#I will freely there is also a matter of pride - I went through so much effort i wanted to finish what I started damnit!

[your-local-grinning-cat]

The Ultimate Compilation Callout End Post

She finally said something true -

I’ve spent too much time and energy on her. I admit it. 🤷

But you know what? At least I’ve proven without a doubt she’s a horrible person and liar.

If anyone needs these posts to help prove it they’re always going to be here. And if people still want to rp with her that’s their choice, but despite her claims of follows, I know based on her post likes she’s, once again, full of shit. I, personally will now always be on the lookout for blogs like hers.

But hey! Who knows! Maybe a miracle will happen and she’ll learn how to actually roleplay as an interesting character and will be able to integrate herself back into the community without our knowledge. She has shown she IS capable of characters that aren’t completely terrible with Marja. If she does it and/or, even better, she even manages to self-reflect and self-improve, fabulous!

But for now, I’m posting these last images.

I’m not even sure she’s TRYING to be believable in her lies anymore tbh. It’s kind of sad.

Silver lining though! Because she finally messaged CHE’NYA, I was able to block her on this account. And based on some things, we’re thinking (and hoping) the Malleus account is her main.

So, here are pictures for the last time unless something severely drastic happens.

But I did want to post these because they prove she did lie about having a dead child. Because the cremated ashes in a necklace she supposedly has was easy to reverse image search.

They also prove she’s lying about her location as well, and since her therapist is obviously bullshit, we can pretty much confirm at this point that she does not have BPD either. I will also say that the chat she supposedly had with her friend about the name change? There are no dates present at all. And it certainly doesn’t explain why she would lie about not knowing about the drama that’s happening on Tumblr, which is what she said in her post on the Discord server. So she was obviously not just “changing her name” - she was, in fact, sneaking in.

So no, Malleus mod, I will not stop making making you out to be shady because that is what you are.

Okie dokie!

Quick stop at the photo she used of her chat with a friend that she posted to try to prove she changed her discord name to match her friend and not do it to sneak into the discord server before we move on. Suspiciously with no dates.

And even if she wasn’t trying to be a perv or a pedo, she still made all of the people in that server full of minors highly uncomfortable by trying to sneak in under a new name so she might as well be.

Her messages to me as Che’nya.

(I finally get to block her as Che’nya! Yay! I know I should have done it when I was on my pc I forgot. But now that I know I can do it from messages… guess what ima be doing! 😁)

I’m sure you loved your you human daughter very much. And it was such a blow when she died. 😔

Did you all know Germany was smack dab in the American Midwest? I don’t remember learning that in geography class! 🤔

As I was laughing in my group chat over how ridiculously BAD her lies are this time around, @/castaway-achlys DM’d her again. (Castaway was a bit wrong - it was Kansas City, Missouri, not Kansas lol)

Apparently, she knew this post was coming so she tried to shame us to keep it from happening. Lol nope 💜

But she also decided to get her own post out before I made this… she really should have stayed silent because she immediately contradicted herself.

Thank you Malleus mod, I will have a good day because I am done with you. 😌✨

Just stay the fuck away from me and my friends from now on and I won’t systematically and easily rip apart your flimsy little empire built entirely on lies again.

Side note with honest advice given for free: Maybe try to be a bit safer on the internet. You are very lucky I am a far better person than you. You are very lucky Castaway is a far better person than you. You gave us a phone number. It is not a therapist’s number personal or otherwise, that I am sure of, because a therapist would never agree to have their number given to a random person from Tumblr and, as Castaway said, they couldn’t give out patient info anyway. So that entire story is bullshit. So that number is either a friend of yours… or your own phone number.

Either way, you gave me a phone number. I used that to track someone down to Missouri. But you do realize I could have gone further is I wanted? If I was a REAL creep?

There are websites and other things used to track phone numbers and connect them to people.

DON’T GIVE OUT YOUR, OR ANYONE’S, PERSONAL INFORMATION ON THE INTERNET TO STRANGERS - THAT INCLUDES CONTACT INFORMATION.

Especially to someone that you KNOW doesn’t like you.

There is a reason I have been protecting IDs throughout this entire thing. INCLUDING YOURS.

I may not like you, I may be pissed at you, but I don’t actually want anything bad to happen to you. I’m not evil.

For fucks sake, if you’re this bad at being on the internet, you should get off of it.

To my followers that have stuck with me through this mess… thank you. Love you all. Read the tags. Che’nya will be back~! 😸💜

The Ultimate Compilation Callout

Hey Guys! AR OOC once again to say I am 100% done.

I'm done with this. I thought it was finally dying down and the drama was finally getting to be over with but then she came back and is now trying to say that we are the ones in the wrong. And she is STILL trying to blame Leona's mod when, as both @/castaway-achlys and I have stated numerous times at this point, they were asleep during the entire event. They did not ask for us to defend them. We were both just tired of hearing our friend be exhausted and stressed out by her.

And the fact that so many people have come out to give their own experiences of her being rude and cruel to them just proves this is not a singular event.

I'm putting all this under a cut because it's gonna get long guys. In fact, I’m probably going to end up needing to create a couple reblog chains to get it all out.

But I'm done playing nice. I have all the receipts. Like I went allllll the way back to when the discord was first created. I caught her in her first lie.

Which, coincidentally, her very first lie in the Discord server happened on the very first day it was formed. What a way to start.

I call her the Malleus mod as an identifier in these screenshots, because unlike her, I am not petty enough to reveal peoples’ personal information on the internet just because I don’t like them.

HOWEVER. I will remind everyone that she is not JUST the owner of the Malleus account. Even if you don’t want to look under the read more because there are a LOT of receipts, know that these are all her known blogs.

I do not condone harassment. Harassment is basically what started all this. Just block and go.

Malleus Draconia @/therealmalleusdraconia

Falena Kingscholar @/the-falena-kingscholar

Aijuka (A Leona gf OC) @/the-one-aijuka

Jack Howl @/frosh-jack-howl

Fellow Honest @/fellow-honest

Meleanor Draconia @/meleanor-draconia

Baul Zigvolt @/baul-zigvolt

Sebek’s Mother @/thethickestone

Marja Felmier @/marja-felmier

And her latest: Eric Venue @/ericvenue

(Bonus non-rp blog @/thetwistedminds)

Before we get too far into it I will say there is a slight color code! But only a tiny one!

Gross light green color - look at that lie! 👀

Gross darker green color - a lie is revealed! 🤭

Orange - note the date/time! 🗓️⏰

Let me show you what I mean in the lie I’ve already mentioned - her very first one. :)

There we have the orange, telling you to note the date. That’s because I was wanting to make sure it was known that the pet posts were made on the same date that the discord was created.

And then we have the gross light green around Malleus mod claiming that this bunny is her bunny and that it was her bunny’s birthday recently.

Now here is the follow up with the gross darker green of a lie revealed. 😌

And there we have it! The color coding system and her very first lie told the very first day the Discord channel was active and easily disproven with an image search.

Now let’s get into the FUN STUFF! /sarc

We’re going to be doing some rehashing here but I’m also going to probably be including some new things so stay with me folks! This’ll be a ride! Buckle up!

So, originally I was thinking I'd start with the current drama. But considering that a lot of that has already been covered and what hasn't been covered needs more context, I'm just going to keep going in chronological order, I guess.

I've been up for over 24 hours compiling receipts, editing them to protect IDs, and then getting them all sorted so let's finally do this so I can pass out!

First up is something that actually has been covered a bit but I'm going to expand on it slightly - her blatant lie to @/elysia-nsimp (I'm not tagging anyone because I'm not forcing anyone to get notifications on this lmao).

Here's what everyone has already seen. But to expand on the event, we didn't call her out on her bad behavior, even though we probably should have as she had just lied straight to another mod's face about her blog ownership. I simply DM'd the mod in question privately to make sure they were okay and then tried to keep the peace in the main chat.

Because, believe it or not with this major callout post, I don't generally like confrontation. But I stepped in there for Elysia and I stepped up during this for Leona's mod.

Now, later that night, she posts this as if nothing had happened and she hadn't just been told that she needed to work on her roleplaying skills:

Uh huh. Sure. That's your last account. Because you have shown so much self-control when it comes to filling character voids within the twst rp community already. I'll be generous and give you a month before you break.

Now these next ones need a tiny bit of background information and a note: the Malleus mod is German and, as far as we know, lives in Germany. These next pictures are little indicators that she has not experienced the United States at all. These indicators may not seem important now, but they will be in just a little time. So keep them in mind for after the pause.

You cannot tell me anyone who has spent any length of time in the United States has not at least heard of Walmart.

Quick pitstop to say wow! You didn't even make it a month! Congratulations!

Also, note the question from the admin and the pretty obvious passive aggressiveness from me. We were sending plenty of hints that they needed to stop - sometimes coming outright and saying it, sometimes simply implying. Either way, we were all ignored.

She says she's not a mind reader. Well, apparently she's just not a reader period.

Now... a bit of an oddball here. And I want to say I do not necessarily think this is a lie. I am including it for a lie that is coming. The one that I included all those America comments for.

I'm sure you will note that I said that I don't "necessarily think" it's a lie - indicating that I do think it could be a possibility. That would be correct.

She has been lying since day one and, after this doozy of a story I'm about to share with you, I honestly don't know what to believe when it comes to her.

So.. to sum this up...

We went from a cringe ask from an OC account that she didn't want to answer -> the asker wasn't supposed to be on tumblr because they were underage (???) and was trying to date her irl and somehow had all of her information (oh but don't worry guys she deleted the ask!) -> he found her social media accounts and sent her NSFW pictures and started spam liking, demanding pictures of her kids, sent pictures of her at-the-time boyfriend, sent pictures of his family and his kids -> so she blocked him on everything and then started spam creating the rp accounts to see if he did it with other people or if it was just her (...mmmhmmm...) but nope he was only interested in Malleus -> she then apparently moved to America for a bit to crash with her boyfriend because this underage person went to Germany to find he.

Oh, by the way, why was this guy obsessed with her? Oh, he was obsessed with German women. He decided that all German women were pretty. And she's German-Russian! And Russians have intense standards for women you know! After this guy found out she was German AND Russian, I mean... it was only a matter of time before he upped his game to try to find her!

Guys, she's not saying she's too beautiful for her own good - the underage stalker speaks for itself!

Now, since this stalker found her through her Malleus account and was obviously very determined, you would think the first course of action would be to, ya know, delete the Malleus blog. Right?

No, no, no! Then she would have to start all over and, of course, if she switched accounts she would be forced to make a post on her current blog saying what her new blog is and he would just find her there. That's why she's trying to make her other accounts more active than her Malleus account (her Malleus account was still, by far, before all this happened, the most popular of all her rp blogs)!

Can I also mention that in that post announcing her pregnancy ON HER MALLEUS ACCOUNT WHERE SHE SUPPOSEDLY HAS A STALKER, she had tagged ALL OF HER BLOGS AT THE TIME?

But yes, Malleus mod. I definitely believe your story. :)

Please. Please tell me you all can understand why I just cannot find it in me to trust a single word coming out of this woman's mouth.

Especially now that during this whole drama, she has been lying through her teeth and trying to pin the entire blame on Leona's mod.

Now this part is nearly over (thank whatever gods anyone believes in) but let's just post the last few of the "before drama happened" pictures, shall we?

...I'm realizing I didn't underline the part where I called her out for having that many blogs in the gross dark green of a lie caught... oops. This is what happens when you have far too little sleep.

But either way, here is another time when she was called out on a lie of hers. And her little comment at the end means she read it and she acknowledged us.

She just didn't care because it didn't suit her.

~~~~~~

ALRIGHT!

THAT'S THE END OF PART ONE!

Yeah. This is going to come out in PARTS. I can't cover it all in one post because there is a picture limit.

So, I'm going to end up making a reblog chain...

Eventually.

Real talk? I need to sleep. Desperately. It's nearly two in the afternoon where I am and I have not slept yet.

Do not underestimate the power of spite and my loyalty to my friends. Both are very strong motivators.

But my body's needs are finally winning.

When I wake up, I'll have the Ultimate Drama Arc to post and expand upon and then the Return of the Drama Arc.

Yay. (said in the most unenthused voice ever lmao)

Anyway. Enjoy all this. I'm gonna go die. /j

[gunilslaugh]

Not How It's Supposed To Be Epilogue

Goo Gunil Summary: Maybe this was how things were supposed to be all along. (non-idol au) WC:741 Warning:none

part 1 part2 part 3

photo not mine credits to owner.

“Y/n Gunil wants to see you in his office,” an employee notifies you. 

“Ok, I’ll go right now,” you say. You stand up from your desk and begin to make your way to Gunil’s office. Once you reach his office door you knocked on it twice and waited a moment before entering. “You wanted to see me?” you said walking into the room, but as you look around his office you don’t see Gunil anywhere. He wasn’t at his desk or sitting on the couch. “Gunil?” you called for him. Suddenly you felt a pair of very strong arms wrapping around your waist, making you jump. 

“I missed you,” Gunil tells you as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. 

“You scared me.” You lightly smack one of his arms. You can feel Gunil smile against the skin of your neck. 

“Sorry,” he apologies. 

“Did you actually have something to tell me or just wanted to do this?” You relaxed into his hold. 

“Both. I need you to send me the finalized shipping schedule, but I mainly wanted to hold you.” He pulled you impossibly closer into his embrace. You can’t fend off the smile that graces your face. The two of you stay like that for a bit before you turn around in his hold to face him. 

“You’re actually just a big softie,” you state, bringing a hand up to card through his hair. 

“No I’m not,” he refused, yet he was also nestling into your touch at the same time. 

“I have pictures of you sleeping on my lap that say otherwise,” you tease him. Gunil’s eyes darken a bit. He catches both of your wrist in his hold and pulls you intimidatingly closer. 

“Just cause you're my lover doesn’t mean you get to tease me so freely,” he tells you. Your heart rate picks up, but not in fear. You know that Gunil would never hurt you. 

“What does it mean then?” you pressed. 

“It means…” Gunil starts walking you backwards until your legs hit the couch. He then moves to  pull you down onto the couch, trapped in his embrace once more. “That you can’t leave me, cause I love you too much to let you go,” he tells you. You readjust yourself in his hold slightly to lay on his chest. The couch is much too small for the two of you to be cuddling on it, but that doesn’t stop you.

“I love you too,” you mumble against his chest. Gunil leans down to kiss the crown of your head. 

However, your guys’ cute little moment is then disturbed by a knock on the door. 

“Sir, some important matters need tended to.” a voice on the other side of the door speaks. Gunil sighs, releasing you from your hold. 

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to work,” you say, lifting yourself up from his chest. Gunil captures your hands in his, not wanting you to leave just yet.

“Come to my office when your shift ends so we can go back together,” he says. 

“Sure thing.” you nodded with a smile. You went to stand up, but Gunil kept his hold on your hands. “You need to let go…softie.” Your nickname makes Gunil hold your hands tighter. Because even if he knows that he is a complete softie when it comes to you. He can never admit it. Even with being in love with you he struggles when it comes to showing a vulnerable, weaker, side of him. His pride won’t let him come across as weak in even the slightest of ways.

“You’re asking for trouble with that nickname,” he states. 

“But I like it. Because you’re only a softie with me,” you told him. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he says. 

“Yeah I am,” you acknowledge. Gunil’s heart flutters at your words. 

“Get back to work,” he lets go of your hands. 

“Yes, sir,” you say playfully. You stand up from the couch and begin to exit the room. You send Gunil one last look before walking out. 

Once you get back to your desk you email Gunil the finalized shipping schedule. Everything feels as it should. Which is funny looking back to a year ago when your life was a complete mess over things becoming how they are now. You were never supposed to fall in love with Gunil, but you’re so glad that you did. 

part 1 part 2 part 3

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

comment or message me to be added!

[huntinglove]

❤️‍🩹😔🫶 I see you have multiple f/os so choose which you want to talk about!

Hi hi!! Thank you so much for the ask!!

❤️‍🩹: How do your F/Os react to you being affectionate towards them?

Alma was overjoyed about me being kind towards them when we first met, and after the ritual that would allow them to possess my body and move freely, they were a mess...

They cried a lot the first time they got to experience touch again, and having that burning sensation in their chest, knowing that that happiness they were feeling was just my soul pouring it's love straight into their very being made them very emotional

Mychael doesn't feel like he deserves the affection he gets, but I'll keep on loving him until he ends up loving himself as well, no matter how long it takes! He usually gets very blushy and silent, just purring and feeling his hands tremble while I caress his cheeks or play with his hair

Gyokko gets absolutely full of himself whenever I show him any and all forms of affection... He immediately begins bragging about it or being overly clingy himself, I don't mind him being affectionate back, but it can get very overwhelming sometimes

Kyogai gets extremely flustered and needlessly apologetic, worrying about his claws being too sharp, having a grip too tight on me and so on. He treats me like I'm made of glass and he's always very grateful for any and all affection I give him

Enmu usually ends up making things a bit perverted or being overly enthusiastic about getting physical. Sometimes he'll pop one of his hands off and let me keep it around me if we have to be apart for long periods of time!

😔: If someone told that you're weird for loving/liking them, how would you react? How would your F/Os react?

I'm not a very confrontational person in general, so I'd most likely just shrug it off at the moment, then comment about how that person is a dumbass when me and my darling's are by ourselves

Alma would be a bit grumpy about it but would mostly just roll their eyes at the rude comment, then seek out some extra affection and praise for reassurance, which I'm more than happy to provide!!

Mychael wouldn't have a reaction while the person's around, but he'd get really upset and silent once we went back home... He'd start saying self deprecating things and question if I actually love him, and I'd do my best to make sure he knows just how cherished he really is!

Gyokko would be extremely whiny about it, trying to argue, cuss out and intimidate whoever disrespected him... I'd either have to carry/drag him away or quietly sneak away until he sorted things out

Kyogai would be angry with whoever was rude towards us and most likely kill them if he's able to, then he'd take some time to reflect on their words and either vent it out through writing or silently seek some reassurance and loving words

Enmu would most likely put the person to sleep before they could finish their sentence, give them a soul shattering nightmare then eat them. He wouldn't really be affected by their words and would be reassuring towards me instead

🫶: Is there something about your F/Os that makes them more "human"? Feelings?

Alma was human, so their personality and mannerisms make them feel very human, despite being a ghost! Honestly, the only things that make them seem less human are their forms in-between shifting into their actual appearance, because it makes them look like a sleep paralysis demon

Mychael is in a similar position, his physical appearance is more unique and interesting than a human's, but his personality and behaviors are almost identical as other humans!

Gyokko's pride makes him flawed like a human, it distracts him from his current objectives and constantly puts his life at risk. The fact he's able to make art also humanizes it a bit, it's a shame that it's only a monetary source for Muzan...

Kyogai is also an artist and his writing and drum playing are both absolutely wonderful and full of passion! He doesn't value his work and efforts as much as he should because of some belittlement he's had to deal with before, which also makes him even more humane

Now for Enmu... I suppose his loyalty could make him seem more humane, even if it goes to extreme lengths. He wants to better himself and earn the trust and admiration of those he looks up to, which feels like a very human-like behavior to me

[dear3st-dead-diary]

Dearest Dead Diary

My dad got in a car accident, he was hit by someone on purpose, he's fine or so he says but he has yet to see a doctor. I hipe ge doesn't have a concussion and... dies.

I'm on day three of Vyvanse And Dolox. It's very effective, in w days I've cleaned my house from top to bottom and built a makeshift desk for my laptop out of left over materials from other shelves I've assembled. I just hope the new setup doesn't kill my creativity.

The first day was fun, I cleaned the bathroom and did the dishes then I went to the mall where my friend with disposable income paid for everything.

Day two was also fun, I did my laundry, cleaned my room and put away all my clothes. My friend came over and and I did her makeup and shapped her eyebrows (she's really pretty) and then we went to a sex shop that was hidden inside of a building through an elaborate set of halls and stairs.

I got some damn good stuff from there for some very good prices I also wore a killer outfit and got many compliments. The guy who runs the place has the sort of beauty to him I can't explain.

He's from a generation of queers I could only imagine the hardships he's faced, but he wears them all with pride and it shows. I hope he gets more business, he's got Hella good stock.

We came back to my place, and I dyed her hair, we cuddled for a few hours before she left around 3 am.

Today, on the third day, I finished the rest of my cleaning, and then got the news about my dad.

Today sucks. Tomorrow I atleast get to go to a house party. I don't think I'll be drinking, I wanna wait more to see how these meds affect me before I try to consume any alcohol. Cannabis om the other hand actually balances out some of the side effects. Weirdly enough, though I haven't smoked alot yet, so I guess tomorrow we'll see how that happens and what happens if I take a dab or something.

Last time I was at this party I had a seizure on the stairs and broke my foot, it's been 3 weeks and it's taking forever to heal.

I was manic but for once, I finally feel like I'm thinking clear, thinking freely, like I can rationalize. That's something I haven't consciously been able to do before. At least not to this extent.

So I'm making the conscious decision to not drink. The last time I drank on antidepressants I got alcohol poisoning, I made the mistake of drinking the amount I normally would have had I not been medicated and.. well that ended horribly.

So it takes me 12 cans to feel drunk, but now that I'm medicated it should only take three, Hopefully. Seriously I'd save so much money if I didn't need so much liquor to feel intoxicated.

But regardless, I'm being responsible. Another side effect is dry mouth and loss of appetite. Which kind of sucks in the sense that I was working uo to building more muscle, but if I end up loosing weight in the process... I don't know how to feel.

I was dangerously skinny due to stress last year and I lost alot of strength, however I looked so good. So obviously I should strive to gain and not lose, but I can't shake the feeling of knowing at that weight no matter the size of clothes I'd always fit.

I purposely gained 20 because I wanted to start building back up a lot of the muscle mass I lost. Maybe there's some way I can find the middle ground of being slim yet lean?

I'm not sure.

I'm going to try and find something healthy to feed myself. Hopefully tomorrow goes great, and if I'm lucky I'll even end up closer to my friends, more romantic or platonic, either of which is fine. I'm the rare type that actually loves people.

My best skill is talking anyone into opening up, I treasure that skill, I've had some of the loveliest conversations with the shyest of people. I've made a lot of friends that way. And oddly enough alotta enemies? But those are people projecting thier own insecurities or past experiences on me.

I've noticed the people who don't like me are the people I've said "NO" to. Frankly that's probably for the best.

I've worked hard on these relationships. I value every one of them, I really put in as much work as I can towards my friends, it's definitely paid off as we've grown closer over the past year. I'm glad, I hope we keep growing and even growing together, making eachothers lives better.

But enough with the sap. I've got productivity on my mind and the motivation so I better put that to yse while it lasts.

With a future and goals.

- A

[ofstoriesandstardust]

paris (lt. jake “hangman” seresin)

a/n: i don’t quite know how to explain myself. i don’t know if there will ever be a day where i don’t write these types of fics so...

summary: (bisexual Seresin sister!reader) it was never meant to come out. and yet, even in the face of his own father, your brother reminds you that if you go down, you go down together.

title comes the chainsmoker’s “paris”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: homophobic parents, getting disowned, swearing, Jake is bisexual pry this from my cold dead hands, actually everyone in top gun is a least a little bit gay but that’s a different discussion for a different day, i use the same three names for extra characters because i can not be bothered to think of something creative, i might come back to this storyline in a later phoenix fic but i’ve yet to decide, this was self-indulgent i’m sorry

word count: 2,824

You were 20 when you got disowned. You were 20 when your family went from a sweet Mom and an unforgiving Father and a funny little brother and a giggly older sister and a stone-cold older brother to just you and that stone-cold older brother. 

That same stone-cold older brother who taught you that if you went down, you’d do it together. 

-

The yelling in the house has reached an all-time high. Mom’s crying and Dad’s yelling and Jake’s defending you, putting his reputation as the family favorite and golden child on the line. Jake, who did everything right. Jake, who was perfect. Jake, who’d rather let his siblings flounder under your parents criticism than step up for them for one goddamn second. Jake, who took pride in being the first and the best. Who’d rather be alone than have a good relationship with any of his siblings because that’d fuck with his perfect child status. 

You’d all been gathered for the holidays, the light snow fluttering outside. You and Tyler were back from college for a few weeks and Sascha had a week off from her job in Georgia and even Jake had gotten two weeks leave for the holidays. You and your older sister Sascha had been sitting in the kitchen, making cookies while your Mom put decorations up in the living room. Jake and your little brother Tyler, not so little anymore at his ripe age of 19, were in town getting more ingredients for the baking you and Sascha had lined up for the next three days before your parents annual Christmas Eve dinner. Your Dad was holed up in his study, not that it mattered much, because you relished in the opportunity to talk to your older sister freely, to welcome the Christmas cheer you normally had to keep to a minimum. And your sister’d been asking about your girlfriend, the two of you quietly giggling over your schoolgirl crush, when your Dad had walked through the door at the worst moment. 

All hell broke loose from there. Your Dad yelled for your Mom as he berated you for dating a woman, and when you’d tried to stand up for yourself, explaining that you were bisexual and nothing they had to say would change that, it had only made things worse. And then Jake and Tyler were coming through the front door, entering the kitchen to find the source of the yelling. You weren’t sure why Jake had decided to come to your defense but he’d had and the raging argument had only gotten worse. Which brought you to now. 

You hovered by the door, unsure if you should make a fast exit. Sascha sat at the kitchen counter, face buried into her arms, and Tyler stood behind her, knuckles white as he grasped back of Sascha’s chair. They’d both known about your sexuality and your girlfriend at college, but you all also knew to keep it a secret, knowing that this is what would happen if your parents had found out. Finally, Jake sighed and straightened up. 

“(Y/N), go get your stuff, we’re leaving.” Sascha’s head shot up and you furrowed your eyebrows. You Dad shook his head in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe that my son, the best I have, is doing this for someone like her.” 

“Dad, I’m bisexual. Everything you’ve said about her tonight applies to me too.” You were stumbling back, reeling from the revelation. Perfect Jake was-? “Clearly there is no place in this family for either of us. So we’re leaving.” Your Dad stood stock-still, everyone else staring at Jake in baffled confusion. Jake now turns to you. “Go get your stuff. I’m serious, we’re leaving.” You numbly nodded and jogged upstairs, throwing what you needed in the suitcase. You’d been slowly moving things out of your childhood home without your parents noticing, so all the important documents had long been in your possession anyways. Things were things and they could be replaced. You met Jake down stairs, who had also grabbed his suitcase and the two of you walked outside in the cold, snowy driveway. It felt weird, knowing this would probably be the last time you’d be here, knowing that once you left with Jake, you’d effectively be disowned, him too. So-

“Why’re you doing this for me Jake?” You mumbled, as the two of you drove along the wet road, the purple of the evening dusk setting in against the white of the snow, the warm glow from the Christmas lights becoming ever more apparent. He sighed, pulling into the parking lot of the diner and turning the ignition off. 

“Because you’re my baby sister, and if we go down, we go down together.”

“That makes no sense Jake. Never once have you ever showed an ounce of care for me and now you’re just- what, throwing away the reputation you so meticulously built as Mr. Can Never Do Any Wrong?” The words come out harsher than you intend them to and you don’t miss the way Jake flinches. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“(Y/N), look at me.” You meet your older brother’s eyes and he sighed again. “I love you. You’re my baby sister and I should’ve been looking out for you for a long time now. I haven’t been the brother I should’ve been and I’m sorry.” It’s your turn to sigh as you look at Jake, taking in the sincerity in his eyes. It wasn’t often Jake would allow for a crack in the unfeeling, cocky front he put forward so to see this change was... unsettling. “I still have another week and a half of leave. Why don’t I drive you back out to school? We can spend the holiday hanging out at your apartment, yeah?” 

“You do realize that means I’m going to make you watch every Christmas movie ever made right?” He chuckles. 

“I’d expect nothing less from you kid. C’mon, let’s go get some food and then we can hit the road.” You scoff at his usage of kid but don’t say anything as you climb out of the car, pulling your sweatshirt down your arms more to protect you from the cold. The diner was practically empty, it being so close to the holiday and the little bell alerted an older waitress who was stood at the counter. She smiled warmly at the both of you and led you to a booth. After ordering, you pulled out your phone, working on canceling your flight. You probably wouldn’t get any money back but you weren’t looking to deal with the airline if you didn't show. Jake stared at you, the Christmas music coming from the radio in the corner being the only noise. “What’re you doing?” He asked, hands folded in front of him. Even now, he seemed like he could never relax. 

“Canceling my flight.” You respond, not looking at him. He shifts. 

“Are you good on the money front? For school and stuff?” You nod, as you finally get the confirmation that your flight was canceled. You were getting a little bit of your money back, thank God. 

“Yeah, I work two jobs so I should be good on rent and my car and other stuff. I’ve got enough money tucked away in my savings for next semester and it’ll be tight for a while, but I’ll be fine.” You said, sliding your phone back into your pocket. The waitress brought over your coffee and you both thanked her. 

“Well, you know, should you ever, you know need anything-” He pauses, looking at you. “Money for rent or school or groceries, or you know, anything else, just give me a call and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I appreciate the offer Jake, but I’ve been financially independent from Mom and Dad since I started college. The car is in my name and so is my phone and I pay for everything, just in case something like this happened.”

“Were you going to come out to them?” He asks in disbelief and your mouth gapes open at him. 

“How stupid do you think I am? No, I wasn’t born yesterday, I know that wouldn’t have been a good idea.” 

“Well then-”

“Jake, we can’t all be like you, Mr. Perfect. Dad would’ve found something eventually. He’s already been pissed off about my major so we’ve been teetering on the brink of this for a while. Just speed the process up.” He nods slowly. 

“I don’t... actually know what you’re studying.” He says, swallowing. 

“History.” You respond, mildly uncomfortable. You and Jake got along the least, so to be sitting with him, here in this situation, was all kinds of strange. He nods and fiddles with his coffee cup. 

“So, two jobs? Must keep you busy.” You nod. 

“Gotta afford to live somehow.”

“And how do you manage that and school?” You shrug. 

“I don’t sleep.” His eyes widen slightly and he frowns. “What?” You ask, eyes flickering up at him from where they’d been studying the pattern of the table. 

“Nothing, just- that’s a lot of pressure. And you should be enjoying college, not-”

“Not living to work so I don’t become homeless because we have shitty parents I’ve been trying to get away from?” He stares at you and doesn’t respond. “Jake, it’s fine. My grades get me good scholarships and sleep is a sacrifice I’m willing to make if it means I’m not dependent on them. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” 

“It’s not fine, that’s so- that’s so fucked up, (Y/N), and you know it. You should be staying out late and hooking up with random people and doing dumb shit, not- not wasting your best years working and studying and-”

“Jake.” You say firmly and he pauses from his rant to meet your eyes. “You’ve kind of been an absent brother so this is only news to you.” He opens his mouth but you don’t let him start again. “And you’ve always been in Mom and Dad’s good graces, you have since the minute you were born, and you’ve always turned a blind eye to how they treated the rest of us. So I’m sorry that this is news to you but you’re a little too late to be this upset about it.” He stares at you as the waitress appears with your food. You smile at her brightly and thank her as Jake continues to stare at you. He doesn’t touch his food, just studying you and taking you in. You huff, pushing his plate closer to you. 

“Jake, let it go. Eat your food.”

“What can I do for you? How can I help?” He says instead, ignoring the gesture. You look at him from where you’re dipping your fry into your milkshake. 

“You can help me by shutting up and eating. Drop it.”

“No.” You sigh, setting your fry down on your plate. 

“Jake, I don’t need your help. I do just fine on my own.” 

“Like hell you do. You’re working two jobs just to make enough to stay afloat and you’re 20 years old and I can already see you becoming burnt out and lost in life. Let me help.” 

“I don’t want your help.” You state firmly, looking Jake in the eye. “I don’t want your help, okay? You’re right, that this isn’t ideal. But I’ll figure it out on my own, okay? I don’t need my Navy brother to swoop in and play Superman. I got it, okay? Please for the love of God, let it go.” 

“If Sascha was here instead of me, you’d be giving her a different answer.” He states firmly, like it’s a fact of life and nothing less. You huff in frustration and shrug. 

“Probably. But Sascha hasn’t made my life harder consistently for the last 20 years. Can we drop this now?”

“Absolutely not. I need to know that when I go back to base, my sister is going to be okay.” 

“Okay fine, Jake. What do you want out of this?”

“Let me help you, please, even just a little bit. Rent or groceries or something. Just to ease the stress a little bit, just so you’re not treading water.” He pleads and you sigh, looking at him. 

“We can revisit in a week and a half. That’s the best you’re gonna get, take it or leave it Seresin.” You respond as your phone rings. He huffs, getting ready to go to battle but you don’t let him as you answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hi Ty.” 

“How’re you doing?”

“Feeling like I just got disowned, so not too shabby.” He chuckles. 

“Hey, look, are you gonna be good to get back to school? We can regroup back on campus after break, but there’s no way I’m gonna get another chance to call you between then and now. I only can now because Dad’s in his study and Mom’s cleaning.” 

“Yeah, Jake’s gonna drive me.” You respond, eyeing your blond older brother, who’s started to pick at his food. You and Tyler went to school together, him being only a year younger than you, and the two of you were inseparable. 

“You’re gonna kill each other before you ever get there.” You snort.

“Yeah, I know. We’ve been arguing since we left the house.” 

“About what?”

“He wants to help me financially so I can quit one of my jobs.” Jake glances at you and then back to his food. Your arms are crossed as you eye your older brother, who's behaving in ways you’ve never seen before. There’s a long exhale from Tyler before he speaks again. 

“That- that wouldn’t be the worst idea ever.”

“Ty-”

“Look, we can discuss this another time. Just- don’t totally shut Jake out. Right now you’re both disowned, and for the same reason, so he’s the best you’re gonna get. It wouldn’t hurt to lean on him a little bit, especially if he’s offering.” 

“Yeah, okay.” He sighs.

“Look, I gotta go, I just wanted to make sure Jake didn’t ditch you on the side of the freeway somewhere.”

“Not yet.”

“(Y/N), seriously, do your best to rebuild the bridge here. He’s trying, because he wouldn’t have gone down for you the way he did if he wasn’t.”

“Whatever, Ty. See you in a few weeks.”

“See you. Love you sis.”

“Love you too, bye.” You pull the phone away from your ear and eye your older brother, who’s staring at his fries like they personally offended him. “Okay, out with it, Jake. What’s this really all about?” He sighs and shifts, not meeting your eyes. 

“I- When I figured out I was bisexual, I was so scared. It was so isolating and I- I really struggled for a while. And to think that my kid sister, someone I swore I’d look out for since she was born, was maybe experiencing those same things, it made me feel shitty. I haven’t been a good brother to you pretty much ever and I mean it when I say I’m sorry. I haven’t been here in the way I should’ve been. And I want to start making up for it. I- I get it if you don’t want my help but- but beyond that, if you ever need someone to talk to about it, I want you to know I’m here. I know you say this is something you’ve been preparing for a while but your relationship with Tyler and Sascha is going to change and you’ll never be able to go back and it’s going to hit you, sooner or later. I’m going to be here for you every step of the way, whether you like it or not. I’m here, no matter what you need, because no one gets it better than I do and I’m going to do whatever I can to help you kid.” You stare at Jake, trying not to let your mouth drop open at the sincere kindness and remorse on his face. 

“I don’t trust you, you know that right?” You finally say and Jake’s face falls. “But- but you’re right and right now you’re all I’ve got and I’m not exactly in a position to be pushing people away.” You sigh, taking a deep breath. “We can see where it goes. Figure it out. Fresh start from here on out for both of us.” He nods, an unreadable look crossing his face. “Now will you please eat your food? I don’t want to be spending the whole night driving back in the dead of winter dark, it’s not fun.” He huffs out half a laugh and pulls his plate closer to him. 

“I love you kid.” You eye him, shooting him a look. 

“We’ll see how much you love me after this Christmas movie and baking marathon we’re gonna have.” 

[obeymeoasis]

Demon Bros React: MC Is Insecure

Warnings: mentions of insecurity surrounding body image, physical appearance, self-worth.

Lucifer

It was the day after a party Diavolo had thrown at his castle. You had had fun for the most part, dancing with the brothers and eating delicious foods prepared by Barbatos. 

But you also remembered how it had felt to look around the room and realize you were surrounded by gorgeous demons, not a single flaw on anyone’s face. Doubt and insecurity had begun to creep into your mind, and that feeling had carried over into the next day.

You had only talked briefly with Lucifer at the party because he was too busy interacting with Diavolo’s guests. Every time you tried to catch his eye, you noticed how beautiful whoever he was talking to was and found yourself swallowing down your greeting.

Currently Lucifer was at his desk like always, scribbling down notes and shuffling through papers. You brought him afternoon tea and sat reading in one of his armchairs to keep him company.

You had been telling yourself that you were going to ask him the question that was burning in your mind, but an hour had already passed since you first came in. You tried to distract yourself with your book but the words were fuzzy on the page. Finally, you spoke. “Luci?”

He didn’t look up from his desk when he answered, “Yes, love?”

“Do you... do you ever wish I was more beautiful?”

The scratching of his pen stopped immediately and Lucifer lowered the papers he was holding to show his face, a carefully blank expression revealing nothing. “What exactly do you mean by that question?”

“I mean exactly what I asked. Do you ever wish I was more beautiful? More attractive? As the Avatar of Pride have you ever been... embarrassed to be seen with me?”

At this Lucifer’s expression grew cold and furious. “Has someone... made you feel this way? Has someone made you feel as if you are inadequate?” You shook your head sadly and whispered, “No, just my own brain.”

“Ah, I see. Well pet, I don’t ever wish you were more beautiful because you are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen. So it would be physically impossible for you to be more beautiful than you are now.”

You snorted. “Luci, that was so cheesy. Your brothers would throw up if they heard what you just said.” Lucifer’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Well, I’m glad I was able to make you laugh. And I do mean what I said. I’ve never once felt embarrassed to be with you; you are my pride, the source of my happiness. If anyone were to suggest otherwise, I would gladly kill them.”

“Luci, we’ve been over this. You can’t just kill everyone who is mildly rude to me.”

Lucifer went back to working on his papers but there was a gentle smile on his face. “Darling, you’ll find that I definitely can. I have a permit.”

Mammon

You were regretting tagging along to one of Mammon’s photo shoots. At first, it seemed like a fun idea getting to look at all the clothes, makeup, and jewelry. Plus, you really wanted to see what Mammon was like when he was working professionally. 

It was fun at first, you cooing over how handsome Mammon looked in his outfit and watching him get all flustered and blushy. But then the actual photoshoot started and you watched as Mammon posed with a stunning model.

You tried to not let your insecurities get the best of you. You were here to support Mammon! But as the shoot progressed you couldn’t help but start to compare yourself, keeping track of how they were more beautiful and you more flawed. 

The photographer stopped to take a break and Mammon immediately bounced over to you. “MC, did you see me? How does it feel to watch the Great Mammon in his natural element? I look good, don’t I?”

You caressed Mammon’s cheek and feigned a bright smile. “You were amazing Mammon! You look so handsome. And this is such a cool outfit!” But Mammon was somehow always able to tell when you were faking a good mood and he frowned. “MC, is something wrong? You look sad. Did something happen?”

You opened your mouth, an excuse ready on your lips, but found you couldn’t lie right to Mammon’s face. You gestured toward the model who was talking to their manager in the corner. “Do you ever wish I looked like that?”

Mammon cocked his head, confused. “Do I ever wish you had blue hair? Not particularly? Although now that I think about it, blue hair would look cool on you too.”

You sighed. “No, I mean do you ever wish I looked like a model? Sexier? Or prettier?” Mammon thought for a moment, processing your question, and then frowned. “Oh no no no. Treasure, what’s this all about? What happened?”

“Sorry Mams, I didn’t want to distract you while you’re working. I just got really low and insecure all of a sudden. Started thinking about how you should be with someone really beautiful, you know? And sometimes I feel like that’s not me.”

Clearly upset, Mammon rushed to give you a crushing hug, tucking your head underneath his chin. “MC I- I wish I could beam my thoughts into your head. That way you’d really believe me when I say that you’re so precious to me. Every day I wake up and think about how lucky I am to be with you.”

You chuckled a little. “I do put up a lot with you, don’t I.” Mammon gently smacked you on your back. “Hey! I’ve been good lately! But seriously MC, you are stunning. You are gorgeous. And it’s okay if you don’t believe me right now because- because I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to! I’ll tell you a thousand times a day! A million times!”

You tried to blink away the tears in your eyes and held onto Mammon even tighter. “Thanks Mams, I love you so much.”

“Love you too treasure. Your first man’s gonna take care of you, don’t you worry about a thing.”

Leviathan

Usually you liked watching anime with Levi; it was one of your favorite things to do together. Levi was always more happy and lively when watching with you because he was able to express his opinions freely without judgment. And you thought it was adorable how excited Levi got over his favorite characters and storylines.

Today, you were snuggled together on some cushions re-watching an episode of “The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl”. At first you were enjoying the episode, laughing as Ruri got used to the oddities of the human world. But Levi’s repeated comments about how cute Ruri-chan was, which you usually never minded, started to bother you a bit.

You took a quick glance around the room, noting Levi’s enormous collection of Ruri-chan posters, figurines, and other merch. Levi tapped you on the knee, interrupting your thoughts. “MC, you’re missing the best part! What are you looking at?”

You sighed a little, struggling to act nonchalant. “Sorry Levi, it’s nothing. I’m still watching.” Frowning, Levi paused the episode and turned to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you said “Levi, I’m not Ruri-chan.” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Yes... I know?”

You continued, “I don’t look like Ruri-chan. Does that bother you?”

“Does it bother me... that you don’t look like an anime character?” He repeated the question slowly, as if you had asked him the strangest question in the world.

Frustrated, you blurted out “I don’t look like Ruri-chan! I’m never going to be as cute as her!”

Levi looked completely bewildered, his eyes wide and staring at you in confusion. “B-But you are cute! MC, w-what are you even talking about?” 

Embarrassed at your outburst you looked down at the floor silently. Levi scooted over toward you so that your knees were touching and he waited until you broke the silence. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough. I think maybe you’d like it if I looked cuter or acted cuter, like the characters in anime.”

Levi hesitated for a moment before quickly grabbing onto your hand, blushing furiously as he did so. "MC, I-I already think you're c-cute. Really really cute. So don't say things like that. And also, I like you because you're you! Not because you're like someone else."

"And you make me really happy. I'm just a gross otaku. I never thought I'd be able to... to find someone like you. Someone who accepts me."

He tried to lock eyes with you but blushed even harder and stared at your joined hands. "Plus, I couldn't to-touch an anime character. But I can touch you. I can hold your hand or give you hugs whenever you need it, o-okay?"

You leaned your head onto Levi's shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the peaceful silence wash over you.

Satan

You were accompanying Satan on a trip to one of his favorite stores: an antique shop that sold all manner of rare books and artifacts. The owner, Ms. Sparrow, was a friend of Satan’s and she welcomed the two of you wholeheartedly.

Today, she looked as gorgeous as she always did. Her chic pearl dress and matching silk gloves shone against her dark skin. Not a curl in her hair was out of place and even the click-clack of her heels on the floor seemed melodious somehow.

You left Satan to look at the books and went wandering off into the various aisles of the store, marveling at all the bits and bobs. In one of the over-stuffed corners you happened to find a glittering silver key on a red velvet ribbon. Taking it in your hand, you went back through to show it off to Satan, wanting to ask him what he thought it opened.

But Satan was busy chatting and laughing with Ms. Sparrow. You watched the two of them for a moment and noticed how well they complimented each other. Both had a certain poise, a kind of confidence and certainty in their movements.

On your walk back to the dorms, you were unusually quiet and Satan noticed. “Pet, is something the matter?”

You hesitated, wondering if Satan was going to find your insecurity childish. “Satan, I’m not very....elegant.”

“Yes, I know. You choked on a piece of bread yesterday. The day before that you tripped over absolutely nothing and fell down.” He smiled, expecting for you to get riled up, but it fell when he saw that you looked dejected. “Love, what is the matter? Have I upset you?”

You avoided his gaze. “Sometimes... sometimes I wonder if I bring you down by being with you. I feel like you deserve someone elegant and sophisticated. Someone who matches you. But I’m not. I’m clumsy and messy and not perfect, like Ms. Sparrow.”

Satan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ms. Sparrow? What does she have anything to with this?” He turned you around so that you were facing him. “Pet, please look at me. I love you. And I’m not with you in spite of you being clumsy or messy. I love you because you’re clumsy and messy, because those are parts of you and I love all of you.”

He leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “And why would I need someone perfect? Am I perfect? Yesterday you saw me screaming at my cup because I accidentally spilled some tea and burned my finger.”

You shrugged while giggling, “I thought it was a perfectly reasonable response.” You wrapped your arms around his and buried your face into his shoulder. “Thanks, Satan. You always know how to make me feel better.”

He reached down to give you a gentle kiss. “Anytime, love. I’m always here for you.”

Asmodeus

Asmo has a lot of fans across all his social media accounts. That was made perfectly clear the first time you went on a date with him outside. Sitting in the trendy coffeeshop, several people had come up to ask him for a picture or an autograph. He was never shy about you and always introduced you as his sweetheart, cooing about how beautiful you were. 

Some days it was okay. You loved seeing the bubbly social-butterfly side of Asmo. He was always so sweet to everyone who came up to him and genuinely enjoyed meeting new people. But other days, your insecurity rose up like a huge wave and dampened everything.

This particular day you were shopping with Asmo in a new boutique that had opened up. You were aimlessly flicking through the racks of clothes when you heard a large squealing.

Two demons ran up to Asmo, talking and gesturing excitedly. You could make out that they followed him on Devilgram and were asking if he was willing to take a picture with them. These demons were some of the most attractive beings you had ever seen. Their clothes were incredibly stylish and their hair and makeup were done flawlessly.

Looking around the shop, in all of the full length mirrors you could see the reflection of Asmo and his beautiful fans. And you looked out of place, like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit in at all. 

Tearing up, you grabbed a random pair of jeans off the rack and ran into a changing room. You turned away from the mirror, not wanting to look at yourself, and took deep breaths to try and keep from bursting into sobs. After a few moments Asmo began looking for you, having finished taking pictures. “Sweetheart, are you changing? Let me see what you’re wearing when you’re done!”

At the sound of his voice you burst into tears and your attempts to muffle the noise were futile. Outside the door, Asmo’s voice sounded panicked. “Darling, are you okay? What’s the matter? Please come outside, whatever it is please let me help you!” You hesitated, not wanting to face him, but this made him even more frantic. He started jiggling the doorknob and knocking on the door.

You opened it, afraid that he would accidentally break the doorknob leaving you trapped inside. As soon as he saw you he gathered you in his arms and began making shushing noises while smoothing your hair. “Sweetheart, why are you crying? Please talk to me, please tell me what’s wrong.”

You tried to get the words out in between sobs and hiccups. “A-Asmo, don’t you want someone m-more beautiful? Someone who-who looks g-good with you?” Asmo paused for a moment, processing your words, and then his eyes burned with anger. “Sweetheart, did one of my fans say something mean to you? Did someone make you feel like this?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, just me.” Asmo breathed a sigh of relief at hearing no one had harrassed you and resumed smoothing your hair. “Oh, darling. You ARE beautiful. You’re stunning, sweetheart. I wish you could see the way I saw you, how adorable and gorgeous you are. And I understand that there are going to be days when you don’t believe me, when you feel like you’re not. But at least don’t go through those days alone, okay?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without tearing up again.

"Now, let's go get some ice cream. We can eat it while taking a bubble bath."

Beelzebub

You weren’t really sure why Beel liked you coming with him to the gym all the time, even if you didn’t exercise. He said your presence was calming and that it made him focus better, which was odd because a lot of the time you just sat on an unoccupied machine and scrolled through your D.D.D.

Today was much the same, with Beel running on the treadmill and you watching some videos. The gym was pretty empty, just a few students exercising here and there.

Your eyes drifted to Beel who was running without even breaking a sweat. His body was all solid muscle: his arms, legs, and abs looked perfectly chiseled and toned. Last week you accidentally ran into Beel in the hallway and it felt like you had smashed into a brick wall. Beel, on the other hand, was completely fine.

You began to wonder what Beel thought about your body. He could be pretty handsy at times and he wasn’t shy in his affections. But what if there was something he didn’t like? Something that he thought needed changing?

He’s never mentioned anything about exercising to you before. But you thought back to the students you had seen in this gym: all of them were extremely fit with incredible bodies. You couldn’t help but start to compare yourself to them and think that maybe you were lacking.

Just then, Beel finished his run and walked over to you. You weren’t sure what kind of facial expression you were making but it seemed enough to concern him because he asked, “MC, is everything okay?”

“Hey Beel... do you ever wish I had a nicer body?”

He squinted in confusion. “What do you mean by ‘a nicer body’?”

“I don’t know... just better. Whatever nicer looks like for you.”

Beel was quiet for a moment, thinking. “No, I've never wished for that before. I still don't know what you mean by 'nicer'. I love you. And I love your body because its yours. The only thing that matters to me is whether you’re happy. And as long as I'm still allowed to touch you, then I'm happy.”

He looked at you nervously then, biting his lip. "Am I... still allowed to touch you?"

You laughed and reached to give him a hug, loving how safe it felt in his arms. "Of course, big guy. Thanks for making me feel better. You always know what to say."

Beel flushed with pride and closed his eyes in happiness, leaning into your hand as you patted him on the head.

Belphegor

You knew you were dreaming because you were sitting in a R.A.D classroom surrounded by fellow students, but you couldn’t focus on any of their faces. They were blurry, as if someone had smudged them like an artist had smudged some charcoal.

You were at your desk, looking around the classroom, when as if on cue all of the students began to slowly gather around you. They stood there silently for a moment, unmoving, and you felt a shiver go up your spine. 

And then one by one the students began to hurl insults at you.

“You’re not good enough. Not good enough for Belphegor.” “You’re ugly, you’re hideous. “You’re unwanted, go back to where you came from.” “You don’t deserve what you have, don’t deserve good.” “You’re weak.” “You ruin others, you ruin everything.”

As they insulted you the students began to draw themselves closer, pushing and shoving to reach you. They almost made a cover over your desk as if to block out all the light. You hunched over your desk, shaking and panicking, trying to curl up to protect yourself.

One of the demons began shaking your shoulder roughly, you yelping in pain. He began yelling in your ear, “Wake up! Wake up!”

“MC! Wake up!”

You startled awake and looked around the room in fear. You were in Belphie’s bed, your pajamas sticking to you with sweat. Belphie was looking at you with concern, one hand still on your shoulder.

“MC, you’re okay. It’s just me. It was just a nightmare.” You let out a sob and buried yourself in his arms while he patted you on the back until your breaths evened out.

“D-Did you see my dream?” you asked. You were nervous about showing Belphie that weak side of you, the insecurities that had been brewing since the two of you had begun a relationship. He looked apologetic. “I did. You were whimpering and shaking in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He reached over, one hand smoothing your hair, the fingers of his other hand interlaced with yours. “None of what they said was true, you know.” You looked down, embarrassed. “I mean it, MC. You are good enough. You’re beautiful, you’re wanted, you deserve all the nice and beautiful things in the world, you’re strong. And most importantly, you lift others up. You lift me up everyday.”

He lifted up your hand and pressed a kiss against it. “You lifted me out of darkness. I love you so much. And I’ll gladly stay by your side, for as long as you’ll have me.”

You grabbed the front of his sweater to draw him into a rough kiss, lips bruising. “Forever, Belphie. Forever.” 

[legolasbadass]

A Lifetime Apart [1/3]

Artwork by the lovely @gwen-ever​

Relationship: Thorin x OC

Summary: Thorin meets his One while still a young prince in Erebor, but their lives are torn apart by their families and the arrival of Smaug. 

Based on Alice Tynan’s interview with Richard Armitage in ‘The Vine,’ this fic was inspired by @gwen-ever’s wonderful art for the @tolkienrsb 2021! 

Warnings: Angst. Seriously guys, this is really angsty, get your tissues ready. (gwen and I are not sorry lol)

Rating: T

As always, the fic can be read on AO3. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

There is a room in Erebor, a secret place where once their love bloomed in peace. All the memories of that place, where he held her and worshipped her with his lips, were forever engraved in his mind. It was there that, after months of struggling with his feelings, he had realized she was his One.

All Dwarves know that Mahal sometimes creates two of his children from the same stone, bonding them for life. Of course, not all Dwarves marry. Even those granted this honour by their Maker do not always choose to marry, for some value friendship above all other bonds, while others devote themselves to their craft. Still, as a young boy, Thorin had hoped Mahal would deem him worthy, and every night he had dreamt of the moment he would meet his One, conjuring their likeness like an artist who paints a picture and gives it life.

He had also wondered what it would feel like to meet his One. Would he know immediately? And how would he know? Perhaps it would be like in those romance novels his sister liked so much. A tender, all-consuming look from across the room, silently reassuring the other that they had found each other at last.

Perhaps due to long hours in the council chamber, Thorin had become more of a realist as the years went on. He always had to be on his guard, and he learned quickly that he could not trust his desires, for they could be manipulated by advisors and enemies alike. Romanticism was fine for artists but not for princes. The idea of a destined love became no more than a child’s fanciful dream, and Thorin grew gradually less opposed to the concept of an arranged marriage until the thought of it did not bother him at all. After all, his parents had been married for a political alliance and had still grown to care for each other. Thorin knew he would do the same.

At least, that was what he had told himself before he met Rúna, his dear Rúna.

He did not know immediately that she was his One, but from the moment their gazes met, he knew he would never again be the same. Her presence had so bewitched him that he had not realized he was walking toward her until she stood right in front of him. Then, stumbling over his every word, he had thought himself defeated, oblivious to the fact that she felt the same indescribable pull toward him.

“Thorin, at your service,” had been his first words to her.

“Rúna, daughter of Ragni, your highness,” she had replied with a curtsy, enchanting him all the more with her melodious voice.

“I hope you are having a pleasant time, Lady Rúna.” Already, he had loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

“More pleasant than you, at least, seeing as you have found nothing better to do than stare at me from across the room,” she had replied teasingly.

Blushing furiously, he had attempted to remain formal and composed but, ultimately, had failed miserably. “I had hoped that would go unnoticed, or at the very least, that you would humour me and pretend like nothing had transpired. And just because I was watching you does not mean I am not having a pleasant time. On the contrary, my spirits were lifted by the sight of your fairness.”

Thorin could still remember the beautiful blush that had painted her cheeks. “Forgive me,” he had said hastily. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I did not say I did not enjoy it,” she had replied with the most enchanting smirk.

That was how their conversations usually unfolded. Thorin, who always prided himself on being in control and always knowing what to say, would find himself barely able to think. He blamed her low-cut gowns and the redness of her lips for that.

They soon became inseparable. Every day, they would meet in their secret room, a haven where they shared stolen kisses and soft caresses. Âzyungel, she would call him, for she, too, had accepted Mahal’s will. She had accepted Thorin as hers, and in those moments, both of them had believed nothing would ever separate them, for they were destined to be together.

Deep in the caverns of his mind, a voice called out to Thorin, warning him against the intensity of his passion, but he did not listen. He found himself thinking of her at the most inappropriate times, and she haunted the nights he wished he could spend with her. When he closed his eyes, he saw her smile and heard her laughter, clearer than the soft splashing of water against limestone rocks.

What would it be like to spend his whole life with her, his Rúna?

Thorin thought with utter surety that he would soon know when they announced to their families their intent to wed. At first, everyone was overjoyed. Rúna came from a wealthy and respectable family, so the king had no objections to his grandson’s choice — not that any of that mattered to the couple. Ale and Dorwinion wine flowed freely as the news travelled through the mountain. The prince had chosen his princess.

Thorin and Rúna welcomed their families’ approval, but they secretly longed to be alone once more. When at last they found themselves in the comfort of Thorin’s chambers, they drank some more wine between languid kisses, committing the moment to memory. Fingers braided hair then caressed the skin they hastily revealed, their cheeks tainted with the soft glow of love.

That night, like their hearts forever bound, their bodies became one. Thorin was gentle, attentive to her every need, and even afterwards, he continued to bathe her in tenderness, scattering kisses all over her skin as they murmured promises of eternal love to each other, bodies entangled.

Rúna fell asleep to the soft lullaby of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and though she never doubted for a second his sincerity and devotion, those promises were never fulfilled.

Rúna knew they should have been patient, and although she was usually very sensible, she had not known how to resist her handsome prince, especially not when his body had promised her glorious passion, now and for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was not as though premarital relations were unheard of. However, princes had to follow much stricter rules. And these rules had been carelessly ignored. And as the days went on, Rúna knew she would not have the luxury of keeping their transgression a secret, for inside her bloomed the product of her and Thorin’s love, but also the cause of their demise.

Even if it had not been for her growing belly, her morning sickness and alarmingly fluctuating moods would have given her away. And they did. She had never seen her parents so furious, and their disappointment pierced her heart. Her father shouted about her stained reputation and their ruined bloodline, leaving her in tears as she tried to scramble away in search of Thorin even as she knew it was hopeless.

She knew they would separate them.

King Thror, with the support of Thorin’s parents, banished Rúna from Erebor, never to see her beloved again. She tried to fight them, indignation festered inside her like a poisoned wound, the unattainable promise of Thorin’s love shattering her heart into a million pieces, but it was hopeless.

They did not inform Thorin of this, for it was their firm intention never to let him know about the bastard child. Instead, they told him she was bedridden while they conjured up a more permanent plan. And so, unaware that his One had been taken from him, Thorin brought flowers to Rúna’s door every day. He hated every moment he was forced to spend away from her — it felt unnatural — but he consoled himself by thinking that they would spend their whole lives together.

Then the dragon came.

Thorin had been out hunting in the woods with his siblings when a strong wind began to rattle the treetops. Then a roar like thunder split the sky, and the blood of Thorin’s veins froze when he heard a shout from afar.

“Dragon!”

Rúna.

Without so much as a glance at his companions, Thorin bolted toward the mountain, fear clogging his throat.

Refusing to believe this was real, he did not even stop when the gates loomed above him, riddled in flames, but the screams piercing his ears grounded him to the bitterness of reality. The air was wrought with the stench of burning flesh and the sorrow of a broken people. All around him, children cried in fright, and mothers wept while the distant ringing of useless steel announced their defeat.

No help came from the Elves that day, nor any day since; a betrayal Thorin never forgot. Even if there had been survivors still clawing for breath inside the mountain, they had no means to reach them.

Rúna.

Thorin searched for her everywhere, shouting her name until his lungs burned, but when the moon appeared, and she was still nowhere to be found, Thorin knew it was hopeless. Grief crashed over him like a hurricane.

He had lost her.

He wanted to tear the sky open and demand retribution from Mahal himself, but all his remaining strength he used to remain on his feet. He had to be strong for his people — what remained of them. His family had miraculously survived, but even that could not have filled the gaping hole where his heart had once beat.

Rúna, his dear Rúna. The memory of her lips against his turned to ash in his mouth. When he had last kissed her and held her, he had done so thinking he would have a lifetime to keep loving her. But she was now no more than a memory.

He forced himself not to think of that, for his people needed him now more than ever. Only once he was finally alone did he let his tears run free, and all through the night, he sobbed into his pillow, his only comfort the memories of their secret room, untouched by fire and blood. Thorin held onto those memories all through the years, never forgetting, never forgiving.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Âzyungêl: Love of Loves (used here to refer to the Dwarven belief in a single, destined soulmate)

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @mcchiberry @bitter-sweet-farmgirl​ @i-did-not-mean-to​

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

[dodo-begone]

Fear for my Lover

Pairing: DSMP!Quackity x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning: Blood, stitches, bruises, injuries, cursing, frontier first aid (sorry if i missed something)

Summary: Life had been busy lately. Very busy. The night was peaceful and you were more than happy to take advantage of the quiet. Even with Quackity there with you. Fate had other plans though and absolutely ruined what would've been an amazing night.

A/n: i,,, this was meant to be SHORT but also- haha i got 2-3 more parts planned brrrrrr. Also used a dialogue prompt thingy for this- you'll see them in there. They're highlighted.

You thought nothing of it when Quackity said that he was going out. Beforehand he told you that he might have to stay late to do some work. You weren’t sure if he had finished or not, but his departure only confirmed the thought that no, he had not finished business.

With a sigh, you walk over to the couch and flop onto it. The exhaustion from the many months of constant work was catching up. You missed how life was before. Even when you were stuck under Schlatt’s rule on Manberg. Yes, it was quite tedious and annoying, but you weren’t completely rebuilding a nation from the ground up along with its citizens.

The physical work of building was tiresome, but something relaxation and a few nights of rest could easily reverse the effects. Though the mental strain was a completely different story. All of the paperwork was tedious and could keep you up at night just because you need to get one more paper done before dawn. Or just knowing that you aren’t able to help everyone in the new L’manberg. So many had given up hope, were tired of the vicious cycle that they had been caught in. It may not have been going on long, but it still had its effect on everyone all the same.

So much work and so little recreational time. There was little time to care for oneself with so much work on their plate. Let alone spend time with your loved ones. Even if they lived in the same house as you. It felt alienating when you weren’t able to even have a small conversation with your significant other.

Your thoughts were deafeningly loud. Sometimes even covering each other when they brought up memories of anxieties of the past and future. That’s why it was rather surprising when the entire L’manberg cabinet ran through your front door in a frenzy. Jumping off of the couch, you try to survey the situation. What in Pime’s name could be going on?

Their hysterical cacophony of voices were all that reached your ears. You didn’t even need to hear their words when you saw Quackity’s limp body in Fundy’s arms.

Without a second thought, you push your way over to Fundy and Quackity, quickly searching him for injuries. Well, the injuries part was pretty obvious with all of the blood. But the extent of the injuries were another story. What could be going on? How bad was it? Oh Prime, why was there so much blood?

In the frenzy you must’ve said something because something happened. One moment you are near the entrance with your beloved in the arms of his co-worker and the next you’re tending to his wounds in your shared bed. Nobody else was in the room. It was just you and Quackity. Your Quackity. And a bowl of water and a small stack of wash clothes and towels.

Your hands quacked from both worry and the sobs you were desperately holding back. Something was stabbing the interior of your throat as it closed from the overwhelming emotions that filled your body.

What terrified you was that Quackity wasn’t completely unconscious. He definitely wasn’t completely there but he was still awake and babbling. More muttering because of how frail and faint his voice was, but it was still a bunch of nonsense. How you wished to know what he was saying, what he was thinking. Now wasn’t the time, but you feared that if you didn’t know now that he’d never tell you. Shit hit the fan and he came back like this. Either his pride or his desire to “protect” you would keep him from spilling the tea. This was your only chance.

All you were able to do was open your mouth before Quackity was making this harder. He was extremely weak from the blood loss and you were in a race against time to stop the river of blood that just seemed to flow freely from his wounds. You had been holding his bigger wounds tightly, trying to put as much pressure as you could to slow the blood loss or stop it completely. Each attempt to settle Quackity only leads to him resisting more, weakly fighting you to get up. Soon his behavior had gone on for too long, in your humble opinion, and he was still as stubborn as he was in the beginning.

With what little common sense you had left in your nearly hysterical state, you tried to reason with him. “Quackity,” you pleaded, still trying to gently push him back onto the bed so he was laying. “Please lay down, Duckie. It’s for your own good. Just let me bandage you up and I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

From an outsider’s perspective, the attempt was silly. It really wouldn’t have gotten much of a reaction from your confused lover. And yet you still tried anyway, hoping that anything would help at this point. You were desperate.

His silence spoke volumes. In some stroke of luck, Quackity heard your words. That or he became too tired to fight and “speak”. Either way, you were taking what you could get. It was a victory and your goal was reached. Without much, if any fight at all, you managed to get Quackity back into bed and went back to patching up his wounds.

They were much worse than you hoped. Your wish that it was a smaller wound with a ton of blood oozing out was swiftly dashed when you started to clean up the blood from its source. Well, more accurately from anywhere and cleaning until you found the source. Although a bad idea, you had patched up his smaller, easy to access wounds. Though you couldn’t dodge the challenge that stood before you, glaring at you from Quackity’s face.

Petechiae, scratches, and bruises also decorated his face in a hideous manner. The centerpiece of it all was a large scar that traveled from his lip to his eye, all on the left side, was the most obvious wound. The others could heal on their own, but that cut, could you even call it a cut, was in dire need of assistance. It was probably already infected and trying to heal itself. But it was too big, too wide to heal naturally. Intervention was needed and it was needed stat!

Blankly you stare at his face, mind running a mile a minute trying to think of remedies and solutions. Sadly there weren’t many options available. Ponk was too far away to call for his medical expertise, not even considering how late it was. Would he even still be awake? Let alone awake enough to do stitches? You could wait till morning but who knows what condition Quackity would be in at dawn. Something had to be done and it had to be done now. Only one plausible solution remained and it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

Swiftly you leave Quackity, moving out of the room as quickly as you could. Quackity tried to reach out to you but just missed your sleeve. Though you didn’t notice or know. You had things to get done and to get them done you needed equipment. Desperately you search around the house, pulling out anything you’d need. More clean towels, a bowl of clean water since the one you had been using was more than dirtied and the towels absolutely soiled. Placing them half-hazardly on a flat surface, you scurried around to find the other necessary equipment. After having to catch your sewing tin and lighter from falling a few times, you grab everything you previously gathered and make your treacherous journey back to Quackity.

When you return, he’s once again sitting up in bed. Weakly, mind you, as he fell back onto the mattress at the sight of you. You wished to scold him for going against what you asked of him, but it didn’t matter now. With no time to waste, you dump your supplies onto the nightstand and fumble around, trying to get everything prepared.

As nimbly as your shaky hands could spare, you set up your thread and needle as if you were going to start sewing a gorgeous design into a quilt. You stared at the bowl of water you had, debating whether or not to use your sad little lighter to heat up that big ole bowl… it’s better if you didn’t. Other than being faster, how much better would it be for sanitizing the needle? It’d take ages to get the water boiling and even then it might not be enough. A flame straight out of a lighter? Seemed better. It got the job done quicker and would be warmer than the boiling water so it was going to kill more bacteria and germ than the boiling water. That’s what you hoped, at least. This is why you aren’t a medic.

Shakily, you ignite the lighter and hold the needle to the flame, slowly rotating it to equally distribute the heat. As tedious and anxiety inducing as it was, it would be worth it in the end. The stitch is only temporary until you can get Ponk to come over, hopefully by early tomorrow. Or later today? What time even was it- Snap out of it! This isn’t the time to be doing this!

You didn’t know how hot the needle had to be to be considered “sanitized” but you had waited long enough. At least that’s what it felt like. Plus the part of the needle you’re holding is getting pretty hot.

When you go in for the first suture, the hiss of pain before you even punctured the skin was a good indicator to you. Not that he was awake enough to still be actively feeling things, but to be able to vocally express his pain and that the needle was hot enough to probably kill most bacteria and germs if it hurt to touch. Hesitation is making you its bitch, holding you still and making you contemplate if what you’re doing is right. Of course what you’re doing is right. It has to be. It’s one of the best and only options you have.

Before you did anything else, you grabbed one of the towels and rolled it up. Gently you pried his mouth open and placed it in like a gag. He wasn’t going to be able to grip much and he’d be grinding his teeth together from pain. Previous experience with stitches and similar frontier medical procedures has taught you one thing; having a gag to bite on helps every part. The patient gets a way to release their pain and the “doctor” is less likely to be hurt by the patient since the patient will have something else to focus on hurting. It doesn’t work entirely but it’s better than hearing the unmuffled screams of agony and feels better to have something to grip onto as hard as you can.

After getting him situated, you position yourself again. With a deep breath, you start off the first suture. Quackity’s muffled scream was heartbreaking yet shocking. Even with you expecting it, it still spooked you a bit. But everything was okay. This was for the best. And then you continued on. Slowly you added stitch after stitch after stitch until you thought you did enough. Really it was a combination of “this is adequate” and “i’m too anxious to keep going because what if i mess up”. Without anesthetics, it was just horrific for both parties to go through with this endeavor. He was moving around so much, trying to twist and turn away from the pain being done to him. His movements were so often and large enough to make you nervous about going near his eyes. What if you poked it out? Or made him blind?

Looking back at the stitches and what they held together, it was obvious that his eyesight was going to be impaired from now on. His eyes were looking completely different from each other now. The regular on the right and the horrific product of whatever he did on his left. A white film covered his eyes like a snow blanket. He was now blind in that eye or going blind.

Realistically, he was going blind but you still held out for the unrealistic hope that he’d be almost entirely okay afterwards. You knew it was unrealistic, but you still hoped.

You Quackity didn’t deserve this.

Once you have cleaned up the mess you made, you start to pack everything up. Needle in the bowl to be cleaned, remaining threat back into the tin, bowls moved away from where they’d get bumped and dumped. Slowly and methodically you finish your tasks. The adrenaline of the night is slowly leaving your body and exhaustion is once again taking hold of you. Oh how you hated that. Absolutely despised the feeling.

After everything was to your liking, you go to check on Quackity again before you leave to give and get some silent rest for the two of you. It’s the least you could do for him after all of this.

He seemed comfortable after everything, peaceful in fact. It was such a calming sight and it eased your guilt of hurting him. Everything you did was for the greater good, you mentally remind yourself. It was to help prevent further infection and it was only temporary. Until you could get proper help for him.

Without much thought, you sit by the bed and lay your head upon it. So much blood got onto the blankets and the sheets. You’d need to clean that quickly. After Quackity gets help and is moved or can be moved, that is. Which would hopefully be tomorrow. Slowly you start to doze off. Or was it zoning out? Either or you were slowly calming down further. To the point where you almost fell asleep.

Jolting awake, you begrudgingly haul yourself off the floor and start your long and tiring journey to the living room. The couch was comfier than the floor, after all. No matter how much you wanted to sleep by Quackity.

Your dawdling is stopped by something on your sleeve. At first you think your sleeve got caught on something so you tug in hopes of being untangled from said object. Nothing happens so you just tug harder. But still nothing happens. Eventually your little tug of war becomes too annoying and has been prolonged enough. You whirl around to see what in Prime’s name you could be caught on.

Low and behold it was the man of the hour, surprisingly. Quackity had grabbed onto your sleeve and just held you there. Confused, you walk back to the bed and sit, holding his face and inspecting for any new signs of pain. Anything that would show that he was feeling something different, something worse. You hoped that he wasn’t feeling like that, but it was a naive hope. Wounds were not an unfamiliar concept to you and yet you’d always hope for such fantastical things to the point where it was odd.

In return for you holding his face, he went to gently hold yours. A soft smile makes an appearance upon your face after the action.

“How’re you feeling, Ducking,” you whisper. Silence once again makes its presence known and it’s very loud and obnoxious about it. “Sorry. I know you’re in a lot of pain. That was stupid of me to ask.”

Quackity chuckles at your slip up and you’re more than happy to join him. Slowly your chuckling drowned out by the silence that had obnoxiously told you how wrong you were to ask your beloved if he was in pain when it was more than obvious that he was, indeed, in pain. You take a deep breath and release a sigh.

“You need to sleep. It’ll help with the healing and hopefully with the pain until tomorrow. I plan on calling Ponk to do some actual doctor shit on you because Prime knows how amazing my skills are.” Once again you attempt to leave Quackity to sleep, but stopped by his grip on your sleeve.

“Please,” he rasped. God his voice was so hoarse after everything. You felt terrible as you were part of the cause and yet you couldn’t do anything nor bring yourself to feel too bad. It was all for the greater good, after all. For his health.

“Please what?”

“Please stay with me,” he begged, looking straight into your eyes with his only working one. The sight was pitiful. Such a prideful man who could do so much left in such a weakened state. You hated seeing him like this. Nobody liked seeing their loved ones in a position like that. And how could you deny him that request, especially with what he went through tonight. You still didn’t know what it was but the aftermath was horrific enough to give a small clue as to what happened.

“Of course,” you reply, smiling warmly and climbing into bed with him. The moment you’re under the blankets and sheets, he gently pulls you into a hug. For his or your sake, you’re unsure. You hope that it’s his though. “Anything for my Duckie.”

[bitch-biblioklept]

The Darkling x f!oc

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 <you are here> Part 7

Chapter-6: Amplifiers

Chapter Summary: Frustrated with Alina's lack of improvement, the Darkling finally found a way to use her powers for his thirst for revenge.

Word Count: 2.1k

(My gif)

The Darkling knew what he had to do, and went to the bitter old woman his mother had become to inform her of such. He still cared about her opinion, no matter how old he’d grown… even if it had bothered him a lot. She wouldn’t react, most likely.

“I have decided to give Alina an amplifier,” He declared once inside the heat of her hut by the lake. “Hopefully we will find the stag.”

Her head snapped in his direction at the mention of the stag. Her dark eyes looked livid. “Of course,” she muttered, half to herself. “I was a fool for thinking for a second that you’d let her have it.”

“The girl is naïve, she can’t control her powers.” He explained. “She will do better with that.”

“I’m not going to let you take control of her powers.” She said with the certainty of a decision. “I know what you are planning to do.”

“How would you?” The Darkling asked, his lips set in a sneer.

“I gave birth to you, boy.” Baghra said. “I know you better than you think I do. She wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“But she isn’t here to stop me now, is she?” Aleksander said. The lump in his throat was suddenly too much. The lakeshore was a bloodbath again. Baghra was silent for too long. “Well?”

“She isn’t,” His mother agreed slowly. “But the least you could do is honor her memory, her mannerisms.”

“She wasn’t a saint mother,” He reminded. “By all means she was the viler and crueler one of the two of us.”

“Not to someone who hadn’t wronged her,” Baghra added.

“I shall avenge her, whether you like it or not, mother.” The Darkling said. He still had a vague memory of the last time he had addressed her as such. Aleksander had been too distraught, everything had happened just so fast… there was no time to tell if it had been reality or a nightmare. Serephina had been assassinated, found lying with her throat slashed, there were others too, her attackers, only one of them was barely breathing by the time he had gotten there.

That was the first time he had used the Cut in the Little Palace grounds, the first time all the young Grisha realized why everyone was so afraid of him. It was the first time his mother looked terrified.

They were supposed to be happy, it was supposed to be a celebrations filled night. But like Serephina used to say in her Suli sayings, some had jinxed their joy. They were to be a family, they were to become parents.

But all of that had been taken away because he was the Darkling and she was Lady Kirigan, and not Aleksander and Serephina.

A light knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts.

Alina appeared in the doorway a second later, looking awkward on finding she interrupted their conversation. “Sorry,” she said.

“In girl, don’t let the heat out.” Baghra declared instead.

The Darkling bowed as a show of courtesy. “How are you Alina?” he asked to be polite.

“I’m fine,” Her voice sounded forced.

“She’s fine!” hooted Baghra. “She’s fine! She cannot light a hallway, but she’s fine.”

The Darkling had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at her words. “Leave her be,” he said instead.

The old woman narrowed her dark eyes at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she decided.

He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to alleviate his frustrations. This was not going well. He turned to Alina. “Baghra has her own way of doing things.” He explained to stop himself from snapping at his mother at the moment.

“Don’t patronize me, boy!” she screamed at him. For a second, he was eighteen again, afraid of his mother’s wrath upon finding about his and Serephina’s marriage, and stood up straighter.

He stopped himself in time, remembering he wasn’t the same boy he had been then, not anymore. “Don’t chide me, old woman,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

There was an intense stare down between the two of them, the tension so thick it could have been sensed even by a donkey. That was until Baghra turned to Alina and said, “The boy thinks to get you an amplifier. What do you think of that, girl?”

He watched as Alina’s face brightened with a smile as if she had heard the most brilliant idea. And for a second, a brief moment, she reminded him of Serephina again, with the curve of her smile and the way her eyes crinkled with joy.

“I think it’s brilliant!” She nearly squealed. And the similarity was gone. Alina was not Serephina, and the differences got more evident as he got to know her better. Serephina’s face had always had a cold mask, much like himself, but he knew how to read her, where to look for in those brown eyes to find the answers. She was a book meant to be read just by him, and him only. Alina’s face was an open book left for everyone to read.

Baghra let out a disgusted sound, and the sound inspired an odd sense of pride in him. Alina was right where he needed her to be.

“Alina, have you ever heard of Morozova’s herd?” he asked.

“Of course she has. She’s also heard of unicorns and the Shu Han dragons,” Baghra said mockingly. If this woman wasn’t his mother, he would have kicked her out by now, but alas.

The Darkling took Alina out of the hut instead, wanting to have one conversation where Baghra didn’t interrupt him at every utterance that came out of his mouth. Though he was aware that she was keeping an eye on everything he was going to do.

“That woman,” he muttered to himself, running his hands all over his face. Then he ran his hands through his hair again, but this time to get the embarrassing image of him hiding behind Serephina to be safe of the rage Juris had upon finding out about the wedding.

“What?” he asked; half-embarrassed by the humor on Alina’s face.

“I’ve just never seen you so … ruffled.” She said.

“Baghra has that effect on people.”

“Was she your teacher, too?”

She was. Of course she was, she was his mother. But she wasn’t just a mother or teacher, she had been through a lot with him, suffered as bad as he had. Perhaps she was the only person alive who would bother to understand Aleksander and not the Darkling. “Yes,” he said in its place. “So what do you know about Morozova’s herd?”

Again she talked about how she had heard children’s stories. Again he told her what he wanted her to, making a passing remark about forgetting how new she was to all this. He was keenly aware of the raven-like gaze Baghra kept on both of them, but he ignored it. Again he was nice to Alina, listening to her talk by the lakeshore when the image of the bloodbath resurfaced. He turned his thoughts to less painful things like how things would have been different had Serephina been here.

After a while, he had had enough and he left. He was desperate for a glass of kvas, or even better, a glass of strong whiskey. The memories wouldn’t just stop invading his head.

So he focused on the night he thought Serephina was going to die.

It was a cold night after a snowstorm, a village in central Ravka that had once been free of the abomination of creation that most people called the Shadow Fold or the Unsea. They had stopped by the village while they were on their way to Fjerda.

 There was a pack of large wolves tormenting the villagers, and they had warned them against going out at night. But Serephina had wanted to see them, the wolves. She said something was calling out to her, and that she needed to see the wolves.

And refusing to let her go out in the danger all alone, Aleksander had accompanied her. He was scared, of course. He had always been afraid of the dark but he never showed it, but she knew. He knew that she knew. That was why she had been holding his hand, warming the both of them up to keep them through the night.

It was a little past midnight when Sere had lost hopes of seeing the wolves and they were about to head back, when a deep growl sounded somewhere to their left.

A pair of bright red glowing eyes were fixated on them dangerously. She let go of his hand and shoved him behind herself and then reckoned the alpha wolf closer. Aleksander’s male ego would have been hurt if he weren’t so scared.

The wolf was one of the biggest animals he had ever seen, standing taller and either of them. For a moment he was certain the wolf was one of the Grisha of the old stories, the shape-shifters who couldn’t turn back into their human form after being in their animal form for too long during the first Ravkan war.

Before Aleksander could think of an escape route, Serephina had moved forward, studying the animal. Its dark black fur was blacker than anything he had ever seen, but it gleamed against the white snow under the moonlit canopy. The wolf and the girl regarded each other, assessing the danger.

The wolf leaped in the air with its jaw spread open to attack Serephina faster than he could say, “Stop!” She didn’t leave her ground and raised her hands, shoving them forward with all the force. The wolf fell to the ground as if hit by an invisible wall.

And when her flint sparked up from her sleeve, the cold blue flames scared the large animal. But it got up, shook the snow off its fur and got back into the battle.

Ice, air, fire all of the three elements helped Serephina in her conquest. She even used a bit of the heart rendering powers that she had mastered and paralyzed the wolf, after some of their blood had splattered on the snow, frozen like red pearls.

She walked to the laying wolf, limp in her step from where the wolf had bitten her leg, her hidden knife in hand and stabbed the wolf right where it heart would be. And strangely, the wolf looked proud when she did it, and then raised its paw and scratched it through her chest, right where her heart would be.

Aleksander’s soul left his body in that instant.

The soft glow of moonlight that came from Serephina showed her face, bloodied and contorted in pain, as both their blood flowed freely to the ground, freezing instantly on the snow. The wolf was the first one to close its eyes, the glowing red disappearing.

She fell on the snow next, her breath escaping with a sigh.

He rushed to her side, almost blinded by the brightness of the light she radiated, and cradled her head in his arms, regretting not staying back at their little cave, not being able to convince her to stay, not being able to protect her because of his own fears.

Then her eyes opened, and her thin lips moved, muttering his name. Her eyes glowed bright red, like the wolf’s but the voice was hers, for no one else could ever speak in that musical voice that made him want to drop everything and just listen to her talk all day.

“Sere…” he softly said, tucking her black hair behind her ear.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, and then stood up. Her hair was a mess, her eyes looked tired, but they were back to their brown, and her clothes were ragged, covered in her own blood and the wolf’s, but to him she had never looked more beautiful.

“But the wolf-” he started.

“The wolf is one with me now,” She calmly explained. Her eyes changed to the bright red once again. “I am the wolf and the wolf is me.”

“Like the amplifiers,” he realized.

She smiled. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

“I hope you don’t eat Grisha for meals now,” He joked.

“I might eat someone if he gets too annoying,” she winked at him and walked away. Aleksander was frozen in his place.

The wolf was old, she knew everything. Serephina had always had an answer to his problems. Things would have been so much better had her and their child were with him right now. He would have been so much happier and maybe they would have been done with the fold by now.

But fate always had other ideas.

[nestasgalpal]

Dad’s birthday

Nessian month - Prompt: what did I do to deserve you?

Domestic Fluff  ||  Words: 1,667  ||  A03 link 

Tagging: it’s not the full life of Nessian kids, but it’s what I’ve got so far!! @imsointobooks @irenethaleia @bookstantrash @saltydreamcollector @azrielsgirl @gwynrielsupremacist @arinbelle @silvernesta @dustjacketmusings @vanserrasvalkyrie​ @darkshadowqueensrule​

Cassian was still asleep, but they should hurry up anyway.

Nesta hated waking up early, yet she had gotten out of bed, rushed to the kids’ rooms and made sure they were all prepared to finish up every detail for Cassian’s good-morning surprise before he woke up. And Cassian loved waking up early.

“Bregan, please, make sure your sister doesn’t fall.”

Nesta didn’t look up from the cake or the chocolate ganache she was spilling over it, but through the corner of her eye she could tell her oldest son was falling asleep once again in the opposite side of the kitchen island. Nesta marked with a pinch of pride how gracefully Bregan was keeping his equilibrium on the stool while one of his hands prevented his sister from falling down.

The baby, in the other hand, was playfully shaking a stuffed animal, perfectly awake. Olympia swayed mimicking its movement, clapping her hands off-rhythm.

“Are you sure you don’t need help with that, mom?” Bregan’s eyes were only half open. Just like Nesta, he hated being awakened so early in the morning. He and his brother had spent the day before hiking with Cassian to bring their father to the point of exhaustion and buy themselves some more time today to bake the birthday cake.

Of course, the hours walking through valleys had had their toll on them as well. Her sons weren’t trained soldiers, but barely teenagers, and the promise of unlimited chocolate today was probably the only thing that made them get out of bed so early.

Nesta considered waiting until she was done with the cake to wake them up, but she needed help watching the girls while she cooked. Also, she knew Bregan good enough to anticipate he would need time to wake. They were the same in that sense.

“Yes honey, just watch Oly for me while I finish this.” They had to whisper so Cassian didn’t hear the three of them in the kitchen from their bedroom on the floor above.

Bregan’s hair was a mess of dark brown strands. Nesta frowned. He was 16 now, he should know to brush his hair or at least be a little more tidy for his father’s birthday. It didn’t matter that all of them were wearing their pajamas... on the contrary, it made the appearance of their hair all more crucial.

Stretching over the cake in dangerous balance, she tried to make it better with her hand.

“Mom!” He complained. His sleepy voice made a rooster, to which Olympia answered with a laugh. That sound was music to Nesta’s ears, and it inevitably made her go soft. Maybe Bregan’s hair was okay, and not everything had to be oh so perfect.

The babe was entertained enough to not fall back asleep. She was probably the only one in the house who could say that.

Taking her out of her cradle had been so hard. Olympia’s big hazel eyes looked back at her not understanding why her mom was making her get up so early in the morning, the sky was still pitch black. She was 4 now, so Nesta wouldn’t blame her if she burst into tears because of her tiredness. Or the cold, since they were in the middle of the winter in their small house in the Illyrian Mountains.

But her children were tough.

Nesta didn’t know what she had done to deserve such blessing, but just like Bregan when he was her age, the babe hardly ever cried. A miracle, considering how loud the other two were at that age.

Loud steps approaching halted her movements. After making sure who the two sets of feet belonged to, she resumed her last task with the spatula.

“No!” Nicolas stopped Ashra’s mouth from crashing against the bottom layer of the cake when it was barely five inches away from it. She was the perfect height for her mouth to reach just above the kitchen island, and at the same time small enough to fit under Nesta’s arms and not be seen.

Luckily, Nicolas had better reflexes than his mother did, or Cassian’s cake would be crumbling down on her blondish short hair.

Ashra only laughed and flapped her wings to force her older brother to free her from his grip. Nicholas did, growling softly when she stepped on his feet as part of her landing and run away to hide under Nesta’s skirts. Nicolas kissed his mom’s cheek and went for a stool by his brother’s side.”Mornin’ mom. How long until it’s ready?”

“Can I have some cake?” Ashra interrupted, showing her mom a broad white smile that promised trouble.

“Once dad has blown the candles and opened his presents,” she answered with patience.

Ashra wasn’t like her siblings, she had the Archeron dark blonde hair and Nesta’s blue eyes. Unfortunately for Nesta, the only child who resembled her at all had inherited her father’s tendency for chaos and didn’t care as much for ladylike interests as she did for shiny daggers and colourful siphons. She also had Cassian’s beautiful smile to brighten up her mother’s morning. And his mother’s name.

“Can I have the first slice, then?”

Nesta squat down and kissed Ashra’s forehead, stroking her unbound hair -just as tangled as Bregan’s.

“You must ask dad for that” Nesta answered, knowing Cassian would gladly give his daughter the entire cake if she simply smiled at him. She would as well, hadn’t she woken up so early to bake it. “Nico, do you have the presents with you?”

The 15 year old boy nodded. His face on his hand, elbow on the counter holding the weight of his head. The hiking sure did wear them down. Knowing this, the boys had finished their hand-made present to Cassian weeks in advance without Nesta having to tell them, eager to contribute to the birthday surprise.

That had given Nesta time with the girls to prepare everything else and explain to Ashra what exactly they were going to do.

“Can I carry the boxes?” She was asking now.

“Some of them are heavy, Ash” Bregan got up from his stool and took the cake from Nesta’s hands when she finished garnishing it, winking at her. He was perfectly awake all of a sudden and a cocky grin adorned his face, “I got this!” He went for the stairs before she had time to respond.

Usually, Nesta wouldn’t trust him with a chocolate cake, but Olympia was still sitting on the kitchen island with the stuffed animal between her hands, looking at her mom, curious eyes inspecting her surroundings and not quite getting it. Her black hair was perfectly braided. Once again, she was the only one who could say so. Nesta hadn’t had time even for her own head of hair, which had been simply brushed.

Nesta lifted Oly and made her way to the staircase passing her eldest son. “Nico, give Ash one of the packages, please.”

He rolled his eyes, but did. The blond girl run to her mom and took her hand to climb up the stairs, the box in her other side. Whilst Bregan grew more and more extroverted and adventurous as time went by, Nicolas’ new-found teenage personality consisted on pretending he was already an adult that couldn’t be bothered with childish whims. It would be a lot more believable if it also translated to the mischief he, Bregan and their friends in Illyria frequently found themselves into. That trouble-making gene run through all her kids’ veins, no matter how quiet or loud they were.

With black hair and hazel eyes, he was the one who resembled Cassian the most. Although the gesture he made when he was exasperated and rolled his eyes was purely Nesta's.

She turned to face the boys when the five of them got to the door of their bedroom and urged them to be quiet. Ashra gave little jumps of excitement, the old wooden floors crackling under her light weight. She was the one to knock on the door and open it before she could hear any answer coming from Cassian inside.

As Ashra opened the door, Nesta could tell Bregan was trying his best not to be seen dipping one finger on the ganache.

Truth was, none of the kids did what they were told as the three of them launched themselves over the sleeping figure of their father in bed.

“Bregan, the cake!” she screamed in a whisper. The oldest Archeron kid had the decency to stop his running and placing it without any care over the bedside table.

“Happy birthday, dad!” The three of them screamed.

“Happy birthday” Olympia murmured slightly behind. The poor thing could barely keep her eyelids open. She made her way to the side of the bed, placing Oly by her side.

Cassian lazily maneuvered to catch Ashra before her knee landed on his sternum, her flight needing lots of practice. His wings were spread, stopping him from noticing Nico launching himself over both of them in bed and joining the hug, quickly followed by Bregan.

Nesta couldn’t stop the broad smile that filled her face as her entire family sited up in bed, the five people she loved the most in the world showing affection to one another so freely.

A strong tattooed arm found its way to her and pulled, so Nesta’s own body was against her mate’s chest. Cassian wrapped her in his arms, kissing her deeply. “Happy birthday” she whispered, their lips stil touching.

“Good morning” he answered, pressing his forehead to hers.  “Come here, monkey” Cassian took his youngest daughter from her mother’s arms with one hand, not letting Nesta go.

Feeling the warmth of his body against hers on that cold morning, the chocolate cake forgotten by everyone except hungry Ashra, Nesta heard Cassian reading her thoughts aloud “What did I do to deserve you?”, and knew she had gotten from life more than she could have ever dreamed of.

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

Always Shine and Redefine Our Humanity

How Eret Contributes to the Dream SMP's Narrative Themes of Change and Self-Discovery

I can’t believe listening to a song from a fairly obscure but growing musical (where I took this post’s title from) would prompt me to inspect Eret’s character more but here we are. I will heavily use @theeretblr's (whom you should subscribe to, btw) Character Explanation thread as a basis, as well as statements about their character from their most recent streams and things that I have gathered from other essays by people who clearly have been watching from the start.

This will include sentiments and theories I want for the character because I kinda got attached to them as of late. Please keep in mind that I have been watching since around Late November-Early December, so my biases would be appropriate to such a viewer.

This essay is a discussion of the roleplay character.

1. Eret is Self-Preserving & Versatile in Skill (and this is why they're powerful)

"Those who are given Power hold on to it."

Something I’ve observed concerning Eret’s Betrayal of L’Manburg was their motivations for doing so. For a time they have believed that power and security mattered. For a time their interests went first. CC!Eret referred to the choice as "an offer no one would refuse" as well. This wasn't just luxury and (they didn't know it at the time, but false) power, it was the protection they would be allowed to have by the admin of the server. It was being allowed to do whatever they wanted, despite the means to it being dishonorable and interestingly enough, demanding of permission.

Eret was willing to do anything to remain secure and equipped, and I argue that they still do until now. The difference is that now, they are more concerned about how they maintain their security in that they wouldn't hurt other people or be extremely unethical in the pursuit of this security.

Also, they're privy to grinding when it's necessary, they know how to build structure and contraption, and they can hold their own fairly well. They're very well-spoken and can deliver on appearances and ambiance, excellent at both comforting and intimidating whomever they choose. They had to have been this skilled for a while.

2. Eret has a Forgotten History (of bringing down powerful groups of people, apparently)

"Those who don't know History are doomed to repeat it."

So remember that interaction with Foolish? I want to bring this up because I feel that having particularly close ties with a God of Undying/Death has implications.

Foolish also brings up "taking care of [a] Wither cult"—an organized group! Wasn't Eret known for taking down an organized group on the server? L'Manburg, at its founding. He was part of the rebellion against Manburg. He was against the Eggpire. Yep, that's a pattern.

What does this mean? Well:

Eret's hands were never clean from the start, clearly before the Final Control room, and it can be inferred that they're redder than they seem

Eret's tendencies towards self-preservation may have been influenced/learned from Foolish

Eret may have had (if they still don't do) an inclination to pursue power through the dismantling of organized groups that also seek/already have established power

Eret's current skills are the way they are due to his past

And we cannot forget the CC confirmation that c!Eret has relations with Herobrine, the infamous Minecraft urban legend known for the horror he brings and how many lovers of Minecraft frame him as this terrifying powerhouse entity beyond human comprehension. This relation is still a mystery, but from what we know, it can tell us a lot about what Eret has forgotten about himself and what Eret is capable of!

3. Eret is Concerned by What People (though only those that matter to him) Think of Her

"I think Respect is a big thing."

In light of her power, we have to remember that Eret regretted pursuing power upon recognizing the loss of respect and friendship that came with the throne. This becomes a much stronger detriment when she realizes that the power she thought she had never actually existed in the first place—one can say she would dread pursuing power for herself again. To subject oneself to the standards of others after all is to subject yourself under constant scrutiny.

In her regrets, she learns and realizes what she wants—to be loved and cared for, to be truly alive with her loved ones. It's why she decides to improve herself, and she works and makes the effort to try! She struggled (and still does) in the process of pursuing forgiveness, illustrating that her determination towards an end is very strong, gradual as it may be.

It's how she looks up to Wilbur! Still! I reckon the two believe they're responsible for the other. Change! What an incredible thing the two are able to do.

4. Eret Knows What He Wants (but is struggling to figure out how to get it)

"That was a long time ago. I've changed things and I know not to break people's trust anymore."

One of Eret’s biggest concerns right now in Season 3 is his relationship with the Crown, mixed and fickle it seems based on his streams during this time. His kingship carries more and more weight each passing day, debating whether forgoing the effort and spilled blood Eret had to get the Crown is worth it. (I mean, he accepted the restoration of his Kingship when George got dethroned.)

The Kingship is still power, and it's become true power after Dream had been put in prison. We know he's admitted being deathly afraid of Dream, so this period of genuine Kingship would be incredibly special to him. Ever since he's been finding ways to make his kingship genuinely meaningful, redefining the evils the Crown used to have by doing good to whomever sincerely, freely, and willingly. He's attempted allyhood with like-minded individuals based on his judgment of their character. Remember his Knights? These consisted of HBomb, Puffy, and Punz, each of which exhibited behaviors (predilection for community, dedication to duty, moral neutrality) he has as well!

But yet, the blood spilled for that Crown still stains him, and it cannot be denied that it will continue to do so for as long as Eret wears the crown. I wonder if he believes this, whether a part of him does deep down. Dream being in jail doesn't just mean freedom to be a king but freedom to quite literally be yourself, whatever it may be.

5. For these reasons, Eret Represents Constant Self-Actualization and Rediscovery

"I'm a strong, independent...whatever the fuck I am."

Given the points established above, Eret is unfamiliar with her full self and wants to shape herself into someone desirable and genuinely contributing kindness to a clearly broken world, a world whose brokenness she also happened to contribute to.

Her enthusiasm for History and the pursuit of enlightenment speaks volumes to this motivation. It's her repeated, dedicated efforts to try and try and try and try, to be better! Not just to be a better person herself but for everyone else to be able to be better too! She's aware that perfection is impossible, but clearly recognizes that constant reevaluation of the self is nonetheless necessary.

It's how she's open to engaging with as many people as possible despite differing opinions and carried baggage. She researches and explores and examines! She does no harm but takes no shit.

Every facet of her, to the terror her eyes have been known to give, to the air of affirmation radiating in her domain of a Pride castle, to the blood that decorates her fingers, to the people she has given support to, to the people she has disadvantaged, to the History she keeps, to the part of herself she no longer remembers, to the power she carries—Eret knows how to be truly alive.

[bts-hyperfixation]

The Princess and The Duke – Part 1

Duke!Namjoon x Princess!reader

I know I said this wasn’t going to be out until Friday, but after the Scammys, I thought I’d put it out today! This has not yet been edited.

Warnings - future smut, allusions to smut.

The first time you met you were six months old. Barely aware you existed, let alone there was a whole world existing around you. Namjoon was two at the time. A chubby little toddler clinging desperately to his mother as he tried to hide away from all the other strange people in the room. Most of the kingdom had turned out for your christening, so obviously the future Duke’s family had also made an appearance. They stood with the rest of the court at the front of the church, most of the adults attempting to corral children of their own instead of watching the Princess’ baptism.

It was only when a shrill cry echoed through the church hall that Namjoon looked up from his mother’s shoulder trying to locate the noise. Turned out you didn’t appreciate being dipped into freezing cold holy water. From then on, he’d watched intently, each movement made by the priest and your family, craning his neck to watch you wiggle in the queen’s arms. You were just so small, and so pink. He liked pink, and you were wrapped in piles of pink lace. He knew these were traditional colours for your kingdom, his mom liked to tell him stories about the pink flowers that grew throughout his homeland. Beautiful pink daisies. They were his favourite bedtime stories.

Stories of a brave king leading his army into battle. Each week he would send home a bouquet of the only flower that grew on the battlefield. Each week the queen would know he was okay, until one week they didn’t arrive. For the next few days, the queen was inconsolable, after that she was catatonic. She sat draped in black watching the last of the pink daisies wither. As the last petal fell from the shrivelled bud, a shout was heard throughout the kingdom. The king had returned, enemies slain, and with him he brought as many flowers as the cavalry could carry. The seeds were planted throughout the country, and those were the same flowers that remained to this day. The flowers that were lining the pews of the church, and the ballroom at the palace.

After the christening, members of the court were invited for a meal and to meet the infant princess, to meet you. The banquet was held in the ballroom, a long table adorned with wreaths and favours for each of the guests. You were placed in a cradle close to the king. A place where all could visit to pay their respects and your father could protect you. Once his family had finished their meal, they visited your crib, offering a gift and paying their respects to the royals. Namjoon tugged at his mother’s dress until she lifted him to get a better look. As he peered into the cot, he was shocked to find you staring straight up at him. Other babies he met always seemed to be asleep, but not you.

He wriggled in the duchess’ arms until he could reach you. The room fell silent as he extended his chubby hand to poke at your own curled fist. No one outside of your family, the priest, and the doctors had dared to touch you yet. They waited with bated breath for a response from the king. Little Namjoon paid no attention to the eyes on him, too focused on you. Your small fingers wrapped their way around his. The king had cooed at the event, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

…

The next time you met Namjoon properly you were four, he was almost six. You’d been allowed outside to play with the other children of the court. The problem was, many of them were considerably older than you. None of the ‘big’ girls wanted to play silly little girl games. So you sat alone and watched them as they made daisy chains together. You tried to copy them from afar, but your pudgy little fingers wouldn’t cooperate, ripping through the stems instead of creating the holes needed to thread more flowers.

Namjoon had been following around the gardener when he saw you. Decapitated daisies lay by the dozen around your feet. He couldn’t bear to see the carnage continue, so he took pity on you. He picked a flower with a thick enough stem and passed it too you. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You’d taken the flower excitedly and threaded another through before giving it back to him to make another hole. The two of you had then spent the next half hour together, him piercing stems and you threading them into long chains. He laughed as you concentrated. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you focused on the task at hand.

When you decided the chain was long enough, he made one last hole so you could form a circle. With the ring complete you stepped on your tippy toes to place it over his head, nodding in approval as the string draped from his neck to his knees. He looked down, assessing his new accessory and beamed a smile back at you. The first time you ever saw his dimples. Immediately you were compelled to poke them. He didn’t stop you as you reached for his cheek, instead laughing so they deepened.

You weren’t like any princess he had seen in his books. Those princesses were graceful and dainty. You were more like a bull in a china shop. Honestly, he was relived. All the other boys were in high school, they had no time for him. And the girls all wanted him to play ‘prince charming’. It was fun playing with you. You’d run around the gardens with him, dig in the mud, and exchange the stories your parents read at bedtimes.

…

Age six brought the loss of your first tooth. The tooth had been placed in a tissue under your pillow and the next morning it had become money! You had been so excited to tell Namjoon all about it, only for him to burst your bubble.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real Y/N” he’d stated matter-of-factly, his nose turned up at the notion.

“Is too!” you’d cried back petulantly. You’d seen her with your own two eyes. Well you’d been half asleep, and it was dark… but you were certain it had been her.

“Is not!” the eight-year-old boy retorted. “I’ll prove it! Next time you lose a tooth don’t tell nobody. She won’t come I promise.” He’d sounded so smug. You wanted to hit him. instead you set out to prove him wrong. You kept wiggling your teeth hoping one would come loose. It’s around a month later you get your chance. The tooth came out in the apple you were eating for dessert. Carefully you hid the bone from your nanny so she couldn’t tell your parents. After you were tucked in that night, you slid the bone under your pillow and waited for the fairy to visit you. But she never came.

The next day when you saw Namjoon, you were devastated, but still not ready to concede the fairy’s existence.  

“Maybe I upset her?” you sniffle at him “You’re not supposed to wait for her, I broke the rules! That’s why she didn’t come! What if she never visits me again?” tears fell freely down your face. Namjoon had never felt so guilty, not even when he lied about breaking his mom’s favourite vase. He had watched you cry for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. He had made the heir to the throne cry… could he get locked away for this?

“It’s my fault Y/N! I was just jealous” he quickly tried to formulate a believable story in his head as you wiped away your tears.

“Jealous?” your voice was small, a little hope filtering through the sadness.

“Yeah… jealous. See I… uh… I’ve nearly got all my big teeth now, so she doesn’t come to see me as often. I bet if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight and go to sleep, she will come!” your face had lit up at the news. Immediately after he’d said goodbye to you, he went and told the gardener about your tooth. When you woke up the next day, a shiny coin was in the tooth’s place. You’d held the discovery over Namjoon for the few months, but he didn’t care. He was just happy you were happy and that he didn’t get into trouble.

…

At age eight you were definitely not shaping up to be the perfect princess. In fact you were quite the rambunctious little tot. Your mother became more and more exasperated every time you turned up with a new grass stain on one of your best gowns. She begged you to spend more time having tea parties with the girls instead. It was never your fault though. The tea parties were dull and Namjoon would challenge you to a race through the maze, or to see who could climb highest in the trees. You couldn’t just let him win.

If you weren’t running around or rolling down hills, you were lying together staring up at the clouds from the middle of the topless bandstand in the middle of the maze. The beautiful white stone structure had quickly become ‘your’ spot. None of the other palace kids showed any interest in exploring the maze, and the adults always seemed to get lost trying to find you. Hours were wasted with the two of you just staring up at the sky, sometimes talking about your day, sometimes in complete silence. It was just nice to be with him.

On calmer days he would read aloud from a book while you made daisy chains. You could do it by yourself now. Much more in control of your own limbs than you used to be. The summer before Namjoon was due to go to high school you made a chain so long you could coil it around the entire base of the bandstand.

…

After he started high school, you saw a lot less of Namjoon. He wasn’t able to come around as often between his homework and extracurriculars. Instead you begged your father to let you attend his football games. Each Saturday you went in disguise with your nanny to watch Namjoon play, regardless of the weather. You weren’t even sure you enjoyed the sport, but it was worth it for the smile he flashed every time he found you amongst the onlookers.

Each week you wore a different disguise wanting to make it difficult for him, but each time he found you without fail.

You melted every time, knowing that smile was just for you. Originally you told yourself it was just a swell of pride, watching your best friend play. Eventually you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than that, but you swallowed the crush. After all he was in high school, he wouldn’t want a silly little girl like you anyway.

…

When you turned fourteen it was time to for you to be presented to the kingdom. A ball was thrown in your honour, the first of many you would attend in your lifetime. The thought of being alone at any big event made you feel queasy. The fact that this one was going to be focused entirely on you made you ill for an entire week before. Namjoon had spent the week trying to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. Luckily, your birthday had been during a break from school so he could spend the time with you. He grew more and more concerned as he watched your health deteriorating to a point where you could barely keep water down. Eventually he came to a decision and asked for an audience with the king himself.

He’d dressed in his best suit making sure not a single hair was out of place. He marched straight up to the double doors to your father’s study and took a deep breath, more than prepared to argue his point. Your father had welcomed Namjoon into his office with open arms. He’d always been fond of the boy, especially knowing the weak spot you held for him. Regardless of the warm reception and his original confidence in his idea, Namjoon felt the nerves begin to overtake him. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his suit jacket, breath coming out shakily.

“Can I escort Y/N to her first ball.” The king had been taken aback by Joon’s sudden outburst, his face showing obvious surprise at the young man’s bold request. Namjoon mistook the expression for a dismissal and so, in a much less eloquent way than he had practiced in is shower, he fought his case.

“Y/N has been ill all week; she doesn’t think she can do this alone…. And I just thought… maybe she would be okay if I were with her. I know I’m only a duke, but I just want her to be okay and I really think this would be good and it’ll only be for this one ball and…” Namjoon’s rambling came to an end when your father raised his hand. Namjoon clenched his fists as he waited for an answer.

Your father had taken his time to consider Namjoon’s proposal, enjoying the way the boy had squirmed under his gaze. To this day, Namjoon refers to it as the second most terrifying day of his life. Eventually a smile had broken over the kings face, no longer able to contain his laugh. He clapped Namjoon on the shoulder and sent him off with his blessing.

On his way to meet you in the gardens afterwards, he had gathered the prettiest daisies he could find. He found you lying on the floor of the bandstand, looking a little too pale as you stared up at the clouds floating past. He cleared his throat on arrival, making you look at him with the offer of a weak smile, not really taking him in.

When he didn’t take his place beside you, you’d sat up to look at him properly. That’s when you saw the pinstripe suit and quaffed hair. It looked so unlike him you couldn’t help but giggle. Normally Joon was a t-shirt and basketball shorts kind of guy. He had rolled his eyes and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, every question in your mind had gotten stuck in your throat when his eyes had met yours. You never did get over that silly little crush. He didn’t release your hand like you expected him too. Instead he placed the bouquet into your free hand and asked you the question you’d been dreaming he would.

“Just to protect you of course… I don’t like when you aren’t well” He’d broken the moment by ruffling your hair, a sure sign he was doing this as a favour.

He took you to every ball you attended after that one.

…

The summer you turned seventeen was the summer before Namjoon left for university. You snuck out passed your guards in the night to see him. There was a very convenient secret passageway that led from your room to the gardens. You would meet him at the bandstand and talk until the sun came over the horizon. The lack of sleep had been worth it to spend those last fleeting days with him. You talked about anything and nothing, just like you would in the daytime, but this felt far more intimate.

The first time you convinced him to meet you after curfew his eyes flitted everywhere. Always nervous someone would find the two of you there and assume the worst. You on the other hand were just desperate to soak up as much of your friends company as you could before he left.

Over time he’d become more comfortable with the routine. In fact he had been certain that your sneaking around hadn’t even been that sneaky, your parents were just allowing you to rebel like this. Eventually he got used to walking you back to the entrance of the secret passageway, spending an extra few moments together.

His final night in town had been an emotional one. You’d sat side by side, your head on his shoulder staring up at the stars in complete silence for a long time. A tear fell down your cheek every time you thought about him leaving you. He’d wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close just as a shooting star arched across the sky. You immediately had a wish in mind. Eyes scrunched tight and fists clenched, you wished as hard as you could that he would stay, or at least that he’d come back fast. But unfortunately, he had to go, and morning came around far too fast.

You’d dragged your feet as he walked you back to the passageway. Shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing, glances stolen when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. The wall that concealed your entrance had come into view far too quickly. You’d sighed as you reluctantly pressed in the stones that would open the doorway, far from ready to say goodbye to the boy you’d grown up with. You hugged him goodbye, tears streaming freely down your face. You’d released him and turned to walk back into the castle, but as you’d taken that first step, he grabbed you sharply by the wrist and pulled you back to him.

His lips were so soft as they met yours. The surprise had knocked all the air out of your lungs forcing you to pull back sooner than you would’ve liked. He wiped the tears from your face and pulled you back to him, kissing you once more. And then he was gone.

…

The following autumn had dragged by. With no Namjoon, you had been forced to invest in the idle gossip of other members of the court, actually pay attention in your elocution lessons, and, perhaps worst of all, prepare for your first ball without your trusty escort. Every time you thought of Namjoon your lips tingled at the memory of your first kiss. You were devastated when his parents had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the Christmas ball.

When the time came, you’d prepared for the ball like you had every other. A team came to pinch, primp, and style you to within an inch of yourself. This year they’d decided on a snow theme. Your pale blue ballgown had been the most beautiful one you’d worn at that point. It glittered like freshly fallen snow in the winter sun. The skirt poofed out around your waist and fell just above your feet so people could still see the matching shoes with little snowflakes. It was the best you thought you’d ever looked, and it broke your heart to know Namjoon wasn’t going to see you like that.

When the time came, you’d taken a breath and readied yourself for a night of refusing advances of handsy nobles, and questions you weren’t prepared to answer about the whereabouts of your usual date. You took a hold of the banister and began your entrance into the grand ballroom, desperately trying to keep your eyes forward and not trip at the same time. Whilst concentrating on not falling flat on your face, you had failed to notice one crucial detail about the room before you, until he took your hand and brought it to his lips. Namjoon had made it home after all.

You spent the entire event together. For every slow dance you were in the middle of the floor swaying together as he whispered sweet things in your ear. Time not on the dance floor had been spent laughing and catching up. The night came to an end with you escaping to your spot.

He’d picked a daisy and threaded it into your hair, trailing his fingers down the side of your face when he was finished. You’d boldly stepped even closer to him, lips inches away from his, daring him to repeat the night he left, and he’d gladly taken the opportunity.  He’d pulled you impossibly closer, lifting you on to your tiptoes and kissed you like a man starved. You’d wrapped your arms around his waist. Desperately trying to make up for lost time. Eventually you came to rest, foreheads resting against one another, breathing hard.

“Y/N I love you.” It was the first time he admitted it out loud, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In fact he said it at least twenty more times that night.

“I love you too Joon.” You kissed him one more time before taking his hand and breaking into a sprint. You came to a stop at the passageway to your chambers. “Come in with me?” You’d asked, flashing him doe eyes he had never been able to resist.

“Are you sure?” He brushed a stray hair behind your ear and met your eyes, you’d never seen him look so serious.

“Well I can’t get out of this dress alone.” You’d tried to joke. When his expression didn’t change you gulped down any reservations and nodded. “I’m completely sure.” He’d swept you into his arms and carried you through your room laying you down on your bed. His coat and tie had been immediately discarded across the room. You’d sat up to get a better look as he undid the buttons on his white dress shirt, biting your lip at the thought of running your hands across his bare skin. He stopped undressing himself to look back at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He embraced you, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your gown. You allowed the sleeves to fall down your arms, exposing your chest to him. Immediately his lips had gone to trail along your collarbones. He mumbled ‘I love you’ as he went. Each kiss punctuated by the words you’d longed to hear from him. You pushed his shirt down his shoulders, letting your hands linger on his biceps, rubbing little circles on the perfect skin.

“Joon?” he answers you with a hmm. “Is this real?” he pulled away from you to meet your eyes.

“I hope so.” He responded before kissing you deeply again. When you’d gotten the chance you’d stood up and allowed the dress to puddle around your feet.  He reached out to pull you in again by your newly expose waist, positioning you underneath him. He’d kissed down your stomach until he reached the top of your underwear.

“Maybe we should stop here?” he’d said, pulling away from you, “I want our first time to be something amazing.” You’d nodded, a little reluctant, but you’d waited this long for him, you could wait a little longer. Instead you’d settled into your bed together, cuddled close in just your underwear, praying that you didn’t wake up from this dream.

…

Everything was perfect, you stayed together throughout both his and your university experience. The whole kingdom knew of their childhood sweethearts. The duke and the princess destined to be together. The night of your graduation, a large ball had been put together in your honour and while no one dared say it aloud, everyone was certain there were hidden intentions behind the congratulatory event. The feeling was in the air, the whole of the kingdom whispered rumours of how the young duke was going to propose. They wondered how it would be announced, if he was going to ask you in the middle of all the guest, or if he’d elect to be more private about it.

But then the day of the ball arrived and Namjoon wasn’t waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs like he usually would. You assumed he would be waiting somewhere to surprise you, but the whispers started as soon as you’d turned up to the ballroom unescorted. No one had seen him. The entire night people had congratulated you on graduating, but your heart wasn’t even your replies. Instead you’d spent the night searching every face in the room for a sign of your missing lover.

As the night wore on it became clear that he had no intentions of attending. You’d put every ounce of your princess training to good use that night as you tried not to cry, humiliated in front of everyone you had ever known.

Awaiting you in your bedroom at the end of the night was a bouquet of pink daisies and a simple note that said ‘I’m so sorry’

You wouldn’t see Namjoon again for two years…

Part 2

Masterlist

Losing Virginity drabble

Taglist: @uraveragefangirlsposts

[tsukikento]

What’s Their Name Again? (Miya Atsumu x GenderNeutral!Reader)

Summary: In which Miya Atsumu quickly becomes infatuated with you and hits someone in the face with a volleyball because of it.

Word Count: 4,877

Warnings/Genre: fluff, the slightest bit of angst, cute stuff :) no warnings except maybe swearing and osamu and atsumu being argumentative twins lol

Notes: I posted this on ao3 yesterday and now it's here! I could not get this idea out of my head and just had to write it! Please let me know if you like it! I love to hear your feedback! <3

(masterlist)

The first time Miya Atsumu saw you was in his first year of high school. He had been walking onto the court to play a game at the Spring Interhigh Nationals when his wandering eyes fell on your own. He couldn’t even remember the other team’s name he was about to face. However, he could remember the deep blue and gold tracksuit you were wearing a couple of courts over. He practically stopped in his tracks as he watched you talk to a manager from another team.

Your eyes shined brightly and the smile that graced your lips had him reeling. Needless to say, he was rather speechless with your angelic appearance. The stadium was too loud to hear the laughter that came out of your mouth, but he was sure it was perfect. His eyes scoured over your body, looking you up and down.

Wow, he thought, tempted to watch you for as long as he could, before something bumped into him.

His eyes were dragged away mercilessly from your figure and to his brother’s.

Miya Atsumu groaned loudly as he looked at his gray-haired twin. His frustration boiled over easily as if in too small of a pot and it resulted in him chasing after Osamu until Kita gave him a look that told him to behave. Oh, yeah, we are at nationals…

“Tch,” He mumbled before looking back at you. Or at least, where you had been standing.

You were gone.

And he was too entranced by your looks to see what school you went to. Atsumu looked back to his team and held in a groan as he forced himself to focus on the game that was soon to start.

~~

The next time Miya Atsumu was graced with your appearance was during the Winter Interhigh for his second year of high school. His team had once again made it to nationals, and it seemed yours had too.

In fact, you were currently standing opposite him on court B, while he stretched out his limbs.

You seemed much more confident in yourself than last year. The small, nervous blush that was permanent on your cheeks last year was gone. Your hair was shorter than before, no longer hiding over half your face, and it made you look way too good.

He stared at you as your team ran around the small court.

Tanuki High, he read off the jerseys.

Although he wasn’t happy to be facing off against your team on the first round of nationals, he tried to look at the bright side. He could impress you.

He found himself frequently looking at you as he warmed up, hoping you were looking at him. However, his now blond hair didn’t even help him stand out in a crowd. Rather than looking at the gorgeous setter that he was, you were looking at a player from your own team.

The boy had short black hair and green eyes. He had a smirk practically plastered onto his face and it made Atsumu want to hit him. Not a punch that could make his precious hands and knuckles bleed, but maybe a swift kick or elbow of the stomach.

He could not figure out why you were looking at that other guy so much. From what he could tell, the green-eyed bastard was also a setter and much worse compared to his own skill.

Atsumu groaned as he watched you look at that idiot with such a kind smile. He hated how beautiful he thought you looked and how much he craved for you to look at him that way.

And I don’t even know your name, he thought.

Once again, Atsumu was torn away from you by his brother.

“You like ‘em?” He asked, nudging Atsumu and looking at you.

Atsumu didn’t reply and simply walked away.

“Ah, so you do?” Osamu pestered, becoming that much more incessant.

“Shut it,” The blond twin spat back, “I need to practice my sets, toss them to me.”

Osamu didn’t bother to say anything else and simply followed along.

~~

It was about halfway through the game when Atsumu’s blood began to boil.

Tanuki High was not a bad school. They had a great defense and an ace who practically shut them out. However, Atsumu was able to keep calm and levelheaded until he saw you looking at that black-haired setter.

For most of the game, you had been dutifully noting down every point, block, and whatnot. It helped that you weren’t staring and giggling at the setter like before. Except, as everyone shifted positions and Atsumu moved to serve, he watched the opposite setter move to be standing closest to you.

Back left, Atsumu thought.

He watched attentively as the green-eyed boy looked at your sweetly and waved.

You waved back shyly.

Atsumu saw the other setter mouth something he couldn’t hear and your face went red immediately before you giggled.

The blond groaned as he took his steps back. When he looked up, you were still smiling like an idiot at the other setter. The referee whistled, signaling that it was okay for Atsumu to serve. He didn’t even bother silencing the cheer team, subconsciously knowing it would draw attention to him. He ran forward, jumping just in time, and smacked the volleyball as hard as he could.

It took less than a second for the ball to connect directly with the black-haired bastard’s face.

The referee once again blew his whistle and multiple people rushed over to check if he was okay.

Smirking, Atsumu walked up to his brother who was standing at the front as said, “Serves him right for not paying attention.” He knew he was an ass, he knew it was a little much to purposefully do a jump serve right into someone’s face, but it was a split-second decision.

Osamu chuckled and Atsumu felt a sense of pride rush through his veins until he saw your eyes snap up at him.

Like any manager would, you had rushed over to check on the player. His nose was bleeding and tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

When you heard that comment from the blond you had just served, you looked up in disgust at him. Your eyes held a fury that was rarely seen and Atsumu stepped back tentatively.

“You monster. How dare you,” You spat at Atsumu with venom dripping from your voice.

Atsumu could barely pay attention as he watched you usher the setter out of the gym and most likely to the infirmary.

Well, that backfired, he thought, now missing your kind presence that previously filled the gym.

The game ended quickly after that, Tanuki High being low in spirits. Although Atsumu wasn’t that much better either.

His heart felt like it ripped apart as you came back just in time to see your team lose. You were not accompanied by the setter and sadly shook your head as he watched the coach ask you a question.

Was my serve really that strong? He questioned as you sat down.

Atsumu simply followed the motions as he perfectly set the ball to Aran and watched closely for any possible blocks. It didn’t matter though.

He heard the smack of Aran’s powerful serve hitting the floor before he registered much and the ref's whistle blow.

End game.

He watched you calmly put your clipboard down before looking up to meet his eyes.

There was still so much anger in your eyes, but you hardly looked at him, barely spared him a glance, before going up to the players and hugging each and every one of them.

Atsumu stared at you with a foreign feeling. It felt different than the jealousy that ran through his veins when he saw you talking with that black-haired idiot from before. This feeling made him feel empty, but at the same time made him crave to fill that hole with your smile.

Oh, that gorgeous smile. You had lips that he would beg for a chance to kiss. The perfect shade of pink that matched perfectly against your skin tone to the slight laughter lines. Your smile was not joyful currently, it was more so filled with a pity directed at the volleyball players, a sorry attempt to cheer up the players.

He knew he should, but the second-year was way too nervous to actually go up and apologize to you. However, after a small cheer he shared with his team, Kita and Aran did force him to go and bow and apologize to the entire team.

“I’m very sorry for hitting your teammate. Please give him my sincere apology and know it was never my intention to hit anyone,” He partially lied, while bowing down to a 90-degree angle. He flashed a remorseful smile directed at you in hopes for pity.

You had none.

~~

Atsumu did not see you during the Spring Interhigh National games. He didn’t know if it was because your team did not make nationals or if you just didn’t cross paths. Regardless, he didn’t want you to see him lose in only the second round and was grateful for the absence.

~~

Atsumu finally saw you again at the Winter Interhigh National games.

Your tracksuit somehow fit even better than in years passed and Atsumu almost immediately walked up to you because of how profoundly gorgeous you looked.

However, what stopped him was the black-haired idiot. Or more so the lack of him.

He must have been a third-year, Atsumu thought as he watched you talk to the players. He was quite sure you were giving them an endearing and powerful speech. The passion and fire in your eyes outshined everything else. He absolutely adored how passionately you looked. If he looked closely, he would have noticed that you were also teary-eyed.

Atsumu continued to watch over you as he debated what to do. He was more confident than he was before, confident enough to walk up to you and ask for your number.

But what if you aren’t single? He thought, knowing full well that the alumni setter had flirted so freely with you and most likely asked you out.

“Stop being such a wuss.”

Atsumu looked away from you and to his brother.

“You have been looking at ‘em since our first year,” Osamu reasoned.

“No, I have not!” Atsumu countered, ready to hit his brother in the head.

Osamu barely ducked away in time from the attack before laughing, “Yeah, and you totally didn’t hit that guy in the face with a volleyball last year because he was flirting.”

Atsumu groaned, knowing that he was right. “Shut up, ‘Samu.”

“Whatever,” Osamu replied. “Just don’t come crying to me when you finally work up the courage and can no longer find ‘em.” His brother shrugged and walked away to go and talk to Suna.

Atsumu immediately turned his head around, worried you would be gone like before. He would theoretically only have one more chance to see you, that was if your team even made it to nationals. Atsumu groaned, knowing Osamu was right.

You were currently kneeling on the ground by the back wall and packing up some things in a bag, getting ready for your team’s game to begin. With most of your team busy warming up on the court, it gave Atsumu his best chance to talk to you privately. Most of his team was also leaving the court so none of those idiots would interrupt him either.

Before he could even think about what to say, his legs began approaching you. He inched close and closer but stopped when he was about five feet away and simply watched you.

Shit, what the fuck am I supposed to say?

“Can I help you?” You asked, looking up at him, worrying that he was going to be one of the many volleyball players from a different school that simply asked you out because they didn’t have their own team manager. You had a suspicious look on your face that heavily juxtaposed the sweet smile you gave all the players in Tanuki High.

“Oh, uh,” Atsumu stumbled over his words, not realizing you would notice him. He tentatively stepped closer, suddenly much more anxious than he was a few moments ago. However, he also found your confidence and bratty attitude so goddamn attractive. “I’m uh—"

“Oh!” You stood up from the kneeling position you had been in and pointed at the blond. “You’re Miya Atsumu, right?” Your eyes scanned his features and he wondered if you knew him from his noticeable, sunken eyes and bleached hair.

Atsumu immediately felt his face heat up, something he had yet to experience in his academic career. Despite being sought after by many people from his own high school, those people only liked him for his talent.

He never cared much for people who couldn’t befriend him for his personality but were happy to ogle him while he played. Nevertheless, he also still found himself enjoying their praises while he played.

Any of the people he tried to date in the past, a whopping three people, ended up breaking up with him because of his personality. The explanations ranged from him being too loud to being too obsessed with volleyball.

Either way, he was much more cautious than before, and yet you still grabbed his attention and made him want to learn more about you.

Atsumu would have looked away from you and toward the ground, except your eyes were sparkling too brightly for him to possibly miss a second. Fuck, he thought as he tried to figure out what to say.

“Y-you know me?” He finally asked. He pointed to himself in shock, eyes wide and unsure of himself.

“How could I forget the number #1 setter who hit Tadashi Kou in the face with a volleyball?” You ecstatically spoke, leaning back casually onto the wall and smiling with a confidence that made Atsumu’s heart rate increase.

Atsumu figured you were talking about the setter from last year, especially because he did not make it a habit to hit people with volleyballs. However, your voice, although not dripping with honey, did not have any anger in it as it did previously. He thought that if you remembered him for that, then you would be more upset with him. Your blatant compliment told him differently.

Regardless, Atsumu found himself sheepishly rubbing the back of his head and apologizing. “Yeah, sorry again about that,” He mumbled, looking down to the floor.

“Don’t apologize,” You waved him off, sheepishly scratching at the side of your face for making him feel bad.

“Oh! Um, but why?” He asked, silently thankful. The conversation wasn’t flowing perfectly, it was filled with awkward pauses and exclamations, but that was better than nothing. In fact, Atsumu wondered if your awkwardness was because you liked him, the same way his awkwardness was because he found your more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen. He reminded himself not to jump to conclusions, a normal person would not fall that fast and he was only beginning to understand his own feelings.

“Tadashi Kou is an asshole,” You swore. “That bastard totally deserved it.” Your voice echoed itself from that day last year. Except, almost angrier. It dripped with a fury Atsumu was unfamiliar with and he was glad he didn’t hear you speak this exact way to him last year.

“Oh,” Atsumu awkwardly replied, not quite sure what to say. What did he do to you? He wanted to ask but feared stepping over a boundary.

“I suppose you are wondering why,” You mumbled more so to yourself.

They know me so well, Atsumu thought, well aware that anyone would think that. However, he decided to let himself dream a little bit more, relish the good feelings he got from talking to you.

Even just your voice was gorgeous. From the way it dripped with honey as you talked to your teammates to the excitedness behind it when you guessed who he was. Even the sassiness and anger that your voice held at certain times made him shiver in new ways.

He realized how much he liked a confident person. No person who had shown interest in him before was the confident or teasing type. They were all confident enough to confess to him, but not confident enough to stop him if he was doing something dumb. Which was rather frequent, unfortunately. But your confidence made him hopeful that you would be willing to joke around with him and stop him when he was going too far. He found himself grinning wildly at just how quickly he was falling for you.

When you looked up at him, he realized his mistake. His eyes were glued to you, but he was thinking of something completely different and you definitely noticed.

Shit, I must look like an idiot. How long have I been not saying anything?

The smile on his face was wiped away because of his nerves and he was sure his face was red. “Uhh, yeah, but I don’t want to make you,” He mumbled back, wanting to forget about this awkward instance. However, your sparkling eyes looking directly at him with such curiosity made it almost worth it.

“Well, the whole world should know he’s an ass,” You replied, shrugging your shoulders, and moving so gracefully that no one would realize the swear that came out of your mouth. “He cheated on me if you must know.” Your voice was flat and blatant.

“Oh, shit,” Atsumu replied without thinking.

“Yeah,” You shot back.

Atsumu wanted to say something, anything, to cover up the silence that quickly took over your conversation. He moved closer to you, now only being a couple of feet away. “Well, I knew he was an ass from the beginning, so…” He trailed off, not sure what his point was.

You, however, still sputtered out a laugh that made his heart skip a beat. Once your chuckles died down, you looked up at the blond with a glint in your eyes that anyone would realize was flirtatious. “Oh really? And what made you hit him in the first place? I assumed it was an accident.”

Atsumu scoffed, replying quickly with, “What makes you think it wasn’t an accident?”

You scoffed back, equally as quick-witted, “Because I’ve seen you play. Coach made me watch hours’ worth of videos when we were going to play you last year, so I know you pride yourself on your serves. You wouldn’t try to hit someone unless provoked, especially because it would make it seem like you didn’t have almost perfect control over your serves. So, I just assumed it was a freak accident.”

Atsumu smirked, “You watch me that much, huh?” On this inside, he was screaming. He was going absolutely feral. You were way too much, and he was about ready to ask for your hand in marriage.

You simply shrugged once more. However, Atsumu, who was watching you intently saw you smirk at him. “So, was it an accident?”

Atsumu smiled and shook his head.

Your smile somehow widened. “And are you gonna tell me what provoked you to hit him?” You wanted to know so bad. What could possibly make Miya Atsumu forgo professionality?

Atsumu, who was busy staring at you, slightly shook his head to bring him back to focus. “You really want to know?” He asked, moving even closer to you, and forcing you to look up at him to meet his eyes. The angle was rather perfect, it gave him an ideal view of your face and he was so tempted to lean in and kiss you.

Either he was an idiot, or you were flirting with him. And he was really hoping you were flirting with him.

Atsumu smirked boldly and you visibly swallowed and tried your best not to breathe completely in his face.

“I do,” You breathed out, barely trusting your voice.

Atsumu hummed low in his throat, an action he knew worked well in getting a rise out of people. “Well,” He leaned back slightly, giving him some more room to talk. “You’re right that I pride myself on my serves. However, I’m not so prideful that I wouldn’t intentionally hit an idiot in the face. In fact, I have a lot of practice aiming my serves directly at my brother's head.”

He paused and smiled joyfully as you shot your hand up to your mouth and laughed. However, your laughter died abruptly stopped as the blond setter once again leaned forward. This time, he put his left arm against the wall behind you, effectively trapping you in closer than ever to him. Atsumu felt lucky that there were a lot of people in the stadium, making it easy for him to hide. Just imagining his team mocking him for this moment almost made him regret it.

He looked into your eyes, so innocent and simply looking directly at him. What he would give to hear your thoughts right now…

“You never told me what made you hit him,” You finally spoke, your throat dry, but still determined to know why.

“If you must know,” Atsumu spoke, looking directly at you and tentatively licking his lips. Your eyes shined with intrigue and your lips were slightly parted. As a last-second decision, Atsumu leaned forward again, brushing his lips against your right ear. He gently breathed out, noting how you shivered easily against his actions. “I couldn’t help myself when I saw how he was flirting with you.”

He was lightheaded.

It was very unlike him to act like this.

Sure, he thought about how to flirt with people, but actually doing it was different. In fact, the last person he dated laughed in his face when he tried to flirt.

He was sure you were about to do the same.

Except, you didn’t shake with laughter. You gasped and turned your head just slightly to meet Atsumu’s eyes as he moved away from your ear. He could feel the heat radiating off your face and see the light blush on your cheeks.

Atsumu smirked, hiding his own nerves. He was so ecstatic with your reaction, but at the same time anxious to see how you would reply.

“Fuck,” He heard you swear. It was so quiet as if coming out as a meek breath. He wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t so close to you still.

Being so close to you felt suffocating at this point. The air was hot and the temptation to lean down and kiss you was way too high. He wanted to take this slow, at least for now. Atsumu slowly pulled back, just enough so the air he was breathing was no longer yours as well.

Quickly, you looked down at your feet and fumbled with your hands.

“Don’t look away,” Atsumu sadly whined. He wanted to see your face and your reaction.

“But you made me nervous,” You whined back, causing Atsumu to smile wildly.

“So cute,” He simply spoke before moving his hand to gently cup your chin. He tilted your head up and smiled kindly at you. He could tell you were just as nervous as him and hoped his actions didn’t intimidate you.

You looked into his eyes expectantly. You weren’t sure what he would want from you. Unlike people from his school, you didn’t know much about him. You knew he was popular though. At least, a popular athlete. You clearly remembered the multiple women who cheered for him and held up signs for him during games.

You wondered if he was only flirting with you for fun. Or maybe he was hoping you would entertain him for the night. However, the idea of him literally hitting someone in the head with a volleyball simply because they were flirting with you made you think it might be something more.

However, the long, pregnant pause that had you both reeling in nerves and teenage feelings was stopped when your name was called.

You looked over, Atsumu’s head also turning when yours did.

Your face met the face of one of the first years. A sweet boy with pale, blond hair. He still had a little baby fat on his face, but he was quickly becoming an excellent player despite his innocence and cheerfulness.

Those factors made this moment all the more awkward.

Atsumu’s left arm tucking you into the wall and his right hand holding your chin. He towered over you in a way that made this look even worse.

You gulped down the lump in your throat. “Yes, Watanabe-kun?”

“The game is starting soon, and Coach wanted to talk to you,” He mumbled, his eyes only looking into yours, too nervous to look anywhere else.

“I’ll be there soon, okay?” You replied. Atsumu hadn’t moved in the slightest. He simply only watched Watanabe like he was a potential threat.

The first year nodded and jogged away.

You turned back to look at Atsumu how met your eyes. “So,” You mumbled.

“So,” Atsumu repeated as your voice died down into nothing.

“I have to go,” You finally added.

“You have to go.”

It was clear that you were both reluctant to separate. Atsumu didn’t want to move because he worried that you would leave and he would not see you again.

“Can I have your number?” You finally asked, surprising Atsumu.

“Um,” He finally pulled back and looked down. He tapped at his shorts, realizing he was still in his jersey. No pockets, no phone. “Do you have your phone on you?”

“Yeah,” You replied, and moved down to the bag you had been previously packing up. You unzipped the small, front pocket which helps your phone, and a small first-aid kit.

You quickly unlocked it and opened up to add a contact. You handed your phone to Atsumu and watched as he put in his number. You expected him to simply hand your phone back to you, but he suddenly moved to phone up high. He looked into the lens, smiled, and held up a peace sign before taking a photo of himself.

When he handed you back the phone, you saw he not only added a photo but also entered in his name. TsumTsum <3

“TsumTsum?” You questioned, looking up into the blond with an inquiring look.

Atsumu sighed and flopped around rather humorously. He acted like he couldn’t control his arms and whined out, “I thought it was cute!”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t!” You shot back, laughing at his actions.

Atsumu whined again, “Then why did you look at me like that?”

You simply shrugged, a beautiful smile on your face as you looked down at your phone and typed something out. Once done, you showed him your fine.

‘Hi TsumTsum <3’

Atsumu smiled proudly at the text.

“There, now you should have my number too,” You explained before tucking your phone away into your back. “Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smiled at Atsumu and gave him a quick wink before turning away and walking over to your team.

Atsumu smiled happily, so glad he was finally able to talk to you. In a haze, he finally left the gym and walked down the hall to where his team was supposed to meet up. Most of them were sitting around the small area, either on their phones or trying to sleep.

Atsumu had already given them a short speech about how they played today so they had most of the day free until after dinner when they would watch the recording of them playing and go over it with their coach.

Atsumu plopped himself down onto the ground next to his bad and Osamu. He immediately chugged his water and grabbed his phone out of his bag.

He giddily unlocked his phone to look at the text you sent him. His noise made his brother look over his shoulder and to his brother’s phone.

“Oh, did you get their number?” Osamu asked, turning around to see Atsumu’s phone more clearly.

Atsumu immediately moved to hide his phone. “Yes,” He abruptly replied before looking back to his phone and moving to add you to his contacts. However, as Atsumu’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, he realized something. “I didn’t get their name,” He spoke, looking up to Osamu as if he would have a solution.

The gray-haired twin immediately began laughing at his brother.

“Shut up, ‘Samu!” Atsumu exclaimed, moving to kick his brother.

Osamu hardly dodged his brother’s attack, unable to move swiftly from laughing so hard. “You’re such an idiot, ‘Tsumu!” Osamu said in between his laughs as he moved over to get to Suna.

Atsumu groaned loudly and turned to be by himself. He looked down at his phone, debating what to put as your contact.

Would it be too weird to put a pet name, he wondered.

Finally, after debating for some time, he decided to simply put your contact names as ‘Baby’.

Maybe I’ll change it once I know their name, he reasoned before turning back to his team and interjecting himself into Suna and Osamu’s conversation.

He never did change it though.

[eveningstar1516]

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 5

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so…, Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

Lucifer looked into my eyes muttering something in angelic before whispering, “I’m sorry…”

With tears burning his eyes he buried the sword deep into my heart.

“Thank you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 5 - Oblivion (1618 words)

“Y/N? Wake up Y/N”

Someone’s calling my name?

“Y/N, please wake up”

I awoke in a daze hearing a soft female voice calling out to me.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

Slowly blinking awake, I realized that I was floating in some dark void. Upon looking around, I found the source of the voice. A young woman with long strawberry blonde hair and violet eyes was looking at me. Her white and purple dress was flowing freely around her. Her hair framed her face just right with a small leaf hair clip finishing her look. She spoke out again.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh, thank goodness you can. Y/N, I am Lilith. Do you remember how you got here?”

I looked down at myself realizing that there is a gaping hole in my chest where my heart is supposed to be. Memories of the trial came flooding back to me.

“I-I was on trial. The king didn’t like the idea of me having pacts with all your brothers, so he ordered that I be killed. He, he tried to make Lucifer do it but he refused to kill me. I remember ordering your brothers not to interfere and to obey Lord Diavolo above the king, then I ordered Lucifer to kill me with his sword. He whispered something in angelic then killed me. I thanked him then nothing. It didn’t even hurt when he killed me, I just fell asleep.” Hugging myself as I remembered what happened, what I assume to be not 30 minutes ago. Lilith moved to wrap her arms around me.

“Shh, it’s alright now. When Big Brother killed you, he probably used his holy sword, that’s why you didn't feel anything, but if he did, you should have returned to Oblivion. Do you know what that is?”

Nodding my head, I recalled my Devildom history class. Oblivion was the start of the universe. All living beings were created from oblivion. Oblivion is the purple aura that surrounds someone when they perform a spell. It is the stuff used to manifest something via spell or curse. If harnessed right, it can also be used as an energy source.

“Big Brother probably muttered a protection spell which is why you are here instead of non-existent.”

“Where is here?” I asked while slowly releasing her from the hug.

“This place has no name, although I like to call it the void. In reality, that is all this place really is. It is where souls end up should they not have a final destination but don’t return to Oblivion. This only happens in special cases. It is the reason I have been able to watch over you and my elder brothers. This is where things get complicated. You were not meant to die yet and I didn’t have enough power to save you this time. You now have to make a choice, no matter what you pick, you cannot change the fact that you died, there is no cheating death a second time. I can make you a demon and send you to the Devildom, I can re-incarnate you into a new-born human although you will lose your memories, or I can send you to the Celestial Realm as a seraph. It’s your choice.”

“There is no way I would give up my memories of your brothers and the time I spent in the Devildom, and as much as I would love to return to the Devildom, there is no way I am going to serve that tyrant calling himself “King”. I also really don’t want to serve the other tyrant that has the audacity to call himself “Father”” Sighing I cradled my head in my hands weighing my two options. On one hand, I can return to the brothers and the one I love, but I will have to serve King Abandon and that’s if he doesn’t decide to kill me again as soon as he lays eyes on me. On the other hand, I could go to the Celestial Realm and hide out with Simeon and Luke, but I would have to bow down to their Father so as to not risk banishment from the Celestial realm, and that’s if he doesn’t cast me out on the spot, unless…

“I pick the Celestial Realm. As much as I dread serving Father, it’s my best option of seeing the brothers again.”

“Y/N, are you sure? I will be using up the last of my power, there is no going back after this.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright.” Lilith took my hand and started chanting in angelic. A golden aura surrounded her as strings of light flowed out of her and into my chest and back, closing my wound and forming 6 pure white wings on my back. My clothing transformed into white and pastel blue garments. A small halo appeared over my head. I saw Lilith beam at me and say something although I couldn’t make out what she said as the darkness claimed me once more.

~In the Devildom~

(Lucifers POV)

Tears threatened to spill over as I carried out Y/N’s order. Why? Why did they make me do it?! They could have ordered me to pick them up and fly them away, I would have done it before the order even left their mouth. There is no way I could send them back into Oblivion. Without thinking, I drew the sword I swore I would never draw again. My Father had dubbed it “Starburst”, my holy sword. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it after the fall, and now I’m glad I didn’t. I heard gasps from the crowd as I summoned the sword, the only demons having seen it were my brothers as well as Lord Diavolo and Barbatos. I fought against Y/N’s order long enough to mutter a small prayer for their soul, hoping that wherever Lilith was, she would hear and understand that I needed her help. Unable to fight the order any longer, I took one last look into their eyes and thrust the sword straight through their heart, my brothers screaming in the background. Holding Y/N’s body a little longer than normal, I heard their last words, “thank you”, then nothing. Y/N was gone, and I was the one who killed them. I didn’t have time to think about it as I felt a searing pain on the back of my left hand, turning over to face my brothers, I saw them each clutching a part of their bodies as we all felt the pact we each held with Y/N shatter. I gently laid down Y/N’s body and got up moving off stage before my tears spilled over signalling my brothers to do the same. Not acknowledging the king, we all turned and left, Diavolo and Barbatos following close behind. Asmo’s crying was all we heard as we walked towards the House of Lamentation, none of us wanting to be anywhere near the king. Upon entering, we all went our separate ways. Levi immediately retreated towards his room, the twins went to theirs. Satan went to the library. Asmo and Mammon both went into the direction of Y/N’s old room while Diavolo, Barbatos and I headed to my secret study. Now alone, I let it all out, my pride worthless now.

“It’s not your fault-”

“Isn’t it Dia?! I was the one that killed them! I wasn’t strong enough to fight them and now they're gone!”

“I noticed you muttering something before, you know. What was it?”

“It was a prayer to Lilith. I know she’s watching over us. I can only hope that she heard it and will help Y/N. I didn’t send them into Oblivion as he ordered but to where she is. That was all I was able to do.” Tears now streamed down my face clear as day as I leaned back into my chair looking up at the ceiling at the thought of my only sister and Y/N who has grown to be someone I would even call my lover. Barbatos put his hand on my shoulder to try and ground me.

“What now?”

“I don’t know Barb, I really don’t. My Father has control of the Devildom and now with Y/N gone, it will be a lot harder to continue with any of our plans. On the plus side, thanks to Y/N’s order, my word outranks my Father’s when it comes to you 7.”

“But the pact is gone. There’s no way any of their orders are still in play, right?”

“No, it is still very much there. I can still feel the lingering effects of an order. If it weren’t, we would have attacked the king as soon as the pact broke but Y/N ordered us not to interfere with the trial.”

We sat in silence, none of us wanting to break it, until Diavolo’s DDD pinged with a text alerting him and Barbatos back to the castle.

As they were leaving Diavolo pulled me in for a tight hug.

“I’ll make this right. I promise.”

Letting go, both demons left for the palace as I went to my room. Shedding my clothes, I bypassed pyjamas and laid in bed. Tears ran down my face as I thought about Y/N and all the precious memories we had made together. I rolled over and realized they left their Little D No.1 plushie here from their last sleepover. Clutching it, their scent strong on the plushie, I drifted off to sleep, hugging the Little D in my arms wishing it was Y/N instead.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

“QUEER”

First of all, let’s clear up a common misconception. Queer does not just mean gay. It’s an umbrella term for an identity which deviates from society’s perceived norm: heterosexual, or straight. Queer can refer to sexualities — gay, bisexual, pansexual, — or it can refer to being gender-queer; i.e, any label that deviates from the perceived gender norm: the binaries, male and female.

“Queer” is a reclaimed slur.

If you do not fall under the umbrella of queerness, it is safe to assume that you cannot use it. At all.

I am bisexual.

This means I experience attraction to plural genders. Pansexual also works fine. For the difference between bisexual and pansexual — see here:

Being bisexual isn’t easy. I went through similar hardships to gay women: I experienced attraction to women and was scared of what this meant for me, in such an oppressively homophobic society.

I am not saying being bisexual is harder than being gay, nor the inverse. But my experiences are distinctly bisexual, not gay.

Without further ado, here are the 3 things I’ve found to be the hardest about being queer, but not gay (enough).

#1: Finding My Place

Or, not being queer enough

I always knew I wasn’t straight, but I didn’t know what I was. Up until recently, I was still questioning. This didn’t feel enough to join groups or conversations with LGBT+ folk, let alone go to pride. Was I even LGBT if I was never L, G, B, or T?

I am still yet to attend a pride, even though I identify (fairly confidently) as bisexual. I am in a relationship with a man. This is (problematically) known as a “straight-passing relationship” and makes me feel even more undeserving of a place at pride.

This has been upsetting to me at times. But for others, it can be outright devastating. Growing up and needing support, but feeling like you’re ‘not gay enough’ to ask for it? So many young people are being left alone and afraid. Finding others like you is vital to figuring out who you are. Likewise, finding spaces which are safe and inclusive is vital for anyone, regardless of their sexuality or gender identity. A friend of mine happens to be a transgender man, and he summed up the issue perfectly:

“One thing that I keep noticing is how all hangout spots are “gay bars”, or (far less common) “lesbian bars”. I’m a straight man, so I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be there, but hanging out at regular bars is still too much of a gamble, so I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

It goes without saying that gay folk aren’t always safe in these spaces, as seen by the homophobic attack on the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, in 2016. Bigotry hurts the entire LGBT+ community. Bigotry doesn’t stop to ask whether you identify as gay or otherwise queer before it pulls the trigger.

But the LGBT+ community itself is much more welcoming to those who “pick a side” and just come out as gay, already. The infighting is inexplicable when one looks to attacks such as that in Orlando: bigots don’t care which letter you are in the acronym. So why does gatekeeping exist when we need to be strong in the face of intolerance when fragmentation only makes us weaker? Who are we helping by continuing to exclude identities from the discussion?

#2: Myths and Misconceptions

Well, it stands to reason that if bisexuals are what they seem in TV and movies, why would anyone want to make them feel included? They’re “greedy” and inauthentic. They’re attention-seeking, not to mention their propensity for threesomes. Now, I haven’t been in a wild orgy yet, but it seems like it will only be a matter of time before I follow my natural path.

Straight men, in particular, need to own up to their assumption that bisexual women are down for a threesome. The thing is, we are. But not with you, you big ASSUMER.

Infidelity

All jokes aside, the stereotyping of bisexuals is not only hurtful, but leads to difficulties finding and maintaining relationships.

As I came to terms with my bisexuality, I also had to accept that I might never be fully trusted by my partner, regardless of their gender or sexuality. I was shocked when my partner reacted to my coming out with the equivalent of a shrug — so much so, that I burst into tears of gratitude that my soul-bearing moment hadn’t been met with slut-shaming or assumptions of disloyalty. Nothing has changed. If anything, our bond is even stronger for me having been more authentic after coming out.

But cruelty came from elsewhere: when I came out, I was told that my partner was to be pitied, either because I’m gay and in denial, or bound to cheat on him. The main consequence of such attitudes has been the crippling fear of coming out to my partner. It saddens me that I felt so relieved when he accepted me for being who I am, and loving him just the same as I always have.

This outcome is not the case for many couples, with straight folk worried that their bisexual partner will realise they’re gay and just leave them. This fear of abandonment comes from a place of ignorance. When the media presents bisexuality as a steppingstone on the way to “picking a team”, it’s no wonder that people struggle to trust their queer partners.

Other Queer Myths

The myth that all trans folk medically transition invalidates those who choose not to do so, and let’s not forget the ignorant jeers that it's all just a mental illness. Asexual folk battle the stereotype that they can never have a relationship and shall forever remain a virgin (because what an awful thing that would be, right?) And pansexuals… well, at the lighter end, they’re asked if they have sex with cooking utensils. But often, they’re erased as irrelevant because “we already have the label bisexual”.

This brings us onto the third and final difficulty that comes with queer folk who aren’t easily categorizable as gay: erasure.

#3: Erasure

Erasure refers to the denial of an identity’s existence or its validity as a label.

Non-binary folk face ongoing and loud claims that they simply do not exist. This is despite the historical and scientific evidence to the contrary. Plus, the most important evidence — them, existing. Asexual folk are told they simply have not found the right person yet, or that they are just afraid of sex. Demi-sexual folk are told “everyone feels like that, unless they’re just sleeping around!”. And bisexuals are dismissed as simply being in denial that they’re gay.

Monosexuality & The Gender Binary

Our culture is so built on monosexuality (being solely attracted to one gender — for instance, gay or straight). Monosexuality is reinforced through everything from marriage to dating apps, the media to what we teach in schools. People cannot fathom that someone might want to experience more than one gender in their lifetime.

The binary models of sex and gender are also deeply ingrained. These rigid belief systems combined are to blame for our inability to accept that bisexuals do not need to “pick a side”. I was paralysed by fear for 17 years because I found girls attractive and that might mean I’m gay, because bisexuals are just gays who haven’t realised they’re gay yet.

Bierasure

Bierasure is dangerous, firstly because it leads a child to have to internalise both biphobia and homophobia. For instance, I had to work through being taught to hate gayness, whilst being taught that any attraction to non-male genders made me gay.

Women were cute, and so I was gay, and this meant I was disgusting.

My own mother told me this. She also told me that something has “gone wrong in the womb” for a child to be gay. (Well, Mum, I’ve got some bad news about your womb!)And she, like any bigot, extended this theory to anyone who experiences same-sex attractions — anyone queer. This is another reason why bi-erasure is perilous. Whether you’re a gay, cis-male or a demi-bisexual, trans woman… if your parents will kick you out for being gay, they will likely kick you out for being any sort of queer.

If we deny the bigotry that bisexuals undergo, we will continue to suffer. It won’t just go away. It will fester, with bisexuals having no one they can go to who believes them. And thus:

Erasure Kills

Bullying and suicide rates of queer-but-not-gay people continue to sky-rocket. We must direct funding, support and compassion to every queer individual, as they are all vulnerable to discrimination and bullying. The problem is being left to fester. This is in part because bigots treat all queer labels as just ‘gay’, deeming them equally unworthy. This is how far erasure can go.

Conclusion

Earlier on, I stated that my experiences are distinctly bisexual. The same applies to any queer identity.

Emphasising our differing paths and struggles is important to avoid the aforementioned erasure of already less visible groups. But this does not mean that the LGBT+ community should be fragmented by these differences.

If we can unite in our hope to live authentically and love freely, we will be stronger against bigotry. We are fighting enough intolerance from without: there is no need to create more from within.

So out of everything, what’s the hardest part about being bisexual?

It’s the fact that nobody knows it’s this hard.

[mc-critical]

What are your thoughts on on how Hatice handled Esmanur? Do you think Ibrahim had a right to a relationship with Esmanur given what he had done to Hatice? Do you think there was even a morally correct way to handle the situation? Admittedly until this day I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. I truly hated Ibrahim for cheating on Hatice and she had every right to feel everything she has felt, and she refused to kill or hurt Esmanur and even allowed Nigar/Ib to see her, but I remember Ibrahim wanting more and it makes me wonder if that was realistic or even possible..

I certainly find Ibrahim's infidelity to be one of his worst actions: I know that despite of Hatice pulling rank on him out of ignorance and not malice, it hurt him a lot to hear what he heard from one of his most loved people and I get why he may feel alienated and want to distance himself from Hatice for a little bit, but he took it way too far at some point, both deluding Nigar and upsetting Hatice in the process. I disliked how he didn't even want to listen to what his wife had to say most of the time and didn't tell her anything at all. It all went way past Hatice pulling rank in that one scene in E29 (in which also Ibrahim didn't answer anything to Hatice's accusations even before she uttered these words - I get that he was simply in shock that she would ever accuse him of infidelity like this, but Ibrahim's silence only made matters worse.) and I'm sorry, but yes, she had the absolute right to feel how she felt and I stand behind her much more than I do Ibrahim in this, even though both motivations are perfectly understandable.

I honestly think Hatice acted in the best way she knew how when it came to Esmanur: in her decision, she regarded both her position as a member of the dynasty and a part of the family and strived to do as little harm as she possibly could. Because according to law, she could've killed all three and Valide Hafsa had the exact same fear and imagined it in her head when she went to SS in E58. Not to mention that SS left the decision to Hatice alone and he said that he wouldn't oppose whatever she decided. She could've freely ended their lives and no one could really judge her for it, but she chose not to. Secretly hiding Esmanur and especially lying to Nigar that her daughter was dead was definetly a shady move, but I guess that she considered that some kind of punishment was in order. The infidelity got to her dynastic pride and dignity in a massive way and that's why she refused to accept the daughter for so long and decided to rather hide her, pretend she didn't exist, yet still have someone care for her far away. Ibrahim also wrote her a letter where he said that he didn't regret anything and that broke Hatice's heart even more and put her in denial in her persistent insistence for him to burn it.

Hatice's arc about forgiving Ibrahim in relation to the Esmanur storyline developed in two levels: first she wanted for them to begin anew by themselves, without anyone else around, then she wanted for them to begin anew with Esmanur, too, hence again, dynastic pride and family values clash once again with each other in Hatice and find their resolve. She let Ibrahim see Esmanur, but it took her a while to do that: because is it easy to accept the daughter of another woman? Not to mention how in some moments Ibrahim seemed to value her more than his kids with Hatice, because he considered her as something out of the dynasty's hand, that could be fully his and that even resembled his own past self to some extent. She was the daughter of Teo, the fisherman in Parga, not of the grand vezier Ibrahim Pasha, the position that puts so many expectations on the person who wields it. That's why he always demanded more and that's also why Hatice showed so much resistence at first: to her, he not only violates the laws of the dynasty, but tarnishes the honor of the family and puts it in such an awkward position. Because Hürrem is right in that Esmanur, the sweet little girl, would be the walking reminder of the infidelity and what Hatice and Ibrahim have gone through, and that's the very thing they want to somehow get over. To Hatice, if the daughter ever comes in her own home, it would make the recovery from the situation much harder. Because she wants to forgive Ibrahim, but to do that, she has to get over some deep seated beliefs of her own.

When some time passed, when both slowly seemed to go back to normal, she was ready to accept her, underlined in her going to see her. Here she fully takes Ibrahim's feelings into account: she realized how much that daughter means to him and since a child is one of the biggest family values, too, to her (as seen in her consistently strong wish to have a child in her desired family throughout S01 and S02, along with her earlier biggest losses being losses of children), she can go as far as accept it in her home, to start over as a new, better, more stable family and have the wishes of both her and Ibrahim be fulfilled accordingly. But the needs of both once again clash and the roles reverse: because now Ibrahim doesn't want to have her in their home, but to have more than that, to go in his own accord in order to still preserve what he values the most about this daughter, along with his fatherly love for her. Hatice and Ibrahim succeed to truly start over only when they find a compromise in the front of Esmanur, as well - for Ibrahim to go see her when he wants (and give her to Matrakcı), but not to have her in Hatice's home and I find that the most moral solution of the issue, when it comes to the time period, his crime and Ibrahim himself.

Still, that's my opinion and I don't think a true moral solution can be offered, again judging by both the infidelity and the time period, which makes the situation even more iffy and complicated. The moral solution I would chose when it comes to Nigar would be for Matrakcı to give her the location of the daughter after Ibrahim's death for her to go there and live with Esmanur in piece. As I mentioned in the ask about Nigar as a whole, I consider this the perfect narrative send-off for her character, as well: a happy ending she absolutely deserves. Her efforts to find and permanetly take her daughter in her arms would finally pay off and she would preserve a memory of what she sees as the best moments of her life. Enough time would have passed for her to have "paid" for her crime, so I think it would be just for her to find happiness eventually.

[Side note: Plot and drama convenience aside, I believe Matrakcı didn't tell Nigar where her daughter is because of deep or maybe already subconscious resentment of Nigar after he divorced her right in their marriage's first night and the whole "horn on his door" situation happening. Yes, he logically has to resent Ibrahim for this, because he caused it in the first place, but I always felt that like Nigar, Matrakcı had such tremendous loyalty for Ibrahim that he idealized him. And even when he called him out on his methods both in the horn situation and the beggining of S03, he eventually let it slide and held no grudge. He refused to talk to Nigar whatsoever after the horn incident and he told her some very harsh words when he was drunk and it's very possible that he didn't let it go completely. They have broken his heart when it came to love (Sadıka) and it's also possible that this may have hardened him or he simply loves Ibrahim that much to blame him for stuff for long or maybe internalized mysoginy? It's solely a theory of mine (and the internalized mysoginy part may be a stretch), but it would make sense.]