She couldn't keep pushing away her friends, her family. And maybe she'd never get to the point of not blaming herself for the death of those children, but with some help she could learn how to live with the guilt.

“Good. That's the Y/N I know.”

She looked at Azriel again, only to see that soft smile still gracing his lips. She’d always loved that smile.

Azriel stood up and offered her his hand. She took it immediately and let him help her up. And then she realized there was a small smile on her own lips, the first one in months. Since the children.

“Now, will you let me cook you something?” Azriel let go of her hand and turned around toward the small kitchen counter. “You need to start eating healthy again.”

Y/N appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she still found herself saying, “I thought it was the other way around.”

“What was?” he asked with a glance, his focus already on this new task. Tendrils of shadows were spreading around as if eager to contribute.

She didn't know why she'd said that. Maybe she could still change the subject or come up with some other stupid answer. And yet she couldn't stop the words already on her tongue. “Isn't the female supposed to be the one offering food to her mate?”

Azriel turned to her then. His face seemed a bit paler than before. “You know.”

She smiled. A real, full smile as she nodded. “If I hadn't known already, you kind of gave it away earlier. ‘Not just as your friend, but…’?” She shrugged. “It was pretty obvious, to be honest.”

He still looked a little wary, though. “How long have you known?”

“Since last spring.”

“That was more than a year ago.”

Y/N cocked her head. “So how long have you known?”

“Just a couple months.” Azriel's gaze bore into her. “Why didn't you say anything a year ago?”

This was not how she had imagined this conversation to go. Not in a cabin in a war camp lost in the Illyrian mountains. Definitely not after months during which she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything beyond grief and guilt until she was drowning in them. But she was glad that the truth was finally coming to light, no matter how unexpected it was.

“I wanted to, Az, trust me. But I didn't know how, and… a part of me hoped you'd want me regardless of the bond.” Y/N sighed and she shook her head, as if to chase away her thoughts. “But the war started soon after that, and everything happened, and I just… I shut everything out. Even the bond.”

“Y/N.” He closed the space between them and took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. His eyes were soft, his tone gentle. “I've wanted you for a long time. Long before I even knew you were my mate.”

She hadn't seen that coming. Azriel wanted her? And he had for a while, apparently. “Why didn't you say anything then?” she questioned without even trying to hide her surprise.

“Because I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship.” The vulnerability in his voice made her brace herself for what he might say next. “That you might not… love me the way I love you.”

Her heart was pounding and she could only stare into his eyes. He loved her. There'd been a time when hearing him say those three little words was everything she hoped for. But he didn’t think she loved him back. Well, she couldn't really blame him for it. Not after how she'd been acting lately.

Y/N let the wall she'd erected around the bond come down. She let her feelings flow toward Azriel’s end of it. She held back her pain and her guilt and her grief, but the love she'd pushed down and refused to acknowledge for months flooded the mating bond.

It was met halfway by Azriel’s love.

She shuddered at the intensity of it all. After all the time feeling barely anything, it was almost overwhelming. Y/N welcomed it in her soul and let it wrap around the broken pieces of her heart.

Azriel's smile was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. “Does that mean you will accept the bond?”

She nodded, smiling as well and holding his hands a bit tighter. “Of course I will,” she answered. “But not now. I want to get better first. To learn how to cope with all this guilt. And then I'll cook you anything you want.”

He seemed surprised and for a moment Y/N thought he might not understand her decision. But then he cupped her cheeks. “That's very wise,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You can take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'll be with you every step of the way.”

She hugged him tightly, with no intention of letting him go anytime soon. New tears swelled up in her eyes, but she tried to hold them back this time.

She'd ignored her feelings for Azriel and their mating bond as an additional way to punish herself, but a part of her also believed she didn't deserve him after her failure. But now… maybe it had all been a huge mistake after all.

Azriel wrapped her in his arms and wings, his chin resting on the top of her head as his scent enveloped her. Night-chilled mist and cedar. As familiar as her own, if not more. It soothed her, made her feel safe. It was a beacon toward the light, toward home, after months lost in the darkness.

“You know, I should thank Rhys,” she whispered after a few minutes.

“Rhys?” Azriel pulled back to look down at her, confusion clear on his face and in his voice. “For what?”

“Well,” she started with a little shrug, “we all know you don't really need my help with the Illyrians. I'm kind of useless. And I doubt I'm here so I can train till I pass out.” She gave him an apologetic look before she went on. “I think Rhys sent me here because of you. Because he knew that if there was someone who could help me, it'd be you, Az.”

Azriel thought it over, but she could see he was inclined to believe it too. “Do you think he knows we're mates?”

Y/N frowned. “I don't know. I never told anyone.”

“Me neither.” He shook his head. “But you're right. We'll thank him when we go back to Velaris.”

“Hopefully soon,” she muttered with a sigh. “I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

Azriel caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “They'll forgive you, Y/N. What matters to them is that you get better. I can promise you that.”

It was her turn to bring her hands up to his cheeks and gently cup them. She was so grateful to have him at her side. “I'm glad it's you,” she said, her voice soft. “I'm glad you're my mate, Az.”

His smile lit up his whole face. He slowly leaned in, and she held her breath as he brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't exactly a kiss, more like the promise of one, but it was enough to leave behind a tingling sensation when he pulled back.

“And I'm glad you are mine, Y/N,” he murmured, smiling down at her. “But now you should really eat something. Go take a bath, maybe, and food will be ready when you come back.”

Y/N chuckled as she took a step back. “That's why you didn't kiss me? Because I stink?”

Azriel's eyes widened, but he quickly relaxed again. He looked relieved that she was trying to joke. It was a step toward getting back to her usual self.

“I did not say you stink. But you've been training all day and you're all sweaty,” he answered, continuing before she could reply. “And I didn't kiss you because I know that if I start… I might never want to stop.”

She studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed. “I'm not sure I believe you, but that's a better reason for sure.” Y/N left a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

Azriel was already shaking his head. “You don't have to thank me. Not for helping you. I'll always do it gladly.”

“And that's exactly why I'm thanking you, Az.” She smiled, brushing his hand while she turned to walk out and toward the bathroom.

The path ahead might be full of obstacles and setbacks, and she wasn't foolish enough to believe she could wake up tomorrow without feeling guilty, but she had Azriel to help her now. The rest of her family as well, once she apologized and explained why she'd shut them out.

More importantly, she was willing to let them help and to heal. She was tired of feeling this way and wanted to get better. For her own wellbeing, sure, but also to give Azriel the best version of herself because he deserved no less than that.

And when she was ready, she'd accept the mating bond and they'd start their life together.

[angelplummie]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS! 3

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

no smut in this one, but homoeroticism and swearing. enjoy yall!

“why are we here?”

“i told you why,” tashi took off her many bracelets into a hotel-issued jewellery box. the room was a dusky cream all over, and smelt of sandal wood. the various lamps cast sloping shells of yellowlight.

art watched, naked and tangled within the duvet.

“you told me we were seeing a physiotherapist. now we’ve come all the way here and he just cancels?”

“i can’t control these things art. he’s very popular, something just came up. think of this as a holiday. we’ll do something relaxing, fun, tomorrow. you crushed in atlanta, you deserve a rest.”

“i didn’t crush. i came second.”

tashi duncan just breathed deeply, not a sigh but something like it. an acknowledgement.

“i know. you work too hard.”

art sniffed and rested his head on the heel of his palm.

“can you just tell me why we’re here? please?”

wrists lighter, she sighed. wrapped in a silk negligé, she began removing her necklace, away from him so that they would not make eye contact but he could still watch her face. she had a defeated look. caught. but still scolding like a mothers, like she was slightly irritated he even asked.

“she’s competing in the open this year. she might win.”

“who is she?”

he asked, but he knew. you were the she. you were her, hissed in arguments, brushed under rugs. their point of contention. they didn’t speak of you, couldn’t. not after the way they got together, not after that final match and the injury.

a certain wildness came across her face whenever you came up, even peripherally, in conversation. like he had reopened a wound, pressed on a bruise that was ripening. she wore that look now, the injured bear look.

“her. if she wins this she’ll have won every major tennis competition in the us. in under 5 years. then what? fucking wimbledon? no. not on my fucking watch.”

she took off her necklace, which clattered against the vanity. she then began on her rings.

“how do you know she’ll win it?”

“i don’t know she’ll win it. but it’s really looking like she will. and she can’t.”

“why can’t she win it?” art soothed, “what would be so bad about that?”

“she can’t win it art.”

he sighed, and watched his wife as she took off their wedding band to sleep. he kept his on, but each to their own. her mouth quivered, and he knew that that was enough of questions for now. she would only get herself worked up if she thought about it more.

“we’ll talk about it in the morning, ok? come here.”

she pressed her long fingers to her temples for a moment, sighed again, and began walking to the bed.

for a moment she perched on the edge, but his pawing hand beckoned her closer. soon enough they were entangled at the legs, and he held her soft head to his chest.

she drew in a nasal breath.

“we have to stop her. make her lose.”

we. so he was a part of this now. did he think that was appropriate? no. he had left you for her, had harboured secret feelings for her your whole relationship. what he felt for you was real, but tashi was his wife. was always going to be his wife. but now, how could he, in good conscience, try and detract a modicum of happiness from you when he had taken so much in years prior? he couldn’t. he couldn’t even think about you. the thought of you being happy away from him made him so soul crushingly, unreasonably sad that he locked it away in a place no one would ever see or graze by mistake. the thought of you sad made him feel even worse. in truth, he avoided you like the plague. he followed your matches religiously to know where not to be. consumed trashy tabloids so he knew where you brunched, where you bought your sports bras, all so he could know never to be there. because he had that life he always wanted. that life he tossed two of the most important people to him away for. he had to be contented with what he had, or else he would die. and he was more than contented. he was everything he wanted. he had a wife he loved, a sky rocketing career, a future. a purpose. but there were aches of the heart, sympathies a man couldn’t shake, even if he had to.

“we have to?”

her grip around his torso tightened, and she raised her head to look at him.

“we have to.”

“what could we even do?”

“fuck with her head. get in there and throw her off. and if worse comes to worse break her knee like she broke mine.”

“don’t joke.”

“i’m not kidding art. she’s not winning. and you’re helping me.”

“tashi-“

“you’re helping me aren’t you?”

and she fixed him with the look. the look she gave when she wanted you to remember that her acl tore and that she will be able to do the thing she loved most in the world, and somehow it’s all your fault. only you can fix it. only you can take the defiance from her eyes and the downturn of her lips, and you can only do that if you go as she says. art had no choice, no choice at all.

“what do you need?”

•••

in, coincidently, the same hotel a few floors up, you shaved your pubic hair. your coach advised you against shaving close to the tournament. he recommended it for your legs, it meant you were more aerodynamic, but pubic hair made no difference. between razor burn and chaffing, it was an unnecessary distraction. but, he also didn’t sanction sweaty, time consuming, exhausting sex with a trifling man slut of an ex boyfriend that dumped you once and was ready to dump you again, so today was the day for rule breaking.

he chewed you out pretty nice when you got back to your hotel room. you insisted on showering even though your physio stayed late specifically for you, and now instead of hurrying out and apologising and being stretched into a peppy, sexy, marketable, rubber-band-legged tennis cunt, you were shaving yourself. because winning didn’t matter unless you were ready for her.

why did being shaven mean being ready? you didn’t know. but patrick’s joy at your bush had sickened you in grim retrospect, and you wanted to spite him. you would always be ready from now on. if tashi duncan was going to try and fuck you over, the least you could do was prepare to be fucked.

you were dry as can be. you hosed yourself down pretty ruthlessly to clear yourself out. evict any traces of that man from your body, scrub until you reached a layer of skin he hadn’t touched. you had one tired foot on the edge of the sink, and angled yourself so you could see everything. you would be so smooth that you could see a reflection when you were finished.

patrick had caught you off guard, had used you, but you didn’t doubt that he told you the truth about one thing. tashi was coming. she was probably already here. that would be an evil thing to makeup, and despite your outburst you didn’t truly believe he was evil. you thought he was weak, slimy and pathetic, but he wasn’t great enough to be evil. didn’t have the forethought.

what would you do when you saw her? it was early days in the tournament, you could afford to be a little distracted while you picked off the weaker ones. but you couldn’t still be this distracted in 2 days time. maybe time would take care of it. maybe you would have to take it into your own hands.

regardless of what happened, the hair had to go. you had shown patrick a soft underbelly, a vulnerability. one that neither tashi duncan or art donaldson would ever experience again. you could never give her the satisfaction.

if she brought art with her, that would give you something to think about. he, like patrick, was a stolen thing. he was the physical manifestation of all she took from you, in it’s fullest form. he was tennis. he was something you had never beaten. tashi duncan pilfered and pillaged, but worse of all she never lost to you. you never looked her in her eyes and beat her, at anything. love, sex, the game, she had never lost. worse, she had lost her ability to lose. a fate worse than death, but a fate that saved her from the shame she so rightfully deserved. while you lived on, you could defile yourself further, could fall out of grace and could become as common as dirt. she however was immortalised as a god, an angel too good, too talented for this world. she was given implicit dignity. you can’t beat her if she can’t play. the conniving bitch.

semenless, hairless and distantly heartbroken, you set the razor down on the side of the bathtub. you left to dress and be scolded by your coach, who would forgive you tommorow when you won, just like you always did. you won by default.

•••

your manager had forgiven you as soon as you picked up the racket. apparently emotional turbulence served only to help your game, as you achieved your second win of the tournament in record time. not distracted by a certain ex boyfriend at the end of this particular match, when you won you felt fully able to celebrate. sweat drenched and vagina raw you shook your fist at your chest and breathed deep, victorious sighs. your opponent smiled graciously, and disappeared to cry and fade into obscurity, as all would in the face of your brilliance.

the air smelt new. it smelt fresh and new and made for your design. the felt of the tennis balls glowed neon in your periphery and bounced gleefully with your triumph. you guzzled gatorade, answered interviewers questions with emphatically friendly responses, and certainly spawned some rumours that the performance enhancing drugs you were so clearly on had unprecedented side effects, like mood swings.

yesterday your soul was crushed. today you got a new one. let’s see tashi duncan try to fuck that up. let’s see her bring you down.

boys didn’t fucking matter, tennis mattered. and you were great at tennis.

these were all things you believed in earnest, with no trace of sarcasm or cynicism. you believed, right until the second, while walking back to your hotel with your team in front of you, lazily enjoying the world, when a deep, slender, ring laden hand touched your shoulder. you jolted up out of your skin. your head whipped round and there she was. there was satan, smiling like your number was up. stopped in your tracks, you turned your body slowly to face her. as you did more and more of her appeared, and you realised she was really there.

she was so beautiful. such a perfectly set face, everything seemed to match. the attractive broad nose, the full pillowy lips, the eyes, which smouldered on their own, naturally. hair that fell in long stretched curls just as it had all those years ago. she hadn’t changed, at least not visually.

you gave her a once over. that fucking body. god, you wouldn’t know she had stopped playing, you wouldn’t know she could be unable to do anything at all. she was so slender, but so strong, muscle caking her bones in delicate, powerful form. she looked invincible, perfect and impermeable. her loose linen shirt hugged and hung from her frame like a fashion doll, like a mannequin of steel. she was taller than you, by a few inches, and made you feel small, in a way so much more infuriating than patrick. she wasn’t suppose to be bigger than you. she wasn’t a lumbering brute, she was your equal. she was your equal.

from the corner of your eye, you noticed something sparkle on her finger, but you had already looked back to her face.

“tashi,” you said, in a tinny voice that didn’t sound like yours. your throat dried within moments.

“hello stranger,” she said, still grinning.

stranger. funny, that’s exactly what you were. she said it like an inside joke, like you two were the closest of friends. you were strangers.

“hello.”

“congrats on your win.”

“thanks.”

you sniffed, and wet your lips. you weren’t going to break eye contact, she certainly wasn’t going to, so you were locked in silent warfare. what the fuck do you want? you urged every second. wait and see, she replied.

“so,” you say, forming the intentions of a smile on your lips,”what brings you to new york? i hear only a few days ago art was in atlanta.”

“we came up to see a physio guy, he’s supposed to be great. great enough that he cancels last minute.”

“hm. ain’t that just the way!”

you smile, with your eyes too, like you mean it. she smiles too, but she’s awful at being fake. she grimaced more than she smiled, she was always devoid of delicacy, of subtly. everything she was she was overtly. overtly beautiful, overtly talented, and confident. overtly ruthless. why she felt the need to smile if that’s not how she felt was beyond you, but you could play along.

“what hotel are you staying at?”

“the boro. you?”

“us too! why don’t you have a drink with me and art at the bar? it would be good to catch up.”

me and art. you narrow your eyes, deepening your smile to disguise it. she was being so normal, it was strange. what game was she playing? was it something you could win? either way you were in.

“sure! i need to check in with my coach and what not first but ill meet you there at 7, is that ok?”

“7 is great. can’t wait,” her voice was mechanical, it couldn’t be more blatant this was a ploy, and you would fall for it hook line and sinker. she came here to fuck you up? you would destroy her, the second she gave an inch. you already had a massive secret. she fucked patrick. five seconds around art and her life crumbles around her.

you smirked, nodding, and a dark look befell her eyes.

“oh, and just to let you know,” she said, voice lowering. she stepped closer, leaned down to whisper in your ear. the smell of vanilla over powered you, and suddenly you felt very gross, putrid in comparison. but you didn’t have to compare yourself to her anymore.

“i saw patrick zweig in the crowd today. i know you guys had a thing back in college. thought i’d give you a heads up,” her soft whisper tickled your ear. you shivered.

“oh, god,” you said,”thanks for telling me. what the fuck is he doing here?”

“I have no idea.”

“what a freak.”

there were several options of why she told you that, and how she might know.

maybe she really did see him in the crowd. you hadn’t seen him, but you hadn’t seen her either. maybe she didn’t see him, but knew he was coming into town, maybe he told her. maybe she got him to come here and warn you. why? to cut you out of the competition early maybe, start the psychological warfare before her feet even touched new york concrete. it hadn’t worked, and that’s why she had been forced to make a face to face appearance. maybe that was it. maybe it was a grand conspiracy in which all parties were mechanised to get you. you would not be got. no way no how.

your paranoia brought the conversation to a screeching halt as your smile became more and more vacant.

“you look good,” she said after a stretch of silence.

“thank you. so do you. you haven’t changed at all.”

“neither have you.”

“well, i think i’ve changed a bit.”

“nah, you’re the same.”

no. you’re different. but how would she know anyway? you wave goodbye as she saunters off, away to a blonde man that she kisses lightly on the cheek. you don’t take in anything more than that because you turn around immediately, and stalk to where your coach is smoking a cigarette by a coffee truck. fuck that bitch. you were going to gut her alive and use her intestines as a skipping rope. art would not extend his neck to receive a kiss when you were through with them. fucking drink at a fucking bar. who did she think she was?

fuck that bitch, tashi thought. you were right, you had changed. your backhand was perfect. impeccable serve. you were deadly. you were harder now too. you didn’t scowl but there was a coldness about the eyes, a disconnect from face and mind. you were fake as plastic, and just as shiny. you had beefed up, gotten more tight and muscular. maybe tight was the word. tight about the eyes. what were you? you were another creature all together. a beast, an amalgamation of all tashi’s hopes and dreams and all her worst nightmares.

she swayed over to art, knowing you would watch at least for a moment as they smiled at each other and took each other’s forearms tenderly, and she kissed the side of his mouth. his hair had been cut only a few days ago, and she told him to wear that white cotton t-shirt out and about. he said it was too casual for such a high level tennis match, she said she knew that. he looked very fucking good. she looked very fucking good, as she always did. she had set the trap, now it was time to get you in it, trapped, and to bash your head in with a rock.

she and art watched from the corner of their eyes as they kissed and you sauntered away, refusing to look back. your skirt swished with the aggravated sway of your hips. you swung a metal water bottle with the rhythm of your steps, like you were trying to hurt the air. you were pissed off. art could tell, and his stomach churned. this was wrong. it was mean, and they were adults now. married adults, who should be satisfied enough in their lives that they don’t need to plan or scheme. but. here they were. and there he was, embroiled and accomplice to a mean spirited scheme. anything to dry tashis eyes. anything to make up for the fact you were tennis cunt extraordinaire and she was arts coach. a fantastic coach, but a coach all the same. he could hurt you if that’s what tashi needed. he didn’t want to, but he could.

she didn’t know if she could, if it was possible rather, but she wanted to. no, she knew she could. she would. you could flick the skirt adidas paid you to wear and walk with a sexy sway and you could guzzle complementary gatorade but she knew what you were and that you were bellow her. you were her subordinate and if she couldn’t make the world see it she would make it clear to you.

your feet hit tarmac harder than they needed to as you found your coach, who clapped a hand to your back and sung your well deserved praises. breaking news, tennis cunt is good at tennis. alert the media, alert the national guard, alert nasa. this is earth shattering stuff. fuck everyone, but fuck tashi in particular. fuck that bitch. and fuck art. fuck him. fuck him.

and yet, only a few hours later you were pulling your hair out trying to put together a cohesive outfit that said i’m not trying to impress you but i’m very impressive. i’m very accomplished and polished and if i was you and i had thrown me away i would kill myself for the shame and regret. tashi duncan is nothing.

but it was hard to find an outfit so articulate. not too dressy, but not overly casual as to downplay yourself, to suggest you think dressing nicely is above what you deserve. a dress. a black dress said sex but it was also classic, simple. a black dress meant nothing, and therefore meant everything. your body itself provided the glamour, your form a kind of jewellery. yeah. that was it. eat your heart out, donaldson.

you sit at the bar, perched with your smooth legs crossed over each other. you sipped a coke, that might’ve been a rum and coke on a different night, but you needed to keep your wits about you. you remember getting drunk one night with art, swaying around his house. his parents were away and he invited you back over spring break. his house was so big. you remember kissing him, so wasted. he wasn’t as drunk as you. he held your waist, and smiled and said,”let’s get you into bed.”

“but art. you’re so pretty.”

“and you’re so drunk. i’ll still be pretty tomorrow.”

art didn’t do drunk. i don’t know. something to keep in mind.

they walked in, looked around and smiled when they saw you. neither of them had changed despite having hours. fucking cunts.

“i see you didn’t wait for us,” tashi smiles.

“oh, sorry.”

they sit, tashi next to you, art in tow. what was arts role in all this? you knew why you wanted him here, to destroy his marriage of course. but why did tashi want him here? what purpose did he serve for her? he just sort of looked around. you watch him as they settle. art. oh art. you felt something in your chest, and hated it. art. he was just that guy, you know. the guy that you can say you hate, but you just can’t. you want to so badly, but being in his presence for even a few seconds has you crumbling. the shape of his nose, the bob of his adam’s apple, the golden dusting of hair on his arm that glints in the boozy light of the bar. he was so… guy. so man. so beautiful. he beats his blonde eyelashes and turns to look at you, smiling with only one corner of his mouth. you smile back, unconsciously genuine. fuck him. what a prick.

you look back to tashi, who watches you bemusedly. half smirking half frowning. her deep eyes glow like ambers. she tossed a strand of hair from her face, orders her and art two sparkling waters as she eyed your coke.

“so,” you say, to divert your train of thoughts more than anything,”how’s life been?”

“let’s drop the pleasantries shall we?”

the smile that had spooked you all day dropped, lips instead set in a line

“we aren’t actually here to catch up.”

“oh. ok.”

that was brief. you understood why she was so quick to give up the falsehoods though, tashi duncan didn’t deal in lies. she dealt in hard cold truth.

“i’m here for one thing. i want you to play art.”

you frown with one eyebrow, and your upper lip curls into a look of disgust.

“what?”

you glance at art, who doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. he looks mournful almost. what a freak. tashi’s face is sullen, serious as the plague.

“you heard me. i want you and art to play each other. art wants to too.”

art didn’t look at you. nodded though.

“and i wanna do it tonight.”

you spluttered a laugh, hands gripping the bar.

“tonight?”

this bitch had lost her mind. you have a tournament, an important one at that, and for her to assert that you should jeopardise that, overexert yourself for the sake of what? assuaging a personal grudge? making her feel better because a significantly larger man beat a woman at a game that tashi hadn’t played in five entire years? what crack was she smoking that made that an acceptable ask? did her arrogance know no bounds?

“i have a match tomorrow.”

“yeah, no fucking shit. that’s why there’s stakes.”

stakes. what the fuck. you almost wanted to laugh. but this bitch was giving you a proposal, a fucking pitch. for what? what could she possibly have to offer you other than sucking on a shot gun and pissing off forever?

“do you have any fucking idea how ridiculous this is? after everything you did to me, you think you have any right to saunter up to me and ask me to waste my time and my energy, the night before a fucking match? you and your fucking husband can fuck off.”

“after everything i did to you? what the hell did i do to you? you broke my fucking knee.”

your confused look fell into seething blankness.

“you didn’t break your knee you tore your ACL. and you broke it yourself.”

“that’s fine, that’s fine. you tell yourself that, but know the only reason you have this fucking career is because i wasn’t there to beat you down and put you in your place.”

“jesus fucking christ, i would’ve beaten you that match and you know it.”

“i don’t know a goddamn thing-“

“and where do you get off pretending like you never did shit to me? you took everything from me tashi. you took everything and now you travel across the country and stumble up to me to make yourself feel better because i can play and you can’t. you want me to try and beat a fucking man? fine. i’m game. i’m in, let’s do it. i would hate to waste your precious time. let’s hear the fucking stakes.”

the gloves were off. both of your backs had straightened like hackles on a cat and your nostrils flared and your chests rose and fell and neither of you broke eye contact for even one second. you hadn’t realised but you had gotten closer, so close that your minty fresh breath fanned tashi’s upper lip, and pieces of tashi’s hair tickled your cheekbone. this was fucking intoxicating. being this close to the woman you had hated for so long, getting the confirmation that she hates you just as passionately, knowing you matter enough to her that she needs to destroy you, it all fills you with the most exhilarating feeling. you want more. her deep eyes glowed with fury. fuck.

art sits hunched over the bar, removed. he drank his drink, slowly facing away. he almost looks bored, or he would if his eyes didn’t flit about all the time. no, art was anxious. he disapproved of whatever tashi planned, but he loved her too much to tell her no. the thought stings you, spitting in the face of your satisfaction. art. he would always make you hurt no matter what.

“here’s the stakes. you lose, i leave knowing that i was always better than you, and you give me $4000, for my troubles. you win, you get to fuck art in front of me.”

he didn’t flinch. he knew. you’re pulled back by an otherworldly force, stone cold sober. your neck twists back and forth, scanning the bar for anyone to help you, save you, give you a moment to chew on whatever that was. no one was gonna help you. even art, who sat and drank his sparkling water, wouldn’t meet your eye.

“what?”

she didn’t reply, just leant back, arms crossed, satisfied. was she honestly, seriously, really, actually whoring out her husband so that you, a girl she barely knew from college, would play him at tennis so she could prove a point? was she that confident he would beat you? or was she a pervert as well as a cunt?

“are you that confident you’ll win? or do you think i’m that desperate? believe it or not, i’ve actually moved on from a man i saw briefly 5 entire years ago.”

a tiny white lie never hurt anyone.

tashi widened her eyes. a silent challenge.

“are you sure? are you sure it wouldn’t feel good to fuck my husband right in front of me? take something from me? hurt me? give me a taste of my own fucking medicine? if i’m such a bitch, if i took everything from you, take something back. beat me at tennis and fuck my husband.”

this bitch was fucking crazy. and yes, it would feel fucking incredible. but you would also have to touch art again. which would dredge up emotions you didn’t know if you could stomach. eugh. no. couldn’t. wouldn’t. won’t.

“i’ll play you. no stakes.”

“no,” art looked at you in the eyes for the first time since that day, that match that ended you two forever. his voice was cold and hoarse. your eyebrow raises involuntarily. look everyone, the puppet can speak on its own!

“agree to the stakes or don’t bother.”

you laugh airily, you search arts face for reprehension. there’s just nothing. you were wrong about him, he didn’t disapprove that strongly. where did he get off in this? did he like being used as a bargaining chip in his evil wife’s evil schemes? was he completely eroded from who he used to be? did you ever even know him? he tongued the inside of his cheek. his mouth curved at the edge. he smiled slightly like he knew you, like this was a game you were all in on. like any of this is funny.

“no. i’ll play you, and i’ll even cough up the money if i lost. but i’m not fucking anyone. end of story.”

tashi leans forward. her eyes twinkle yellow in the soft glow of the bar. her mouth opens with unspoken hunger.

“then lose.”

[amiaclone]

Oh hello! I love the way you write, could you write something like the reader is pregnant by player 333 and he protects her no matter what in the games,ty ✨️

YES IVE BEEN WAITING FOR PLAYER 333

Soo since this is basically just Junhee I’m gonna add a bit more to the plot if you don’t mind!

You were in the first games like Gi hun you didn’t win although you escaped after you lost at one of the games (let’s say marbles) was living with Gi hun for a good while then moved out etc met Lee Myung gi (player 333) got you pregnant did the scam etc anyways you wanted to help Gi hun but not get involved but Front man kidnapped you anyways for fun and well….here you are

Since I like Junhee I don’t wanna erase her so she’s like a spy or sm 😔 a whole different plot but interesting still

Anyways here it is!

Lee Myung Gi x Fem! Reader

You sighed in annoyance as your ex came to bother you about if you were okay or needed anything the usual

You didn’t even wanna be here but be with him? No way!

You won’t lie you *did* need help in a place like this but with him? No way!

“Do you need my extra milk? A place like this isn’t fit for someone like you! Bla bla bla” that’s all he ever said

Myung gi and you used to be one of those lovey dovey couples who you’d think would get married or something…..it could of happened if he didn’t end up with you losing your money and ghosting you

For the money? Meh you didn’t care as Gi hun managed to pay off your debts but ghosting? That was cold you called almost everyday and received little knowledge……yeah he deserves what’s coming to him

Currently it was after red light green light and he was bothering you about a new thing!

“You played these games before and never told me?”

You rolled your eyes “Yeah cause telling someone I was kidnapped and forced to play children games and could die is so believable”

He shook his head “Yeah well things like this aren’t just things you can forget about! How did you leave why did you go back-“

You turned to him rather harshly “Not that it concerns you but I don’t wanna be here just as much as anyone else” you sighed staring at your stomach for a bit your child could die here…..you could die here was it really worth it?

He noticed and stood firm “Well I’ll protect you” you gave him a small glare

“How am I supposed to know I can trust you?”

He shook his head “Don’t be stubborn y/n in your condition if the majority votes to stay….your chances are very slim”

You sighed looking up at the roof “Fine. But don’t think this means I have forgotten anything”

He sighed smiling that you’d agree maybe this is a chance to finally make things up with you?

Cue to the six legged pentathlon

You teamed with Gi hun followed by your ex who’s been following you around the whole time like a lost puppy except the puppy is preventing anything from even looking at or touching said person aka you

So far you agreed to do Jegi as it seemed the easiest

“Don’t you think it’d be dangerous-“

“I’m doing it”

Luckily we barely lived even though In ho/Player 001 nearly screwed it over for us and you all headed out

Once again Myung Gi stood by your side you even cheered with him for passing it he smiled

Oh wait your still supposed to be mad at him you quickly erased that smile with a frown

“Well thanks for protecting me i suppose you’ve been nice…”

“Nice enough for me to finally show you I’m sorry?”

“No”

He mentally groaned he knew he messed up but he really did miss you ghosting you was a big regret but he didn’t want you getting involved because people were trying to kill him!

Well atleast you’re nice enough to try tolerating that’s a start…

Cue to mingle

You haven’t seen Myung for almost the whole game and to be honest you were getting kinda worried you were with Gi hun and the team you formed back in six legged pentathlon

The new number was seven you grabbed onto Junhee a kind girl who told you in secret she was a spy for the government (Cool plot might use it for an oc) who you’ve bonded with the whole time you were here

You ran but someone fell you think it was Young Mi? Anyways just as the door was about to close *He* walked in

Ah typical Myung gi smiled staring at everyone specifically you as he expected to be seen as a hero

Why were you kinda relieved to see him?

Which you agreed he did technically save your lifes you empathised heavily with Hyun Ju banging on the door crying for Young Mi it gave you flashbacks of the first games you didn’t lose anyone typically close you can recall but still a sad time..

Anyways Hyun Ju blamed Myung gi while Myung gi defended himself and begged any of us to agree with him which you did

“I’m sorry about Young mi Hyun Ju but he’s got a point we all would have died”

Myung gi seemed relieved and when you were all walking out walked up to you “Thank you for defending me does this mean we can talk? Oh! Watch your step”

He points at the wall when you were a good distance from it you rolled your eyes

“This doesn’t change anything I just agreed with you cause you were right”

Before he could say anything the last round started

It said 2 and he immediately grabbed you before you could even comprehend who it was luckily he found a random door barely and slammed it shut breathing heavily

“Thanks” is all you could mutter heavily breathing

He smiled

“As long as I’m here I’ll protect you”

And why did you feel comforted by that….

I loved this one smmmm we need more Myung gi fanfics! Hope you likeddd it

[kelin-is-writing]

Not some peoples on here and TikTok going:

“You don’t like the ending because your favorite character died”

Hell yeah? Literally why wouldn’t I be pissed that my favorite character who could be saved died? Dabi has one of the most realistic backstories and best characterizations in Mha, actually not only in Mha but Anime/Manga in general and do you know how taboo of topics domestic violence, child abuse and raping are in Japan? Mind you, Japan is a country that has domestic violence normalized in their country as part of marriage and somehow education too. Y’all might think I’m joking but victims of domestic abuse in Japan are struggling very much to this day, but Japanese peoples rarely talks about it because Japan is a “Family Image” oriented society (Endeavor and the Himuras showed it enough me thinks) so they categorically refuse to let people know abuse happens, especially the abusers.

“Oh BuT aLL aBuSeRs DoN’t WaNt It To Be KnOwN”, I know but in Japan it’s normalized to just live through it and that (together with bullying) it’s one of the reasons the suicide rate in Japan is one of the highest globally, hope it helps to get a better grasp on everything I’m trying to say.

Horikoshi has depicted it perfectly, because you know… He lives there and even the final outcome (Rei becoming Enji’s caretaker after years of abuse) it’s very much Japanese style. Which is why the Todoroki family ending it’s wrong and disturbing. Wrong, and disturbing.

And as if one of Enji’s victims becoming his caretaker isn’t enough, one of his other victims had to die because of his actions.

“No BuT tOuYa WeNt OfF wItH hIs QuIrK oN hIs OwN”, and who was the main reason and cause he went off like that with his Quirk? Endeavor.

Yep. Thought so too.

I don’t get why some of you are bending backwards, doing backflips and cartwheels to defend Endeavor just because he’s an Hero like— I’m sorry but he is the depiction of a realistically fact that even if your job (YOUR JOB!) is to save other people, behind closed doors that same person who saves other people can still be a shitty person who’s a curse to his own family, because Endeavor is just Enji Todoroki’s façade.

And he’s a well-written character because the depiction of abuser Horikoshi did of him it’s accurate to reality. Enji is egotistical, narcissistic, greedy, self-centered and selfish, which are all the characteristics that made him physically unable to actually address any of what he did until Dabi’s reveal, despite knowing that he was dead wrong and that together with the fact that he waited almost a decade to apologize to his family, is the reason why I genuinely don’t give a flying fuck about his “redemption”. If sorrow was eating you alive why didn’t you apologize sooner, trash?

Touya never got the closure he deserved, actually none of the Leagues got it and you know why? Because the whole War arc was rushed, you can tell by the way Shigaraki was offed. From a writing standpoint it was laughable, seriously.

What’s even worse is that… Nothing has actually changed in the Hero society despite the fact that nine years have passed, because people like Touya, Shigaraki and Toga will never be actually saved because Heroes have failed miserably to save the prime examples of what’s to be saved.

And no, they weren’t saved because death isn’t salvation for people who want to live, be accepted and loved. You guys that think this way genuinely scare me and I want y’all far away from me.

Like— To sum what I’m trying to say: We can’t cry and hate Mha’s ending because of all this, but some of y’all can cry, kick sheets, throw up, crashout and hate the ending over fucking ships?

Wow…

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Touch-Starved (canon)

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otherwise known as; the part where The Puppetmaster finds out he has THE FEELINGS(™, patent pending) for the Combat Harlequin. lmfao

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"Almost..." His hand trembled at the last piece required. He carefully slotted the optics in place, and twisted the eye multiple times to stick it in place. Within moments, he steps back, and Bubble flared up alive again, checking out his new, updated vision. “Wow! I can see more colors now!” The Blimp spun in place.

“Those new eyes should allow you to broadcast anything you see to me, if I so wished.” He explains, pulling out a small, thin black screen from one of the the desk’s many compartment. He switches it on, and Bubble’s eyes suddenly have a tiny red dot blinking in the middle of it.

So far, so good. The device was working as intended and he could see the top of his dentures from Bubble’s perspective, making Caine grin proudly.

“You may proceed to do your chores once more, the upgrades are done.” He sends the blimp to his merry way, and Bubble only nods before turning away to make his way out of the office. He leans back with a content sigh and closed eyes, satisfied with the work done for the day.

At that very moment, Pomni also opens the door.

She looked… disheveled, to say the least.

“Oh hey Pomni!” The butler blimp greeted with his usual reply. The Harlequin only sent him a look of acknowledgement, knowing that it’s useless to try to spark up a conversation, as Bubble was already making his way out.

Caine blinked once, and then he blinked twice just to make sure he’s seeing things right.

Was she always this… dazzling? Literally? He could see sparkles forming everywhere.

She flipped her hair in a messy attempt to get rid of the strands currently stuck to the skin of her nape. Her trademark golden ponytail missing, most likely a B.O.S.S.’s doing. She made her way to Caine’s desk and he swears he could feel his heart beat faster and faster with each step she took. The Harlequin’s trademark squinted brows with half-lidded eyes meeting his own wide stare, a gaze that would typically make any person with a still-functioning sanity cower in fear.

She took a seat on his desk with her legs crossed and her back turned against him and leaning on her right arm, as she usually did.

“Here’s the die you asked for. Took me a bit, but still got the job done.” She checked her left arm for damages after she placed the multi-colored puppet heart in front of him, while she flashed her teeth with a victorious, smug smile. His words are caught in his throat and her entirety shines too brightly for him. He couldn’t understand it.

Why… did she seem like a flame, and he felt like an unsuspecting moth, drawn to her light?

He shook his head clear and forced his stare away from her direction, clearing his throat while clutching the die. “I-I see, thank you, Pomni. You-you’ve done… a… wonderful…” Her hand grasped his own and his heart leapt at his own throat. Her synthetic, calloused fingers felt so rough, yet so gentle against his own gloved ones that he considered taking them off.

“...j-job.” His breath hitched as he struggled to finish the end of his sentence, unable to tear his attention away from her eyes. He found himself gawking at her intense, golden eye matched with blue and red pinwheel ones.

“Aren't you forgetting something, Puppetmaster?” Her expression questioning, yet with a slight and subtle undertone of mischief glinted at her optics. 

He couldn’t speak. He struggled to form coherent words. It felt like he was being strangled by an unknown force clutching at his neck, yet there was clearly no malice behind it. 

“Wh… What am I forgetting…?” He asked in such a feeble tone that made her chuckle in such a low rumbling tone, snaring his full attention.

“Well, I think that I deserve a reward for my services. Don’t you think?” She stands up. Warm hands suddenly felt so cold and empty, and already he missed the warmth present just about a second ago. The Harlequin made her way towards him as he spun his chair to meet her halfway. Hand at her hips as she towered over his sitting form. He’s all of a sudden clutching at the armrest so intensely.

“Y-yes, of course! H-how could I forget!” He nervously chuckles, he would pull on his collar right about now. “What is it you wish to be rewarded with?”

He offers her his best smile, and she giggles as she shakes her head. Without any warning, she took a seat on his lap, and he went frozen. As if making one single move would shatter the very fabric of the universe. She leaned her head to his shoulder, fiddling with the collar of his shirt then her fingers trailed onto the underside of his chin to make him look at her. He shivered from the contact.

“You.”

He trembled as his face warmed up to uncontrollable degrees, and produced visible heat waves. Not even his self-installed coolants were helping him tone down the sudden rise in his body temperature in the slightest. He couldn’t control his shakes, making the Harlequin smirk, knowing that she had the Puppetmaster all wrapped around her finger.

He didn’t know what came over him, because now his own hands were making their way onto her thighs to pull her closer to him entirely, the other shakingly placing itself onto her shoulders and he could feel the way she sighs contentedly against his touch. He exhales a shaky breath himself, attempting to steel himself.

“M-my dear, a-are you positive that… that is what you’d like?”

It was better to be safe than sorry. She sits up straight, and for the first time, he regrets ever asking that question in the first place.

“Actually…” Her voice trails off playfully, while she stands up. “... Maybe I’d like something more.”

It only took her a finger underneath his chin to pull him as she leads him to a nearby wall. As if his own body had a mind of it’s own, he pins her in place with both arms adjacent to her head. His face leans in closer and closer to her with eyes closed, and she’s leaning up close to him, fully ready to accept his advances.

Pomni’s soft lips met his teeth, and Caine could smell the faint traces of grass and sweat rolling down from her synthetic skin, evident of her hardships from the recent battle. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his loops around her waist to pull her closer, while the other cups at her face intensely. He savored her mouth as their breathing became heavy and fast-paced, only breaking apart for a mere second, gasping for air before delving back in to their desires.

Desire…

Quite the accurate depiction of how Caine truly felt for the Harlequin at this moment. He couldn’t quite decipher when this had started, though.

As if her intentions were to pry him away from his overbearing and unnecessary thoughts, Pomni pushed him away to pin him to the wall this time, continuing the liplock. He grunts from the impact, but gladly returns her enthusiasm with fervor as he loops his arm around her back, pulling her flush to him once more. Her hands made their way to the lower sides of his jaw to caress so gently, and he finds himself melting at every contact their touches made.

Without breaking the teeth-on-lip-lock, he steered their bodies onto the direction of his desk, leaving the Harlequin laying on it as he loomed over her, ravaging her mouth once more like the touch-starved man he was. He adjusted her thighs just enough to make room for him without making the position uncomfortable for the both of them, their heated make out session felt like it could go on forever as he gripped her waist tightly.

It felt like if he let her go, she would disappear all of a sudden. And he didn’t want that.

He made sure to not lean too much of his body weight onto her by propping himself up with his elbows, both hands find themselves cupping her face to keep her in place as her hands trailed all the way up from the lower arms to his shoulders to do the same to him. He broke the kiss to gasp for air, a string of saliva being the clear proof of their heated action, but quickly delved back into the riveting sensations of their activity. 

Her touch against him were like magic; every contact sent shivers and jolts down his spine as she switched from holding his shoulders to holding his chest just above where a collarbone would traditionally be, pushing him away to let herself up. For a nanosecond he thought that maybe he went a little too far with his advances, until she disproved his theory by shoving him to one of the nearby long couches, only a pillow to cushion and soften his landing onto the furniture.

Quickly making up for lost time and contact, she quickly crawls to straddle his waist, clutching the back of his head to make him look at her, and her only. His hand found itself gripping at the back of her waist tightly once more, the other clutching her own head just to make sure she’s still there with him. Both were panting heavily, the room temperature very much heated as a result of their affairs.

His eyes looked at her longingly as he breathed heavily. “Pomni… I… I don’t think I want this to end.”

She flashed him a consoling smile.

The alarm rings, deafening the surroundings as he jolts awake, falling from his chair comically with a loud, slightly high-pitched scream emitting from his throat. He groans from the headache he had received from the impact to the ground, clutching at the top sides of his jaw, as he leans his head onto the desk for support.

His false heart was beating faster than when one would run; His face was flushed and he frustratingly ignores the heat from the rest of his body with a grumble.

He shifts his eyes to look around. Nothing’s changed. Everything was the same since Bubble left to do his daily chores.

He shakes his head and slams his face down onto the elegant desk, groaning depressingly and half-sobbing.

What the fuck? Was… WAS IT ALL JUST A DAMN DREAM!?

Oh, he could scream and cry into a pillow right about now. But the panicked angry screaming of a certain someone being bothered by the recent addition; the Ragdoll Mannequin that was “Ragatha”, suddenly grabs his attention. Now, he’s looking outside into the manor grounds from his office’s windows with a tired and questioning gaze.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

“But Mistress! You still haven’t tried out my trademark cookie recipe!! It’s GUARANTEED to be your instant favorite!”

“STOP CALLING ME MISTRESS! FOR THE LAST TIME, I DON’T CARE, GET THE FUCK AWAY-”

Caine sighed disappointingly to himself, dragging his hand across his eyes.

God fucking dammit. He actually feels something for her.

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

I would say I'm sorry, but we all know I'm not. :)

[bked0n-lorazepam]

"Sweltering"

---------------->

Summary (Smut): Y/N and Patrick are placed as partners on their senior camp trip for Derry high-school. Regrets are thought after Patrick convinced her to place their tent further away from the others, and when their fans die in the middle of the night in the awful Derry heat.

Warnings: Vulgar language, dubious consent, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, camping, in a tent. Patrick and Reader are 18 and seniors!

A/N: Sorry guys, motivation kind of went out the window for my WIP's and I can't think when I try to write them, so here's this apology while I wait for my writer's block to end!

Smut under the cut!!

---------------->

It was dark out, and hot. The Derry highschool had a camp field trip that only the seniors could go on as a ‘going away’ event for their graduation. Y/N and Patrick were partnered together, much to each other’s distaste.

There was an odd amount of people on the trip, and when Y/N was told that the other student was going to join her group of three and that she’d have to be with Patrick, she groaned.

–

“Do I have to? What have I done to deserve this?” She begged her councilor to change the groups.

“Ms. L/N, you’re the perfect student, and he isn’t. We’re hoping that maybe while on this trip, you can influence him in some kind of way. Please, you can still hang out with your past group, you just need to stick with him as well.” Her councilor begged her back, hope shining in his eyes. 

All the teachers at the highschool knew that Patrick wasn’t the greatest student, so they always paired her and him together when they could. Projects and presentations, hell, they even made her his tutor. She hated how much time out of her life he took up, and he hated how much of his she took up.

“Fucking, fine. Whatever.” Y/N sighed dramatically and walked away to talk to her friends.

She heard a faint ‘language’ from her councilor before getting pulled aside and directed the other way.

“So, we’re buddies again. Huh, toots?” Patrick grinned and put his hand on her waist while walking her towards their assigned bus. 

“Guess so,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the nickname he gave her when they met, and pulled his hand that was slowly moving to her ass off of her. “Don’t fuck this trip up.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

–

Patrick did not, in fact, think about it.

He somehow convinced her to set up their tent further away from the others, and the fans that they were given on the bus had died. They were both sweating and kicked off their blankets, and now they laid on their sleeping bags. 

“I hate you.” Y/N panted, using the safety folder as a fan. She was wearing a dark green tank top and sweatpants on, and she was sweltering. 

“Mutual feelings.” Patrick responded, laying on his back with his arms behind his head. He took his shirt off and was wearing his black boxers, even though Y/N complained about him taking off his pants.

She knew she couldn’t say much, though, having taken off her bra earlier in the night because of how uncomfortable it was. She also knew that he was staring at her breasts half the time, but she didn’t bring it up. He’d do it if she had a sweater on, too.

Y/N stopped fanning herself for a moment and stared at the wall of the tent in front of her, and Patrick looked over at her.

“What?”

“Don’t get any ideas.” She set down the folder and stood up as he stared at her, watching her every movement.

She glanced at him and caught his eyes before looking away quickly and reaching her fingers into her waistband. Pulling off her pants, she stood there in her black lace panties, bare to Patrick’s eyes.

“Thought you were gonna get some?” Patrick snickered at her fancy underwear as she sat down and scoffed.

“Yeah, from Taylor.” She smiled sarcastically and fanned herself with the folder again, sighing in relief at the difference her lack of clothing made.

She’ll admit, she was hoping that she’d end up getting a tent with Taylor because she thought he was hot, but now she was stuck with Patrick. Who was kind of attractive.

But also really attractive.

Patrick hummed and watched her again before a large grin grew on his face. He sat up from his sleeping bag and crawled over to her when she closed her eyes, and he covered her mouth with his hand when she yelped in surprise. 

“Patrick, what the fuck!” She hissed quietly to not wake the other campers.

“Shut up and enjoy this.” He sneered and slid his hands up and down her body.

Y/N gasped and grabbed his shoulders when his hands cupped her breasts and played with her nipples. She’d had sex before, but they were all asses who never thought of foreplay, so naturally, she was sensitive.

He smiled at her reactions and continued to pinch them, leaning in to kiss her neck when she threw her head back and moaned. He kissed and nipped all over her neck, leaving bruises wherever his lips touched.

She bucked her hips up into his when he found her sweet spot, and she wrapped her fingers in his hair while he sucked at it.

“Patrick, stop. We shouldn’t be doing this.” Y/N panted heavily. She didn’t want him to stop at all, but she held onto a small sense of her dignity.

They shouldn’t be doing this with the other students just a couple yards away from them, but she also knew that Patrick didn’t care.

All he did was move further down her neck and kiss her collarbone before lifting her shirt over her breasts and attaching his lips to them.

She moaned, loudly, and reached a hand up to cover her mouth. Patrick laughed and sucked all over her smooth skin, his hands now moving down her hips, to the waistband of her underwear.

“Fuck, stop. We can’t do this.” Even though her brain said one thing, her body said another. She didn’t do anything to stop him, other than tell him to.

She knew he wouldn’t listen, though, so she didn’t know why she was even trying.

His hands ghosted over her underwear to the inside of her thighs, and he rubbed the soft flesh. He pinched her and she whined, him smiling once again. 

Patrick slowly moved his hand up to where she wanted him most, and he ran a finger up her groin as she thrusted her hips towards it.

“Patrick, please.” Y/N didn’t even know what she was begging for, at this point. Whether he stopped or didn’t, it didn’t matter to her anymore. She just wanted to keep feeling good.

His fingers moved her underwear to the side and he ran a finger through her folds once again, detaching himself from her nipple.

He stared her in the eyes and brought the finger to his lips, sucking off the mess she left on them. 

“Patrick, please!”

His fingers moved skillfully and he kissed her, his middle finger plunging into her entrance all the way to his knuckle. She moaned loudly once again, but this time his mouth caught it. He stretched her out, and when he thought she was ready, he put his index finger in with it.

Y/N moved her hips with his fingers, trying to match the speed he was going at. It didn’t help that he was purposely messing up his rhythm so that she couldn’t, and he grinned when she sobbed into his mouth.

“Please, Patrick,” She whimpered, “‘M so close!”

He placed his thumb on her clit and rubbed it in a circular motion, reattaching himself to her nipple. “Go ahead.”

She cried out and clenched around his fingers, her hips finally being able to match his speed and rhythm. He let her ride out her high before he took his fingers away and moved down, licking up what was left on his fingers and her cunt.

When he was done, he sucked at her clit harshly, and she cursed out and tugged his hair away from her.

He sat up and wiped away what was on his chin, sucked at her sternum until he left a hickey, and pulled her shirt down.

Patrick palmed at his boxers and then kissed her before rolling over next to her, reassuming his position with his arm behind his head. 

“When I wake up, I expect to see you with my dick down your throat.” He told her, closing his eyes and getting comfortable.

“Yeah. M’kay, I guess.”

[1-imaginary-girl]

Wolf Bite Pt. 2

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: Two weeks have passed since Klaus healed you and the two of you have gotten a lot closer. But when your friends find out about this, they have more than a few choice words for you. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: angst followed by comfort

Word Count: 4755

Part 1

A/N: I've been excited to write this one, I love some good angst but with a happy ending. I might have made the gang a little meaner than I think they are but at the same time, I can see them doing this lol. Also I might want to do another part which shows the more romantic side of their relationship, since this one's kind of lacking, and also where the gang gets what they deserve so let me know if that's something you'd be interested in! I love reading your comments. Okay enjoy!

It’s been a few weeks since you got bit by a hybrid. Since big bad Klaus Mikaelson saved you and told you he genuinely liked you. You’re still reeling from the incident and processing how you feel and what to do next. Your friends have been less than helpful.

That night, when your friends returned to find you no longer on your deathbed, they rejoiced for about 5 seconds. Joy quickly gave way to confusion and suspicion as they wondered how you were suddenly okay. Although a part of you wanted to keep Klaus’s visit to yourself, to keep that little moment untouched, you knew you had to tell them. Their reactions were not what you were expecting.

The group immediately scolded you for letting Klaus into your house. They were convinced that it was part of a larger scheme to have access to your home, with only Elena and Bonnie trying to argue that maybe he did it because he liked you. You felt reassured until they were eventually convinced otherwise. 

Of course, when you tried to explain how you felt and that he wanted nothing in return, no one believed you. That was the first time you felt real anger towards your friends. Not only did they leave you to die without even trying to ask Klaus to save you, but they were blaming you for saving yourself. Your anger was not met with sympathy as the group began to guilt-trip you, reminding you of all the horrible things Klaus has done and shaming you for defending him. After a while, you gave in to their words and let the anger go like you usually do. Well, not all of it.

The only person who truly made you happy these days, was the man in question. The only one who seemed to care if you survived. But more than that, he cared if you lived.

The morning after his visit, you awoke to discover that Klaus had left you his phone number along with a message that read: So I can do a better job of reminding you ;). You immediately remembered what he meant and it made you smile.

Since then, you and Klaus had been texting every day. He continued to check up on you and send good morning texts and you began to open up to him, sometimes being the person to text first. You feel like you have nothing to hide with Klaus and that you can be yourself without worry. You’ve learned a lot about the hybrid through the texts. For example, he can be really funny and will make horrible puns to make you laugh. You feel comfortable joking around with him.

Also, as promised, he has continued to shower you with compliments which make your day. You also start to believe his words and gain a little more confidence in yourself. 

Overall, you feel like you have become a lot happier since texting him, as well as hanging out more with Rebekah. The female original had also taken a liking to you at the start and your friends aren’t as opposed to you being friendly with her, although they don’t know how often the two of you hang out.

She was absolutely furious to hear about the hybrid bite incident and she blamed your friends more than her brother (although not completely absolving him of blame) for bringing you into their danger. She insisted that the two of you hang out more so she could look out for you which warmed your heart.

With your time being taken up by the Mikaelson’s, you find yourself drifting away a little from your friends. You don’t tell them about your friendships with the Mikaelson’s for obvious reasons and because you know they’d never believe you. They’re still cautious around you, suspicious that having Klaus’s blood in you might have changed your allegiance somehow like his sired hybrids. Personally, you think that’s ridiculous and doesn't make sense. You barely even talk about them when you’re with Klaus or Rebekah. But you also don’t want to add to their superstitions.

Still, you feel a little guilty for not seeing them as often, so when you hear from Bonnie that the group is meeting at Elena’s house to discuss some new problem, you decide to tag along.

Now you find yourself in the same position as always, standing in a corner listening to the group discuss plans while they ignore your presence. Not that you’d have anything to say. The discussion is over what to do with Alaric and his other half, but frankly you start to tune them out. You just wanted to hang out as normal friends, not as supernatural creatures facing another threat.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a text from Klaus: Hello beautiful, want to meet up for a bite to eat? 

Then he sends another text: Of the human variety, of course ;)

You smile and shake your head. You text back: I’m hanging with my friends, remember? The distraction is welcome as you wonder how long this meeting would take. You wonder if you should ask the girls to hang out after it wraps up. You haven’t had a girl’s day in a while. Although the thought of asking makes your palms sweaty and your stomach flip.

He texts: Aw, but wouldn’t you rather hang out with me? I promise I’ll be more fun.

You bite your lip to constrain your grin. You text: That’s not the point.

He immediately replies: Ah, so you don’t disagree?

You can’t help the small chuckle you let out. Unfortunately, the noise draws the group’s attention to their neglected member.

“Something you’d like to share with the class?” you hear Damon say. At first you don’t think they’re talking to you, but when the silence drags on, you lift up your eyes to find them all staring at you. Your cheeks quickly heat up.

“N-no, sorry,” you say, trying to remember what they were talking about to pretend as if you were paying attention.

You catch Caroline narrowing her eyes. “Who were you texting?” she asks and you stare at her shocked. You don’t know how she knew, or maybe she guessed, but your panic rises nonetheless.

"No one, nobody, uh—a classmate," you scramble to come up with a lie but you’ve been put on the spot.

“I don’t buy it,” the blonde says. You become too caught up in trying to figure out a way out of this awkward situation that you don’t notice the flurry of movement until it’s too late. Caroline speeds over and swipes your phone from your hand before you can react.

When her eyes meet the screen, they widen and your stomach drops. You speed over to her and grab the phone back before she can read your private messages, but the name of the contact had already been revealed.

“You were texting Klaus?!” Caroline yells, her confused and angry look quickening your anxiety. Unfortunately, this only causes a chain reaction within the group.

“What?”

“What the hell Y/N?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

A bunch of angry voices shoot your way and you’re too overwhelmed to respond properly. Still, you make an effort by saying, “I can explain—” But they just talk over you.

“Why are you texting him?” Elena asks which quiets the group as they wait for an explanation. Your throat dries up but you try to clear it.

“W-well, he left his phone number the night after he healed me—” 

“Of course he did!” Damon exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. You begin to feel frustrated that they won’t let you talk.

“He’s just been checking up on me,” you say. It's not entirely the full truth but you’re trying to diffuse the situation.

“Y/N, Klaus is extremely dangerous. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Stefan says in a softer tone that only makes you feel talked down to.

“He has done nothing but terrorize us since his murderous family moved to town!” Caroline yells, not at all softening her voice.

You clench your fists. “I know he’s done bad things, believe me I do, but he’s started to open up to me. I think he’s more complex than you guys think,” you say, finally speaking your piece. When you’re met with incredulous looks, you try to reason with them. “It’s not like everyone here is perfect or hasn’t done evil things.”

“Oh my god, you actually believe him,” Damon says, in disbelief and with a condescending smile. “You actually believe that he’s in love with you.”

Tears prick at your eyes at the implication and you look at the ground. “Damon,” Bonnie hisses. But it does nothing.

“No, I’m sorry, but you’re an idiot if you believe that. Klaus doesn’t have a heart to give,” he continues. He shakes his head with a laugh. “I mean, I bet he’s just been manipulating you to tell him our secrets.”

Your anger grows but that last sentence seemed to strike a chord in the group and the energy in the room suddenly becomes tense. “Wait, Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re in love with him,” Elena says in a concerned tone.

“Have you been spying on us for him?” Caroline asks. And just like that, the group’s paranoia brought on by the wolf bite resurfaces in full force as they all give you suspicious looks. You don’t believe this.

“God, no, you guys aren’t listening! We are just friends, and we only text each other,” you say, practically pleading with them to hear you out. But your anger remains boiling below the surface. “And we don’t even talk about you guys! Do you honestly think I would betray you that quickly?” You try to meet each of your friend’s eyes to get them to see rationally.

“Y/N, I think you’re making a huge mistake,” Elena says, completely avoiding what you’ve just said. You stare, shocked.

“We’re just trying to look out for you; he’s only going to hurt you in the end,” Bonnie pipes in.

“Yeah, so why don’t you go ahead and end this before you do something you regret,” Damon says. All of their words circle around in your head and suddenly you lose control of your fury. You can’t help it. You snap.

“Oh my god, just shut up!” you yell. “You guys have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you have any idea how miserable I have been for the last few months? All of you have slowly started to ignore me and cut me out of this group and I felt so alone. Now, I’ve finally found someone who has noticed me and who makes me happy, even if that person is Klaus, and you have the gall to stand there and tell me that he’s the one who’s going to hurt me? That you’re ‘looking out for me’?”

You breathe heavily, staring at your friends as they digest your words. But of course, Damon is the only one to open his mouth.

“You’re so naïve,” he scoffs. You glare at him.

“Am I Damon? Tell me, of the two of you, which one saved my life while the other stood back and was willing to let me die.” You look at all of your friends with burning tears in your eyes. “You were all just going to let me die.” A few of them have the decency to look ashamed. You shake your head and say the thing you’ve been holding back for weeks. “The Mikaelsons have been better friends to me in the past few weeks than you guys have been in years.”

A heavy silence coats the room. You feel a weight lifted off your chest. You had been quietly holding on to that anger, that resentment, for too long now. Maybe that’s what’s been keeping you from your friends. Maybe now that the truth has been laid out, you can start to rebuild. Your hope is quickly shot down.

“Well then, why don’t you go join their family? Because you are no longer welcome in this group,” Damon says. The sombre words make your anger fizzle out. Your jaw drops in shock and you find yourself struggling to breathe.

“That’s not true—” Bonnie says, glaring at the Salvatore.

“No he’s right,” Elena says. One of your closest and oldest friends, someone you’ve known since childhood, now looks at you only with disdain. “It’s them or us. And it’s clear which side you’ve chosen.”

You shake your head silently as a tear rolls down your cheek. The reality of the situation is quickly crashing down on you.

“You should probably go now,” Caroline says. You take that moment to meet each of your “friends” in the face. You silently plead with them to say something, to stand up for you, to fight for you. But it’s clear that that’s not going to happen. You’re either met with a glare or they won’t meet your gaze at all. You hold yourself together and, somehow, find the courage to walk away from them.

When your hand reaches for the doorknob, you hear Damon say, “Don’t be surprised if they don’t want you either.” You freeze. You take a deep breath and leave the house.

No one comes after you.

†††

Your feet carry you past your house. You don’t want to be in an empty home right now. But you also have no idea where to go. A hole is burning its way through your chest as the devastation from your friends wreaks havoc on your mind. The thought occurs that you could go to the Mikaelsons but you immediately shut that down. You hate it, but your friends words continue to hold sway over you. You start to convince yourself that they wouldn’t want you either.

You walk until you reach the edge of the woods and keep walking. Tears continue to trickle down your chin but you haven’t let your feelings out. Hidden from the town, you spot a fallen log and decide that’s as good a place as any to cry.

You slump down and take one deep breath before releasing the sobs that have been building in your chest. The world goes dark as you bury your head in your hands. What have you done? You single-handedly isolated yourself from the group. And you now feel utterly lost as you realize how dependent you have become on the group to define who you are. What use do you have now that you’re alone?

Dark thoughts continue to swirl over you as the tears rain from your face. You can’t go on like this. Maybe you should just go back and apologize to everyone. Just as you consider that option, your ears perk up at a distant sound. You bite down on your lip to silence your sobs as you listen for what you heard.

A twig snaps near you and your breath catches. You whip your head to the right, preparing yourself for the worst, when your eyes catch those of Klaus Mikaelson. A part of you feels better at the sight. Another part can't get what your friends said out of your head.

“Y/N?�� he says, his face questioning. You try to quickly wipe away the tear tracks from your face, but it’s no use. When he takes a better look at you, his expression drops and he speeds over to you. “What happened?”

He’s on his knees before you. His eyes roam quickly over you, trying to spot any injury that might be causing you pain. You try your best to avoid the problem. “It’s nothing,” you say quietly, trying to keep the hurt from your voice. His concerned gaze indicates it did not work.

“It is not nothing,” he says, definitively. He waits for you to tell him, but you can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure it out for himself. When you don’t speak, he does. “I don’t understand, I thought you were supposed to be with your fri—” His eyes widen when you accidentally choke on a sob, filling in the blanks for him. You watch through blurry eyes as a dark cloud descends onto his soft features. When he meets your gaze, his eyes are glowering. He lowers his voice. “Did one of them do something? Tell me who did this to you.”

Even in your broken state, you know his anger isn’t directed towards you. You don’t fear his reaction and instead try to explain. You shake your head as you say, “I was with them and…we got into a fight.” You bite down on your lip as a sob threatens to take over your speech.

This only further ignites the fire in Klaus. “Where are they? I’ll tear out their throats,” he growls, looking past you as if trying to look for them from here. 

You lower your head, avoiding his reaction when you whisper, “It was my fault.” From the corner of your eye, you watch Klaus focus his attention back onto you. His anger melts into concern.

“What?” he asks, his voice returning to a softer tone. You lift your head and meet his worried gaze.

“It was my fault.” Your voice trembles and a tear rolls down your face. Klaus’s face becomes contemplative as he slowly wipes the tear from your cheek. Then he moves to sit beside you on the log.

“Tell me what happened, love.” He patiently waits for you to gather your thoughts. You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself and Klaus places a hand on your back in support. You send him a small, grateful smile before it drops.

You shift uncomfortably as you try to think of a way to begin. “Well…it kind of started because I was texting you,” you say awkwardly. His eyes widen and you see guilt cloud his features. You reach out and drape your hand over his to silently reassure him that he has nothing to feel guilty about. He brightens and you find the strength to continue.

“Um… they found out that I’d been talking to you and…they got angry with me,” you say slowly dredging up the conversation in your head. Your eyes begin to well with tears again and Klaus squeezes your hand. “They…they told me how you were a bad person and that I shouldn’t be seeing you.” You don’t see Klaus’s jaw clench as he looks away from you. “But I told them that that’s not how I see you.” His eyes return to you and he can’t help himself from interrupting.

“It’s not?” His words catch you off guard, specifically the shock and insecurity in them. You look at him and furrow your eyebrows.

“Of course not,” you say and he parts his lips in surprise. You think you see his eyes start to tear up but that could’ve just been you. 

Then he clears his throat and says, “Sorry, continue.”

“They…they told me that I was an idiot for thinking like that.” Klaus’s feature harden once more. “They said that you’ve been manipulating me and that…that you would never actually like me.” 

“Y/N…” He says your name with concern, but you won’t look at him. You don’t want the truth, not yet.

“They kept saying how they were just looking out for me, how you were using me to spy on them, and that you would only hurt me. Nothing I was saying was getting through to them.” Your fists clench as you remember the anger from before. Klaus notices and his worry only grows. “I just…I snapped. I finally told them how I’ve felt neglected by them for months. How they’ve ignored me time and time again and that I was finally happy for the first time in a long time. That’s because of you and your family.”

If you were paying attention, you would’ve seen Klaus’s face glow and his heartbeat speed up. He looks at you so intensely that his gaze could burn a hole through you. He looks at you like you are a beautiful light created just for him. Of course, his anger still burns strong at hearing your so-called friends treatment of you, but he never thought that he would be your light. But of course, you didn’t see any of this.

Your body deflates as your anger is overpowered by sadness. “Then they told me I should just go ahead and join your family because they weren’t my friends anymore.” Your breathing stutters as more tears slip past your eyes. You faintly feel the squeeze of Klaus’s hand. “I watched as all of my friends turned on me and kicked me out.” With the pain reigniting, you can’t hold back your sobs anymore. “And now,” you choke out. “I’m alone.”

As soon as you finish talking, Klaus is quick to envelope you in his arms. You grip his shirt tightly and bury your face into his neck. He holds you just as tight, with one hand around your middle and the other delicately holding the back of your head. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright,” he whispers, continuing to hold you tight as you let out all of your emotions. He continues to whisper reassurances until sobs stop wracking through you. He waits until your breathing has returned to normal before gently pulling away. Your grip slips away as you sniffle, trying to recompose yourself. But he only pulls away enough to place his hands on your shoulders. 

You reach up to get rid of the wetness on your face, but his hands beat you there. As his hands gently brush away your tears, you focus your attention on the man in front of you. The two of you are only inches away and your breath hitches with the realization. You’re suddenly embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this, and you’re sure your face looks like a complete wreck. But he only continues to look at you with concern and empathy.

His hands return to your shoulders as he offers you a small smile. “Okay?” he asks and you nod your head, sniffling one last time. He nods, his smile remaining as his hands fall into his lap. You notice, though, that he makes no move to distance himself from you. His smile slips from his face as a somber look replaces it. You’re afraid of what he’ll say with his face looking so worried.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, love,” he says. Then his eyebrows furrow. “But, why do you say that it’s your fault?”

You are not expecting that question. Your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh,” you say, trying to answer without dredging up anymore intense emotions. “Well, I started the whole thing.” That answer does not satisfy the hybrid as he continues to look at you. You start to become nervous. “I mean, I knew how they felt about you. And I ignored them.”

“Do you regret getting to know me, then?” he asks trying to keep up his indifference, but a wall is built nonetheless in preparation of your answer. You only widen your eyes.

“What? No, of course not.” Klaus releases a small sigh of relief. You’re starting to understand what he’s hinting at, but you’re not prepared to listen and you scramble to come up with something to defend your friends. “But…maybe I should have told them instead of keeping it secret. Or, I shouldn’t have brought you up or—”

Two hands are placed on either side of your face as your bleary eyes meet his. He waits a moment before speaking. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You squeeze your eyes, trying to block out the truth. But his hands don’t move from your face. “Your so-called friends are the ones who are in the wrong.” You take a deep breath and meet his gaze. His lips quirk upwards. “You deserve so much better than them. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.” You open your mouth on instinct, but any words of defense die on your tongue.

“I just…they’re all I’ve ever known. I didn’t want to lose that,” you say instead, the reality of the situation settling slowly in your mind. Your panic and grief at losing them is melting into acceptance and, if you’re honest, a bit of relief.

“I know, love,” Klaus says with a sad smile as he lets go of your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I wish they had been kinder to you. But they haven’t been acting like friends. You shouldn’t have to defend yourself to them or fight to make yourself seen and heard.”

You nod along, looking at your hands. “I suppose,” you say, which makes him smile at your progress. 

“And you’re wrong, you know.” His words causing you to look up in confusion. “You are not alone. Not if you don’t want to be.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“You’re always welcome with my family and I, no matter what your friends say.” Your eyes light up.

“Really?” 

“Of course, love,” he chuckles, relieved to see hope return to your face. “We happen to like you very much and would love to see more of you. If you’d like that, of course.” 

“I’d love that!” you say, a bit too enthusiastically. You blush and clear your throat. “I mean…I think I’d like that.” Klaus laughs which brightens your smile. You take a deep breath and you suddenly feel much lighter. “Wow. I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt this good.” Your smile dips. “I guess my friends really were holding me back, huh?”

Klaus offers a sympathetic smile. Then he takes your hand and squeezes it. “Well that’s all in the past now, right?” 

You nod. “Right.” You look at him and giggle as something hits you. “I promise, I’m not always in this much distress.”

He chuckles along, but gives you a genuine look. “You’re allowed to have off days. I certainly do.” You laugh. You take in the beauty of the man sitting before you, the man who is supposed to be villainous and evil instead helping you feel light and happy.

“Well thanks for coming to my rescue for the second time.” The both of you smile, and you suddenly look at him seriously. “Seriously, thank you Klaus.” 

He blinks back his surprise as he takes in your serious features. He recovers with a smile. “Anytime love.”

A silence falls over the two of you, and as much as you’d like to spend forever in this moment, today’s events have both emotionally and physically drained you. You take a look around and notice the darkness of the woods. 

“It’s pretty late, huh,” you say, awkwardly trying to transition the conversation. Luckily, Klaus catches on quickly.

“I could walk you home if you’d like.” You almost reply with a yes, but then you hesitate. The thought of returning to an empty home, all alone with your thoughts again, doesn’t sound too appealing. “What’s wrong?”

You’re surprised that he noticed your hesitation. But you tell him the truth. “I just…I don’t want to be alone right now,” you say, avoiding eye contact as you can’t help but think of your statement as pathetic. Klaus’s face softens and he thinks for a moment.

“You could come home with me, if you’d like.” His gentle voice soothes your worries. At first, your cheeks heat up at the implication. And then your anxiety causes you to spiral.

You turn to him with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to imply that I should come over—I mean I’d love to, I mean I just wouldn’t want you thinking that I was seeking your attention or anything—”

He shuts you up by placing both hands on your shoulders again. You guess he noticed it helped the last time. You stop talking and look at him to see a calm expression. “I would be honoured to have you in my home,” he says with a smile. You release a breath of relief as a smile creeps onto your lips as well. “Besides,” he drops his hands. “I’m sure my sister will be happy to have another girl around.”

You laugh at his statement, your anxieties slipping away for the moment, just as he had hoped. Klaus stands up from the log and offers you his hand. “How about it, love?”

You look from his smile to his hand and then back again. You bite your lip to try to contain your excitement. “Okay,” you say, and you take his hand.

* * * * *

Those who asked for a second part:

@marauders-luv @hyperactivewhore @elijahslittleprincess @bellarkeselection @vickymendes30 @susannahmikaelson