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sahisan · 5 months ago

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silence.

tomioka giyuu x gn!reader.

⭒ summary: everyone knows that giyuu isn't much of a talker, so this depicts the silent moments with him that you both have come enjoy.

⭑ cw: sfw. mentions of giyuu's past (final selection w sabito). a bit of angst. reader is bad at comforting. giyuu loves you sm. like loves.

⭒ wc: 2.8k.

⭑ a/n: this took me too long wth, almost a month i fear lol. this was written during my demon slayer hyperfixation comeback (it's gone now) so uh. also acheron fic coming soon (i hope soon)! pls like and reblog !!

it wasn't exactly silence after giyuu finished speaking. there were sounds of birds chirping, wind occasionally blowing, resulting in sounds of swaying leaves on the trees being more audible. some even fell because of the invisible force of the air, ending up meeting the gravel ground near the engawa.

having told a good share of his past to you—precisely about sabito and the final selection, which were the main reason he wasn't exactly thrilled about taking part in the hashira training—giyuu decided to stop himself from telling you any more, choosing to leave other topics for later.

but will you still have this 'later' now that he's shared even a small bit of himself?

to you, the silence was awkward. not having the faintest idea of what to say in reply to that wasn't exactly what you would want to experience, yet here you were. it felt useless even trying to think of something, to try and make something up in your mind, even taking a bit more time than you usually do when thinking of a response, bur nothing could've prepared you to thinking of what to reply to this.

it made your stomach churn with how you realised you couldn't seem to know what to do, what to say, how to comfort him; the closest to you person finally started to open uo, little by little, bit by bit and you instead feel like an immobile log, only being able to sit there and listen, not being able to muster up a word of comfort.

and you know, you know that it's because you've never heard the said words of colsolation in your life; thus, you didn't know how to comfort giyuu.

another gust of wind blew through the air, nearly ruffling your and his hair, and for a moment you think of giyuu with his hair no longer in a low ponytail, but instead it being messy and disarranged and you think of running your fingers through it. you hope you'll have such opportunity, even if only once.

another fallen onto your lap leaf helped you out of your thoughts; it would be even more awkward if you hadn't managed to say something at all, daydreaming and continuing on staying silent. you take the leaf between your fingers before it manages to fly away and take a look at it; elm.

"i'm... sorry," you finally spoke, voice quiet as to not disturb anything around. you felt so meek just hearing your own voice. "i don't really know what to say. but i'm sorry for what happened with sabito."

you took a pause; you were never one to have a good way with words, and it made everything even worse in this situation.

"just know that... i'm here for you whenever you want to talk to me about anything. i'll listen."

giyuu's head was in the same position as yours—lowered to look down at his lap. he couldn't say the atmosphere was tense, no, not at all. he knew this was a lot to digest in such a small period of time, no matter how long you've been silent, and he could see your hesitation in choosing the right words; you surely didn't voice your inability to properly comfort him, but didn't blame you for your lack in knowledge about it. he could guess why.

"it's alright," he said just as quietly, silently exhaling a small breath. it felt as if it was easier to breathe now that he had shared this bit of his past to you. "it was about time i told you anyways. i'm already glad you listened. don't bother with words."

you still felt that just listening wasn't enough.

"have you eaten yet?" giyuu broke another silence after a few more minutes of listening to the wind's unregulated breathing, wishing to change the topic to not overexert you mentally any further—what he's told you was enough and it wasn't like he wanted you to dwell on that story. he simply wanted you to know.

"forgot to."

giyuu knew quite well as of now that you tended to, much to his dismay, forget to have some of the meals throughout the day, and it didn't make it better when you could even skip lunch because of training or meetings or anything at all. once, he even told you that he was going to forbid you to enter the training grounds unless you've had at least two meals throughout the day. it's safe to say he physically couldn't do so, so for that period of time you and your exercises were safe.

giyuu didn't need to hear more from you. standing up from his sitting position on the engawa, he then offered you a hand to help you up. and with the gesture, you both knew that there was no need for more words.

the silence in the small soba restaurant never bothered you; it's a place where people came to eat, not to talk, after all. you two were the only people inside for now, but the sounds of utensils clanking and the smell of more food being cooked in the kitchen were very much present, and still, besides that, it was silent.

and still, your mind never seemed to get over how giyuu just brushed your inability to utter something reassuring off. maybe he didn't even want and didn't need the comfort you failed to provide; maybe he expected something like that from you, judging from your earlier reaction to his words just as he'd started talking. yes, he must've known you were bad at feelings, especially other people's, but was he used to it? he undeniably looked like he was, and that was just sad.

chopsticks carefully picking up the soba and guiding them into your mouth, noticing giyuu doing the same near you, your mind picked up the thought that, probably, saying something regarding what he told you about would be inappropriate, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of needing to get something out; something that could just show him that you understand him that much, at least.

"sabito would most definitely be out to get you for the mindset you have now."

out of the corner of your eye you notice that giyuu's hand, previously holding his chopsticks with a bit of noodles picked up, stops. it's not at all an abrupt stop, more like when coming to a thought one's mind has been chasing for a while already. you stop, too, having finished chewing.

and when the silence between you two starts feeling a little too long and a little too tense, and you start thinking that you may have said a very wrong and inappropriate thing, giyuu speaks up in a such relaxed and unimpressed manner that you involuntarily start questioning your choice of words. you'd expected him to get mad or upset, but not—

"you for yours, too."

oh.

"...touchè."

well.

the nights are—mostly—always silent.

the nights spent with giyuu are silent in their own, unmistakable way.

you two seem to create another form of serenity together—everything becomes as still as possible, wind appearing barely once for a few moments to ruffle the trees' leaves and then disappear without a trace.

your head is gently laid on giyuu's lap and gaze fixed on the night sky above with the stars filling the inky abyss, each sparkling more than the previous, as if trying to catch your attention, your eyes move from one to another, wanting to get a look at them all, wanting to engrave the look of them in your mind and keep it here; but there was just so much — you aren't sure if there even exists a number as big as the number of stars up there.

("do you think we get a star out there after death?"

"...maybe."

"would you try to look for mine when i die?"

"..."

"...sorry."

"...i would.")

with giyuu still looking somewhere in front of him—you can't quite decipher where, maybe he's just spaced out—your hand somewhere a bit lower your chest and his hand laying loosely over yours, you close your eyes and slowly inhale the night air; it smells of pine and momentarily happiness.

a few moments later giyuu's head tangibly shifts, and, having little self-restraint when it comes to curiosity, you open your eyes again—maybe he'd be looking at something different now?

and as your eyelids open, you find him to be staring at no one other than you.

eyes usually cold as a snowstorm and endless as the abyss above you both have now descended to endearment and devotion as they look into yours. they twitch slightly lower and to the side, watching your lips for a few seconds, before coming back upwards to your eyes.

he's so enchanting—close to being as enchanting as the stars he's now blocking your view of. maybe he even looks like one in your mind, or maybe it's just his endless eyes, the colors of which blend into the matching endless night sky. you notice yourself not minding the blocked view if the one doing it is giyuu.

with the main sight now being his eyes instead of the gleaming celestial bodies—you can't exactly complain—you feel like staring into them an eternity more, and then another and another until you've memorized each and every pattern in them. and you're sure that if eyes could talk, both your and his would scream affection.

"you're blocking the view," you say, having no more stars to see right in front of you, them being replaced with giyuu's face.

"you seem to be enjoying it all the same," giyuu declares, unimpressed, despite his eyes narrowing the slightest bit in amusement. you're pretty sure his mouth's corners nearly curve upwards. you would've loved to witness him smile, especially at the moment.

you hum quietly, eyes wandering over his face—how can one attract so much? and it's not just about his beauty; he's everything you've ever needed and didn't know you ever needed in your life. "i never said i wasn't enjoying it."

giyuu, too, can't seem to be able to tear his eyes away from you—starting from your eyes as well, they descend lower to your lips (he's a very patient man), neck—and he regrets both of you being too shy and humble to try and leave hickeys on each other, he would enjoy that sight very much—then your uniform which just suits you so much, and, in the end, your hand, one of which is held by his—when did he go from it simply lying on top of yours to holding it?—and he involuntarily laces your fingers together slowly, eyes following each and every movement. your hands are almost just as his—arms a bit scarred underneath the clothes, skin on the palms calloused from holding your katanas, along with healed nicks and occasional cuts.

humming as well in acknowledgement of your words, his gaze follows the trail back to your face and settle back on your eyes. he has to remind himself to not look into them too long, fearing he'd get too lost in their infinite beauty.

"we could stay like this forever," giyuu suddenly speaks up, and with the quietness of the words said they don't seem to disturb the silence at all.

"we could."

you get what he's trying to say. there was never enough time for both of you since the moment you've joined the demon slayers, and then the hashiras, signing yourself a death warrant when doing so; it's pointless to deny the truth and the inevitable, and you both long learned to embrace it.

but all the sadness and inevitableness can be forgot at times like these, right? even just for the night or for a few hours before the two of you go back to your routine duties.

"but what would you do then?" you continue, being tempted into asking the question with the smallest teasing lilt in your voice, as if prompting him to speak about his feelings about you.

feelings are hard, especially for someone like him—especially for someone with the past and job he has—but slowly, bit-by-bit, step-by-step, you try to get him to understand them, even if you're lost in your own and sometimes can't find a way out of your own feelings. you guess it comes with the job.

guyuu stops to think for, maybe, a bit more than a minute or two, and lets the silence embrace both of you again. again, it's never tense with him (you don't really want to remember the time he told you about sabito, though it still lingers in the back of your mind and comes up in the most unpleasant times), as you two gratefully grab onto the every little bit of serenity and peace you have.

while he thinks, your gaze, once again, roams over his face, with the twinkling stars now serving as a simple background for what—who—you're seeing, being a pleasant compliment to the sight in front of you. moonlight obligingly illuminates a great half of his face, letting you see most details on it, and who would you be if you missed on this opportunity?

nearly just as he's about to start talking, his lips opening and, dear gods above, he can sense your eyes shifting to his moving lips. it's always with you that he feels like a teenager—not really lovey-dovey, but it's a fact that he lets himself be more open to feelings with you.

"i would..." giyuu starts, taking a small break before continuing—to gather his thoughts, knowing you're watching him as intently as you can, and it's not in the least bit uncomfortable as it would be if it wasn't you.

"i would look at you," he says. "for the rest of eternity. i wouldn't want to do anything else besides it."

as he finishes speaking, you slowly but surely feel the tips of your ears becoming a shade of red; thankfully, it's not your face. yet.

"is that so?" you manage to whisper out, taking slow and barely audible breaths to try and calm your fast beating heart. he probably can hear it with how your back lays on his lap, but that doesn't really matter. "wouldn't you get bored?"

"never."

you're sure your face gets a small tint of red.

you, involuntarily, hold your breath after his words, eyes widening a tad bit, and it's only a few seconds later that you quietly exhale the air you didn't know you have been holding in.

the words he says are so simple—but he does have a way with them, and that's what makes you love him more and more with each syllable leaving his lips.

there's moonlight illuminating his—and your—face, and you seem to notice it just now. it shines onto a great half of his face, letting you see even more details on his skin, and if it was illegal to stare for so long, you'd be long behind bars, living your worst ever imaginable life without having something as precious and pretty as giyuu to look at.

his eyes shift. you get the hint just as his gaze moves onto your lips—you've been looking at them so attentively, it'd be a shame if you didn't notice that.

having taken a, supposedly, not so fitting of a position to kiss, you have to sit up using your hands and place them on the grass beneath you to hold yourself up, and your face moves just enough for him to understand. you don't make any rash movements; you're careful but your intentions are evident.

giyuu's face shifts closer, too. it moves forward until he feels like both your and his lips are soon to meet together. one look into each other's eyes is all it takes for his appearance to soften and lean towards you.

your lips touch in a kiss and you feel like you could die right now and there because of how soft it feels, coming from him, usually so sharp and harsh; it feels like your lips are melting together but you don't have it in you to mind—it's been far too long since you two have had any time to yourselves and your small affections and you don't know when you'll have another night like this.

his eyes settle closed the same time as yours do, and as much as you like looking at him, it just helps the atmosphere around you even more. giyuu's lips slowly, gently move against yours and you just happen to think of how tender they are, and that warms your chest more than anything.

it's silent and wordless with giyuu, and you just happen to love it.

#giyuu x reader #giyuu x y/n #giyuu tomioka #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka x y/n #tomioka giyuu x reader #kny #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny x you #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n

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ghostofreach117 · 1 month ago

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Guns in Teyvat

I’m back on the worldbuilding grind🙏only reason I stopped was bc I ran out of ideas lmao. Love drawing guns

MONDSTADT

You will never find anyone with a firearm in Mondstadt. They simply don’t have the resources, money, or -most importantly- need for such an expensive product that is essentially useless. It is considered extremely rude to use a firearm when hunting as the sound scares animals away from other hunters in the area and their use is seen as “cheating” by the general population. Since they have such little presence in Mondstadt, there is little to no regulation on anything pertaining to guns (you really have to try to break the law). If you want to obtain one you must import the parts from Fontaine or Snezhnaya and assemble it yourself, and it’s a pain to buy them. If you are willing to go through all that trouble then either someone wants to kill you or you are out to kill somebody else. Probably both.

FONTAINE

Fontaine has mastered the art of mass production. Guns are produced by the hundreds (very impressive for such a centralized nation!) for the Fontanian military. They have been meticulously engineered for the utmost safety of the user. Fontanian firearms are prized for their lack of recoil, lack of tendency to jam, and innovative safety mechanisms, such as loaded chamber indicators and their revolutionary rifle decocker invention. This comes at the cost of power. Most Fontanian rifles and flintlocks/pistols take very low caliber ammunition and do not have the stopping power of larger firearms. They are much more suited for ceremonial use or intimidation as opposed to actual combat. There are a select few exceptions though. For example, Clorinde has had her twin flintlocks especially made for her, and they are known to take ammo she has to commission from an armory in western Fontaine.

SNEZHNAYA

If you were to ask anyone with a knowledge on the subject, they would tell you that Snezhnayan firearms are often exceedingly dangerous. They are known to jam, catch fire, and even explode. Hastily produced by independent armories contracted by the Fatui, they are low in cost and quality. In exchange, these guns are extremely powerful. The Ночной Ветер, for instance, is able to take cartridges of up to .50 (you can’t even purchase ammunition of this caliber outside of Snezhnaya). The gun laws and regulations in Snezhnaya are surprisingly strict, however they are not enforced. Fatui officers are more likely to take the 5000 mora offered by whomever they have tried to charge with illegal possession than actually arrest a lawbreaker. This has allowed an underground firearms market to thrive, especially among those who oppose the Tsaritsa.

Note: Snezhnayan firearms do not possess a safety. Once the gun is loaded, it is ready to shoot. Please exercise caution.

Double note: full auto guns don’t exist yet in my AU (subject to change based on what I think is cool) . I drew childe with an ak47 because it’s so him lmao.

INAZUMA

Inazuma’s strict laws have long forbade any type of firearm from being used, sold, or traded in the country to keep the nation in its eternal state. They have often been seen as useless foreign inventions that make the user weak by forcing them to rely on guns. Guns are also seen by some to violate the strict honor code that many Inazumans live by. Not even gangs or delinquents will use them.

SUMERU

Sumeru has outlawed any weapons that the Mahamatras deem to pose a danger to the preservation of knowledge. Surprisingly, there is little to no pushback on this ban. Those who reside in the desert find that grains of sand clog the inner mechanisms of guns, rendering them useless and forest dwellers dislike firearms for many of the same reasons Mondstadters do. The Corps don’t have trouble with smuggling when it comes to Sumeru natives or tourists, but they keep a watchful eye over the Fatui diplomats, occasionally requiring a search, as their presence often heralds political maneuvering rather than genuine interest in Sumeru’s knowledge. Evidence of this can often be found in the remains of crime scenes, weapons tend to be left in the riverbanks of the forest, and though exceptionally uncommon, there have been reports of firearms bearing Fatui insignias being uncovered underneath muddy outcrops by riverbanks. Though this is all coincidence, of course. It must have been a rouge terroist from Fontaine.

Other notes

I mentioned this previously, but guns and ammo are SUPER EXPENSIVE. The average person would never be able to afford/maintain one.

Guns are extremely difficult to use with a vision. Unless you have your gun created for you by a specialty armory, you won’t be able to channel elemental energy through one.

On the other hand, Guns are very easy to counter if you have a vision or a delusion due to the fact that they require many small, intricate parts working together perfectly to fire. Whether through making the metal brittle with frost or softening it with flame, it’s very easy to neutralize a gun. Best to keep them out of active combat. Swords, bows, and catalysts are much more effective thanks to their simplicity. It’s a lot harder to stop a giant hunk of metal hurling towards you than freezing a gun.

Um. I did not mean for this post to be as much of a yap fest as it was. Lmk if I was confusing or if you have questions I love talking to people 🙏🙏

#when I’m in a not practicing gun safety competition and my opponent is Diluc or Sara #wait wtf why is childe practicing better gun safety than both of them #anyway just made some potatoes. I’m eating them while I’m writing this they are so good omg #genshin impact #genshin fanart #my art #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #tighnari #genshin impact fanart #chevreuse #fontaine #mondstadt #sumeru #genshin inazuma #diluc fanart

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angelickisscs · 4 months ago

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i’ve been waiting for you ~ blurb ‧₊˚

୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ jude bellingham x reader

summary: your sisters poor time keeping abilities lead you to seeing a childhood crush once again !

y/s/n: your sisters name

THE DROPLETS OF water sliddown your windscreen, racing one another to the bottom but rarely did they make it, your wipers soon intervening with whatever fun they were having. With each second that passed, it became increasingly obvious how much time had passed since you had text your sister that you were outside.

You had decided to be a good older sister and offer to pick her up from her friend’s house. Though with the knowledge you had now, you would never be doing that again.

It felt creepy lingering outside of this family’s home, staring up at their front door in hope that it would finally open. You were yet to meet any of them, only just getting back from university, a fact that did not help with pleading your unfortunate case.

With one final glimpse of effort, you attempted to ring your sister once again. You watched as it got further through the familiar song that you had subjected yourself to listening to at least ten times by now. Only on the final ring did she pick up, her voice honeyed.

“You alright?” She asked upon answering obviously forgetting about your previously made deal to pick her up at eleven.

“Yeah, I’m outside.” Your voice was short as you leant your head against the headrest. Not only were you tired, but you were also annoyed. It had already been a long day and it was slowly stretching itself out even more.

Hearing a small gasp come through the line, the sounds of a duvet rustling coming afterwards, there was nothing to do but wait.

“Shit, my bad sorry. I will be outside in a second.” Your sister hastily said, hanging up not second later. With that small hint of hope returning to you, you turned back on your engine having decided to warm up your car slightly for her.

But your body soon blocked its entrance, a text pinging loudly through your phone. At first you ignored it, thinking it was one of your friends or even your parents but a second and third following forced you into reluctantly picking it up.

Can you come to the door pleaseeee?

With an umbrella preferably

I’ll pay for your petrol and everything if you do it :))

All were from your sister, her attempts at bribery leaving you ever so slightly proud but the fact she had decided to use them on you was mildly insulting.

No??I’m not knocking at a stranger’s door at 11:30 at night. You responded and without a second thought, you put your phone back down.

This time, it was your phone that was ringing.

“We are the only ones here, swear.” Yet again, you had no time to say anything before she was speaking. “Well, his older brother might be here but he’s not sure and even if he is, he wont care.”

One thing you were not good at was turning someone down so only five minutes of convincing later you had your hood up, strolling down the driveway you had parked a mere five metres away from. You tucked an umbrella away in your hand, having no use of it as you had been smart enough to put on a coat before you left.

Your mind was afar, not in the current but rather anywhere but. You were alert to sounds still however, your head snapping up upon hearing the door open. Words prepped themselves to take part in a harsh scolding though, when a man stood putting on his own coat in the doorway, they found themselves useless.

He noticed you only when you paused in your tracks, the gravel you had forgotten you were currently walking on creasing under your trainers with a loud noise.

The mans head turned to the side, his eyebrows furrowing into one line. “Can I help you?”

His words were slow with hesitation, it becoming painfully clear that you were not the only one unsure of what to do in this situation. He moved out of the wooden doors’ way, closing it behind him as he closed it behind him.

You could feel nothing but full body paralysis in that second, your mind whirring as even you were confused as to why you were here, as to why you ever let your sister talk you into this.

“Oh, I am y/s/n older sister. I am here to pick her up.” Shoving your hands in your pockets, you shuffled around on your feet in discomfort. The man continued to stare at you, as if he was validating your excuse as to why you had to be standing outside his house so late at night.

A part of you recognised him, having gone to the same primary school basically a decade ago. The two of you were in the same year but not class and for that reason had failed to ever do more than send each other a smile. Maybe it was during lunch or a mixed PE lesson where they forced the two classes to merge for whatever reason, they both had one thing in common, it never went past a smile.

Even if you did have an eight-year-olds crush on him for the span of a day, or two if you wanted to push facts, you never cared to learn his name.

A part of you knew when your heart speeding up when you saw his confusion riddled, bambi-like eyes once again was paired with the instantaneous jelly like feeling that riddled your leg, that sadly enough for you, the childhood crush hadn’t stayed so childish.

“Right, of course. Jobe told me you were coming.” He nodded slowly, taking in your dishevelled appearance. Making no attempt to hide his actions, his eyes had started on your face though soon they were heading downwards even if it was with the speed of a snail. Never had you felt this embarrassed before, having failed to change out of your Disney themed pyjama before leaving your house that night. On top of that, you were wearing a thick, baggy jumper with yet another thick coat on top.

Upon finishing his look-fest, his eyes met with yours, a pink hue settling within his cheeks. “Jude, nice to meet you.”

He held his hand out for you, a silent offer that you only caught onto when he cleared out of his throat awkwardly.

“Shit, yeah. I’m y/n.” You panicked slightly, those words of harsh reprimand that were in preparation for your sister coming back with the speed of light to hide underneath your tongue until it was time.

Jude laughed slightly as your wobbling hand met with his for a handshake. He could feel the anxiety radiating of your body as if you were a lamp. Although, he was in no position to talk, feeling a similar sense of nervousness at the shock of finally having the chance to be in front of you.

He had failed miserably at recognising you at first, having not seen you since the end of primary school. But there was only so much he could forget a face like yours no matter how hard he tried to.

“I love your pyjamas.” He nodded his head downwards, pointing towards them.

You were about to respond when the door opened once again, this time being the person you were expecting to see. With no umbrella, your sister walked out of the door with a deep frown on her face.

She approached you, snatching said object out of your hand so she could lift it above her head. “I have been waiting for you. Hey Jude, nice seeing you.” She took a second to look behind her at the man across from you.

“I cannot believe you took so long.”

Your head recoiled backwards. This time, you were at fault for forgetting the sass that your sister had within her. You had not been a victim of it for quite a while so you would have to give yourself a break this time around.

“Nice to meet you too.” Finalising your almost-conversation with Jude with the first thing that came to your mind, you followed your sister’s almost stop like movements towards the car.

“You made me linger around in their house so you could flirt with him?” She asked immediately when she had slammed the car door shut, looking at you pointedly.

Whilst you started the car for the third time that night, you dedicated a second to rolling your eyes at her with as much energy as you could muster. “Firstly, I was sat out here for like fifteen minutes before you picked up and secondly, I did not know that saying hello to someone was classified as flirting.”

She sighed heavily at you as her head shook side to side like a disappointed mother.

“It is not. But by the way the two of you were blushing at one another, it would have a high chance of either classifying itself as flirting or just embarrassing.”

You lifted your hand up to slap the back of head despite the nagging feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

If there was one thing you were certainly doing for a second time in life, it would be picking up your sister.

#୨୧ angelickisscs ࿐#jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb

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affableramen · 2 months ago

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Falling in love with a non-sorcerer [Suguru Geto x Reader]

tags: angst with a fluffy ending

Geto despises non-sorcerers. It is common knowledge, and you know it well. However this man has also been extremely biased.

You walk down the park together, it is raining lightly in the evening. The both of you are walking in complete silence, almost indifference in the air between you. After several moments Geto is the first to start conversation:

“I had lots of fun today. Thank you.”

You sigh…

“What’s that look on your face?” Geto asks. He can tell that his words got under your skin. Your face irritated, and your eyes sharp as knifes glare at him. As sly as a fox Geto inquires: “You don’t believe me?” a smirk tugging in the corner of his mouth.

“Will you stop pretending? I know you hate me.”

Geto’s charming expression suddenly changes. He stops in his tracks, ruining the calm walk you had a moment ago. He drops his fake friendliness and finally admits:

“You’re right”, his tone is cold. “I despise you. You make me want to vomit. Your whole being disgusts me. After all, you’re a non-sorcerer.”

“And that immediately means I’m a bad person.”

Geto turns his face to you as his ears perk up to your suggestion.The whole lot of hate he used to have before in his dark eyes slowly subsides, and his look turns confused, softer even.

“You’re not…bad. You’re just unnecessary. Pointless. It is as simple as that.”

You shake your head, trying to brush the tears appearing in the corners of your eyes off.

“You’re so narrow-minded, Suguru.” Your voice cracks, but the tears stop as soon as they start. Your mind is busy telling yourself this man is not worth it.

“I’m not. I just dislike you all, that’s it. I wish to not discuss this anymore.”

“Fine, whatever you say.”

He rolls his eyes seeing you compliant and not even attempting to fight back. This calmness, this “good” of your character is so infuriating to him.

“I’m just stuck with you. You mean nothing to me.”

“What a wonder! You are the one holding my hand currently!”

Almost immediately, Geto pulls his hand away from you, shocked to having not noticed how he is grasping you in his own hand. He shoves his hands into the pocket, as if trying to rub off your touch and aroma.

“You touched me first.”

“Okay, whatever you say, dear.”

Seeing you casually brush off his mean words as if it were nothing, Geto feel his anger grow even more. Gritting his teeth, although trying to still keep his refrigerator-like cold composure, Geto asks:

“Now what’s your damn problem?”

“What’s your damn problem, Suguru?!”

“Don’t you dare. Call me. By my name-” he towers over you, his face red of fury, the veins threateningly pops on his forehead as he cuts the space between your bodies to the brim. “My only problem is that you are an ordinary human. A non-sorcerer. Weak, useless, pathetic, unworthy of a lock of my hair. So please, stop trying to get under my skin, stop trying to fucking understand me. ‘Cause you never will.”

“I never forced you into loving me. You’re the one who started flirting and invited me out! You’re the one who’s given yourself permission to overstep your boundaries!”

Geto laughs cooly. “Flirting, hah! Can’t believe you’re so dumb to have believed in that little show. You truly think I would ever consider intertwining my life with a non-sorcerer? I just did what I had to do to get what I wanted from you.”

“And what did you want?”

Geto’s words stab you right in the chest.

“Sex. All I ever wanted was physical.”

You do not believe his words. He feigns ignorance.

“Oh, don’t be upset. Or are you surprised I’d want something physical like sex?”

“Like hell— we don’t even do that often.”

It’s true. His explanation did not only sound mean, it was completely senseless, because you did not sleep that much together…

“Thankfully, we don’t.”

“Suguru, what do you really want from me?”

Geto takes a short moment to think. Eventually he turns away to light a cigarette.

“What I truly want… I guess it is your obedience. I love power, I love people throw themselves to my feet. Initially I wanted you to serve me, obey me. Does that answer satisfy you?” He lets a soft huff of smoke.

“You need a pet. I’m not a pet, Suguru.”

Rolling his eyes dramatically he throws his cigarette away and crosses his arms.

“I expect your compliance, behaviour and respect. Are you going to subserve into me or—”

You quietly turn around and leave. Geto watches you walk away when something aches badly in his own heart. “Wait.”

Your breath hitches. Did he just attempt to stop you? Not given enough time to overthink or act, you feel the man grab you by your shoulders, stopping you from escaping. He starts kissing you hungrily, passionately. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Geto licks your lower lip before pushing his tongue into your mouth, seeking entrance he longed to have. He moves his thin fingers from your waist to the back of your head, pulling you closer into the kiss. You respond, tasting his lips and letting him taste your own.

“This is what I want”, Geto breathes out heavily. “You have no idea how long I have ben suppressing my inner desires.”

“Sugu—”

He cuts you off, pressing you only closer to him, as if fearing you might escape his grasp again. No, he can’t let this happen, not now. Geto pushes his hot body against yours, you can feel the raise of heat in your own. While he ravishes your mouth, destroying the last bits of sanity between you two, you grab his hair and pull on it gently, not forcefully.

“I need you, for you.”

You suddenly untie his hair. Suguru’s raven locks fall onto his shoulders and some - on his face.

“Non-sorcerer-” he chokes out a moan.

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever leave me, non-sorcerer.”

“I won’t.” You desperately pull his hair, trying to sniff his aroma and pump it into you, as if addicted to his scent.

“That was rather risky, when you untied my hair, I mean.” He warns you, but allows you play with his silky hair. “No one would dare do it.”

“Then I’ll be the one who is courageous enough to touch your hair.”

A chuckle. Still suffering the aftermath of the kiss Geto speaks again, his voice shaky: “You have no idea the things I want to do with you.” He presses his forehead against yours, as if seeking comfort. “I want to be sweet with you… and I also want to wreck you. To have you come undone, scream my name, make you submit to me… But I also want to be tender, to worship your body.”

“Let me worship you too.” You say and without any warning your teeth attack Geto’s neck. You lick every single bite after, soothing the vivid sensation of your affection. He lets out an involuntary moan… However, realising that you’re in the park currently, you pull yourself into reality. Geto groans when you stop.

“We’re in a public place.”

“Damn you’re right.”

“Besides… I’m hungry.”

“Me too. Let’s get something to eat before we proceed to… what we started here.”

“Of course, Suguru. I want fries…”

“Then we’ll get you fries. Money is not problem for me.”

He smooches your cheek quickly. “And I was wrong. You should call me by my name more often.”

#geto x reader #geto x you #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru fluff #suguru fluff

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demonpiratehuntress · 1 year ago

Text

better

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - you think you don't do enough for the crew so you work harder and train harder to be better. Ace thinks you do plenty already, but supports your decision regardless.

warnings - none

a/n: i hope the person who requested this sees it, because me being a dumbass at 3am, i accidentally deleted the reply to the request. i also hope i got it right!

You could admit that you were not the most useful crewmember of the Whitebeard pirates. In fact, you felt completely useless, like you couldn't contribute anything meaningful or helpful. But you didn't want to be that way, you didn't want to be just a burden to them, even if Ace would constantly remind you that you're not a burden and you were helpful. To him, at least.

But you wanted to be helpful to the entire crew. In fights, you wanted to be able to hold your own without being told to go hide or go check on the injured. You wanted to be able to fight without having to depend on your boyfriend to come save you if you were faced with an opponent.

"(Name) are you even listening?" A deep chuckle met your ears, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You turned away from the shop window, smiling at Ace sheepishly, "I'm sorry, just...lost in thought." The way you said it and the way your smile didn't quite reach your ears alerted Ace to what you were thinking about.

"Hey," he took both your hands and brought you a little closer, "If it bothers you so much, I can always teach you a few things." He looked at the items you were eyeing from the shop and smirked. "Daggers, huh? Come on." He tugged you into the shop to help you choose a set.

After a very long few hours choosing a pair of pretty yet lethal daggers (Ace was the indecisive one), you both made your way back to the ship. You were staring at the sharp weapons in your hands, marveling at how dangerous they looked and feeling excited to finally learn to be at least a little bit effective.

"Okay let's start with some basic stances," he began, his hand reaching for your hip to position it. "Place one leg like this, and the other like this." He demonstrated his words, showing you how to stand and how to position your arms.

"Ace," you laughed a few minutes later, "I'm pretty sure my butt does not need to be in any specific position."

His beet-red face popped up in front of you, a coy smile on his lips, "Sorry babe, couldn't help myself."

He spent the rest of the afternoon teaching you basic combat moves and acting as your personal hype man, cheering excessively when you got something right just to boost your confidence. It was working, and you were grateful to have such a supportive and helpful boyfriend.

After a few more days of this, you were starting to get the hang of it. Your combat skills had drastically improved, and while you still hadn't managed to beat Ace, there was massive progress and you felt it.

But aside from combat, you also wanted to be more knowledgeable in other fields. Like first aid. In case of emergencies, you wanted to know how to deal with injuries and minor wounds that could be fixed right then and there. You didn't want to be an all-out doctor or medic, but you wanted to have at least a little medical knowledge.

So you took to medical books.

You read everything you could get your hands on, even staying up late at night to study. Sometimes you would even fall asleep at your desk, which is where Ace would find you in the morning. It worried him, but he also didn't want to stop you from learning.

"You should read it to me," he suggested one afternoon, while he was lying in bed with you after having to force you to stop when your eyes started to droop.

"Hmm?" You looked up at him sleepily, "Read what?"

"Those medical books you're reading," his warms hands rested on your stomach, putting you at ease. "You should talk to me about what you learn, it could help you remember."

You smiled when he offered to listen to you, "Are you sure you'll be able to keep up?"

He gasped dramatically, "What do you think I am? Stupid?"

"Yes," you teased.

He feigned offence, playfully scoffing, "I detest that."

"I'm kidding," you laughed, shifting so you could bury your face in his neck. "But thanks for the offer. I might just take you up on that."

And you did. Every time you were reading, Ace was with you whenever he could be. He sat and listened to you explain and discuss the human anatomy, how to dress certain injuries and what steps to take if there wasn't a medic around. He really didn't follow along, and he often fell asleep, but you appreciated the effort he was making to encourage you.

"Aceeeee!" You giggled and flicked his nose gently.

"Wha-?" He jerked awake, eyes flitting around the room before settling on you, and a lovestruck smile formed on his lips. "Oh, hey babe."

"You fell asleep again," you pouted, unable to stop your smile.

"I'm sorryyyyy," he apologised, leaning forward and kissing all over your face. It tickled, and the laughs he pulled from you made him smile. "Carry on, I'm listening now."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

#one piece #op #portgas d ace #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you

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kelin-is-writing · 2 months ago

Note

Endeavor is not the only one to blame for ruining the family. Rei is equally to blame for ruining the family as well. She is a completely TERRIBLE and SHIT mother. Has done absolutely NOTHING for her kids. She neglected Dabi, Fuyumi and Natsuo. Willing to replace her own son by creating another kid. That fucked up. Had creepy disturbing thoughts against her own kids just coz they look like their father. Getting slapped is no fucking excuse to further neglect all of her kids by running away and abusing Shoto. As a mother she has no responsibility whatsoever. Rei is no victim. Rei is an abuser who got what she deserved. There's no point in complaining about Endeavor all the time but glorifying Rei. Both are equally bad parents. If you still don't realise that then please don't be a mom. #FuckRei #WorstMotherEver #KillRei

Okay, first of all how about you calm down? We don’t even know each others, but you come into my inbox asking for a not so civil discussion? Yooooo 😂😂😂

And you know what? Yes, Endeavor is entirely to blame actually because everything that happened is a consequence of his big ass man actions and yes, Rei wasn’t a good mother (Nobody said the contrary), but at least she tried unlike someone else who was way too self-absorbed to see anyone else aside from his egotistical self and his selfish goal.

“She neglected her kids”, Well of course she did! Every 2/3 business days she was busy popping out kids like a children machine and not being able to say anything back, otherwise her good-for-nothing and abusive “Husband” would beat her up and blame everything on her. Oh! What a coincidence! Just like how you did right now! Crazy, right? 😃

But what some of you peoples in this fandom fail miserably to grasp, because blinded way too much by whatever you see in Endeavor (or just because you guys like to Victim Blame), is that when the Himura’s sold her to Enji, Rei was prolly underage. Why underage? Easy. Enji is 45 when he’s introduced, while Touya is 24 right? 45-24= 21 and since ALL the married couples in Bnha have a 4 years gap (go check it on their Wikis mwah) and math isn’t an opinion: 21-4= 17 everyone! Wohoo. Right?

Rei was sold to the Todoroki’s when she was underage, but not only that… Enji has groomed her for years, then he started to spiral over greed, fame and power after he found out his child couldn’t achieve for him something that he can’t achieve on his own, because he’s a useless and self-centered beast.

Unlike him who is a whole ass adult when Touya is born, Rei is extremely young AND has become a mother for the very first time so without the guidance and the emotional support of someone who has already been a parent before her, I find it hard to for a woman to deal with both postpartum depression and rising a child alone the way she did at fucking 17 guys. And she has dealt with this over and over for four-freaking-times; Natsuo and Shoto’s ones were even worse because from the scenes alone (manga speaking) you can clearly tell Enji has forced himself on her for the last twos, furthermore Enji beats her up and from Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shoto’s reaction you can tell it wasn’t the first nor the last time since it has gone to the point where Rei was traumatized so bad that she started hallucinating of Enji’s gaze in her kids’ eyes made her have a mental breakdown. That’s how much he has abused her. All this because her husband was too focused on grooming first his wife and then his kids for the sake of a goal he didn’t have the balls to try reach by himself and projecting his insecurities on his family, because he isn’t enough of a man and pisses in his pants only at the mention of All Might’s name. I can’t take such a subject seriously, if I gotta be honest.

Mind you, this madness continued even after Touya’s death. It was during that arc, after she had dealt with four postpartum depression, depression, the pain of the knowledge that her husband has abused her mentally, physically and sexually and the death of her 13 years old son that everything went downhill for her; yet some of you guys act surprised when she had a mental breakdown? Rei had been in a constant state of brainstorming since Natsuo’s birth, if not even earlier, until she didn’t broke down completely after Touya’s passing. So yeah, maybe she wasn’t the best mother for the Todoroki siblings, but ever since she gave birth to Touya, Rei has been trying her best to be there for them and at the same time preserve her sanity. Because in a situation where she had to deal with four kids and a manchild, someone had to try and keep a semblance of balance in there even if she was one of Endeavor’s victims who’s mental health was being destroyed by a lot.

As I already said, some of you guys in this fandom lack a great amount of emotional intelligence and dare I say most of you lack depth too. I don’t expect you guys to be the most empathetic peoples in the world, really, I don’t, but this is a tad bit too much. Do you guys even try to look beyond your own noses anymore? Or has that gone out of fashion?

Also, what’s this new trend of Victim Blaming peoples who came out of an abusive environment? That’s so… Ambiguous…

Anyways! All this didn’t end for good until the whole of Japan found out his son is a Villain and he waited to beg for forgiveness (something he should’ve done sooner), only when everyone has been caught into the hurricane and almost got offed entirely as a family, which is (if you ask me, since you in my inbox) the most unattractive thing a man of his big ass age could ever do.

Everyone, stay away from peoples who lack accountability and self-awareness, because they’re going to play your mental health like a fidget spinner bubs 🫶🏻💜

Last but not least: if you want to talk this way to me and especially about such topics that bad, don’t do it on Anonymous because I will hardly take you seriously.

All this being said and cleared out of the way, hope you have a good evening 💜

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year ago

Text

All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed

Pairing: Homelander x Supe!Reader

Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, Homelander being a stalker, innocent reader, naive reader, Homelander being a basic menace, first time writing for this fandom, also experimenting a new writing style

Words: 5688

Summary: Along with the existence of Ryan, there was another secret being kept from Homelander that he manages to rip out of Vogelbaum's throat: he has a sister.

Part 2 Part 3

The house was quaint, way too fucking perfect in Homelander's opinion. Just like all the other mansions on the block. When he went back to Vogelbaum to find out the REAL truth about Becca, he'd forced Jonah to tell him anymore lies that were being kept from him. He hadn't anticipated there being a second secret: Homlander has a sister. Rare to be caught speechless, he leaves Vogelbaum's massive mansion. What else was Vought hiding from him? Not just Vought, but Madelyn as well. She'd lied to Homelander before. Now he'd take things into his own control.

From the slip of information Vogelbaum wheezed out , Homelander remembers the address. Stares at the numbers in front of the house that matches what Johan said. Architecture reeks of wealth. He didn't have to peek into the large bay windows to know that each corner dripped with elegance as was appropriate for a big time Vought executive. You were granted an entirely different life than what Homelander suffered from. Raised with loving parents who encouraged you to cultivate your powers in a positive way. Dinner was a sit down affair where everyone discussed highlights of the day. An authentic family unit. After discovering the truth of both you and Becca, he raided the archives for more information about her. Birth records, school reports, personal notes of progress from the adopted parents. Doted on. If only he had knowledge of you sooner. Homelander missed out on having a genuine bond to someone. A person he could truly call his own.

Superhuman eyes detect multiple people in the house. No worries. Once he presents himself, they won't deny him anything. Unless they want to end up like Stillwell and many others.

Insurmountable confidence has his gloved hand wrapping knuckles against the wood of the front door. He clasps his hands behind his back and waits. Scattering voices whisper amongst the other before feet lumber down several steps of stairs. A moment passes before the locks on the doors click open to reveal the stereotypcial dowdy housemaid. What a cliche.

Her eyes damn near pop out of her head, her mouth pulling into an ecstatic smile. Good, didn't look like there'd be much resistance. He didn't even get a chance to open his mouth before the maid pulls him in. "Oh she'll be SO delighted to see you Homlander! Please- wait here while I get her!" She frantically calls up the stairs, using the name he knew belonged to you, his sister. A sudden pang of warmth pleasantly grips him at the knowledge that you were already a fan of him. Maybe even admired Homelander. That makes him stand a bit taller.

At the top of the stairs, there you stood. You didn't believe in Diane when she told you the Homelander was at the front door. Even as you stare at him with your own striking cornflower blue eyes, your mind melts and you still don't believe what you see before you; that he's there in the flesh until his grin broadens. A brush stroke of awestruck sweeps across his expression.

Homelander found you absolutely perfect. And the smile that broke out on your own face took his breath away. An authentic smile of his own graces his facial muscles. You were a vision before him. Utter helplessness renders speech useless as he simply stares right into you. There must be a blush on your face, how could there not be one when he's staring so intently at you. He was bigger and better in real life. A wider range of emotions more available on his face opposed to the mask you saw him wear sometimes on screen. Stiff and uncomfortable. This one was even more appealing. His smile made his blue eyes crinkle with delight.

"Wow." You breathe out and feel Diane eagerly bounce behind you. "It's really you!" As fast as your mouth could go, you introduce yourself and Diane despite Homelander already knowing your name, birthdate and social security number. Whatever information he could get on you. Not even in his imagination could he truly conjure you up though.

Bringing him to the drawing room with a small tug on his gloved hands, you beam at him and say that your mom would be so excited to meet him. The light of your face makes his heart melt, something he long believed he didn't possess.

Seated already on a cream colored couch was your mom. She drops her cup and saucer, letting it shatter against the ground. Eyes incredulously wide but not with enthusiasm like you assume they'd be. Your grin drops a bit when you realize she's scared. Of what? Certainly not Homelander. Couldn't be. She'd been perfectly fine when you passed by the sitting room a few moments before heading upstairs.

Immediately the maid scrambles to clean up the mess, chirping apologies as she gathers the pieces up in her apron before scuttling away to dispose of the broken porcelain pieces.

"Homelander," your mom's voice came out as a squeak. "What a surprise to see you." She blinks out of nervousness.

"Thought I would treat Vought's wonderful executive crew with a surprise visit!" Businessman smile activated, Homelander goes on with some well rehearsed corporate bull crap spiel about how Vought appreciated all of their wonderful workers. He could practically lap at the fear emanating from your mom as she sat tightlipped against frilly decorative throw pillows. That could only mean she was in on the secret too and knew who you really were. Most importantly why he was there. She must have known that when he eventually found out, he would come.

Your mom's smile is frigid as her hand is clamped down on your forearm. "What an honor, thank you Homelander." You could tell she wanted him gone. With your own incredible olfactory receptors, you could smell her sweat too.

Hands behind his back in his usual resting stance, Homelander admits "I do have another reason for coming here too." Boots squeak as he takes just one simple step closer that has your mom's nails digging into you. It didn't hurt you but from her white knuckles she was definitely using all her strength. "A little bird told me you're special, like me."

Admittedly you beam with pride when he spoke of you being special like him. When your powers start to grow you were thrilled to find out that you had the exact powers that Homelander, the greatest superhero in the world!

Coyly and not wanting to come off as arrogant, you flutter your gaze down to your lap. "Well, I'm still nowhere near your league." Just to show off a little, you make your eyes sizzle red with heat vision that Homelander also possessed. His smile widens at your display of superability.

"How would you like to train at Vought with the Seven? You'll have the best of the best as your teachers."

He'd said it so easily you didn't take him seriously the first time. Blinking at him until it dawned on you. "R-Really?"

"Honey, this is all very sudden. Lets wait for your father to come home." She attempts to placate you but now all you can think about is the possibility of training alongside the rest of the Seven. Immediately you want to remind her that you were an adult and could take up this offer with or without your father's permission.

You don't have to because Homelander smoothly lies to her face. "Oh, no need to worry about that. Your husband already gave the go ahead!"

Her brows scrunch in a disbelieving frown. "He did?" She couldn't out right accuse the Homelander of lying.

"Of course! He was ecstatic at the opportunity his little girl would have." His tone is syrupy sweet. He couldn't show how annoyed he was with your mom. If he had informed the patriarch of your family, he doubts the man would have objected. Not to Homelander at least. They could go crying to Stand Edger for all he cared. Vought's CEO was just as powerless in stopping him once he has his mind set on something. Try as they might. Madelyn Stillwell came close to being able to manipulate him, but he'd melted her face off days prior so there was no use in Edger wielding her as a weapon.

Now you're the one clawing at your mom's arm. "Did you hear that! He said I could go! I gotta pack!" Hopping to your feet, in the blink of an eye you're dashing out of the living room and up the stairs before your mom could stutter out another word. It was just her and Homelander now with the occasional house help peeking into the living room to catch a glimpse of the glorious leader of the Seven. Visibly she swallows thickly, her eyes stare at Homelander with unrelenting fear.

"What? Did you really expect me not to find out?" Cheery smile not leaving his face, his voice reveals the sneer that he so wished to deliver to her. As it was he was keeping his voice down in case you had superhearing like he did.

The rims of her eyes glisten with unshed tears. She had to be the same age Madelyn was before he killed her. "I-I thought we had more time. Please don't take her. Please. You can come see her as much as you want. You have that right as her b-brother. But please- leave her with us." Practically gasping as she keeps her panic in control. Lines around her lips tremble. Homelander takes in her pathetic form.

"Tell me, do you love her?"

That makes her tears roll freely down her face. "I do. We do. She's a good girl. S-She wants to be a superhero, wants to protect people and use her powers for good. Please don't take her!"

Homelander snaps. "Quit your fucking blubbering."

Her mouth instantly zips shut, knowing what he did to Stillwell. Her husband had warned her early on about the real Homelander. He wasn't the perfect hero that the media painted him as. Even if you were upstairs, he wouldn't hesitate to come back and kill her. He's paused for a moment, listening to the pitter patter of your feet above. Happy that you were still busy and not paying attention to what was going on downstairs.

False saccharine face goes back up. "There's no reason for tears. You've done your job. Said so yourself that she's a good girl. She's a young adult though and doesn't need her mommy and daddy poking around in her business. Not to mention the big secret you and your husband are keeping from her."

Leaning over her, he sinisterly utters under his breath "She's coming with me. Now put a smile on your face and fucking wipe your goddamn eyes. You look disgusting. She's coming down the stairs."

Easily toting a giant backpack and two overstuffed duffle bags, you stride back into the living room. To Homelander's surprise, another duffle bag was floating behind you. Apparently you had telekinesis too. Your smile is so big that it was starting to hurt your face. This was the chance of a lifetime. You'd been getting bored stuck at home as of late.

Eagerly clenching the straps of your two duffle bags in your hands, you beam expectantly at your mom. "Sorry about dad not being here to see me off, but I'll see him around at Vought!" You go in to hug your stunned mom and promise to call her when you arrive at the tower.

Homelander is tickled pink by your enthusiasm and haul your bags out to the front porch. "Can you fly?"

You grin deviously and give your mom one last wave goodbye. Homelander takes the duffles out of your hands even though you were fully capable of carrying possibly even more luggage. What a gentleman. Something guys your age weren't.

He takes off first into the sky with you following, hot on his tail.

Never had you experienced this level of elation. You have someone to fly with! The feeling was the same for Homelander. He'd boost his speed and you caught up with him in seconds. Laughing the entire time. It makes him giddy and laughs along with you.

Twin flames.

Finally, Homelander was getting what he's wanted since he was a young boy.

You were a streak of gold as you zoom past him cheekily. For a moment he forgets that you're his sister. He's overwhelmed by the sudden warming in his chest that bleeds to his face as he watches you zip in the open air with your arms wide open to embrace the wind itself. To him you were beautiful in every single way. A perfect specimen. An outright desirous scream in his head confounds him. He didn't have a regular up bringing, but Homelander knew that this was not a common reaction to have with blood kin.

Expertly he tucks that thought away. He'd examine it later. Right now, he needed to focus on catching up with you.

He had to take the lead anyway since he was the only one who could find Vought Tower so high up in the sky and miles away. Below you, the city looks like a toy replica by how small it was as you follow Homelander's lead in the sky. You'd never seen anything quite like it. Where you'd lived was a quiet suburb. You didn't go to a public or private school but taught at home by the best instructors your parents could buy. They tend to keep you away from big cities, claiming your buddening powers as a liability if something bad were to happen. When they brought up things like that, it made you scared to even try using them. But watching Homelander's Vought produced movies gave you the courage to start playing with your abilities and push your limits; even if it meant that you subsequently knocked down the large tree in your backyard and landing it on the side of the house. That was the first time your dad had ever yelled at you.

From seeing it on the news many times, you notice the tall, silver column as Vought Tower. Homelander slows down as you had been too busy with sight seeing, but he didn't mind. He thought you were adorable, basically a little kid at Voughtland. So easily excited about everything new. That just reaffirms his suspicion that your parents had locked you up in an oppressive cage. Just like Becca did with Ryan. Really, Homelander was doing you a favor by setting you free and into his secure and guiding hands.

Both of you easily land on the roof of the tower, a door at the ready for them to enter the structure itself. You gaze out from the roof, enjoying the noise of the city and the pure energy that buzzed through it. That morning seemed so long ago. A basic start to your day, just like any other morning for the boring, safe life your parents smothered you with.

Your excitement makes your features glow, even blinding Homelander who couldn't keep his eyes off of you. You were utterly intriguing to him. An entirely different species. Both of you were so much alike yet due to your upbringing near solar opposites at the same time. Finally when you turn away from observing gaze and look to Homelander, he opens the door for you. In more ways than one. He takes you from the rooftop and into the thrum of the tower. You can't help staring at everything you walk by. All the while he goes on to promise you a room as soon as he could find-

"Ashley! There you are!" He calls out to a jumpy red head who looks both relieved and incredibly stressed out once she spots you next to him. Her lips smack against one another, flailing for useful words, her eyes round and staring at you. "We need to get a room set up for our new friend here." Homelander introduces you and you hold out a hand for Ashley to shake. Fumbling with her tablet, a sweaty hand weakly reaches out for a fast shake.

"Nice to meet you. Homelander, can I have a word with you?" Ashley hesitantly asks, forcing a fake smile and much like your mom had Ashley reeked of fear.

Homelander quickly catches your dampening smile and puts a hand on your shoulder to steer you past her. "Not now, Ashley. I have to show her around the rest of the tower. Especially the Seven's very own conference room." That brings the enthusiasm back onto your lips. While he can still hear Ashley's frantic voice trying to get him to come back he could care less. Besides, you didn't appear too affected by bumping into her, the prospect of seeing the Seven's personal conference room had you instantly forgetting the nervous red head.

A large window that spans from wall to wall has the perfect picture of the metropolis skyline in its massive frame. This felt like a perspective only the elite were privlidged enough to gaze from.

Focal point of the room though was the massive circular table, meticulously crafted with dark marble and metal. A symbol of the Seven's authority. It gleams liquid night. At the head of the table was one lone chair, away from the others. Homelander's chair. This is where he got to work every day with the greatest superheroes the country has to offer.

Watching you glide to his chair, Homelander smirks to himself. You catch it when you glance up at him with brilliant moon eyes. The brightness from the world outside casts a brilliant light around you. "I can't believe I'm in Homelander's seat!"

He chuckles and slowly trails over to you. His gloved fingers trail along the tops of the other chairs in a near gentle caress. "It suits you."

You avert your gaze from those fingers, suddenly feeling a flush crawl up your neck. "Is this really happening?" You incredulously peer at him. Your own hands glide along the table's surface. "This morning I was eating breakfast in our dining room, now I'm here with the greatest hero of all time." Brows scrunch together. Besides having powers, your life had been mundane. You'd never even been to Vought Tower where your dad had worked for a good thirty years. Things like this don't happen in a span of four hours. Insane. And it was all thanks to Homelander who saw potential in you.

"You'll get used to it. It's a lot at first." He acknowledged. Homelander wonders if Ashely has procured a room for you yet and has half the mind to call her until the conference room doors open. You throw yourself out of his chair, afraid how it would be perceived by his colleagues. Gasping when you find out it's Starlight and Queen Maeve. They appeared to be in a deep conversation. But once they register you and Homelander, whatever they'd been discussing becomes secondary. How could it not when you had similar characteristics with the man standing next to you. You weren't anyone they've met before. Nor were you a sponsoring celebrity or executive. So what were you doing there all of places?

"Impeccable timing!" He merely claps his hands together. "The two most perfect heroes to welcome you to the Tower." Starlight can't resist lookng at you with concern, wondering if you were in distress despite the smile plastered on your face. When there's no obvious sign of you being uncomfortable, Starlight strains to conjure the semblance of an easy going smile. Homelander told them that you were their new hero-in-training. Neither Queen Maeve or Starlight have ever heard of this position, it hadn't existed but once it leaves their leader's mouth, it might as well have been law. Maeve knew to tread carefully with her words.

Her own mask was honed after years of dealing with his psychopathy and Maeve dawned it on herself with ease. "Wonderful news." She turns to you, statuesque and beautiful. "Welcome. If Homelander speaks so highly of you, then I'm sure you'll find your footing around here."

"I'm excited to learn from both of you and I'll make sure not to get in the way." You promise which cracks a sympathetic smile from Starlight. From your appearance, Starlight deduces that you had to be a year or two younger than her and understood how it felt to abruptly be thrust into the life of the Seven.

Homelander clears his throat and offers you his arm. "Lets go see if Ashley's got that room ready for you. I'm sure you want to settle down."

Before leaving, Homelander sends both women a pointed glare over his shoulder as the doors close behind his red, white and blue cape.

Stunned, Starlight turns to Maeve knowing nothing good would come of this new installment of Vought. Neither had seen nor heard of you. You seemed relatively innocent and ignorant of the danger you were in so close to Homelander.

Maeve shrugs, indifference cloaking how she really felt. "Not our problem."

Starlight's eyes round in disbelief. "Sounds like its going to be a problem sooner or later. Something's up. He doesn't just show interest in random strangers. Even if they're supes too."

Chewing on the inside of her mouth, Maeve is aware of the terrible possibility that this could all end badly for you. Having Homelander's attention did more harm than good. If they wanted any chance of intervening, they'd have to be extremely careful. Homelander may be an egotistical man, but he wasn't a dumb man. He'd catch on immediately if either Starlight or Maeve slip in their investigation toward who you are.

"All we can do is keep an eye out for her and guide her." Maeve murmurs, worried that Homelander may still be listening. Such was the paranoia that she'd developed from all the years they worked together. It was upsetting that her relationship with HOmelander outlasts any other, even Elena. They'd known one another for years. The manner that Homelander hovered around you though was disconcerting. If intervention were needed, there was no way Homelander would let anyone near you.

Starlight grits down on her back molars as she moves around Maeve and out of the conference room. But she couldn't just keep an eye on you. Her feet take her to Ashley's office although her brain was reminding her that the VP of Hero Management would most likely not be there.

After finally hounding down Ashley, you're shown your new room in Vought with a promise from Homelander that you could redecorate it all if you like. All the while it's impossible to ignore the heavy smell of fear from her.

Homelander couldn't pretend not to notice either as his mouth, still holding onto a smile, becomes tight with force. "Thank you Ashley, that will be all."

For not being a supe, she gave A-Train a run for his money as Ashley booked it out of there in the blink of an eye.

"I'll make sure everything else is taken care of and given to you as soon as possible. For now though, relax. I'll put together a team dinner tonight so you can meet everyone else." The face he'd had with Ashley was washed away now replaced with genuine plesantaness.

You examine what was more than a simple room, this was a penthouse apartment. Bigger than the room you had back home with actual marble columns that stand proudly from floor to ceiling. A similar expansive window like that of the conference room greets the city outside with a glittery afternoon effect. Gold and amber filter the sky. Lost in the gleam of it all, you float around; eyes big in wonder. You lived in luxury before, but now your surroundings were damn near extravagant. This was an entire level up from your usual lifestyle.

Barely managing to breathe out an 'okay', you hear the front door open then close.

Still reeling, you place your backpack along with your other luggage at the foyer and let yourself wander. The call to your mom could wait. This moment was for you. You felt seen.

You would be a hero like Homelander. Maybe never as great as him, but some day you could achieve his caliber. This was really happening.

Homelander never imagined his day would have turned into something like this either. His miles hasn't left since leaving your room as he strolls through the halls to make sure your paperwork was properly handled. He felt like he was flying his entire way to the elevators yet his feet were firmly planted on the ground. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. So much he wanted to talk about.

But. . .

He couldn't let you know about the tie you had to him. More than you sharing powers. Blood connected the both of you. The only person (besides Ryan) who could boast that. It was something sacred to him. Of course nothing could remain pure when it came to Homelander. Because you were his sister that meant you were just as perfect as he was. Even more so since you had the added skill of telekinesis. The only person alive truly worthy of being with him. Thinking about his future had butterflies flapping their paper thin wings along the inside of his stomach. To take you the way he desired, Homelander had to make sure no one knew of your biological relationship. Public opinion would demonize him were the fact to get out. Initially he thought of keeping you locked up, but that was an unlikely scenario which would lead to you fighting against him. He wants you to be pliant and willing. That required trust to be developed along with Homelander worming his way into your brain and heart.

Hopefully the look he shot Starlight and Maeve on his way out was enough to prevent either of them in snooping around for information about you. This was his business that they should not meddle in. Particularly Starlight's intentions bothered him. She was a snake in the grass, proven it by aligning herself with Hughie and the rest of the Boys. He saw her being a problem in the future. That concerned look she'd had when her eyes fell upon you spelled trouble brewing.

The pep in his step dwindles thinking of it, jaw tightening. If Starlight found out you were siblings, it would put a wrench in the plans he was formulating. His long desired family unit was within reach. He could practically hear Ryan's laughter, see you chasing after the young boy as if he were your very own. How pretty you would look in summer clothes, waiting for Homelander to come home. The life of his dreams. The life Vought fabricated for his backstory could so easily become reality. He'd just been missing two important pieces. They were essential to this new life Homelander wished for.

There were no qualms over the idea of killing Starlight. Problems would be for Vought trying to cover it up. Not to mention the situation that would inevitably arise with Billy Butcher, especially now that he knew his wife was alive and raising the supe's son. Another encounter with him lay in wait. A headache he wasn't looking forward to dealing with. He just wanted to focus on you and Ryan.

Arriving at the gold plated elevator doors, he presses down on the button that would take him to floor 82, Mr. Edgar's floor. That was Mr. Edgar's kingdom which he ruled with an iron fist and ruthless attitude. When the two doors slide open, Ashley jumps back clearly startled by yet again running into him.

"I-I trust the room is to her liking?" Ashley's mouth twitches and morphs into what she must have thought passed off as a smile.

He stalks into the elevator forcing Ashley to seek refuge in the further most corner. Darkling tutting, Homelander waits for the doors to close before addressing the vice president who was charged with dealing with these self entitled heroes. "You're going to have to try a lot harder at pretending you're not scared. You stink of fear and if I can smell it, so could she."

Paling, her head rapidly nods in complete understanding all the while trying to relax her facial muscles into neutrality as well as taking a few deep breaths. If she didn't fix herself immediately. . . it brought back memories of Blindspot.

For a few seconds he watches her, specifically listening to her erratic heartbeat. At least she listened and didn't need to be told twice. Through her own sheer will, Ashley manages to calm herself enough to lower her pulse, not the easiest thing when her number one stressor was stuck in an elevator with her.

She reaches a hand up to her red hair and anxiously curls a lock of it around her finger instead, her only outlet that she'd be allowed.

"Good. You'll be coming with me to see Mr. Edgar." Homelander turns his blue eyes back up to the lit up floor numbers that were beginning to descend. With his attention away from her, Ashley stealthily rips out a few strands of her hair. The pain was soothing, aiding in faking her calm.

The air was suffocating with just the two of them. She thinks back to the phone call she'd received an hour before you and Homelander had arrived at the Tower. Stan Edgar personally warned her of what Homelander was doing. That he'd discovered not only a son but a sister too. Edgar, in the most polite way possible, instructed her not to get involved and just do whatever he told her to do. And absolutely no asking questions about you. Homelander was already pissed about so much being kept from him, best not to antagonize him further. Keeping him happy was top priority.

Unaware of the shit show that was unraveling, worker bees greet them with a smile once they arrive on the 82nd floor. A few even wave at Ashley.

Stan Edgar saw them coming the moment they stepped out of the elevator. Already he was on his feet and moving around his desk to greet them as his office door is opened. Homelander's hand poised at the back of Ashley's neck, he nudges her inside. Homelander motions for both of them to sit down as if it were his own office. His gaze doesn't waver, staring down an equally defiant Edgar. A normal human but he never squirmed in front of Homelander's penetrating stare. He'd commend the older man for his bravery. If only Ashley would take notes. She needed a better poker face if she's to make it in Vought Industries.

"You know why I'm here."

"Your sister and Ryan." Verifies Edgar. He'd prefer to stand but inch by inch sank himself down onto the cushion of his desk chair.

"Now, while Ryan may be under Becca's care, my sister is an adult and wishes to stay here. Train to be an elite hero. Like me. However," neither like the way he breathed out that single word "no one can know that we're related. People will scream nepotism and claim she's getting special treatment."

His reasoning was plausible but. . .

From a promotional point of view, a sibling duo would be a hit like the TNT Twins. The public would eat it up and show even more support for Vought in the polls.

"Oh, and her parents need to sign one of those NDA things. Can't have them flapping their mouth either." Tacking on as an after thought. You'd forget them soon enough. He'd just have to keep them away from you for the time being. They hovered over her too much for his liking. From the corner of his eye, he caught a quiver in Ashley's mask.

About to reprimand her, Edgar clears his throat and leans forward to allow his elbows to rest on the desk's surface." I understand. It will be done. But you do realize how difficult it would be to keep it under wraps considering the outstanding similarities. The powers, your eyes. People will start to ask questions."

"Let them ask away. As long as Vought says she's not my sister, then she's not my sister."

Why was he so intent on covering this one particular fact? Nepotism surely could explain it. Homelander's insistence of it concerns Edgar and Ashley who felt like he was planning something more nefarious for you. He was capable of any horrendous acts they could conjure. They were just as helpless when it came to him. Unable to defy his orders unless they desired him to burn holes into their faces as he did to Madelyn.

All of his whims taken care of, Homelander leaves them to start working on the welcome dinner with you and the rest of the Seven. He wants to show you off. He'd make sure you never wanted to leave him. Ensure that you continue to see him as all powerful and benevolent. The looks of admiration you'd shot him went straight to his head as well as other regions that were out of his control. Clear that you idolized America's favorite hero. Your parents raised you to believe that Vought was a company that cared about helping the public and that their heroes were there to protect and serve the general masses. No doubt in your mind that they were the good guys and the stuff on the media was simply baseless slander. What child would want to discover that their daddy was actually a bad guy working for the power hungry company and that supes were not in fact a gift from god. They were manmade. That knowledge would ruin your world.

Homelander would not allow that. You were his to protect now. His to blind and deafen to the world around them.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #theboysxreader #the boys x reader #theboyshomelanderxreader #the boys homelander x reader #the boys #the boys x you #theboysxyou #theboystv #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #x you #fics #homelander x reader #homelander f #homelander fic #please don't let this bomb lol #if it does well might consider making another part since i kinda left it open ended

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emositecc · 5 months ago

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God I fucking hate Victoria the crybaby so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every page she's in, every scene, every fanart, every comic, she's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass personality on her stupid green face. Absolutely no part of her ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. Her stupid fucking dress? Who the hell wears a dress like that. Her dumb fucking lizard tail? Her shitty, annoying bastard attitude ? The three thousand percent dumbass shitass fucking haircut that no woman has EVER FUCKING SHITTY HAIR DESING HAD IN THE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate her. I hate her so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a comic or a fanart of her, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Boo hoo, I'm Bitchtoria the fuckshit whiny ass woman, woe is me. PITY ME 😢😢😢😢". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like shrek but if shrek was written by vivziepop. Your dumb fucking hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking dress and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top shitty ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene she's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a walmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know she's just a shitty fucking sad woman in a stupid fucking fan comic, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate her. I hate hier on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the bitch wife is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate her so much. I hate her so, so fucking much. I want to light her ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat her to death with her own stupid fucking punchable face. I want to punch her to death. I want to bash her brains out. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that her existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional woman

you've gone on sending me these kinds of messages in my ask box everytime i've updated my comic, even mentioning r*pe in your latest ones. At first I thought this is a bit, but now i honestly dont know. I think you need help and for your own good and mine, I'm going to be blocking you.

This probably wont stop you from reading my comic in other platforms but if you still do, please refrain from messaging me or whatnot because I will just block you again.

okay, thank you.

^ and that's not even ALL of it.

there's like 50+ more

get help.

#no kidding this person has sent me probably over a hundred asks by now in my inbox since ive started the comic #I try to ignore but it seems that theyre just getting worse in every update #if you hate a character this much ?? i dont know what to tell you #victoria isnt even canon #shes fanmade and yet you hate her THIS MUCH #man #idk #goodluck ig #victoria

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luimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Soulmates from the Start Part 6

Another commission!

It's extra long this time. :D And guess who couldn't finish the story in one go like I thought I would?

Masterlist

First Chapter/ Previous Chapter/ Next Chapter

Content under the cut!

Twilight was too busy being stuck in his own head to fully take into account what was happening around him.

You had mentioned bokoblins.

Bokoblins.

You had never mentioned them before. At least not in the way that told him they were near you. You had once told him, years ago when you both were fantasizing about meeting each other, that you were far away from Hyrule. You said that you didn’t have bokoblins where you were from.

You said ‘Bokoblins suck. I didn’t think they were as big as they actually were. Did you know they smell? I feel like I’m going to pass out.’

Twilight wasn’t sure he was processing that right. It would have to have been the first time you had seen a bokoblin in person for you to say that. Bokoblins were only in Hyrule.

YOU WERE IN HYRULE.

The knowledge of being so close to you had frozen him in place. Twilight could only vaguely recognize that The Champion, with all his loyalty, was sitting next to him. He noted that the stances were eerily similar to what has happened many times before.

However this time the roles were versed.

Wild had sat him down against a tree while he kept his guard up. Twilight would be thankful later, when he was done trying to make everything make sense in his own head. The Rancher knew he was in no position to even remotely defend himself at this moment.

What else had you said? What else could he decipher if he tried hard enough?

No idea. I heard a horn and then an arrow shot by my foot. I just took off running.

Twilight wants to bite off his own tongue. Everything stopped once he heard you were in danger again. He was too focused on trying to not panic and make it worse for you. He was such a useless soulmate. Everything in his body was telling him to find you, to protect you, to hold you close and tend to every cut and cruise that would have been inflicted on you should he have been even a hair too late.

He heard a horn too but it was Hyrule, Warrior and Time that had gone to investigate the nearby monsters. It would be foolish to think that it was in any way related.

Twilight shook his head, feeling things calm down in his head to think clearly again. It was incredible luck for you to be in Hyrule as it was. Anything more would be asking for too much. But he could work with this. He was a hunter to some degree. He was a wolf for a reason whether he liked it or not.

He was going to find you.

He was going to meet you and hug you and follow through every promise he had ever made to you since he fell in love with you.

There are a lot of them. He has to make up for lost time.

***

You all but screamed.

How is this possible? How are you here? How is he here? Wait-! You DO recognize him! You’ve seen him before!

Fully aware that you’ve been staring at the poor boy as if he had grown a second head, you give him your hand to shake. It was slow and robotic. Your limbs didn’t want to cooperate just yet.

The boy laughs under his breath as you shake hands. “I don’t bite.”

“...Right…” You force a smile on your face. It’s awkward and tight. You remember him now, even though you’re not entirely sure from what game he belongs to. His clothes and appearance are too unassuming. There’s nothing to tell him apart from all the other Links you’ve seen in your life. However, he travels with Link. Your Link. Your Link should be somewhere nearby.

Your muscles tense with the idea of getting to see him after so many years of pining. You introduce yourself to the person in front of you first and dust yourself off. Everything hurts and you’re tired. But instead your brian is now going a thousand miles a minute.

Link is here. Link is close. You’re in Hyrule. You’re in Hyrule.

The Link who is not your Link tilts his head as you speak. “That’s an unusual name. You’re not from around here, are you?”

You shake your head with a weak grin. “What gave it away? My ears?”

You tease by exposing the ears that would have no doubt made you stick out like a sore thumb in this type of world. As it stands, you figure you might as well get it out of the way as it is. You’re not entirely sure how it’ll blow over but the only person who’s even remotely connected to people with round ears is your Link. You’re hoping beyond hope that this little thing will lead him closer to you, if only so they don’t send you away immediately now that you’re saved.

“Hyrule? Find anything interesting? Where’s the person that screamed?” Another voice calls out. It’s deeper. Far more deeper than you would have anticipated, and yet, you know it too. Although far more intimately that you would have realized at first.

Within moments, a man steps into the little space you’ve found yourself in and looks you up and down. A vague sting reminds you of your current injuries but you’re struck dumb at the look of him. So familiar, yet so different. He’s younger. He’s alive.

“Hero’s Shade…” You whisper under your breath. Do you make eye contact? Is that rude? Would that be a threat? Oh my god- he’s the Hero of Time! Isn’t he related to your Link? Wouldn’t he be related to you too? Maybe? By marriage? God- you hoped so. At least in your future. It would mean that Link would have forgiven you for pushing him away and for what you still have to confess now that you’re here in person. It would be awful to do so in front of all these other people but they deserve to know.

Guilt sinks deep into your gut and you feel your face get warm at the very thought of it.

What would they think of you when you tell them?

“Do you require immediate medical assistance?” He asks you instead, unaware of the turmoil going on in your head.

You shake your head and pull your arms close to your body. He nods once and gestures for you to follow. “Come. We’ll tend to you first before we move on.”

“O-oh…” They’re taking you with them anyway? At least for now it looks like. Your feet feel like lead but you follow them.

“All clear!” A third voice calls out when you step back onto the path. He looks straight out of a model magazine if you ignore his clothing. But even with his clothing, there’s a sort of cutting edge to him that would have certainly held your attention if you didn’t instantly start comparing him to your Link.

It felt really good to say that. Your Link. You doubted you would ever get tired of saying it like that.

However, your eyes instantly narrowed in on the scarf that he had slung around his shoulders. You don’t remember it being that big- but it takes every fiber of your being so turn your eyes away from him. Knowing him and all that he’s been through- was probably the worst one you’ve investigated. He was the one you hoped to meet the least. Should he learn, no, when he learns about the things you’ve done, he would most likely take it the hardest.

Unfortunately, you can see the moment he pinpoints your unease and tucks it into the back of his mind. You flinch. The others see that too.

“You know…” He says slowly, taking his time to walk over to you. “There aren’t a lot of people with ears like yours.”

“I’ve gathered that.” You say softly. You want to own up to what you’ve done and what you know. You want to be the adult you are and take accountability… but not yet. You have to see him first. You have to see that your soulmate is safe and real in the flesh.

The Hero of Warriors bites his lip awkwardly. You’re not sure what he’s thinking but you have the slight suspicion that none of you are on the same page. He scratches the back of his head. “I haven’t met a lot of people like you but we know a guy who grew up with cropped ears. Come form a group of them. They live in Ordon Village. Heard of it?”

You can’t help it. You perk up and your heart starts beating faster. There’s no denying your recognition, or the way your face lights up. “Yes! I do!”

This could be your ticket straight to your soulmate! And you didn’t even have to say anything yet!

“He might be a bit out of it though.” This ‘Hyrule’ Link mentions quietly. “Is this really a good idea after everything he’s going through right now?”

You bite your tongue. If this ‘he’ is who you think it is, then you have to be patient. You’ve waited years to meet him. You can wait a little bit longer.

“You know him?” The Hero of Warriors looks back to you instead of answering his friend. “He knows about everybody from his village. Name’s Link.”

You have to force yourself to nod normally and calmly. “I… should.” This is a make or break moment. Now or never. You have to be brave and face the consequences no matter what happens. “...I’d know for sure once I see his face though.”

“Very well.” The Hero of Time, albeit older and more scarred. You’re not sure why he has the Fierce Deity marking on only half of his face or why he has a scar over his eye already. “Maybe a familiar face would do him some good for a time. He needs someone other than us to talk to.”

You don’t comment, too focused on appearing normal as they begin to lead you back to where they were as a group. You faintly notice that ‘Hyrule’ (you have to figure out where he’s from or quickly before you accidentally spill any secrets he may be trying to keep) has glowing hands as you walk. Your injuries and the pain begin to fade.

So this one does magic? Which Link can heal?

You try to keep the conversation light and away from true thoughts and feelings as you nervously follow them through the forest. You didn’t think you would be so shaken by all of this. You didn’t think you would find yourself this anxiety ridden. Oh you hope that he’s here, that he will forgive you! You have to apologize for everything you never said.

***

Twilight finally managed to get a grip on himself and on reality after what felt like an eternity later.

“Hey. You ok?” Wild reaches over and pats him on the back, trying to be as soothing as possible. “Are they ok?”

“Y-yeah… I think so.” Twilight takes in a turbulent breath. “They feel… calmer. I’ve never been able to simply feel them before. They must have stopped shutting me out so much…”

“That’s great, Rancher!” Wild cries, punching him on the shoulder. It’s such a brotherly move that Twilight can’t help but smile, albeit weakly. “You’ve just hit a rough patch. It’ll all be ok in the end. You’ll see.”

Twilight coughs and nods along. “It’s something… I just hate that they were so scared for so long… I couldn’t… I can’t do anything…” He shudders. “But I think… I think they’re here. I think they’re close.”

Wild freezes in a similar fashion that Twilight had earlier. “...Are you serious?”

Now that he’s said it out loud, it feels weightier. Hearty. Real. He nods fervently as the smile on his face turns into a grin. “I am. I think they’re here, Cub. …I need to find them.”

“Then we’ll help you.” The Champion replies without hesitation. “After all of this, this is the least we can do. We’ll find them first. Everything else can wait.”

Warmth and adoration bloom in Twilight’s chest as he brings the younger hero in for a bone crushing hug. There are no words that he can say that would properly convey what he’s feeling but he’s going to fight to keep it.

There’s rustling to the side of their makeshift camp. Everyone turns to the sound with expectant eyes. Time brushes some of the brambles out of the way as Warrior comes through, stretching his arms as he goes. “Hey Rancher. We got someone we thought you’d like to meet. You up for it?”

Twilight raises an eyebrow and stands. “Depends on the per-”

The words die on his tongue. You walk in, roughed up and dirty. But beautiful. So, so beautiful.

You seem nervous as you look around. Hyrule walks around you and everyone is watching for anything to explode. You see him and suck in a breath.

You stare at each other.

Twilight thinks his heart has stopped entirely. Surely this was too easy. He had only come to the conclusion that you were in his grasp. Now you’re just here? Like that? All but plopped onto his lap to love and adore and spend the rest of his life with?

The weight of the situation seems to finally settle on everyone’s shoulders. Wild shoves Twilight forward and he stumbles from the action. He can’t even be mad. He can’t bring himself to glare at his friend. It would mean he would have to take his eyes off of you. And he refuses to do that.

“...It’s you…” The words leave him breathlessly. You’re perfect. Better than anything he could have imagined. Those visions did not do you justice. “...It’s really you…”

Suddenly you tear up and the hazy dream of it all shatters. Twilight feels like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over his head. “What is it? What’s wro-”

“LINK!” You run and jump on him, holding onto him like he’s a life line. It’s enough to knock him over and knock the wind out of him, but he’s used to a little rough and tumble. He catches you with ease, spinning to disperse the remaining momentum and holds you just as tightly as you descend into heart wrenching sobs.

It breaks his heart.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Twilight says quietly. He starts crying too.

Everyone else is aware that this should have been a private moment but they’re too invested in this to look away now.

You pull away and cradle his face. Your fingertips are gentle but shaking. You’re drinking him in just as much as he’s drinking you in. He feels you trace the markings on his face, lip wobbling with unspoken words as fat tears continue to roll down your cheeks.

He wipes them away gently.

You sniffle, caressing him in a similar manner, no doubt wiping away his own tears he’s been set on ignoring. “I could kiss you.”

That’s all the permission he needed.

***

Link kisses you.

He’s sweet and tender and although you’ve never kissed another person before it was everything you thought it would be. You’re not sure why. It was clumsy and awkward but you were too caught up with finally being in his arms to care about it at all. It was as it should be.

You let yourself have this. You kiss him back. You hold on tightly. You run your hands through his hair and try to map him out as fast as you can before you inevitably have to explain everything.

You know this because you cried out his name.

It was a spur of the moment thing. You hadn’t intended to. Since you had never shared each other’s name, he would no doubt start to ask questions once the high dies down. It would ruin everything for you, kill you off before you had a chance to fully live through this, but you wouldn’t lie to him. You’ve done enough damage without him knowing.

So you’ll take what he gives you while he’s still willing to give it. And you’ll hold the memory close for all your future years to come when you inevitably separate.

You finally allow yourself to pull back and gulp down the air that you’ve been missing.

You’re messy and tired and you’re sure that this is going to end poorly but for the hell of it, you kiss him one more time before relaxing slightly.

Link for his part, was absolutely stunning. He was warm and solid. The arms around you spoke of pure power. His strength was no laughing matter and you knew that. You were completely caged with his grasp but instead of feeling threatened or concerned, you were at home. Every cylinder in your brain was firing off that this was where you belonged.

You have to force yourself to pull your hands away.

You sniffle, looking away from his enchantingly blue eyes. Have they always been that shade? Were they always so bright? You could have sworn they were different. You fix up his fur pelt and the collar around his tunic, trying to bring yourself back into some working order.

You feel his hands gently, almost hesitantly card through your hair and around your ears and neck- toying with the idea of feeling your skin. It fires off goosebumps over the rest of your body.

You gulp and force yourself to speak. “...I didn’t think I would ever see you in person.” Your voice gets thick with emotion. You can feel your heart betray you further, nearly sending you into another sobbing fit before you can reign it back in. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

He nods and laughs wetly as he gives in to his compulsion to play with your hair between his fingertips. “Neither did I… I was so scared I lost you.”

You shudder at the raw and thick feeling that shoots through your bond. You can feel him. It’s warm and sturdy. You think you can feel the brush of fur along your heart- a calling to the beast he holds within. It shakes you. Was this how your bond was supposed to eb from the start if you weren’t separated from realities? You take in another deep breath, the tears fall anew regardless. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and holds you impossibly tighter. “Never say that to me again. You have nothing to apologize for.”

You’re stunned. After everything? He was obviously frightened. And at the same time, you know that your time is up. You have to explain yourself.

“That’s not true, Link.” You sniffle, hoping that by ripping off the bandaid it would make it easier for you to heal later on. You can’t bring yourself to hide it any longer. “I have so much to apologize for.

His face crumbles as he rubs his thumb over your cheek. A deep, dark growl emanates from him as he bares his teeth. You’re not entirely sure he knew that he did that. “You’re hurt.”

It’s startling how otherly he looks in that moment- but you’re not afraid. Guilt is replaced by intrigue.

There’s so much you’d love to learn about him. But you can’t keep up this charade. It might as well be that everyone is still watching your very downfall before you could truly begin.

***

Twilight could feel himself growl before he could stop himself. You tensed up but didn’t pull away.

Good. He was worried that the effects of the magic in his life would have turned you away the second you saw it in person. He forces himself to relax. Putting aside the driving need to tear apart the very things that harmed and threatened you into shreds, he gently bonks his forehead to yours. “I forgive you.” He tells you, because it’s true. Whatever you want to apologize for- if it’s for scarring him, for blocking him out, for dropping out of your bond for those terrifying 7 hours- he forgives you. You’re here. He won’t lose you so easily now that he has you. “I don’t care about what’s happened. I’m glad I finally get to see you after so many years.”

He’s dreamed of this moment for as long as he knew you were meant to be his. He never would have imagined that it would have been under these circumstances but he can feel you. He feels you. There’s no more door in his way. There’s no more tampering the connection or even remotely trying to hold back what you’re both thinking and feeling.

You’re bright and fluttering and sharp. Like a rose if he had to pinpoint both your intricacy and your ability to put him in his place whenever he would need it. It’s almost delicate but intimidating. You could cut him in a heartbeat- but he could crush you without meaning to. The thought is exhilarating. He hadn’t imagined that the bond would have been this intimate or vulnerable.

You’re feeling guilty. So, so guilty. It’s enough to catch his heart in a vice grip and mangle it beyond its bruised exterior. He wants to wipe the sinister feeling from your heart and mind. Twilight wants to soothe all your worries and troubles with a single swipe of his hand.

He kisses your forehead. “I don’t believe you. This mess wasn’t your fault. You’re not a malicious person. I would know. We’ve been in each other’s head since we were old enough to toddle.”

The guilt gets worse and he’s questioning how he could feel everything about you but not your thoughts. Maybe he misunderstood the manner of your bond and this new strange and wild feeling.

You hang your head, hitting his chest gently as you sink into him. The feeling is good and drives itself deep into his bones. He sighs, closing his eyes to block out his unfortunate audience. You hug him and begin to shake slightly. “You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know what horrible thing I‘ve been keeping from you… But you have to promise me, let me explain it all first! I just-... I didn’t know at first how bad it would have been. I didn’t think it would have gone this far.”

Twilight feels his heart start pounding. He doesn’t understand. What kind of trouble did you find yourself in? “What are you talking about?” He pushes you away with his hands on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes. “Are you in danger? Did it bring the shadow to you?”

“Shadow?” You echo weakly. You seem to get what he’s saying and shake your head. He sighs of relief but then you tense up again and wince. “Actually- maybe? I wouldn’t know. I don’t think it would work like that but I can’t be certain.”

He grits his jaw and squeezes your shoulder a little tighter- keeping a conscious decision to still be gentle with you. “Are you working against us?”

He has to ask you point blank. He has to know you got caught up with the enemy. He had thought that you were in danger before. You would have had to spill secrets to save your own life. He wouldn’t be happy with it- but he doesn’t think he would hold it against you in the long run. You had a lot of secrets to give, that he knew. You were a perfect target with zero training and zero experience. He shudders at the thought.

He wouldn’t blame you. You’re clearly beating yourself up over something and it’s tearing you apart on the inside. He can forgive you- even if it would complicate a few things.

To his surprise though- you jump, looking like you’re about to smack him for the very thought to your honor. “What? No! I would never! I would never put you in danger. I would rather pitch myself off a cliff before I ever come close to anyone wanting to hurt you.”

The spark of indignation overshadows the guilt for one bright moment and Twilight finds it himself to smile. “I know. But I had to ask.”

You huff and pout. It’s cute, Twilight thinks to himself, being careful to not send the thought your way. He chuckles and twirls your hair around his finger. It’s so soft. Softer than he would have ever imagined it to be. Would you let him brush it for you?

“I just…” You start again. Twilight sees you hype yourself up to say the words but you hang your head again, guilt creeping over the bond you share like shards of ice. “I’ve done a not good thing, Link. I… know things I shouldn’t. About you. About your friends.” You flinch violently as if you’ve finally remembered that everyone else is watching you. “I owe them an apology. I owe them all an apology. I’m worse than Cia.”

The familiar name sets a good portion of the group on edge. Twilight sees Warrior stand up straighter as a dark look comes over his eyes. Before Twilight can so much as warn the other man to back off from his soulmate, the Captain strides forward and speaks lowly. “How do you know that name?”

You start to shake again. When you speak, your voice is weak and quiet but Twilight hears it all the same. “Can we sit down?”

“Of course, darlin’. Come on.” Twilight guides you to one of the logs around the cooking fire and sits you down. He’s quick to put himself between you and Warrior just in case he tries to get any closer.

Warrior gets the memo and doesn’t try to approach either of you any more but he crosses his arms. “There are only a very select few outside of my Hyrule that know that name.”

You flinch and bring your hands to your lap, fidgeting with your hand nervously. “I know, Link. But there are places outside of Hyrule that know that name and it’s quite common among those who know the Hero of Courage.”

Twilight feels like something is off with that sentence. Then something clicks. “I never told you my name. I was never able to, no matter how much I wanted to or how much I tried..”

You wipe your eyes and your nose with your sleeve. A long beat of silence passes. “I know… I learned it… As soon as I heard you say Midna… I managed to search for you…” You turn to him. There’s so much unspeakable emotion in your eyes. Your heart feels light but turnt in a way that’s painful for you both. “I found you, Link.”

Twilight sucks in a breath. “...what do you mean?”

“I found you.” You say again. “I found Ordon. I found Hyrule. I found the Twilight Realm. I found your story.”

He suddenly feels sick. It’s as if he’s been punched in the gut. “...What?”

You take a second to swallow your spit. You take a moment to reach for him but decide against it. Twilight reaches out for your hand anyway before you could fully take it back. He’s made his choice. He won’t let you push him away again. But he needs to process the implications of this.

There’s an even longer pause. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. He squeezes your hand back. You lick your lips and keep your head down, focusing on the way your hands are laced together. “I found your story. I found out everything. I knew how it was going to end before you even knew what it would lead up to. I …knew Midna would leave. I’m sorry, Link.”

Your hand squeezes his tighter and shakes. “I wanted to tell you. But I was scared. I was so scared. I found that no matter what I saw, what I knew, I couldn’t spoil it for you. I was worried it would hurt you in the long run. All I could do was point you in the correct direction so you wouldn’t get hurt worse.”

Twilight can feel the memories coming back to him in an avalanche of recognition. “All those puzzles…” He finds himself saying. “...I was always impressed that you could figure them out so quickly.”

“I was cheating.” You try to joke. It falls flat. “I found a walkthrough and it told me the solution. Of course I had to tell you.”

Twilight chuckles but it’s not quite where it should be. It’s not fully fake, not fully bitter, but it’s certainly toeing the line between the two of those. “...I can’t even be mad. You saved me so much time and effort.”

You whine and try to pull your hand away. He doesn’t let you. “I wish you would be. I wish you would be mad. Even if it was a little bit. I deserve it, Link. I know so much. I saw so much. You don’t even know my name yet I know your darkest secrets!”

Twilight takes a deep breath and tries to put away the sting of betrayal. It feels stupid to get upset over this. After all, you had truly helped him. Through the worst of it, you were still protecting him. “You’re my soulmate. Our bond shares thoughts and visions. You would have my secrets even if you didn’t find my story. It would be silly to be mad at you when you helped me with everything. You were my rock. My safe space. I trust you with my secrets.”

You shake your head again and choke on another sob. Twilight still doesn't understand what’s the problem. You finally look up to the rest of the group and whisper.

“I know all your secrets too.”

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #lu x reader #lu twilight #soulmate au #soulmates from the start

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soraviie · 2 years ago

Text

he begs to be taken back.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: angst, hurt/ some comfort ? a little bit of crack?? In this economy?

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ w/c: 9.1k, rip.

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: When hearing his pleading voice for the thousandth time, in the span of this one day only mind you, you slammed the phone on the desk with an irritated huff. The knowledge that people were still even capable of leaving voicemails had cost you dearly. For good measure, hurling the accursed device into the corner, you tightened the shawl around your neck, managed to grab onto the umbrella and lumbered out. Anywhere, to any direction and earth's current, if only you didn't have to think about him.

Recalling Namjoon, the grip on your handle tightened, making it produce a tortured groan.

"Shut up!" you barked at it. Rain pelted harshly on the world below, making it both difficult to see and walk. Rather detrimental to the whole thing to be outside. It took approximately 0.5s and 2 steps for your thoughts to begin curling around Namjoon. Who does he think he is? Does he think he's so unforgettable? Does he think he's some sort of God graced upon the world that you should take him back even after you tried so hard to erase him?! After you put all that hard work to return him back to the sea of strangeness and unfamiliarity?!

"Baby, baby, please, I beg of you, I am begging, just hear me out. Five minutes! Please, just five minutes!"

That was his last voicemail and chiefly the rest of them as well.

It was just five minutes... What were five minutes exactly? A little bit more than your favourite song. A scene in a movie. Passing. Fleeting. Just a slip in time...

No! No, no, no! Five minutes meant meeting his eyes, five minutes meant thousands of good memories, and five minutes meant remembering laying in his arms, reading a book together in quiet content. But Namjoon was gone. All of it was gone. It was down the drain just like this rain pooling around the sewer grates. Useless to remember, useless to yearn for. Just. Gone.

Shaking off the water onto the carpet inside the coffee shop, you were greeted by the pleasant ding of the gold-coated bell over your head and warmly smiling, you greeted the barista.

"One large coffee and a slice of marzipan cake for ____________. To go, please."

The scrape of the chair disturbed the previous mellow of the corner coffee shop with such vibrancy, not a soul was left unstirred. A tall figure, standing in the middle of the floor, gaping like a deer in headlights with mouth flopping open and closed like a fish.

You prayed he didn't see you.

But it was hard to believe given that Namjoon was staring right at you.

Without a moment's hesitation, you turned on the heel and ran into the rain, not even bothering to open up the umbrella again. The rain was cold and unforgiving, making you shudder in practically no time. Yes, it was the cold that made you tremble so.

"Baby! Baby! Please, wait!"

You could hear his voice travelling fast from behind, gaining much-unwanted attention. Namjoon's unfair genetic advantage that had granted him those very same legs you once drooled over, caught up with you in no time and soon enough you were forced to look at his grief-stricken visage. Seeing him up close, without the hindrance of anger and resentment, made your breath catch in your throat. It could hardly be believed you were ever together, given how beautiful he was. Despite his hair stuck to his forehead, bags so blue you'd think he was punched and, quite honestly, the smell he emitted, Namjoon was stunning.

Gorgeous Namjoon. Gorgeous...lying, arrogant, conceited douchebag of a scum!

"Baby," he leaned down to your face. "Baby, please, just listen!"

"I'm not your fucking baby," you screamed. "I told you we are done!"

Pushing past him, you tried to haul yourself away, only to be caught by an elbow.

"Unhand me, sir!"

A glitch of a faint smile appeared on his lips, only deepening your glare. Keeping arms firmly to himself, he began:

"I can't say how sorry I am."

"Then don't!"

"I can't live without you."

"Are you dying?" you scoffed, tossing him a pointed glower. "Right at this moment are you dying?"

Shit...he might just be. Those were definitely two different shoes on his feet.

"Might as well," he cried back. "Please, I'm going crazy! I need you back," you opened your mouth but Namjoon rushed faster. "And I understand I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I understand all of that! But all the same, I'm begging. I'll do anything! Anything! I promise!"

"And how many things you promised before you broke them all?" you asked him trying to sound stern, uncaring but the eternal treachery of your voice betrayed you. You sounded hurt. Just as hurt as he appeared to be. "I will spend time with you, _____________. I would never blow you off like that, _____________. I will never make you feel jealous, ___________!"

You felt your bottom lip wobble whilst he stood like that in front of you - absolutely drenched, gaze lowered miserably at the ground.

"I know," he croaked. "I know I didn't treat you as well as I should have and I'm sorry. I was stupid. I thought...I took you for granted and didn't think that you could leave."

It took a whole half a minute for his words to settle and be recognized for all their meaning but once they did, you turned red from fury.

"You fucking arrogant asshole! Kim Namjoon, you're...You're!" failing to think of anything, you yelped out of frustration. Now people were definitely looking. Who did he think he was?! The man you loved?! The tall and gorgeous lover of your dreams who had dimples and spoke softly to animals and would rather go bike riding than flex the money he had with some dumb overpriced car?! Did he really think that being sorry could tempt you back to him?!

Doesn't it, a faint yet lingering voice whispered to the forefront of your mind.

"Please, if you don't want to listen, then don't," at last he quietly muttered. Chills racked your body upon hearing the quiver in his voice. He was actually crying. The strongest man you knew. Was crying. Over you, no less.

"Just please, read this," from the pocket of his jacket, he thrust a handful of papers at you. "And uhm don't toss it out and uhh just...remember I do love you."

With the long jacket flapping in the wind, he ran off, palm pressed to his mouth.

It was hard to see him like this. Especially considering you always assumed it'd be you who was the only broken one once the relationship had fizzled. Returning back home, now thoughtful and dragging your feet, you poured over the rain-distorted pages. Letters? Pages of a diary? Poems? It was hard to describe what you were reading but nonetheless, it was a strenuous read.

Namjoon had kept a chaotic but remarkably consistent journal that started with the first day you met. You never knew he had to work up the courage to speak to you for whole two weeks. You had merely assumed that the sly handsome idol had no business being shy. Reading about yourself made you blush and paradoxically understand Namjoon better than ever. He did love you. He still does if today's entry was anything to go by. This love overwhelms him

"Like an ocean in the hold of a single cup," he wrote. That night he'd been watching you sleep and had a panic attack, breaking down in the bathroom thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

"Why didn't you just wake me and talk?" you whispered at the pages, feeling the familiar sting of tears. You'd been tired from work, he wrote on the next page, he dared not to trouble you, dared not to ask too much, having in his mind done so already.

Having read that you snapped the book shut and after unlocking the phone wrote one concise message.

"Kim Namjoon, you're an idiot and I love you all too much."

YOONGI: Chapter Three. Paradise Lost. The words and the blinking cursor stared at you with open mockery. Ten whole minutes you sat here and couldn't think of a single word. How could you when you felt the weight of his gaze - lingering, smothering, flattering. Like you were the centre of his whole universe...

Violently you shook your head. Flattering. You were the centre of his whole universe. Lies. Meagre pillows of comfort, you shielded yourself with. You were not his anything, he had made it abundantly clear. Whatever this was...well, it was misguided all the same. You even managed to work up some anger. This was your place, your quiet solitude in the night, a beacon in whose light you could bask when the familiarity of your burrowed apartment was too much to bear. In this small night coffee shop, you could drown. You could forget all about him and yet here he was intruding upon the very sanctity he himself created the need for.

Reddening, you slammed your laptop shut, briefly meeting his gaze. Without shame or inhibition, he stared at you, long fingers twiddling with the cooling cup of black coffee. You knew he knew you knew and so on. Just two idiots both staring at each other without saying a word. With your head spinning from the implications, you stomped your way to the door, chin raised high. Whatever he wanted it was too late now. You hated him. Just like you said.

"I hate you, Min Yoongi!" you yelped, whipping around to tear your hand away from his, tears running down your face. Batting them harshly away, you let the poison out. It was strangely cathartic. As violent as it was there was some peace to be had in the raw honesty, finally fleeing into the aether.

Yoongi recoiled as though burnt, shock painting his features into something you'd not seen before.

"You don't mean that," he breathed weakly. "Please, don't say that."

"You're the worst thing that has ever happened to me! We're done! It's over!"

And alright maybe you didn't hate him. Maybe you still thought, weeks after you parted, did he eat anything at all today, was he tired, but in the face of your own wounded pride, it felt critical to be cruel. Repay his own, even if he hadn't meant it and maybe hadn't even seen it.

He was squirming in his red, upholstered seat; the closer you got, the more anxious he became, like a hamster realizing it was caught in a cage, he visibly flitted between various scenarios. You tried your best to not pay him any mind and continue your escape, out into the cold night. Alone, yes but with your ego preserved.

If that made anything better...

At last, just before you were past his booth, a warm yet roughened palm reached to encircle your wrist. Cautiously, as if he was frightened his own touch hurt.

"Please, don't leave..." fell broken out of his lips. Muffled behind the mask but still loud enough for you to hear. Grinding your teeth, you tried to recall every single night of disappointment. Every night that you cried yourself to sleep because he lied. He had lied when he said he'd be there for you.

"I don't want to hear it," you snapped but it sounded too uncertain; written on a prompt message that had flashed too fast for you to properly read.

"Please, just sit down. Let's talk... even if it's for the last time."

"Funny, you never wanted to talk before."

Yoongi cringed, his gaze darting to sit guilty on the dirtied table. Ah, there it was - the poison. It felt bad to be cruel; before at least it was the steady hand of rage that guided you towards being this person that you truly hated to be, but now...now, it just felt hollow.

Sitting down opposite him, you watched silently as he removed the mask. Kindly put, Yoongi looked like death warmed over.

"You look like shit," you reckoned and he gave a brittle, weary laugh, running a hand through the squished, clearly unwashed hair.

"Yeah, well, a living hell does that to a person."

"Don't exag-"

"I'm not," sternly, he shook his head, briefly closing his eyes as though carding through rows and rows of pain-filled memories. "I've barely slept, barely eaten anything since you left. I...I keep replaying those words in my head," he grasped at the roots of his hair, panting dejectedly at his lap. "I wanted to hate you. No one has ever broken my heart like this."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over chest. If you do this, it'll mean you won't shatter like fine glass.

"Then go on!" you urged. "Hate me! Loathe me! Curse my name and spit on any reminder of my existence!"

"I can't!" he cried out. "No matter how hard I try, I want you more than ever. I want to drag you away from your writing, I want to complain about the half-empty cups you leave across the house, I want to make you that stupid mac-and-cheese you love so much!"

Your breath stuttered.

"Yoongi -"

"I want you to be angry with me, I want you to nag me, I want to be annoyed," eyes shining with unshed tears, he continued to drop the words so fat you could barely make them apart anymore. "Want to wear your scrunchies around my wrist, want to make furniture for you, want to clean the shower because you hate doing it."

Then, he bowed his head, leaving you for the first time ever, utterly and properly speechless.

"Please, take me back. Let me come home to you."

"Music was your home," you argued but with his head still low, Yoongi disagreed.

"It's not anymore. It's just a house now. Just a roof over the head. I'm...I'm not the same as I was before and yes, it scared me, yes, I was a coward, yes, I ran away from you and you have the right to be angry!"

More than the guilt in them, you hated Yoongi's eyes. It was the first thing you notice about him when he was just a masked stranger asking to split the table in a busy cafe. Sitting across each other just like this, you remember being entranced by the way his feline eyes darted all over the place, subtly observing each life going in their own ways. You hated how much you had stared at him that day, so much so, the only thing written down was cat, cat, cat, cat, to appear as though you were working. You hated to remember how happy those eyes were when you finally mustered up the courage to show him your work and how they had squinted in noiseless laughter when he realized that the black cat guarding your main hero was just him reimagined as a feline.

There was so much to be hated about Min Yoongi...so why you couldn't do it?

"Let me crawl back home to you."

"What of your precious pride?" you tried to hiss but it came out like a genuine question.

"It's meaningless," he murmured. "What pride is there to sit staring at the wall, whole days and nights passing by. So, please, take me back. I'll do everything you ask just please, let me be your home again."

"My home?" you echoed, faintly.

"You'll always be mine even if you're gone."

JIN: The greeting got stuck in your throat like a bite of a dry chicken. Grazing just down the windpipe, making it impossible to speak. The sight of him standing there, over the sink of your childhood home, washing dishes of all things and shifting anxiously from one foot to another, was enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

"Hello! Oh, ___________!" your mother chastised. "Why didn't you tell me you had such a lovely fiance?"

Your gaze fixated numbly on Jin. On his stupid face, on his stupid curls on that stupid jumper you gifted him on the first birthday you'd been there to celebrate.

Jin had been many firsts and most of all the first man you failed to get rid of the second things were off. He was like a rash on the butt, definitely nothing more complimentary - an annoying thing making it impossible to live, to have a peaceful breather. He was always there, reminding you that he did exist, making you miserable.

"Fiance?" dumbly, you echoed, too taken aback to even be angry. Being with Jin was another life, one you left behind at that; to see him here was as jarring as having a tree fall on top of your head.

"Yes, he arrived here late at night, yesterday," your mother continued to chatter on, oblivious to the lingering tension. "Introduced him all proper, asked for my blessing, helped me to lug in the Christmas tree this morning. Didn't you, Seokjinnie?"

If the red ears were anything to go by, then your mother had put him through Machiavellian levels of mortification for many consecutive hours now. So why was he here?

Meeting his gaze you wanted to ask just that.

Why are you here? What was this charade all about?

"I see," you, stated flatly. "I'll put my things away."

Quickly, you brushed past him to your bedroom, hearing a vague -

"Seokjin, dry your hands! Don't run off all dripping wet."

"Sorry, ma'am."

- coming from behind. Slamming the doors, you were unsurprised to find Jin's things already waiting for you there, having invaded this corner of your life that he had no business being in. He wasn't anything to you anymore. Just a stranger returned back to the tides of faceless crowds from which he emerged in a moment of delirious, star-stricken fancy. That's all that ever was to it. That's all you ever were to him, just a fleeting fancy he got caught up in too eagerly. The familiar ball and chain that everyone complained about were not as sturdy as they made it seem, engagements could be called off, relationships torn apart and hearts broken with the same ease it took to dust off a jacket.

"________________! Come decorate the tree!"

Languidly, you put one bauble around the piercing branches, ignoring the swelter of his lingering glance. At last, when he'd been drilling in the back of our head for so long you could swear it physically gave you a fever, you hissed surreptitiously at him, pretending to smile so your mother wouldn't have to know of how her precious Seokjinnie was by far the last person on the planet you wanted to speak with.

"How dare you come here," you accused him and he withered, hearing the sheer vitriol in your voice. "How dare you tell her you're my fiance? When we're done?!"

Jin frowned at the tree, haphazardly shoving the silver-coated balls on the needles.

"Please, we can't be done," he replied. "Let's just talk it out, okay?"

"I don't want to talk it out! If me leaving Seoul was not abundantly clear."

"You still kept the ring."

"Oh my god, is that what it's all about? The ring?" you yanked at the chain around your neck. Perhaps you shouldn't have kept it at all but it was an antique family heirloom and by the time you realized it was still around your neck, having grown so used to it, the jewellery felt like a natural part of your body, and the plane had already landed. "Here, you can have it!"

"Don't you dare," he growled, squeezing your palm to be still before falling quiet as your mother entered the living room. Jin was still wearing his own ring, it glistened around his finger in the sparkling Christmas lights.

Your mother's eyes darted between the two of you, clearly confused over the fraught expressions you both wore.

"Seokjin, do you mind helping me with the bean sprouts?"

Hell-bent on playing the role of the perfect upcoming son-in-law, Jin could only nod with a tight smile, unwillingly letting his hand drop.

"Be right there," nasally, he promised and dragged his feet towards the kitchen. As your hands trembled, one of the baubles fell onto the floor. In what seemed like slow motion, you watched it fly through the air, determinately swinging towards its own destruction and then shatter, shards flinging all over the hardwood floor.

"_____________, don't," Jin cried out but you didn't listen, squatting down to pick it up. Just as expected the tremors in your hands though small were enough for the sharpened edge to ungainly scrape against the skin, slicing it open.

Suddenly, it all felt too much and with tears threatening to burst, you ran outside the door, into the sobering winter where nothing was happy enough to pour any more bitterness into your heart. Unlike the ever-present bustle, your home was quiet. It lay on the edge of an unfarmed field with nary neighbours around. It was frighteningly quiet but soothing in a fevered moment such as this. Coming to a stop by an old shed, one you used to sneak cigarettes with a couple of friends in a reckless youth, you leaned against it and panted into the bristling cold. Clumps of snow fell lazily from the sky. Without hurry, completely careless. You yearned for that kind of serenity.

Hearing the crunch of the snow, you glimpsed around the corner, watching as Jin fell face-first into the thick snow, cursing as he did so. You almost laughed at the sight, only to remember that you promised to never, ever see him again.

He found you with relative ease, there was nothing else in the snowed-in field anyhow and he peered down at you with storming judgement.

"What are you doing running out in this weather?" he scolded, throwing a jacket over your shoulders.

"You have no right to reprimand me," you grumbled but he didn't listen and instead reached to examine the small cut on your finger, fishing a band-aid from the pocket of his jeans. Quietly you watched his brows furrow in concentration, treating this scrape as vitally as one would a heart surgery. Circling the band-aid around your finger, he breathed a soft:

"There we go," and pressed your palm against his cold lips.

"Jin -"

"I want you to take me back," he stated honestly, leaving another kiss, this time higher up the arm. "Yell at me if you need to, curse me out in front of your mother if you want to but please take me back."

"Your family -"

"I explained either me and you or no one at all," he murmured, slowly inching upwards and on instinct, your eyes closed, when tepidly he kissed your neck. "I was wrong for not saying so in the first place but now it's clear. If they love me, they'll accept you."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll move here if I must," he grunted, lightly breezing past your chin. Your fingers dug into that stupid green sweater. In the monochrome grey of a desolate winter, it stood out like a blood-curdling scream.

Graceless, he walked with you backwards, pinning you to the broken shed. You felt its wet cold seep through the clothing.

You should really slap this bastard and yet when he kissed you, you moaned, eyes popping wide open. The Jin you knew would never do this - he wouldn't press you up against a wall, so needy, so assured, he wouldn't fly out into the middle of nowhere and charm your mother.

"Have you gone insane?" you whispered, pushing him away and yet he refused to budge more than two centimetres. When he exhaled, you could feel the warmth on your face.

"Quite possibly," Jin nodded, chasing your lips, the glimpse in his eye almost look crazed, desperate - without a doubt. "Please, I'll do anything for you. Take me back and I'll build a home for you. Be it Seoul, here, or anywhere you like."

"You wouldn't be happy outside of home."

"You are my home," he twirled the ring between his fingers, enveloping you in his embrace as you shuddered from the cold. "And won't let anyone ruin that."

HOSEOK: He darted from the seat, the second you were escorted into the private room. Gentle music and easy conversation swayed in the background, illuminated by the soft romantic lights of numerous candles adorning the white-clothed tables which you imagined looked much like the one Hoseok had sat by just a second ago. Tugging at your clothes, you couldn't help but flush from embarrassment. You were so clearly from a different tax bracket but carding through the closet, the best clothes you found were his. His presents to be exact, however, after everything that happened, it felt wrong. Showcasing his numerous gifts on you would just give the wrong kind of signal - that you were still his and that...You weren't anymore. That should be the end of that. Even if he clearly had something to say against it.

"___________," he gasped, appearing shocked. "Thank you for coming."

You waited for the server to leave, and only then you spoke. Calm, collected, without any emotion. You'd been practising the entire week now. But standing in front of a mirror and gazing at it with soul-sapped eyes was not the same as standing in front of the love of your life and keep insisting that it was all over.

"You hardly gave me a choice," you shrugged. "You hounded my co-workers, friends, landlord, my parents, Hoseok. My parents."

He cringed, biting on his lip.

"I know," Hoseok drawled guiltily. "But I was...I was desperate. You were just gone and I was going crazy."

With a sigh, silence settled between you.

"I believe fifteen minutes is what you asked for," you sat down, firmly rejecting his feeble attempts to pull out your chair. "So fifteen minutes is what you're going to get."

"Thank you," he bowed, quickly rushing to sit in front of you. "You're too gracious."

"That I am," you murmured, taking a long sip from the wine glass. Some couldn't hurt. Maybe even a lot. After all, he'd hurt you enough, no amount of alcohol could deal that kind of damage. Whether or not he'd heard you, you couldn't tell, either way, he ignored the remark.

Exhaling, a nerve-riddled breath, he fixed the lapels of his suit jacket and after fixating you with a firm gaze, said:

"I beg of you to take me back."

The wine splattered all over the white tablecloth. Feeling it drip unhandsomely down your chin, you reached for a napkin but Hoseok was quicker. He wiped the wine away, letting his fingers graze past your lips. Your heart hammered and h you wished that it would be from indignance.

"You can't be serious!"

"I am."

From the look in his eye, he really was not lying. That sort of cutthroat determination you'd seen on him only once - when he was dancing and trying to beat someone or something. The difference between the smiling, jovial man who asked you out on a date and that one was so startling it took you whole two business days to get over.

Hoseok was like a box of chocolates with the labels all crossed out. You could reach for one candy, expecting a sour tangy filling, of rum, perhaps, or a lemon zest and be met in the end by the sweetness of dripping caramel. It was fun for a while, it kept you on your toes and then...then it was less fun when you realized you never really knew the man you were with. When you couldn't reach for him on the saddest of days and expect assuredness of a well-rehearsed answer. He was always different and what you got, in the end, was no more than just a repainted mask he wielded against everyone else. Chocolates were good and fun but they couldn't substitute meals and expensive presents couldn't buy true love.

"________________, please, take m-"

"Hors d' oeuvres are served," the waiter, literally having spawned out of thin air, stated. Hoseok pulled away, jaw clenching in annoyance. "Tzaziki Shrimp Cucumber Rounds. Enjoy!"

"Thank you," you bid the waiter thinly. When the doors closed behind him, another pause of stilted silence lingered in the air.

"I know I'm asking much," Hoseok began but with a furious shake of the head, you interrupted.

"You're asking the impossible, Hoseok! What even? How did you? I mean, what?" stumbling, upon the words, you suppressed the deceitful sting in the corners of your eyes. "You're just saying these things because you know I'm weak."

"You're not weak!" he argued with a furrowed brow. "Don't you ever say such a thing about yourself!"

"Then why are you asking - "

"Because I love you!"

Your head quirked to gaze at him. Defeated, Hoseok sighed.

"I love you. Madly, utterly, completely. I was shit at showing it and I know you have every right to be mad at me. These past few weeks..." he trembled, glimpsing to the side. "Have been an honest hell. I hate myself for making you feel -"

"Cheap?" you finished, voice quivering. "Like I could be bought?"

"Yes," he swallowed in regret. "I can never fully undo the damage or express how sorry I am enough. But I do love you. I've never loved anyone like I do you," capturing your fingers in his, he continued. "I promise I will learn, I'll listen, I'll do anything you ask of me but, please, let me love you, let me cherish you, let us grow old together. There's a future for us, I know I crave it but so must -"

"You guys enjoying your food?"

This time a scream physically tore from your chest as unexpectedly a third figure simply manifested without any warning beforehand. Hoseok's grasp on your palm tightened and so did his jaw.

"What's your name?" he inquired the waiter, not letting his gaze stray away from your face. Not even a little bit.

"Jae!"

"Jae, do yourself a favour and get lost."

"Okay!" With a hollow smile, Jae scurried through the doors. The third and final bout of silence began.

"I can't be here anymore," you spluttered, detaching your hand from his. It wasn't surgically tied together, so why, why did it hurt so much?

"______________," Hoseok whimpered. In his mouth, your name sounded like a benediction. You couldn't stand to hear so much...love in his voice. Telling yourself he'd never loved you was the only dam that prevented you from crying one lonely night after the next. With the restaurant turning into a blur of cream colours, you rushed out into the street, maniacally looking for any escape. A bus stopped near and you ran towards it, uncaring about where it took you as long as it was far, far away.

You caught a glimpse of Hoseok chasing after you, despairingly trying to find you in the pandemonium that was a Friday evening in a well-known district. Over and over again, he traced every car and window but as you had ducked out of the sight, he couldn't do so, no matter the effort. When the bus rolled away, you saw his shoulders drop, and after pressing a palm over his mouth, he simply sobbed right there in the middle of the otherwise joyful crowd.

JIMIN: Anyone has had those times in their life, right? When you'd done something crazy, something you could only gape at from this point of view, wondering what the hell were you thinking. It didn't even feel like a part of your life at most times, merely a scandalous story you'd imagined, not lived through. You were happy to say that after three months, it had finally come to the point where you could delude yourself into thinking it had not been real. It did not feel real anyhow. Returning back to normalcy had sapped any credibility of the various memories bubbling right underneath your skin. On good days, you thought of Jimin only once, in passing, and then you lived your life. On bad days, however...on bad days you'd be plagued by his visage on every billboard and poster in the city, every radio would have his voice singing, and every innocuous google search would somehow end up in compilations of his laughter. You feared to remember and feared to forget it. But no matter how bad the days were before, it was nothing compared to the clammy dread pulsating with every one of your heartbeats.

"How do you even know who I am?" you licked at your dry lips, questioning if this too was even real. The time on the clock showed 3:26 am and on the phone, with you, there was Kim Namjoon.

"Jimin stares at your pictures all the time. He also mutters your name. In his sleep."

That... that can not be true.

"I...I don't -"

"Listen, __________, frankly, I don't quite know who exactly you are to Jimin or what even happened, I just know that he is spiralling. He's drinking every moment he gets, he doesn't eat, and he sleeps only when he can't stand upright anymore. The only time he's calm is when he's staring at your picture."

You lean into your duvet, feeling much like crying yourself.

"I realize you are not obligated to help him," Namjoon continues, much softer. "But please, I am scared for him and if he meant anything to you, just please, talk to him at least one last time."

This is not real. This is not real, keeps running through your mind as you board the plane, as it takes hours to go back to the one place you thought you'd be done with forever and climb onto the once familiar elevator. Your life is once again a dream. Or a nightmare. Yeah, that felt like it.

When you climbed out onto Jimin's floor, you were horrifically met by Namjoon and Taehyung, both of whom stared at you as though you were a mythical creature, ripped out of the pages of a long-lost fantasy book.

"He's in there," curtly, Namjoon tossed a head towards the doors, dragging gaping Taehyung with him. "We'll give you some room."

You nodded in compliance, pushing open the doors with a bated breath. Dusk had settled deep over the rooms and the air was stuffed full with the stench of alcohol. You wandered quietly through the apartment until at last you stumbled upon a crumpled figure wrapped haphazardly underneath a pile of blankets.

"Jimin?" you called out cautiously and the pile wobbled until a messy head poked through. His eyes were swollen, clearly having been crying for most if not the whole day, and dry spit clung to the corner of his mouth. He squinted at you standing in the middle of his bedroom.

"Go away," he grumbled and turned away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

At the sound of your booming voice, he jolted, gripping the sides of his head.

"How dare you behave this way? How dare you degrade yourself to this level?!"

Blinking blearily, Jimin whimpered:

"___________________? Is it really you?"

"Who else could it possibly be?" you scoffed and he hiccuped, shamefully looking at the floor.

"Dunno...when I drink enough, I see you around."

You cringed, hearing this. No wonder, Namjoon said he was scared.

"And do I yell at you also?"

"No, you just say you hate me."

"I don't hate you," you sighed and Jimin's head whipped up so fast, you swore there was a crack.

"Then take me back," he fought with the sheets, to crawl out of the bed, one leg stuck in his trousers. "Take me back, please!"

"Have you no shame? No dignity left?" you wondered aloud, seeing him on his knees, still drunk most likely.

"I don't need dignity," he cried out. "I don't need pride. I just need you back. I need you," he swayed back and forth, growing hysteric. "You're the love of my life!"

"Don't say that when you're drunk," you snapped, willing yourself to treat him fairly. You'd coddled him before and it was at the expense of your own heart. Not this time. Not even when you wanted so bad it hurt. "They're just lies."

"They're not lies!"

"Well, I still don't believe you! Do you really think by ruining yourself you're making me love you more?! Do you really think that being pitiful is enough to earn my forgiveness?"

He choked back a sob, batting at his wet cheeks.

"I know you hate me..."

"I don't hate you! Why do you always think in extremes?! I'm disappointed! I'm angry! Get your fucking shit together, for God's sake, Jimin! I want you to respect me and respect yourself and not do whatever this is because this," harshly, you gestured over his crouched figure, trembling in the cold air of his messed up apartment. "This is not cute. It's terrifying!"

Perhaps you'd been too harsh but either way, Namjoon thanked you once a week passed and Jimin had returned to some form of normalcy.

Either way, it all began to feel like a dream again once you left, gazing at Seoul through the airplane window, how it shrank smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely. Along with Park Jimin somewhere in it. Dragging your feet into the unmade bed, like the week abroad simply didn't exist, you sighed and numbly looked around. The unnamed feeling that had plagued you for months finally had a name. This was a house, it didn't feel like a home. Home was Jimin's apartment, his stupid kitchen and stupid dishtowels, his stupid gallons of beauty products and his stupid Chelsea boots he'd bought too much of. But you left him in Seoul. It's not like he'll chase you and beg again. Who would even do that? You suspected no one would. Who could possibly love you that much to not only abandon all their principles once but twice?

At a quiet ring of a doorbell, you groaned. Another cat missing?

Dejectedly, you shuffled to the front door, throwing it open and then feeling a stiff weight settle on top of you, enveloping their arms around you like a greedy spider.

You blinked at the ceiling, smelling the all-too-familiar perfume and the gentle, airy voice that came with it.

"Please, take me back."

TAEHYUNG: "Please, take me back."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care."

The small crowd gasped when he dropped onto his knees, bowing in front of you.

"Have you lost your mind?!" you hissed, trying to drag him up. "Have you no pride left? No sense of shame?!"

It was maybe seconds, seconds until someone recognized him if they haven't done so already.

"No," he replied, muttering at the snow-covered ground. "I have no need for them if only you'll come back."

You didn't know why it was always winter when Taehyung was involved. You met in winter, you broke up in winter, he cried for you to come back in winter and you rejected him during that same winter. A year had passed and once more the ground was dusted with white snow, etching cold breaths into the air. There were no calls anymore, no more texts begging to just talk, to see you one last time. Even the one inquiry about whether or not you wanted your stuff was left on read.

Served him right, the logical part of your brain sneered. He'd hurt you, this was merely a taste of his own medicine. If only this self-righteousness would make you happy.

Walking past his billboards plastered towering and unattainable over the hustle of streets below, you couldn't help but linger, staring at his soft smile, promising the release of his album in a week's time. What a strange date. It was the same one you met it. It was fake, you could tell. His smile that is. When Taehyung smiled for real it inspired others to do the same, not walk past him, uncaring. You wondered where he was...a whole year had passed since he begged you on the knees...

"I'm right here," a deep voice spoke against the shell of your ear and you yelped, turning around. His hand shot out to steady you against the slippery pavement, keeping it around the padded material of your jacket for far longer than necessary. You decided not to remark upon it, selfishly absorbing this scrap. Where was your own dignity?

The little part of his face that you could see was wholly indecipherable, the only feature you could make out through the falling snow and his mask, were the dark of his eyes, staring fixedly at you.

"Hello," you breathed faintly.

"Hello."

You'd forgotten just how warm his voice was.

"Have you been doing well?" he asked, ignoring the mass of people trying to squeeze past you, grumbling in annoyance.

"...yes," you lied. "You?"

"No," he answered honestly, before adding softly. "I miss you."

"Taehyung -"

"I'm not going to lie, ____________," he shrugged. "I've been doing awful since you left. I still love you. What more is there to say?"

Your eyes flitted down at the familiar red around his neck.

"Is that my scarf?" you pointed out and he glanced down at it.

"Yes, it is," he drawled simply. "I found it among your old stuff. I've been wearing it ever since. It's lost your scent now," he sighed ruefully before sobering up. "Is that a creepy thing to say?"

"I -" you stammered. "I don't quite know."

He hummed.

"I saw you're about to release your album," you began, swaying awkwardly on the heels. You know you rejected him but...but couldn't you also want to see him? Let the faceless crowds of judgment ridicule you for your indecisiveness but you had shared a life together with Taehyung, seeing him, just like the first time you met, in the winter, made your heart ache with longing.

"I can send it over for you to listen," he casually suggested. "You might find it interesting."

"Oh," you dragged. "Don't you have strict protocols about that sort of thing?"

"I don't care," he stated. "It's my album, my heart, if I want to give it to you I will. Even if..." he trailed off, finally removing the hand that had been squeezing yours all this time. "Even if you don't want anything to do with it anymore."

When you saw him turn and leave, you floundered, but couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say. Nothing meaningful, nothing...honest. Brutal, bold honesty was always his forte, yours was to pretend.

"I haven't changed my address!" you called out after him. "I still live -"

"I know," Taehyung replied, glancing over his shoulder, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his brown coat. "I remember."

When the postman knocked on your door with the package marked as from KTH, it took all your courage to unwrap the blue ribbon, it may have taken it a bottle or two to even put the CD and listen. A card sat attached to the plastic case.

To my only angel, I loved you yesterday, love you today, and will love you tomorrow. Forever Yours, Kim Taehyung. It had dragged a deeply ugly sound from your throat - something between a wrecked sob and snorting laughter. As if you didn't know who he was.

The album itself was deeply melancholic, something one would expect of Taehyung but this was different. How you could not say, it just was. There was almost an anxious feeling about it. It seemed to weave through the various melodies like a thread across different-sized buttons. It wasn't until the last track which ended almost on a note of a piercing scream did you put together the pieces of the puzzle why it all seemed so familiar.

To my angel,

I always believed you were in the far, far sky

Turns out you're the face next to me

And in all that ever was or is meant to be,

I'd give anything to hear your dry, dry sigh

I know what you're going to say

It's been a year, you fool

But if only you gave me a chance you would see

A year, ten, twenty?

Means no difference to me,

My lonely angel.

Here it all was, the life you lived together, the life he lived after parting, all displayed in neatly aligned 12 tracks, meaning nothing to anyone and yet bearing everything to you. Each opaque reference lyricists would brush off as wordplay were snapshots of a mourned past. You had to...You had to find him. With a sudden urgency, you felt your body tremble, seized by this one, unshakeable impulse. You had to find him. To do what exactly? Who knows. But you couldn't sit here this night alone. Jumping on one foot, you got a boot over your foot and a scarf over your neck, yet when you yanked open the doors, there he already stood, hand raised, prepared to knock.

"Hello," you breathed faintly.

"Hello," he greeted and then to your shock, surprise and heartbreak, sunk to his knees, peering up at you, both solemn and terrified out of his mind. "Take me back?

JUNGKOOK: "That guy is staring at me."

"No, he's not. Shut up and eat your food."

Your date pouted unkindly.

"You're mean and bossy," he complained. "I'm not asking you out ever again."

"I'm practically bursting into tears," dryly, you retorted, taking a long drag of the shitty white whine he'd ordered. "Keep smiling, Jack, lest you want that guy to fashion you into a skin suit."

"My name is Jake."

"Hmmm whatever."

As you met gazes with the shadowy figure sitting and glaring pure hellfire from the corner of the restaurant, you wanted to cry. Laugh? Both? It was hard to say. But either way, Jungkook was a fucking dick who made your life a living hell. It was supposed to end with you victorious, slamming a door into his stupid nose, you were meant to walk away from this whole mess with your head held high, ego unbruised and heart absolutely detached. Or at least that's the promise you made until you saw the intense brown of his eyes, tracking your every move. He was absolutely full of his own shit.

By now you knew what he wanted, what was running through that fantastically mangled piece of meat he called a brain. He wanted to be taken back - into your bed, into your arms, into your home. Like a skinned mole, he'd burrowed his sneaky way into those forbidden places, with his stupid Elmo laugh, his golden heart and his...well, it all had made you a little bit stupid. It all had made your hand shove away all concerns and throw yourself head first into what must have been the most torrent love affair this side of the globe.

You knew every dirty part of his, the flaws he was so deathly afraid of showing, the embarrassment he'd rather first chew his own tongue off instead of revealing; in your hands, he'd bloomed like a beautiful flower and despite his mountain of problems, you still want him.

Wanted him, you amended in your mind, you wanted him, now you don't. Case closed. Pinatas for all.

But if you knew Jungkook down to every sinewy muscle and vein, so did he. He knew from the first meeting of your eyes that you didn't want to be here, you'd dragged yourself out here to be with Jacklyn, kicking and screaming, with the sole goal of fruitlessly showing yourself you could live on after every man had been ruined by this dopey kangaroo.

He knew that just beneath the tongue you were itching to get back with him, to go on those ridiculous dog playdates, to have him bouncing around the room, trying to dance all sexy only for his oversized clothes to remind you too keenly of a flag rather than a human. He knew you wanted to press your face into that chest, drag him down on top of you by his body chain, and be annoyed when he wouldn't fucking stop bumping into you.

But damned if you ever admit that out loud.

Too preoccupied with various musings of intimacy, you failed to see Jungkook grab an apple, draw his hand back like a bow and launch the apple at Jacob's head.

Falling on the floor, your brave date muttered "fuck this" and scrambled off.

All too smoothly, Jungkook took the now free seat.

"Hey, babe," he said, winking. "Missed me?"

"Fuck you!"

Storming off, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself to protect yourself from the harsh wind but fuck all it did and fuck all your legs did against the fresno nightwalker known as Jungkook. It took five maybe six long strides for him to be right up in your face.

"Baby, let's just talk about this."

"Fuck you!"

"I'm so so sorry, I was wrong, you were right; always are. I bow my head in shame."

"Fuck you!"

His expression tightened, lips pursing in annoyance.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Another date. Another day. Another time your gaze trailed to Jungkook, waving at you from the bar.

"You're really beautiful," the new date choked out. "T-Though I can't help but feel you're not listening to me at all."

Your gaze darted to sit guiltily upon the tablecloth. Averys was a good guy, he'd been nice, just all right and yet...yet it was not enough. And you knew that. And Jungkook knew that. And it was all so very annoying.

"Listen, Alec, you're cute, I'm just in a...weird situationship."

"My name's Alex."

"Oh," your mouth popped open and against your will you found Jungkook's eyes, staring at you with this longing across the floor. "My bad."

"Does he make you laugh?"Jungkook's arm wrapped possessively around your waist, pushing you into his chest when you tried to escape him after Alex had left, leaving you alone against Jungkook in the middle of the street. "Does he make you cum?"

"You're vulgar!" you snapped.

"So, does he?"

"No, but at least," your lip wobbled and from the sheer shock of seeing your tears, Jungkook's grip loosened. "A-At least he doesn't make me cry."

Scuffing your shoes against the gravel ground, disinterestedly you swayed on the rusty swing, hearing it screech painfully with every movement. Somehow you could relate to that sound. There was no one for you but Jungkook but he was...he also was not an option. Not anymore. Like your relationship it'd been funny at first and then it stopped. It stopped being funny when the time came to be serious, to take responsibility and he just couldn't do that.

Wiping away your tears, you jolted when someone sat beside you. Jungkook, gazing mournfully at the ground, echoed the same pitiful swinging, having no more energy to put behind it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I never did."

"But you still did," you pointed out and he nodded sadly.

"I still did."

Sigh.

"Nothing I ever say will make it enough, right?" he clarified, reaching to gently hold your hand as you swing. "You won't believe it."

"Promises are just words," you sniffled. "Everyone says words. Most don't mean a thing with them."

"But actions speak louder than words, don't they?"

With your hand in his, it felt right but no matter how good it was, it didn't change the fact he disappeared. With a postcard in the mail, he disappeared, leaving nothing but "one day you and I will love again."

And five years passed. Five years - you're a new person, it's an all-new world, everything has changed but your heart fluttering, stumbling drunkenly in your chest remained all the same. When you opened the door Jungkook gasped, face partially hidden behind the flowers. He was changed as well, with hair much longer, tattoos covering his arm, and piercings littered across his face yet his eyes were the same and the way they stared at you brought you all those years back - when you've felt the most wanted in your entire life.

"_______________," he breathed like a prayer. "Can I come in?"

Mutely, you nodded, failing to grasp both your voice and reasons why this was a very, very bad idea. Twirling around, his eyes flitted between your private pieces, the bits of your heart displayed all around the temporary home. Every home had been temporary since him but such a thing should never be spoken aloud.

"What are you doing here?" tiredly, you asked and Jungkook reached to hand you a paper. Squinting at it you read, growing confused, messed up, teary and frightened all at the same time.

"Due to the client's personal wishes, ____________ ____________ is criminally and lawfully free of any non-disclosure agreement made between ___________ _________, the client and Hybe/Bighit Entertainment. ____________ _________ is hereby granted public and private freedom to discuss any and all information about the client. The client has been made aware of all pertaining possibilities of such an act and has consented to have this statement be signed and all of its subsequent consequences."

With the paper shuddering in your hands, you peered at him.

"Actions speak louder than words, right?" Jungkook chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of his neck

"Why would you do such a thing?!" you yelped. " I could...I could destroy you!"

Yet he merely shrugged.

"Why not? I'm already ruined without you," his expression darkened, a frown marring the lovely features. "Five years had passed and not a day hasn't gone by without me thinking of you. You don't know how long I've stared at your pictures with Alex and wished that it was me," he sighed. "How many nights have I cried myself to sleep, praying I could just get five minutes with you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

After a moment of silence, you spoke faintly:

"We broke up. Alex and I."

"I know," Jungkook nodded thoughtfully. "I saw you get together and waited."

"What if we hadn't broken up?" you whispered, not noticing that he'd taken a step closer. Those damn eyes of his always entranced you. "What if we got married?"

"I'd still wait for you," he mumbled, glaring at his shoes. "I'd wait for you my whole life. When I left, I realized I needed to grow up. For you. So I did all I could and when you...when you were with him...well, I didn't want to make life hard for you. Didn't dare to make you cry again. I was good," his voice quivered. "I was really good for you, baby. All grown up now. So, please, if you can, take me back. I'll be good, I promise."

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2nv-diary · 1 month ago

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flightless bird(have i found you?) | part 1

ray | binary star hero x reader

rushed for a friend who has just passed. gushed over this game with her, so i thought it deserved to be out there. not proofread.

word count: 2,001

It's not like him to move without completing the picture from top to bottom first—plans A to Z listed, supposedly; he had so much time, after all. Every move he's imagined you'd make branches out to 26 different outcomes. He thinks it's enough. Who the hell reacts differently than more than about three possibilities?

You, apparently. You take him out. Make him realize the need of a plan AA. A plan AB. A plan AC. And so on and so forth. He needs more than 26 plans when it's about you. Absolute pain in his ass.

It's the burning sensation in his gut that he almost thinks you are Apollo instead of Icarus. Icarus is meant to chase after the god with wing of wax and feather, but the story must be incomplete like his plans because—

—You are Apollo instead, he figures. If he's speaking about power, you are possibly both. You are the one on the Earth that cannot follow him to the skies beyond—Icarus—and yet you are the one being chased and the one so hard to reach—Apollo.

And god, does he want to reach you.

Bedrock crumbles when penetrated by roots deep enough, but soil clings. Like a vice if compact enough, roots unable to escape—truly, who is the one benefitting? The root that digs deep onto unsurmising surface, or the soil that grabs onto roots to stay intact?

Mutual, at least. They both use each other. Both beneficial.

It's what he craves with you. Hero calling only to be your enemy the moment your eyes meet. His could turn red and melt even the most pressurized of diamonds over—but why did it not cut through layers of you?

So much left of you he does not know. He doesn't like it one bit. Even with all this planning, there's not much to write home about in his knowledge of you. It's embarrassingly—

—Useless; a mind reader that can't still know their goddamn target after countless encounters? He's such a novice. When he shouldn't be.

Icarus seems to have the upper hand. There isn't even an attempt to use the wings, he never uses it for the one time Ray absolutely needs him to. Figures it must be because Apollo could craft wings himself to Icarus—who's chasing who at his point?

Your eyes pierce at him again, but with no fault of your own. No recognition whatsoever, but he doesn't blame you. Years of searching you of course made him remember your eyes, but you haven't searched him once.

And the eyes you gaze upon in television have a ridiculous mask plastered before it. He can't blame you for not making the connection—he doesn't want you to, anyway. But it still stings. But at the same time, this is perfect for him.

A new start for his Icarus—

—Apollo coming down to meet him.

In the guise of mortality, not in the god-like glory, he makes the choice for you. Perhaps if the sun wasn't as scorching, would you, dearest Icarus, attempt to come near now?

—Of course he's not the sun. Sun-like, at best. A void that pulls forces. Devours. He keeps his sun-like stature to fool you. Pulls an Apollo to bring Icarus home. Binary pairs, forever revolving around each other.

So, no. He will not burn you. Instead, he will come to you, attraction pulling hard on his heartstrings.

Maybe it is you who deserves a hero title. You're saving this world by simply existing. You would save much more if you knew your power well, but he likes to keep his cards close.

So when his first move of check in poker comes in the form of a visit to the café you work at, you think the game is fair.

(And it is. All is fair in love and war.)

You think it's destiny—him catching you whenever you fall.

Catching. As if what made you stumble wasn't him in the first place.

Your skin colliding with his—nevermind his sweater's a layer he wishes wasn't in between the two of you—his limb feels like burning from the slightest touch.

Actor setting up his stage, you were lead actress in the dark of what is most likely his idea of love. Ray your love interest but only because that is the limit he allows. Cotton over your eyes lest you see the true number of choices you have.

And you have a lot. He can lessen those numbers, but even so, there is only so much pain in your expression that he can handle and put up with. As ruthless as he is, obviously he wants what makes you happy.

Because if you're happy, you'd want to stay. He doesn't have to plan—52 plans incase you ruin the first 26(you love making him overthink, don't you?)—if you're willing. If you want him.

Pliant, in your soft mattress. His is softer, branded luxury amongst other practical items he's bothered to buy with his money, but of course to hunt is to never rush.

He hates it when you're up and about. You go to places he can't really follow—mundane, you say, but if he argues it's not, then your suspicions raise. He can't have that. All that settles are crumbs instead—

—His name and number, appearing as if you'd scored them, slipped into your pockets. Stealthy, as if he hadn't thought multiple times of how and what if there weren't even any pockets on you. How embarrassing would that have been on his end?

Ray is different. Or so he thinks. He wants to know now what you think, thinking all his efforts should at least leave you guessing. (Sweet summer child. No experience in the ways of love, only ever transactional relationships and it shows.) He's like a cat. Dropping the most vague of hints and hoping it spells out "we're soulmates—trust.".

So when the silence stretches longer than he would have liked(merely a week; for a stranger, he sure does not know how long buildup takes), he finds you.

Under his attempt of playing Apollo, you also play Icarus perfectly. Such versatility—or perhaps duality—you have, perched by the large advertisment of him plastered over the city. In gold and glitter, Ray is adorned in all that glimmers for the one interview he remembers.

The one interview that matters. A show that he so wishes you would bear witness to, and it is the perfect moment right now that he also witnesses you watch it himself. All his luck(should he believe in such a concept) has pooled its chances for today.

Ray made sure you would encounter this interview one way or another. If not from the billboard—though he argues that that alone is a hard feat to ignore—then from magazines. Surely your eyes will drift towards him—an image, at least, coincidentally. Be it in stores you pass by or it being read by a civillian before you.

He is well loved, after all.

(Well, Binary Star is.)

In that interview he calls out to you. In words he knows will stir a reaction from you, no matter how the meaning is twisted it still means something that involves you.

He will have you. The world already knows, and so should you.

"I work law enforcement, remember?" are the first reasons he throws at you when he arrives at the café first thing after work.

Work. His job doesn't have set hours like you do(as much as he likes to have some. Would really do him good to just... not be the one the world needs for maybe fourteen hours like everyone else) so it was either he heals up and shows nothing as incentive to you, or—

—His job might as well mean a good thing for him, your lovely face scrunched to focus on bandaging him with what supplies your workplace has. He loves the sight of you so close, your worry doing wonders for his wounds(that he could so easily patch up himself or even heal. Bastard even knows it's not going to get infected or get him to bleed out.)

Sparkling little starlight of his, burning bright even without meaning to. He's meant it when he said he doesn't feel the pain no matter how many times you check.

The antiseptic stings. The blood loss lightens his grip on reality. The presses on marred flesh would make a grown man burst into tears. But he's meant to make up for the days he hasn't visited—damned world needed saving, he's been pulled away from you.

Apollo, needed by devout men and women falling to their doom. Ray's mind roars back that their impending downfall is their own making—humanity always fucks around and finds out(it's the point of history, and yet it spirals and people still call them coincidences. Not like Ray expects them to learn.)

All this trouble, yet the one whose touch he needs is yet too far away. Icarus, still not making use of his wings.

Does he knows his bone and flesh will melt upon leaving his habitat to join Apollo? Ray hopes on Icarus' naivety, then.

If not to be the hero he once wanted to be(symbol of justice—but what is just, anyway? when it turns out to be a hero is but a mere puppet on strings that all circle back to the goddamn government?), then if only he could just be your hero. Can't you let him do that for you(himself, really)?

"Being good at your job doesn't mean you're invincible," You retort in concern. "And even if you were invincible, you'd think you'd at least take care if just for the sake of those that worry over you."

Ray finds you adorable—cute barista cleaning him up instead of cleaning up shop, her main job—but it's within said job that he's reminded you're not alone.

"See, some people would drag that to the hospital than to a café." Your coworker Haley makes their presence known.

"Sorry, Hal. I'll replace the supplies myself." You don't realize that's not the issue, but Ray doesn't want to tell you what is. Seems neither does Haley.

"'s fine. Those were about to expire, anyway." They shrug, words meant to have Ray wince were he an ordinary man.

Luckily for him, he doesn't need to do his version of cleanup on the café. (Lucky for Haley, too. Ray would hate for this charade—scene to end, curtains fall to a close, credits roll—to move if he does clean up starting with Haley. Where would you work, then?)

Caffeine could almost replace the blood in his veins with how often Ray drinks coffee. Black, too? No man can handle that frequency without palpitating towards an early grave.

You say so too when you pour him a cup in your tiny apartment, making up for when he carried your groceries home. When he'd worried to hell and back when all he'd seen in those bags were instant foods—let him take care of you. He wants so badly to offer.

"I don't know how you can live with absolutely zero sugar or cream," You murmur against the rim of your own cup. Foam of marshmallow clinging to your lips, only making you even more adorable in Ray's eyes, something he didn't know was even possible.

"Some of us don't actually want diabetes. Shocking, I know." He rolls his eyes. A poor attempt in his eyes to appear uninterested. Surely you and anyone under the sun knows his attraction to you. You're his weakness, as painstaking as it is to admit.

He hopes you are never one day the thing that crutches him. The one thing that he will lose for, and the world will know—

—Binary Star isn't actually the most powerful—you are.

(Apollo to his Icarus.)

#binary star hero #bshvn #bsh ray

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hrizantemy · 1 month ago

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Was there a valid reason for Amren to be Rhys‘s second? why make her his second? What did she contribute to the night court?

I thought it would make sense for Cassian, the general of the night court, to be his second? All Amren does is give out history lessons… and now she’s even more useless than before.

The fact that this whole scene of Rhys telling Feyre who his second and third are and her thinking „omg, the females are his side??!“, you can tell it was only to show what a great feminist he is.

At least I know the roles the guys play, I still don’t know wtf Mor and Amren can give. For fuck‘s sake, even Feyre is useless as High lady. They’re only important as warriors and that’s sad.

Rhysand’s decision to make Amren his second has always seemed questionable, especially when contrasted with Cassian’s role as the general of his armies. The reasoning behind Amren being his second is never fully fleshed out beyond the vague sense of her being powerful, ancient, and knowledgeable about history and magic. Yet, what has Amren truly contributed to the Night Court? Her primary purpose in the series seems to be offering cryptic advice, acting as a translator for ancient languages, and, on occasion, threatening others with her past power.

Amren’s actual role as Rhys’s second feels largely ceremonial. She is given the title, but there are very few moments when she is shown doing anything that justifies this position. Her biggest contribution was during the war against Hybern when she used the Cauldron to destroy their forces—except that came at the cost of her powers, leaving her a mortal being without the abilities that once made her such a formidable force. Now, as a regular fae, her importance has dwindled significantly, yet she still holds her lofty title. But what does she do now? Hand out history lessons? She doesn’t fight. She doesn’t command armies. She doesn’t seem to have any political clout. So why does she still hold such a crucial position in the Night Court hierarchy?

Morrigan’s role feels equally underdeveloped. She’s described as the “Queen of the Court of Nightmares,” a position that implies she has some political authority. However, this authority is meaningless when the people of the Hewn City despise her, and she despises them in return. She’s supposed to be their queen or leader in some way, yet there’s no real evidence that she’s ever done anything to lead or help these people. In fact, the Inner Circle constantly looks down on the Hewn City as lesser, so why should Mor’s title even matter if she herself doesn’t care for those she’s meant to rule? It’s a title that exists purely for show.

The irony is that Mor’s role as Rhysand’s third, the alleged ruler of the Court of Nightmares, holds little weight when the Night Court places more value on its warriors—Cassian, Azriel, and even Feyre in her role as High Lady. Cassian and Azriel command armies, gather intelligence, and actually do the work needed to protect the Night Court. Meanwhile, Mor’s most significant contribution is her power, which is seldom utilized, and her role in dealing with Hewn City is never really explored or shown beyond a few vague mentions. It’s as if Rhys’s decision to make her third was more about optics, a way to show that he places women in positions of power, but there’s little substance behind it.

And then there’s Feyre, the High Lady of the Night Court—another title that seems hollow. Feyre’s role as High Lady is more symbolic than anything. While she occasionally participates in battles, most of her time is spent doing…what? She’s neither a strategist, a politician, nor a leader in any tangible sense. Much like Amren and Mor, Feyre’s role feels as though it exists to project an image of equality within the court, but none of the women actually wield the kind of influence or responsibility that Cassian or Azriel do.

At the end of the day, Amren and Mor are mostly useless in their roles. Their titles and positions are more about creating a sense of balance and progression than actually giving them meaningful contributions. Amren has lost her power and contributes little more than historical knowledge, and Morrigan, the supposed queen of Hewn City, does nothing for the people she’s supposed to lead and dislikes them just as much as they dislike her. The real work of the Night Court is done by the male warriors, while the women’s roles, especially Mor’s and Amren’s, feel superficial at best.

#anti acosf #anti acotar #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti rhysand #nesta archeron deserves better #pro nesta #anti azriel #anti amren #anti cassian #anti nessian #anti night court

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sorcerous-caress · 1 year ago

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Meta Magic Seduction | Rolan

[ smut, fluff, starts intense then becomes playful, Dom!reader, Nb!reader, Bottom!reader, sub!Rolan, magic foreplay. ]

[ Reader is a sorcerer ]

"Cat got your tongue, wizard?"

If only looks could kill, you'd have been 6 feet under by now. And if things were any different, maybe a spell or two would've done the honours instead.

Alas, wizards tend to be quite useless with their mouth all gagged and pretty. Such a shame they can't comprehend the simplest magic tricks of sorcery.

Pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth, Rolan's incomprehensible mumbling only got worse as you reached the back of his throat.

Looking into his abyssal eyes, two golden rings met your gaze. You dared him to bite down or even think of scratching your delicate skin with his teeth.

"Where's your magic now?"

You rolled your hips, forcing a moan after another out of him. His leaking cock squeezed between his own body and your plush thighs. Teasing the thing each time you moved and grinded your hips on top of it.

Light began bending around his hands, sparks flew and a faint glow grew brighter and brighter as he attempted to channel the weave yet again.

You pressed your fingers harder against his tongue, holding it between your two fingers and rubbing it.

The magic fizzled immediately. Without a spoken incantation, his cute little studious magic education was worthless.

You've wanted to do this since the first time you met him, his cocky attitude, his air of false superiority. They just let anyone become a wizard these days, apparently.

But even then, these wizards really forgot their place, first Gale and now Rolan. It's about time you reminded them that no matter how much knowledge they shove down their throats, they will never be chosen by the weave itself like you were.

You are magic incarnation itself. and the only use you have of any wizard is to serve you. That's their true purpose that they forgot.

"And you call yourself a mage, pathetic." After his second failed attempt at casting anything, not even a simple cantrip, you retracted your fingers from his mouth.

Grabbing one of his horns, you pulled his face closer to yours as you observed the mess you made out of him. A look of anger and shame filled his eyes, breathing heavily with drool dripping down the corner of his lips.

But you weren't blind. You saw clearly behind the curtains of hate he veiled his every emotion with. You saw pure arousal.

Pressing your lips against his, Rolan tried resisting you at first, but that act of his quickly faded away as he melted into your mouth. Forgetting his own anger for a second at the taste of your lips, your tongue against his and god, did you always smell so good-

A sudden heat sparked at the tip of his tail, making him jolt as his eyes flew wide open.

With the hold on his horn, you kept him in place, your other hand raised as a flame slowly evaporated from your hand.

Deepening the kiss, you silently cast another spell. A sharp shard of ice resembling a knife. Carefully holding it between your fingers as you ran it over the tip of his tail, slowly teasing the ridges and bumps.

"Look at me." You broke the kiss, "open your mouth wider."

With a look of disbelief, Rolan's eyes darted between you and the ice knife. "You can't be seriously considering-"

Another pull on his horn, "I said open wide. Wizard."

You felt his cock twitch under you. He closed his eyes before opening his mouth in defeat, hands clenched and lips trembling.

"Good, now look at me." For a person who's supposed to be good at following spell instructions, it was honestly embarrassing how much wizards struggled with simple orders.

Rolan begrudgingly obeyed, eyes looking up at you in total submission as his mouth stayed open wide.

"Good boy."

Pressing the flat side of the ice knife on his tongue, the coldness contrasted against the heat inside him. His attempt at squirming to escape the cold only led to his cock getting rubbed against you ever more.

Dragging the knife slowly on his tongue, you watched the sharp edges dull and melt away, leaving nothing but a trail of water dripping from his mouth alongside his own drool.

"You really are a mess if you only could see yourself right now."

Leaning behind, you grabbed his cock from under you as you held the swollen thing in your hand, giving it a firm pump.

"A leaking mess from both ends, very fitting."

With a few more pumps, you forced moan after moan from his mouth. You've been edging him for what felt like hours, and you had no doubt he'd do anything you ask of him for release.

"Tell me, wizard, do you know what education sorcerers get about their magic?" You pressed your thumb against the slit on his cockhead, toying with it and rubbing the sensitive head.

Any attempt Rolan made at speaking ended up being incomprehensible, nothing was even gagging his mouth. Maybe you accidentally fried his brain, how disappointing.

He settled for shaking his head instead.

"None. We get nothing." You tightened your grip against the base of his cock while still toying with the head with the other hand. "You either control it, or die trying."

Your hands were drenched in his precum, the wet sounds of you pumping his cock got louder the faster you went.

"We grew up very aware of our own fragile morality, which is why you don't see us blowing up ourselves very often, you know like your kind tends to do." He was nodding along, clearly brainless and not even comprehending a single word you're saying.

He was getting close, his tail was moving wildly and his thighs were shaking under you.

"You think you can just throw money to buy scrolls and learn spells, as if true magic can ever be bought."

Keeping up the brutal pace, you kept speaking. "Rolan, do you want to cum?"

His haze filled eyes stared at you in desperation, tears collecting at the corners of them. Somehow his skin was even redder than it normally is.

"Ple…" his breath was shaky, "please." He frantically nodded.

You smiled at him.

"Then beg."

Stopping your movement, you gave his cock one final squeeze before leaving it to the cold night air.

"No…nonono you can't I was" To your disappointment, his hand unconsciously reached over to stroke his cock.

You slapped his hand away. To your surprise, he reacted quickly as his hands glowed, lips moving to whisper an incantation.

Not wasting a second, you were even quicker in altering your magic. It barely took any effort to conjure a square beneath him that completely paralysed his body.

"You really don't understand it, do you? Or maybe you simply just can't? It's embarrassing to still be unable to comprehend how much better I am than you in every way." Concentrating on keeping your spell active, you let him completely drink in the feeling of being bound and unable to move below you.

"I thought wizards are supposed to be intelligent, But what's the point of being very smart if you have the wisdom of a magic 8 ball?" Dismissing the square of magic, Rolan was free to move again.

"How did you-"

"I am faster than you, and I can cast more spells in less time. It was never a competition to begin with." You looked at him with disappointment, "and I thought you agreed to obey beforehand when we negotiated how this would go. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Taking a deep breath, Rolan steadied himself as he spoke. "I wasn't thinking….I apologise. My lips moved on their own, and I don't even remember what spell I was casting."

Your gaze softened as you cupped his face gently, "do you want a break? Maybe get some water or just completely stop."

With a quiet chuckle, Rolan shook his head, "by the nine hells no. But thank you, for stopping me"

You smiled at him, "Now, where were we?..."

Moving your hand from his face, you reached upwards as you tugged his horns again. "Oh yes. Beg."

A whine died at the back of Rolan's throat, "please…let me cum" his cock throbbed.

"And why should I? You've been nothing but useless this entire time. What do they even teach you at these schools?" You pulled his horn more, making him wince in pain as he bit his lips to try and suppress the sounds.

Rolan swallowed his pride as he looked at you with pleading eyes. "Please…please mighty sorcerer, let this pathetic wizard cum."

With a snort, you let go of his horns at his embarrassing words. "Maybe there is a use for you after all."

Raising your hips, you moved his cock with your hand until it pressed against the tightness of your entrance. Rolan's breath hitched as his lips trembled. His cock smearing precum against your opening.

Leaning over, you pressed your lips to his again. With a slow sensual kiss, you left his mouth hanging open afterwards. Looked him in the eyes as you opened yours just above his, spitting into his mouth.

"Maybe if I get enough of my fluids inside you, you'll end up with some of my magic." You watched him keep your spit in his mouth, struggling not to swallow it yet. "I guess in a way that'd make me your patron wouldn't it."

Giving him the permission to swallow, you felt his needy cock pressing more against your hole.

"Although you'd end up as a warlock then, wouldn't you?" Pushing your hips down slowly, you felt him stretch you open. "Ah I'm just kidding, after all who would ever want to fuck a warlock?" You saw the corners of his lips curl into a smile as he suppressed a laugh.

Your tightness enveloped him, inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you. His hands held onto your thighs as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Never daring to move his hips as he handed all of the control over to you.

Rocking yourself, you moved your hips at a slow pace. Your insides memorising the shape of his cock and making you the perfect fit. Pressing against all the good spots that made your hips stutter.

Rolan was struggling not to crumble, especially after all that edging. He just entered you, and he can feel his orgasm approaching fast. The way you bounced on his cock, the way your hips moved and how powerful you looked above him, it was all very overwhelming.

"I don't think…I can hold on much more." He breathed out, leaving marks on your thighs from how tightly he was gripping them.

"You may cum, Wizard. Be a good boy and do it for me, completely humiliate yourself for my amusement." You moved your hips faster, in and out, using his horns to steady yourself as you kept riding him.

True to his words, he barely lasted a minute more before white clouded his vision. Filling your insides with his seed and becoming a moaning mess in the process.

You felt him soften inside of you as you came to a stop. Giving a chance for the both of you to catch your breath.

You gave him another kiss, a quick one as you kissed the corner of his lips, moving to his cheek, then finally his forehead.

His arms wrapped around you in a hug.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered against his skin.

With an amused expression, he said. "Like I have more magic inside me now."

"I should've kept you in that hold spell, Rolan."

#♡Rolan #♡smut #♡fluff #♡Sorcerer reader #rolan x tav #Rolan x reader #bg3 rolan #smut #magic play #sorcerer x wizard #dom!reader #♡Dom!reader #sub!Rolan #bg3 x reader

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