#I would do anything for them please I will only draw them forever if you asked

[seventeensrat]

Dorm Doll!

cw/tags: ot13 x reader (not all at the same time no one can do that), overstim, bondage, tickling (blink and you'll miss it), tummy rubbing, fluff but in a sexy way, sexual acts but in a fluffy way, cunnilingus, groping, thigh riding, fingering, somnophilia in jeonghan's, svt is referred to as brothers (how mahabharatha really should've gone), reader is "picked up like a little kid" in joshua's,(no pedophilia), innocence kink, slight petplay in jun's, reader wears cat ears, heavy objectification, exhibitionism, excessive use of commas.

EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL but negotiated off screen uhhhhh its just free-use on 300% softness

a/n: this is just svt brainrot I wrote at 1 am okay pls bear with me this is unedited and grammer is a foreign concept I was straight up jorking it in the stripped clubr to this I wanna be their pretty doll so fucking bad.

Oh, to be Seventeen's little free use doll, whom they treat like their own sex doll and comfort plushie at the same time. Minding your own business, writing or scrolling or reading? Not anymore :333 you're always getting swept off your feet— literally— because there is someone's strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the floor to be carried off to cuddle and touch. You can count on one hand the number of times you've been left alone without someone's hands on your skin. They pass you around, not just to be fucked dumb, but because everyone wants their turn to squeeze and play with their little dorm doll.

Movie nights would always end up with you stretched over multiple member's laps like a cat. Gentle hands draw up your arms above your head, half pinned down, half entwined with theirs. Your head is on one lap, your torso stretched over the next, legs in another's. In the darkness only lit up by the glow of the TV, it's hard to make out whose hand is petting your tit, pressing thumbs into the arch of your foot, or stroking the flat of your tummy. It's also hard to make out who's sliding fingers down your throat to keep your little whines muffled. Can't have you distracting them from the movie, right?

Seungcheol would be forever breaking up petty little fights that started from bickering over whose turn it was to have you (looking straight at bss) and taking it as an excuse to neatly pluck you from their arms and set you on his lap and wrap his arms around you. No amount of struggling will get you out of his grip, even though he finds it sooo adorable that you have to try so hard against a fraction of his strength. The squirming inadvertently makes him hard, so he flips you over so you're sideways on his lap, held up by one arm banding around your ribs, while he strokes along the curve of your back and gropes the flesh of your ass. Cheol is content with the softness of you on him, more than any completion.

Jeonghan thinks it's cute to ambush you. A midday nap is often interrupted by Hannie flopping on top of you and pressing his face into your back, sliding the point of his nose up the divot of your spine. Any and all activity is interrupted by him sliding behind you, hands sneaking under your shirt (if you're wearing one in the first place), squeezing your waist. He firmly believes there's no better place for his hands than the dip of your waist. That's where they end up even at night, sliding behind you on whomever's bed you're sleeping on for the night, his cock pushing into your warm, still wet heat. Fucking into you while wondering how many of his brothers had used you before he did.

Joshua, our resident sweetheart. He scoops you up like a child, both of you giggling, and sets off on little "adventures", as he was so fond of calling them. He affectionately pulls pretty clothes over you, dressing you how he pleases, then takes you shopping for more. Each outfit you try on earns you a little kiss. Shua thinks you're adorable in soft sweaters cropped too high, swishy floofy skirts that barely cover anything, cute stockings that hugged your thighs. He parades you around svt, forcing you to show off your new clothes, ignoring the blush high on your cheeks. No, his focus was completely on his teammates, watching their eyes darken at the glimpses of skin where delicate fabric rode up, where the pudge of your thigh stuck out over the lacy edge of the stocking. Later, he sets you on his lap— in front of everyone's hungry gazes— and knocks your knees open over his legs. Warm fingers soon find their place on your clit, further down to your hole. It's utter filth, the way his large hand stretches the fabric of your panties. Vulgar, really, when it's so obvious it doesn't belong there, but nothing feels more right when you fall apart around two of his fingers, his brothers' hands aching along his with the ghost of your release.

Junhui treats you more like a house cat than a sex doll. Always picking you up at random times of the day and carrying you to the couch, petting your hair, rubbing your back. He pokes your ribs and sides, just to see you twist away and push his hand down. Once, inexplicably, he grabbed your entire face as you would a cat you wanted to bother. The resulting cat fight (hehe) led to you straddling his face, your hands pinning his wrists down above his head. It was all a show really; he could push you off, flip you over, pin you down and have his wicked way with his dear kitty, all in the span of a breath, and you both know that. Yet, he let it happen because he loved the weight of you on his face, your pretty, breathy sighs and whimpers, your mewling when he didn't, wouldn't stop licking at your cunt. Jun loved when you initiated anything, cupping your pussy and affectionately calling you his "little cat in heat", scratching behind the cat ears he bought for you. He loved putting you face down ass up on the living room rug, where anyone could walk in on Jun slamming into you, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other pinning your wrists behind your back. If anyone walks in? Well, it's so commonplace they barely take note of it anymore, but sometimes—after a long day, or a hard practice— they push your teary face between their legs, cooing at how you rub your cheek against the bulge in their pants. Nothing relieves their stress and frustration like pushing your head down, large hand between your cat ears, seeing drool and cum and tears mix on your pretty face, but you curling up on Jun’s lap like a content cat comes in as a strong second.

Hoshi . Is bitey. Half man, half tiger, half toddler is really the only way you could even somewhat adequately describe him. He's forever teething against the soft inside of your thigh, licking at you until you cry, fucking into you like a rabid animal, pinching your cheeks and cooing over you, before burying his face in your neck and mouthing at the skin there. The other members teased you about the marks he left, pressing gently down on bruises new and faded. There was no embarassing Hoshi, not when he proudly showed them off when he could, yanking your head back by the hair, exposing the delicate arch of your throat. His tongue laved over the bites, tasting the salt of your skin, and he paid no heed to your incessant squirming. Your shoulders are always adorned with perfectly circular bitemarks, to the point where the others were concerned by them. What they didn't know, not until Hoshi walked out smug and shirtless after a shower, was how much you marked him up as well (to Mingyu's scandalized gasp). You were usually so pliant underneath them, your hands always pinned out of the way and held down, but Soonyoung adored when your small hands tried to grasp onto him, when your pretty, sharp nails clawed at his back and shoulders, struggling to withstand the onslaught of pleasure. The result? Long, fine scratches adorning his spine, shifting under the toned muscles of his back and biceps. He wears them proudly like his own tiger stripes.

Wonwoo is a cat maid enjoyer trustttt. He is also a little shit. Even without the frills of the costume, the cat ears and his hand are permanently on your head. Number 1 headpat giver. Reading? His hands are stroking your hair. Sleeping together? His thumb is brushing over the arch of your ear. You do something mildly cute (breathe)? Pat pat pat. Loves cuddling you like a plushie against his chest, both while lying down and sitting up. The cuteness aggression is unreal. At least, it is until the sadist in him takes over. He loves nothing more than locking a remote controlled vibe against you and making you do menial household chores like dusting and scrubbing in your pretty, too-short outfit that did nothing to hide whatever lacy thing you had on underneath. His favourite is when you are on your hands and knees, pretending to scrub the floor, the ridiculously frilly uniform soaked through with water, skin slippery with suds, smelling like soap and desperation, all because he turned the vibe up too high, too quickly. He makes you come like that, shaking and crying on the floor. Once. Twice. You were well on the way to the third when he gathers you up in his arms and sets you on his lap, uncaring of the water soaking through his clothes. He presses a firm hand over your pussy, forcing the toy against your clit, and lets you sob your way through your climax. Wonwoo is gentle when he cleans you up after, undoing the ties of your dress with nimble, long-fingered hands, lowering your spent body into a hot bath, cradling you until you fall fast asleep against his chest. Of course, not without innumerous headpats.

Woozi has 3 loves in his life: music, working out, and you. According to him, there was no reason not to combine any of the three, which found you in his studio, curled up on his lap. His hands absentmindedly kneaded at your flesh, sliding from your chest down to the curve of your waist, palming at your ass, then up and over your thigh, to the round of your calf. Even the delicate swell of your ankles and the arch of your foot was not untouched, pale, elegant fingers stroking the skin and squeezing the entirety of your foot. Between the quiet of the studio and his warm hands, you barely notice the haze of dreamland drawing its veil over your eyes, or soft cushions meeting your back. You wake up to the soft click-clack of the keyboard. stretching, you watch your lover work.

One moment, you had been lounging on the studio couch— the next, plucked from it by a Jihoon that seemed to stomp in from thin air. His face, bright like the full moon, hovered directly over you, eyes meeting yours, glinting with quiet mischief. You blinked, and then you were weightless, rising, and your usually reserved Jihoon? Doing barbell curls of all things, using you as exceptionally surprised piece of gym equipment. Usually, gym equipment did not stare at him with wide eyes and a mildly confused expression. Usually, gym equipment did not fist his shirt and cling to him. Usually, gym equipment was not this fucking adorable. What was Woozi to do with you, other than to set you on his cock and show you his new hip thrust PR?

Dokyeom gave Seungcheol and Hoshi a run for their money when it came to sheer clinginess, what with how you're folded into his side all the damn time. He's forever squishing you into his broad chest, arms and legs thrown around you, head buried in the crook of your neck. Rarely would you get to cuddle him back, because he seemed to have made it his life mission to bring any straying limbs back to your body and make you as compact as possible. Slender, long fingers wrap around your delicate wrists and pin them down, with seemingly little effort, but you can't move an inch. Forget being a plushie— you act as his living, breathing body pillow, always warm to the touch. Your skin? Free real estate. His hands are always roaming, cupping the curve of your tit, pinching your nipples and tugging until you arch against him. Further down, squeezing the softness of your stomach and pinching the narrowest part of your waist. Further, and he's stroking your thighs almost reverently, higher and higher until his palm is flush against your cunt, and he pets that too. It seemed like sacrilege to call it dirty, sexual; the slow drag of his finger against your clit was worship, your whimpers hymnal, your pleasure his offering. The scrunch of your face when you come is enlightenment to him. When he flips you over and pins you underneath him, Dokyeom can't help but think you're his own miniature goddess stolen straight from altar, come to life and flushed and demanding under his reverant hands. When he's through with you, after carefully shaping your body into his, pressing you down into the mattress, bouncing you on his hips, drinking and eating from you until he can finally call himself somewhat sated, he cleans you like a devotee, presses his forehead against your sweat-damp stomach, and breathes you in, more fragrant than any incense.

You are Seventeen's doll, and Mingyu is their housewife. That's why he's always setting you on the counter next to him while he cooks, lovingly feeding you the first bite by hand. You looked so fragile to him like this, his oversized shirt falling off your shoulder, riding up your thighs, exposing impossibly soft skin. While dinner cooks, he spreads you on the counter as his appetizer, licking at you until you're begging him to let up, to give you a break. He finds your thrashing impossibly cute, how your thighs can't close around his shoulders, your helpless crying because it's too much for your little body to handle. It's so easy to manhandle you into whatever position he wanted, to hold you up and against him while he fucks into you. Some days, when he has too much energy, when practice and working out and taking care of others weren't enough, he would lift you up into the air and take you like that, your feet dangling off the floor. Out of everyone, you were the most doll-like with him, limp in his muscled arms while he uses you to his heart's desire. It had taken you so long to take him fully, needing days of prep before the first time. Days of him holding you down while he fingers you open, the pads of his fingers flush and rubbing against the soft, sensitive spot in you that your fingers could never reach by themselves. Days of Seventeen surprising you in the middle of the day by pushing a toy into you and forcing you to warm it. Days of Mingyu easing in inch by inch, making you come with each one, until you could finally, finally take his cock, flushed with pleasure and fullness and the endless praise spilling from his lips.

Minghao loves aesthetics. He asks you sit with him during his tea ceremonies, noting your perfect posture and neatly folded legs with an approving gaze. Everyone else is always bending you in half, but Minghao appreciates the neatness of your movement, the straight, elegant lines of your body, even in the mundane everyday— writing at your desk, molding the shape of your figure against one of his brothers', the swish of your skirt around your legs when you walked. It was in the smallest details to him— the tendons shifting under your hand, the stretch of an affectionate arm, the gentle arc of hipbone, the arch of your back off the bed when you come undone underneath his lips, his fingers, his cock. As far as Hao was concerned, this beauty was all the more perfect bound in cherry red rope, crisscrossing the narrow of your wrists and waist, digging into the fat of your hips and thighs. He spends hours with you in his studio, entwined together under warm afternoon sunlight, testing different patterns across your torso while your head leans against his chest. Every day was something different— arms tied to your ankles one day, calves and thighs bound together, forcing you to kneel, once tied to him while straddling him on a chair. The boundaries between his own touch and the bite of rope blurs, until the pinch of rope and the nip of teeth are one and the same.

You often called Seungkwan your "adorable boo bear", complete with holding up strands of his hair into fluffy bear ears. And indeed, he looked like a cartoon baby bear with his big eyes and clingy, soft tendencies. Evenings with him was always spent with you straddling him on the couch, your face buried in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around each other, breathing the other in. He cared for you in a way that was softer, warmer, care which seeped in through your pores until you glowed from the inside out. Beyond nagging you to eat and drink water 2982139 times a day, he fetched you meals himself, held bottles to your lips, and scolded your ear off. When you were on his lap, however, the praise was endless. He didn't fuck— he rolled his hips into yours slowly, hands grasping yours, pinning both of you down, kissing the planes of your face slack from pleasure. It wasn't a powerplay like with the others, either. His hands are exceedlingly gentle on your skin, holding you close, and closer, trying to merge the two of you together. Your own hand stroked his round cheek, resting soft against your palm. You were his doll and he was your boo bear, and that's all that mattered sometimes.

Vernon is the most peaceful of them all, never given to throwing you around like the others (or gnawing at you like Hoshi). It's simply enough to share company, and occassionally, cat reels. He holds you as casually as he does his phone, manspreading on the couch and setting you on his lap, wide hand palming the fat of your ass. The unspoken order—grind—hangs in the air, and you obediently oblige, pushing your hips against the seam of his pants, head falling into the perfect curve of his neck. He captures your lips with his, a soft, slick meeting. Unhurried, calm, like everything else was with him. He wasn't particularly inclined to pin you down and fuck you senseless (not that it didn't happen), but enjoyed the pressure of you on him, the gentle press of your hands against his chest. Afterwards, the two of you fall asleep together, hand in hand, space between your bodies like open fields ready for sowing.

Chan thinks you're the cutest ever, especially when snuggled up on his chest. He also thinks you're the cutest ever when you're overwhelmed and half dazed, making adorable little faces of pleasure and unable to speak from overstimulation. He likes making you whine into his neck and chest when his wandering hands squeeze a little too hard at your waist, ass and tits. Chan was always using his strength to his advantage, knowing it drove you insane, grining cheekily when it did. Your pleasure was his, and he carved that knowledge in your mind until you knew it better than you knew yourself. Eye contact is a must for him, to the point where he stops moving if your eyes fall shut from the pleasure. His favourite actvity? Placing you on one strong thigh, supported only by your entwined hands, and forcing you to grind and look at him until you're sobbing into his shoulder from exhaustion and frustration. His pants are soaked through, but you still couldn't find completion, needing more from him. Chan loved the desperate tears tracking down your face. Once he takes over, you wish you did it yourself— he's relentless, bouncing you on his thick thigh until you're cross-eyed and stupid from how good it feels. He keeps going, long after you've turned completely limp, using your body to vent his energy out. Afterwards, he collapses next you, and spoons you until you both fall asleep and wake up again, though you are significantly worse for wear. It's hard to stay mad when he flashes that boyish smile at you, with sweet kisses and promises of food.

a/n pt 2: if you see me post more fics with the same themes no you don't

feel free to ask if you want to see more from this universe (ot13 or member specific) because I have MULTIPLE scenarios that I haven't included here. Both fluff and smut reqs are accepted!

please send me asks/feedback/criticism/dms I do not bite

[c1phra]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀─── ⠀𝐌ELODIES ⠀& ⠀𝐌EMORIA ✦ ⠀main post.

there's a cd in your hands. scrawled on the back of the case is a list of songs—seemingly handwritten. the selection is a mix of genres, but each seems to tell a story of its own. so what do you say? have someone you want to dedicate a song to? go ahead and press play.

mari's note : this is a songfic mini-event! please see below for the selection of prompts + characters i'm accepting this time. as of now, 10/10 slots have been filled. REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. masterlist -> here!

✦ ・ TRACK LIST ( 01 — 20 )

TRACK 01 : Blue Hair⠀ · ⠀TV Girl ( QUEUED )

“Nothing I could do to stop her from cutting... her beautiful blue hair off—”They’ve changed. You’ve changed too, no doubt. It was inevitable perhaps—knowing someone for that long, they’re bound to change at some point. But sometimes when you look at them, it’s hard to recognize who they are anymore.

TRACK 02 : Your Best Friend⠀ · ⠀Boyish ( QUEUED )

“We wasted nights, pretending not to kiss when we walk home—”Best friends. That’s all you’ve been, and all you will ever be. As much as you loathe to admit it, the stealthy kisses, the longing looks, the barely held back ‘I love you’s… they never made a difference at all.

TRACK 03 : The Exit⠀ · ⠀Conan Gray

“Feels like, we had matching wounds but, mine's still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine now—” You share the same scars of the past. You're so alike, so perfectly matched. So why did you heal so perfectly, when they're stuck ten paces behind, trapped by a past that used to haunt you both? It isn't fair. Why do you get to move on? Why can't they? And why does seeing you like this—so happy—hurt so much?

TRACK 04 : Twilight⠀ · ⠀bôa

“You feel the same way that I do for you, about her—” Oh that look in their eyes, the lovestruck, soft look that makes your heart flutter... it's beautiful. It's breathtaking. And it's sickening, knowing that look will never fall onto you—not when it's so fixated on someone else.

TRACK 05 : Work Song⠀ · ⠀Hozier ( QUEUED )

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her—”Longing is too simple a word for what they feel. It's an ache, buried deep between the bars of their rib-cage, a soothing pain that yearns for you. The thought of you is the sweetest relief; knowing they have you to come home to is the only thing keeping their head up and legs moving forward. They'll always come home to you.

TRACK 06 : Cruel Summer⠀ · ⠀Taylor Swift

“I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard—” A summer fling, a whirlwind romance. It's temporary, it's fun; you knew it wouldn't last forever, but god does it feel good while it lasts. If only you could draw it out a little longer, hold back the farewells for just a few more weeks... but the end of summer is quickly approaching.

TRACK 07 : Sweet Talk⠀ · ⠀Saint Motel ( QUEUED )

“Everything you say, is sweet talk to my ears—”They're so head-over-heels in love that anything that comes out of your mouth makes them smile, no matter what it is. You could yell at them, laugh, or even ignore them entirely, but it doesn't matter—the fact that they're able to be in your presence is enough.

TRACK 08 : Out Of My League⠀ · ⠀Fitz and The Tantrums

“Yeah, you were more than just a dream—” Sometimes it feels like they're dreaming. They pinch themself, but it doesn't make it feel any less surreal; after all, how could they possibly end up with someone like you? Someone so perfect, and so unbelievably out of their league.

TRACK 09 : Memories⠀ · ⠀Conan Gray

“Can't be your friend; can't be your lover—” It would be a lot easier to move on from them if they didn’t keep showing up in your life, time and time again. And it would be a lot easier if you didn’t relent and let them creep back in, time and time again.

TRACK 10 : My Love Mine All Mine⠀ · ⠀Mitski ( QUEUED )

“Nothing in the world belongs to me but my love, mine all mine—”They're not used to having things to themself, things that won't break or be discarded, so this love—this tender, delicate sort of love, it's something new. But oh, they will treasure it. It's something for them—and you, of course... all for yourselves.

TRACK 11 : Waste⠀ · ⠀Oh Wonder ( QUEUED )

“Waste, what a waste... what a waste to be so alone—”It takes every ounce of self-control to not go crawling back. Maybe it was worse before, but maybe you had each other before, and maybe that helpless thought lingers, as much as you try to dismiss it. You'd give anything to rid yourself of this aching loneliness.

TRACK 12 : Casual⠀ · ⠀Chappell Roan

“I thought, you thought of me better... someone that you couldn't lose—” "Casual". One word that's been haunting your life for months. It's your own fault for agreeing so quickly when they brought it up, but you can't help but long for more. They have to know by now, just how deep your feelings run, but it'll never go any further. It's casual, it's always been just casual.

TRACK 13 : lacy⠀ · ⠀Olivia Rodrigo ( QUEUED )

“And I despise my jealous eyes, and how hard they fell for you—”You can't fathom it. It feels like every part of them is perfect; perfect looks, perfect poise, perfect charm. You're nothing standing next to them. And all that resentment and envy and admiration seems to cloud your gaze—do you want them, or want to be them?

TRACK 14 : The 30th⠀ · ⠀Billie Eilish

“You were scared... and so am I—” It still scares you sometimes, just how close it was. In a heartbeat you could have lost them—you almost did lose them. And it still hits you sometimes, that wave of panic, the sight of their face. You're alive, you're both alive; that's all that you can focus on, now.

TRACK 15 : Do I Wanna Know?⠀ · ⠀Arctic Monkeys ( QUEUED )

“The nights were mainly made for saying things you can't say tomorrow day—”You're stuck in a limbo; both of you know there's something there, just a little deeper, but neither of you are willing to dig for it. Instead, you save your unspoken words for late nights and chance encounters, always crawling back to the other no matter what.

TRACK 16 : Favorite⠀ · ⠀Isabel LaRosa ( QUEUED )

“Darling, can I be your favorite—”It almost hurts, how badly they want to be yours. Your favourite, your treasured one, the one you call your own. They'd give you the world, if only in exchange for those few simple words; "You're mine. I'm yours."

TRACK 17 : Broken Waltz⠀ · ⠀Holden Laurence ( QUEUED )

“Bitter tears on a white dress; make-up stains on the sheets in protest—”'Love', as they called it, is not something the universe deigned to give you. Not the fairytale, flawless kind of love you saw in romances. The 'love' that you two shared was nothing but fool's gold, a perfect replication of a relationship with none of the affection attached. And you're trapped, dancing this broken waltz 'til the music cuts out.

TRACK 18 : Anything You Want⠀ · ⠀Eliza McLamb

“You could eat me alive, and I'd let you do it 'cause it's all I know... but you wanna do it right—” They aren't accustomed to love. They're not used to the feeling of being wanted. They don't understand why you look at them so adoringly, they don't understand why, out of anyone, you'd choose to love them. They don't deserve you, but if they could be a little less of themself for just a bit... they'd be anything for you.

TRACK 19 : The Other Side Of Paradise⠀ · ⠀Glass Animals

“Bye-bye baby blue, I wish you could see the wicked truth—” The lover you once knew has grown up now, and grown out of your love. Too busy chasing the stars, it seems they forgot all about you... it's too bad then, that your attachment didn't fade as easily. It's too bad, that even though you still try, they've already slipped away. You only know them in hindsight, now.

TRACK 20 : get him back!⠀ · ⠀Olivia Rodrigo

“Oh, I want sweet revenge, and I want him again—” Is it a bad idea, reconnecting with your ex? According to every one of your friends, undoubtedly yes. But oh, don't you miss those good times? Even with the rocky parts, they had a way of making everything so exciting... What's wrong with wanting that again?

✦ ・ VOLUME SETTINGS

for fem!reader, please select [volume: high]

for gn!reader, please select [volume: low]

✦ ・ DEDICATION

who's this track playing for? see below the selection of available characters to dedicate your song to. please note, this list is limited to characters i will definitely want to write for, so i don't lose motivation.

honkai star rail : anaxa. aventurine. boothill. cipher. jiaoqiu. kafka. moze. reca. robin. sunday.

genshin impact : alhaitham. chiori. furina. heizou. kaveh. kokomi. tighnari.

zenless zone zero : harumasa. hugo. lighter. seth. vivian.

mari's note : make sure to specify a track, volume, and dedication in your song request! i'm only planning on writing one drabble per prompt, so tracks that have been selected will be crossed out.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

You’ve probably been asked this before, but do you have a specific view on ai-generated art. I’m doing a school project on artificial intelligence and if it’s okay, i would like to cite you

I mean, you're welcome to cite me if you like. I recently wrote a post under a reblog about AI, and I did a video about it a while back, before the full scale of AI hype had really started rolling over the Internet - I don't 100% agree with all my arguments from that video anymore, but you can cite it if you please.

In short, I think generative AI art

Is art, real art, and it's silly to argue otherwise, the question is what KIND of art it is and what that art DOES in the world. Generally, it is boring and bland art which makes the world a more stressful, unpleasant and miserable place to be.

AI generated art is structurally and inherently limited by its nature. It is by necessity averages generated from data-sets, and so it inherits EVERY bias of its training data and EVERY bias of its training data validators and creators. It naturally tends towards the lowest common denominator in all areas, and it is structurally biased towards reinforcing and reaffirming the status quo of everything it is turned to.

It tends to be all surface, no substance. As in, it carries the superficial aesthetic of very high-quality rendering, but only insofar as it reproduces whatever signifiers of "quality" are most prized in its weighted training data. It cannot understand the structures and principles of what it is creating. Ask it for a horse and it does not know what a "horse" is, all it knows is what parts of it training data are tagged as "horse" and which general data patterns are likely to lead an observer to identify its output also as "horse." People sometimes describe this limitation as "a lack of soul" but it's perhaps more useful to think of it as a lack of comprehension.

Due to this lack of comprehension, AI art cannot communicate anything - or rather, the output tends to attempt to communicate everything, at random, all at once, and it's the visual equivalent of a kind of white noise. It lacks focus.

Human operators of AI generative tools can imbue communicative meaning into the outputs, and whip the models towards some sort of focus, because humans can do that with literally anything they turn their directed attention towards. Human beings can make art with paint spatters and bits of gum stuck under tennis shoes, of course a dedicated human putting tons of time into a process of trial and error can produce something meaningful with genAI tools.

The nature of genAI as a tool of creation is uniquely limited and uniquely constrained, a genAI tool can only ever output some mixture of whatever is in its training data (and what's in its training data is biased by the data that its creators valued enough to include), and it can only ever output that mixture according to the weights and biases of its programming and data set, which is fully within the control of whoever created the tool in the first place. Consequently, genAI is a tool whose full creative capacity is always, always, always going to be owned by corporations, the only entities with the resources and capacity to produce the most powerful models. And those models, thus, will always only create according to corporate interest. An individual human can use a pencil to draw whatever the hell they want, but an individual human can never use Midjourney to create anything except that which Midjourney allows them to create. GenAI art is thus limited not only by its mathematical tendency to bias the lowest common denominator, but also by an ideological bias inherited from whoever holds the leash on its creation. The necessary decision of which data gets included in a training set vs which data gets left out will, always and forever, impose de facto censorship on what a model is capable of expressing, and the power to make that decision is never in the hands of the artist attempting to use the tool.

tl;dr genAI art has a tendency to produce ideologically limited and intrinsically censored outputs, while defaulting to lowest common denominators that reproduce and reinforce status quos.

... on top of which its promulgation is an explicit plot by oligarchic industry to drive millions of people deeper into poverty and collapse wages in order to further concentrate wealth in the hands of the 0.01%. But that's just a bonus reason to dislike it.

[rhiannonsknife]

hihello how r u ?? :3

Shauna shipman whimpers in French into your ear when she's balls deep inside you.

That's it. That's the thought.

-🍭

you know what hell yeah 🍭 anon!! 🙂‍↕️ (nsfw content so mdni. also, again, i do not speak french!)

shauna’s face is buried in the crook of your neck. there’s sweat on her forehead, dark strands of hair clinging to it in damp lines, and her breath bursts from her lips in desperate pants.

she‘s clearly holding back, her hips rutting back and forth on every second breath in an attempt to make the moment last.

after eating you out, both to make sure you could take her and make up for the short time she would last once she’d fuck you properly, shauna now has you pinned to the mattress. your legs are open wide, giving her the room she needs to move between them, rolling her hips back and forth.

barely a few minutes in, and shauna’s grip on the english language has already vanished, reduced to breathless french phrases and muttered curses. “oh, mon dieu,” she groans as she bottoms out, drawing a moan from your lips in response to feeling her there.

her pillows and sheets are soft against your back, a stark contrast to the way she is currently holding you: hands on both of your legs, pushing your knees up against your chest to keep you open for her.

shauna’s breath hitches at a particularly good thrust that has you clenching for more around her length. “mhm, comme ça!”

“yeah?” you pant, hardly feeling any more coherent than shauna herself with how deep she’s fucking into you already. “do you like that?”

“oui- yes! m’sorry,” she slurs.

her teeth graze your collarbones, only the ghost of a touch that lacks its usual sharpness. you can’t deny that you love it when shauna gets like this, though: a babbling, mindless version only you get to see of her, too drunk on the sensation of your body to string together her words.

you run your hands through her hair when her hips piston forward slightly faster. the wetness between your legs squelches obscenely where shauna buries herself deeper and deeper inside your cunt, leaving your body no choice but to accommodate the stretch of her needs.

shauna pulls out once, moving her hips agonizingly slow to watch you part for her. she’s glistening wet under the light that comes falling through her curtains, coated in your arousal from root to tip. she groans at the sight, moaning a weak “putain,” before sinking back into you.

the sound of her skin slapping against yours grows louder the more shauna picks up the pace. “sorry,” she whimpers, her lack of control pathetic compared to her usual self. “j’ai besoin de toi…”

“it’s okay,” you manage, clinging to her now that she’s starting to fuck you harder. “it’s okay shauna, fuck me.”

and, oh, she does: with your short but desperate plead, the last of her restraints slip away and shauna readjusts above you, spreading your legs wider.

“god,” she groans, her nails scratching over your sides. “t'es trop belle…”

you know by the way she’s moving more and more erratically that shauna won’t last long. it’s not that you really want her to; the sight of her cumming is one that you can hardly ever deprive yourself of. besides, it’s not like not getting anything from this yourself: each time shauna rocks forward, she strokes up against your g-spot, reaching much deeper than her fingers ever did.

“shauna, please-“

she nods her head, her breath warming your throat in short puffs where she’s keeping her face hidden. her whole attic room smells of sex at this rate, and you’re forever grateful mrs. shipman has left earlier, or else she would definitely hear shauna’s bed slamming into the wall.

“t’es proche?“ she grunts. “fuck- i mean- are you close?”

if your moans weren’t enough of an indicator yet, you nod and let your hand fall between your thighs, rubbing your clit in sync with shauna’s thrusts.

“bonne fille,” she praises before ducking back against you, whimpering some more incoherent words until the feeling of your walls fluttering around her sends shauna over the edge.

[yanderenightmare]

can we get a part two to wants&needs, like anything at all please, just want to know what happens next, anything is fine please

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ AN: Truth be told, I actually did write this follow-up right after the first one. My original wish was to continue it, but I lost interest. It's not much, but since you asked so nicely...

♡ TW: implied dubcon/noncon, yandere, obsession, kidnapping, captive reader, deteriorating mental state, psychological abuse

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: Wants & Needs

It’s been a month now, and only a month—one single month since you met your boss and three weeks since he abducted you. 

Time is a funny thing. You never really knew what people meant when saying that, but you think you get it now. He acts as if he’s known you all his life—as if the two of you living together was the natural next step—as if the horror of what happened after you woke up in his bed was the honeymoon, and this, just your homey little life as happy newlyweds.

He brings you flowers when he comes home from work, buys you jewelry and pretty clothes, makes you breakfast in bed, and spoonfeeds it to you since you so often make him cuff your wrists to the headboard. He draws your baths and doesn’t wear a condom when he fucks you because the two of you shouldn’t wait any longer.

That’s how it seems to be for him—but to you, he’s stranger than a stranger. At first, he was Dynamight, the celebrity pro-hero you’d see on billboards and magazines—then your new high-maintenance boss, Mr. Bakugou—and now, the inescapable maniac holding you captive in his house, who gets upset when you don’t call him Katsuki.

Yes, time is a funny thing. 

You thought there would be no end to your fighting back, that you’d pester him about letting you go forever. Realistically, you thought you’d keep it up for at least a full month. But turns out you didn’t even have the stamina to last a week. You’re scared, and you’re tired, and you’re weak, and you’re small—and Bakugou makes it all crystal clear when you decide to act up. 

Bratty, he calls it. 

Time is a funny thing. The outside world has already accepted your disappearance. Bakugou had made you watch it all on the news a couple of days ago—his strategy for making you lose hope and accept the situation, you suppose. The reporters say it was a villain attack at the agency, one of pro-hero Dynamight’s many enemies—and that you were tragically caught in the crossfire. You watched your family cry—watched them lay candles and flowers by the building—watched pro-hero Dynamight swear to catch the villain responsible. The segment was mostly about him after that. You felt like more of a footnote.

Time is a funny thing. The first time he’d undressed you and laid his naked body against yours, you thought you’d never get over the absolute dread of it. But it already feels old. Like some other unpleasant thing you have to do in the day—like a mundane chore—same as washing dishes or getting up early to go to work. It is, in many ways, just what it is.

Meanwhile, your quirk works against you. Suppose it’s somewhat to blame for your state. In the absence of other interference, Bakugou remains the sole source of influence. With no other noise to distort, his message becomes loud and clear—and your eagerness to heed him all the stronger.

In your head, you know you want to disregard him, fight back, run—but your body listens to his wants and needs and responds kindly like nothing would make you happier than to serve. Which is what he whispers in your ear as he takes you. 

Housewife quirk, he calls it.

Time’s a funny thing, and you don’t think it’ll be long now before you come to accept it.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BNHA masterlist

[sincerelyneo]

sunflower vol 6 | l.hc

“i couldn’t want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor”

💿now playing: sunflower vol 6 by harry styles

❯ summary: Let’s make dinner together, he said. I’ll behave, he said. Honestly, you should have known that was a lie because when it comes to you, Haechan is never on his best behaviour. That’s why he’s sneaking sly touches every time you complete a step in your recipe.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive content

❯ words: 1.4k

❯ tags: tooth rotting fluff, domesticated fluff, swearing, kissing, pet names, literally just hyuck being so boyfriend and them dancing in the kitchen together.

an: i’m a firm believer that harry styles wrote this song about haechan

Hyuck bursts through the front door with a sense of urgency, unable to contain his excitement. It's been months since he last saw you, his girlfriend whom he's more than just a little obsessed with, and the door feels like just another barrier in his way. He thought his job, which requires him to tour for half the year, was obstacle enough.

"Baby, I'm home!" he calls out eagerly, scanning the apartment for any sign of you. Disappointment flickers across his face when he doesn't immediately spot you waiting for him with open arms.

The honeyed tone of his voice instead echoes from the living room to your bedroom, drawing you to him like a magnet. Without wasting a moment, you rush down the stairs and wrap your arms around his neck.

You melt into each other effortlessly, as you always do. Your bodies seem custom-made for one another, fitting together perfectly. You've missed his touch, his warmth, in a way that FaceTime calls could never fulfil. Nothing compares to the physical presence of your Hyuck.

You plant a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his cheek before pulling back to meet his gaze. "You weren't supposed to be home for another four hours. What's going on?"

"I got an earlier flight because I missed you so much," he replies with a grin. 

You shake your head, but a smile still tugs at your lips. You've never encountered a man more smitten and in love than him. It's endearing, really. It's the kind of love his friends would tease him about if he didn't take so much pride in it.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to process the fact that he's here in your living room. You're happy, of course, but you had hoped to be all dolled up for his arrival, not standing in old pyjamas after months apart

"Well... are you hungry? We could order takeout if you want. You can tell me all about that tour that's kept you away from me for what feels like forever," you suggest with a smile, and his eyes soften at the invitation

"Babyyy," he whines, catching you off guard a little. His hands slide to your back, pulling you in by your waist as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "Can't we make dinner together?"

You raise an eyebrow, pulling away to look up at him, his hands still wrapped around you. "By 'we,' you mean me?"

"Of course not. You know I make an excellent sous chef. Restaurants should be grateful I chose music instead of culinary arts.” 

You shake your head, with a grin. "We never get anything done when we cook together. Remember last time?"

He smirks, recalling the memory. "It's not my fault you asked me to get something out of the fridge, and when I turned around, you were bent over the counter showing your ass to me. I couldn't help myself."

You give him a deadpan look but he only smirks more.

"And if we're being honest, I remember you loving it." His arms cross over his chest, the satisfaction in him beaming from knowing that you know he's right. You did enjoy those steamy cooking sessions, but not right now; you're hungry.

"Please, baby, I missed your cooking. Nothing any restaurant can make compares to your food," he pleads. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And although you know better, and you know that there’s no such thing as "best behaviour" with Lee Donghyuck, you still can't resist. And so, you give in. 

Surprisingly, everything goes well. Hyuck isn’t too much of a distraction; instead, he follows your instructions without protest. He grabs ingredients, chops vegetables, and even compliments the head chef— and nothing catches fire.

Progress is being made.

That is until your boyfriend finishes the little tasks you assign him and wraps his arms around your waist while you chop ingredients.

“Hyuck… you promised—”

His plush lips melt against your neck so delicately that you nearly chop off your finger—though Hyuck won’t let that happen, gripping your hands to steady them. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking against your skin.

“I know what I said, Y/N,” he teases. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not trying to help; you’re trying to distract.”

He laughs, “You know… I bought a new record while I was on tour. It has that one song you love.”

You pause, setting the knife down and pressing your hands against the counter as you turn to face him.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “I think we should play it while you cook.”

“I thought we were supposed to be cooking together?” 

Hyuck simply chuckles as he heads over to the record player in your kitchen and sets the record spinning. Soft guitar notes fill the space, and despite your need to focus, you can’t help but smile.

You watch as he dances across the cool kitchen tiles, a smirk on his lips, until he stands behind you. His hand finds your elbow, gently pulling you backwards.

The laugh that spills from you is warm and Hyuck matches it as his hands drift down your arms to your hands, fingers threading together before he pulls you back into his broad, solid chest. 

Strong arms cross your own chest, and the two of you start to sway against each other. The music is quiet and grainy and mixed with the sound of your feet creaking on the floor. 

The two of you float back and forth—a stream of sunlight streams in through the high window. You close your eyes and let the light shift across your eyelids. Hyuck’s lips find your ear, singing softly. The sound was gentle and sweet and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ll never forget the moment I realised I love you.”

You sink further against him, your voice humming as you ask, “Yeah? When was that?”

“The minute I saw you,” he breathes. “You were dancing so carelessly, and I knew then—you were my person. You’ll always be my person.”

You’re grinning like an idiot despite rolling your eyes as you let go of Hyuck’s hands and turn around in his arms. You slide your palms up his chest to wind around the back of his neck, pressing your foreheads together. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he responds easily, smiling with his eyes closed as he continues to sway with you in the tiny kitchen of your tiny apartment. You nod, leaning forward to knock your noses together gently with an exaggerated sigh.

“I do. And I love you. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.”

Hyuck hums, pulling you in closer and starts walking you backwards slowly until your hips rest against the counter. He dips down, curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and effortlessly hoists you up to sit on the edge. You open your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, twisting a perfect little strand around your finger just the way he likes it.

He looks back at you, eyes filled with patience and love. Then he leans in, drawing you into a soft, lazy kiss—because he’s finally home, because he can, because he loves doing it, because it’s all he ever wants to do from now until forever.  You melt against his chest, pressing up into the contact. When you break apart, Hyuck rests his lips against your temple, swaying gently with you in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says softly.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and brush your nose back and forth against his neck as you close your eyes and smile.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

You linger in the warmth of his touch until the sharp beeping of the oven interrupts the moment. You pull away slightly, frowning at the oven’s display.

“Ugh, I forgot I put that in there!” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder to see smoke beginning to curl from the edges.

Hyuck chuckles, but there is no concern creeping into his voice. “Can’t believe my first meal home is going to be charcoal.” 

You rush to the oven, Hyuck close behind. As you open the door, a plume of smoke escapes, and you cough. 

“This is totally your fault! What happened to you not being distracting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I’m obsessed with you.”

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[little-diable]

Prom – Jasper Hale (smut)

This is just a pwp drabble I had to write while rereading Midnight Sun. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Jasper and the reader are mates, so it's only natural he asks her out to prom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f)

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!vampire!reader (1k words)

It was dark out, they were engulfed by a thick blanket of the late night as they laid together. Jasper’s cold fingers danced up and down her forearm, stroking her cold skin with his cold fingers. No words were spoken as they listened to the unfamiliar silence, nothing could be heard besides the sounds mother nature created for them–all while the others were out hunting. 

“Darlin’,” he mumbled the nickname, forcing her golden eyes up to his. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but would you go to prom with me?”

Her laughter filled their shared room, echoing off the walls as she turned onto her stomach, staring up at her mate with excitement laced in her gaze. (Y/n) was sure that if she were still human she’d be blushing by now, struggling to say anything but a giddy yes. 

“I absolutely will, Jas’.” Their lips met for a kiss, letting their thoughts linger on the tips of their tongues while they sank further into the touch. She was too focused on the kiss, on the hours of silence they were barely offered, to pay attention to the way his hands disappeared beneath her shirt. Only as he flipped them did she let go of laugh, allowing him to rip her clothes off her body. 

“Somebody’s impatient.” (Y/n)’s teasing drew a groan from Jasper. His cold lips kissed their way down her throat while his hands explored her chest, tugging and squeezing to leave her moaning for him. Both wouldn’t draw this out, knowing that they weren’t ones for taking their time when chasing highs only blood and sex could offer, and yet she loved these almost sweet moments he offered her. 

“I always am when it comes to you, darlin’.” Their eyes met as his smirk grew wider. (Y/n) could only watch how he rose to his feet to get rid of his clothes, exposing his muscular body to her darkening eyes. He was everything she had always longed for, decades on her own had been worth it–all for this. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Feeling as if he was the cigarette to set her petrol station ablaze. A perfect inferno neither could run from. 

“Fuck me, Jas, let me feel you.” They held eye contact while he dipped his head down to let his tongue brush through her slit, moaning at her taste. His strong arms were wrapped around her thighs to keep her pinned down, knowing that she had no chance to fight him in a moment like this. He had her trapped. She was his to toy with. She was his most prized possession, forever and always. 

“My pretty darlin’, I’d burn the whole damn world down for you.” Her fingers tugged on his golden curls, drawing him closer while he rubbed her bundle with his thumb. She moaned his name, letting his smirk grow wider at the sounds she couldn’t hold back. He pushed her closer and closer, fucking her with his fingers while his tongue kept exploring her heat. A perfect mixture she could only cling to while knowing he’d pull away seconds before she could cum.

“Jas’, please.” Slowly, he pulled away from her. Jasper crawled up her body only to let (y/n) turn them around once again. She straddled his lap with a grin matching his. With their fingers interlaced, she held onto him as she sank down on him, letting her head roll back to let go of a loud moan. His free hand palmed her ass, desperate to touch her as if this was the first time they were doing it–reminding them of that very night years and years ago. 

(Y/n) moved faster and faster with every passing moment, high on the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of her, making her feel more alive than ever before. He supported her every move, enjoying the sight of her straddling him, fucking herself on his cock while he got to marvel at her. 

“I love you, darlin’.” His smile grew wider, fully focused on (y/n) and the way she perfectly squeezed his cock. Some may call them a match made in hell, two undying lovers united in the growing flames, while others only focused on the love both clearly felt for one another, tied together by their strong bond. Whatever it was that kept them connected, both swore to hold onto it till the end of their time. 

“I love you too, Jasper, oh god, so fucking much.” No warning was spoken before he once again flipped them around. She stared up at him with wide eyes, letting him fuck them closer and closer to the edge with one hand placed on her throat and the other holding onto the metallic headrest. 

Their eyes held eye contact as she came, letting go of another moan while he chased his own high, fucking her with an all too fast speed human eyes wouldn’t be able to follow. It didn’t take him long to let go, to cum with a groan that was almost swallowed by their shared kiss. 

They held onto one another, clinging to their mate while they came down from their high, knowing that it was the first of many in the upcoming hours they were offered without nosy others close by. 

……

“Will you do that to me too?” Jasper had his front pressed against (y/n)’s back. Both had their eyes focused on Bella and Edward as (y/n) whispered the question. The newly formed couple was dancing outside, sharing hushed whispers that left Jasper and (y/n) grinning. 

“Kiss you out there or dance with you?” He gently squeezed her side, trying to pull her even closer as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck. (Y/n) turned in his grasp to stare up at her mate, filled with a giddiness she felt ever since crossing paths with him all those years ago. 

“How about both?”

[iguana-braces]

That sub!Jayce post really popped off, huh?

Ehehe okay here's my rambly thoughts about it (I'm literally sitting at work clocked out writing this instead of going home because THOUGHTS)

Building my theory off of this post:

And this one with all the examples of how Jayce's love language is clearly physical touch

*Disclaimer: there's a lot about season 2 that irked me in terms of plot and characterization so this is me retconning a little bit and picking and choosing what examples make the most cohesive argument. Like, in season one they're like "Jayce has this brotherly relationship with Caitlyn and him and Mel have this deep, meaningful relationship" and then season two was like "No more relationship building, it's time for trauma now" but, I digress*

First things first, he's a people pleaser. He does what he's told, clearly (against better judgment but like). And he's clearly committed to the people he cares about. HE BROUGHT VIKTOR BACK FROM THE DEAD (AND THEN KILLED HIM) AND THEN DIED WITH HIM AGAIN. You can't tell me that wouldn't translate to an "I'll do anything for you" attitude in the bedroom too.

I already did the bed gif but I also have to draw attention to the following:

Okay but season two, post-horrors!

Mr. Dopey Heart-Eyes McGee is NOT the one calling the shots here.

Season one Jayce? That man is whipped. One glance from his partner and he's on his knees like it's a religion. Whoever you ship him with! Mel, Viktor, both, a secret fourth option--

He spent an indeterminate amount of time alone, in the bottom of a pit. He's touch-starved but also! Traumatized!

Imagine, if you will, that he survives the astral plane. Imagine he goes to find Mel, or Viktor also survives, or imagine your own y/n, OC insert scenario here. Whatever floats your boat.

In such scenario, and in the aftermath of his self-awareness epiphany where he realizes that yeah, he's kinda been used (by everyone really), I think that in regards to any potential sexual relationship, he would have to become more dominant, more in control of the situation. Especially if it's with Mel, since he does pointedly blame her, or even Viktor, who has literally shaped the course of Jayce's entire life since he was a child. The man needs to set some boundaries with people and good for him.

So I think dominant, scruffy Jayce does have a time and a place.

However, I don't think he'd stay that way forever. It's kinda like him trying to be a politician-- it's a different role that he can pull off, but it doesn't fully scratch his itch.

BONUS HEADCANON: Wouldn't it be just so interesting if he survived the astral plane and goes back to whoever, and while he's looking for comfort and reassurance and all that physical contact he's been deprived of, he realizes that he really doesn't like people touching his head.

I hypothesize that in regards to canon relationships, Mel and/or Viktor, once they regain his trust and show that they're not trying to use him again, he's 100% going to be simping for them even worse than before. Like, that relationship would've gone through the fire and only come out stronger on the other side. You might even say it's been vulcanized.... 🤭

From the on, he can go back to letting his walls down around them and letting them be the dominant one because he knows there's solid trust and respect there now.

Feel free to agree or disagree 🤷‍♀️ also please feel free to tell me all your thots about this too!!!

He's got all this beautiful hair that needs to be tenderly pushed away from his eyes by a loving hand, but he's a little fucked up from the times Mannequin/Mage Viktor did that little murder mind meld.

Like, he put his head in Mel's lap TWICE, you know it would kill the man if he couldn't do that anymore because having someone's hands near his forehead is too reminiscent of... well, basically his death.

[readychilledwine]

hii!! i’m in love w your writing!!❤️❤️❤️ can i please request one where it’s azriel x reader. Feyre sees azriel wearing a ring on his left finger and asks,

” i’ve seen you wear that ring forever azriel, what does it mean? ”

” it’s my wedding ring ”

and her jaw drops bc she didn’t know he even had a lover.

” who is she? do i know her? what is she like? ”

he smiles faintly and says

” her name is y/n, she’s my mate and wife and she isn’t a warrior like us, she works at a library downtown. you don’t know her, only rhys and cassian do. we have a house in the outskirts in velaris. she is very sweet and i love her more than anything, our daughter is- ”

” YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER ????? ”

he nods and tells them all about her, he asks if feyre wants to meet reader and their daughter and feyre smiles and nods. He asks reader in the mating bond if it’s okay to bring her, nyx, rhys and cassian to dinner. reader says yes and azriel tells feyre he’ll pick them all up tonight before leaving to help his wife prepare. Reader meets feyre and become friends instantly, nyx and their daughter become friends aswell.

” how did i not know this?? this makes so much sense now. How he never sleeps here and he’s gone for days sometimes but not on missions. ” feyre asks rhysand.

”don’t worry i didn’t know for a long time either, Az is a very private person, he is extremely protective of his family. i’m glad he told me at all. either way he’s still a mystery sometimes, i learn new things about him all the time and i’ve known him for over 500 years” rhys says and laughs knowing your perfect for his brother 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🥹😍

Haven

Warnings - none

A/n - I played with this for a while, rewrote it several times, and then made something that met in the middle of what came to mind, but still stuck with the request. Hopefully, you love it, dear 💜

Feyre had been in Velaris for 5 years. 5 long years and she had yet to figure out why Azriel kept a simple black band on his left ring finger at all times.

The two of them were on the couch, Rhys across from them, as they looked over maps of a few of the Illyrian Camps that had been recently renovated. The new cabins, mess halls, and dorms were a huge success, and figuring out the same layout for the remaining few was a huge topic of interest for the three smaller camps.

She glanced at the ring one more time before tapping it. Rhys and Azriel both looked at her, brows raised. "So, not magic," she muttered to herself. She tried spell cleaving it, "And not a ward or shield."

Azriel blinked at her, brows knit in silent question. Rhys had his hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement. Leave it to his wife to provide entertainment without knowing it was needed. "I-" she sighed. "You wear this ring all the time. I'm trying to figure out why."

Both of the males chuckled. "Probably the same reason you wear your wedding ring, Feyre Darling."

The High Lady made face, tapping the ring again. "Don't be ridiculous, Rhys. I would know if Azriel was married."

"Evidently not, my love."

Feyre and Azriel held eye contact, the male then going back to the maps. "Since I have extensive time in Steppes Peak, I think it would be easiest to move the mess hall here, at the base of the mountain, maintain the warroom in the carved out cave, and build better dorms here," he pointed to an empty part of the map.

Rhys nodded, drawing it out on the empty map he had. "I'm sure y/n will agree with whatever you say."

"Okay, stop." Feyre crossed her arms, pouting slightly at the two of them. "Azriel isn't married, and making up some name to make me feel stupid isn't kind."

Azriel sighed. He leaned back while dropping the scent ward he kept on himself at all times. He watched as her face fell. He knew his scent, chilled air and cedar, was the predominant one in the mateship, but now a soft floral scent, something like lavender and warm honey clung there softly.

"I've been married for longer than you have been alive, Fey." Azriel patted her hand. "I have a daughter older than you and another younger than Nyx."

He watched as her face fell, a small amount of hurt flashing across it. "Why didn't you tell me?" She paused, looking at the sleeping heir in his craddle. "We could be having play dates. I could have a friend who understands."

Guilt settled into his face as he pulled her into him. "I torture people for living, sweet sister. I execute people on your orders. I imprison people with a flick of your wrist." He tilted Feyre's head up. "Y/n has no combat training and refused to learn. She likes to sit at home writing poetry, baking, and cuddling our children. I do not bring her around or introduce them to anyone to keep them safe." His face held the ghost of a rare smile. "I think I've brought her to meet Rhys and Cassian once."

Rhys nodded. "I've met her once here and several times behind your back in town. Especially after my first niece was born."

Feyre kept her gaze on Nyx. "He could have a friend," her voice was distant.

Azriel stood, placing a kiss on her forehead as he did. "I'll be right back." Rhysand's smile grew wide. Folding the maps and putting them away. He moved to the liquor cabinet, bringing down one of his more expensive wines.

Azriel reappeared with you and both daughters in tow. Your oldest ran to Rhys, jumping on him and holding him tightly, her wings fluttering with joy as she did. "Hello, Amara," he nuzzled into her hair. "Missed you so much, baby girl. Cassian is on his way."

He walked with her in his arms to the table, setting the wine down and then carried her over to Feyre. "Would you like to meet your aunt?" She allowed Rhys to set her down and turned toward Feyre.

There was little question she was Azriel's. She was the beautiful artists dreamed of painting. Soft classic features framed with inky black hair that fell in gorgeous curls. "Feyre, this is our niece Amara. She's 56. She was my favorite suprise when I got home from the mountain."

She smiled shyly, keeping close to Rhysand. "Hi."

"Hi," Feyre didn't know what came over her, pulling the Illyrian female close to her and holding her. "I'm so excited to meet you."

Amara wrapped her arms around Feyre, returning the gesture. "Me too. Mom and I have been BEGGING dad for a while. But you know how the bats are."

The door slammed open, rushed loud footsteps and a panting filling the hall. "Where's my baby?!"

Amara pulled away from Feyre, smiling softly before moving away from all of them. She was rushed by Cassian, lifted up into his arms as he spun her.

Feyre looked to her side, noticing Azriel next to her, holding a swaddled bundle. "This is Iris. She's a month younger than Nyx." Azriel wouldn't look away from his daughter and her peaceful sleeping face. "I fear the day she loses her chipmunk cheeks."

Feyre looked around the room, trying to find the reason this was happening and felt her heart shift when she saw you, arm wrapped around Rhysand's bicep, looking at Nyx.

You were wingless, long dark hair braided back. Soft leggings and a sweater that was a few sizes too big covering your frame. Cassian had moved next to you, bumping you with his arm and smiling down at you. "He's so beautiful," your voice was a melody, a soft echo that brought calm to the room. "And so sweet. Look at those rosy cheeks."

Rhysand pulled you away, moving you back to Feyre. He handed you to Azriel, arms out expectedly. "Don't make me command it."

The shadowsinger placed his youngest in Rhysand's arms, hands shaking despite the trust between them, "Be careful with her. Please." Rhys nodded, moving over to Cassian. "Feyre, this is y/n, my wife and mat-"

Feyre didn't allow him to finish, hugging you instantly, tears lining her eyes as she did. "Please tell me we can be friends and cry about our babies together."

"I didn't realize that would even be a question. Of course we will be friends, and of course we will cry about all of the things. Our mates don't get it. Cassian, though, Cassian will join us."

The warlord stuck one finger in your direction. "Let me love them in peace, y/n."

You leaned into Feyre, "Has he cried while holding Nyx yet?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah. Big illyrian baby."

"The worst, aren't they? Rhysand, did you want me to make dinner?"

The High lord looked at Azriel, a small look of guilt on his face, "Please."

You squeezed Feyre's arm, kissing Azriel as you moved towards the kitchen. "You know where to find me if she needs me." He nodded.

Azriel moved to Cassian, watching like a hawk as the general snuggled the small babe in his arms. Amara was sitting by Nyx a look of love and adoration on her face as she sighed.

"She's perfect for Azriel in every way," Rhys stroked Feyre's hand. "I was nervous at first too when he brought her home. I was even more nervous when his fears manifested in the form of being deeply private with her. But she is perfect for him."

Feyre nodded, watching as Azriel glared as Cassian due to the loud squeak his baby had just let out.

"His girls are beautiful." Rhys hummed in agreement. "Y/n is beautiful."

Feyre moved to Amara's side, sitting next to her and smiling as her niece started asking questions.

She didn't realize it until now, but this was the missing piece. The part of the puzzle that had sat empty despite every thing around it being done. You and your girls were that lost center.

Now she just had to convince Azriel to keep bringing you around.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

[justporo]

Headcanons about living with Astarion

I thought about some of this lately and since yesterday's warmup got out of hand... (Behold him lounging:)

First things first, if you think living with Astarion will be neat and organised just because he himself always looks put well together: you are in for a surprise

This man - as much as he cares for aesthetics - tends to be messy

Especially since it's been forever that he could actually have and keep stuff, so expect books everywhere, cups left on surfaces, stuff laying around on the floor (and let's be honest, growing up as a noble before didn't teach him anything about being domestic...)

He'll learn though, especially when you reach a point where you could almost throw stuff at him (but he still struggles with it and him buying so many books surely doesn't help)

Astarion is basically cat: lounging everywhere - no surface is safe! Although a comfy sofa or chaiselongue are preferred spots!

Especially when you've sat somewhere and it's still nice and warm and smells of you; "Was that your seat, darling? Well, not anymore!"

But then he would pull you in with a chuckle and have you cuddle up on his lap and also refuse to let you go ("Love, I've only just gotten comfortable, you can't leave now!")

What he lacks in order he makes up with style - to a point it might make your blood boil: "Astarion, please, I couldn't care less if the red of the drapes matches the pillow cases!" "Yes, well, darling - don't take it personally - but I wouldn't have expected you to care anyway." Then he has to dodge several pillows being flung at his head)

Astarion leaves little notes for you to find, like for example if he's gone to run some errands or maybe just because - to tell you he loves you; at some point it kind of becomes a game of him hiding notes somewhere in the house and waiting how long you take to find them - scolding you if you take too long! ("My sweet, a trained donkey would have found it by now! Open your eyes, love, you can't possibly be that distracted by my beautiful face!")

Astarion learns about companionable silence with you - obviously he's very chatty and you love nights just wasted away with talking and joking - about everything and anything; but he also learns how pleasant it can be to just sit there, all cozied up with you and feeling the deep peace of easy silence with you

That or spending some quality time together: him spending time with reading or doing embroidery, you with drawing, also reading or anything else - as long as you're together

At least for a while Astarion really enjoys having a place where he can just... be; obviously this eager little vampire can't sit still forever but he revels in the knowledge of having a place he can always return to, somewhere to be safe and comfy, somewhere he can always be with you

Alright - at least that's how I could very well imagine living with Astarion might be, hihi. This man keeps living in my head - by now I'm sure he's changed my brain chemistry forever, for good...

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter nine - Poker face

Pairing: pre poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: When plans are interrupted you find yourself with some skulltulas. Thankfully you reunite with the chain, unfortunately the reunion dosen’t last as long as you want.

(Aka: Spooky meets the chain and Warriors wouldn't let me give him a gentle realization... also Sky is have a Bad time at the end (off screen but you'll see why)

Warnings: Spiders, cursing, Canon typical violence, minor injury, water

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous Masterlist Next

-------

Dark sits in the shadows with his darling lamb, watching excitedly as Onyx's plan takes effect. He watches wave after wave of increasingly difficult monsters swarm the damnable heroes.

"What do you think, my dearest viper?" Onyx asks as they lean their head onto his shoulder.

Dark gives a vicious grin that's far more like a shark than a hylian. "Your cruelty is unmatched."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Onyx purrs in a voice like honey covered blades.

Dark chuckles, pressing a kiss to their forehead.

There's the sound of a scream from a monster and a few curses.

"Perhaps a few more lynels?" Onyx muses to themselves.

"Why not draw it out?" Dark suggests.

"Oh, I am."

There's a ripple of light magic that reeks of Hylia. A shift in the world as a portal opens.

Dark growls lowly, "I sent them away!"

Onyx frowns, looking up at him. "What?"

"The Golden Bitch herself sent (Y/n) here."

"No," Onyx hisses.

"Would I lie to you?"

Onyx mutters darkly and pulls on their magic to call off the other waves. Of course Hylia is able ruin everything. She's very good at it.

Dark is quick to pull at his own magic to try to get the more dangerous monsters away for the moment.

There's urgency neither wants to examine. They don't have time for it anyway.

Stupid Hylia, always ruining their fun.

"Demise curse it," Onyx sneers.

There's an urgency to it that neither wants to examine. It's not any personalized attachment it's just buissness.

The monsters that were practically queuing up are sent to other times without a thought.

"I really hate geozards," Wind groans from his fight.

Onyx snickers, "Good."

Dark sighs, "If only this wasn't interrupted."

"Come on, we should get out of here before they finish these off," Onyx sighs.

They both stand, and Dark snags his darling lamb's hand with a grin.

Onyx lets him drag them away, running after him as they keep their fingers lacing together. They aren't looking to be separated again.

"You got those skulltulas, right?" Onyx asks.

"Maybe!" Dark calls as he sinks them through the shadows and into a place far enough away to not see the heroes.

He's had enough of their faces.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Onyx says, mostly to assure themselves.

-------

You don't sleep well the night after you go through the portal alone. Spooky is a reassurance, but making camp by yourself in a strange place is... not your favorite.

Morning comes to chase away the dreams of a past you aren't ready to fully delve into yet. Phantom touches almost linger, but they are easy to brush aside.

Knowing for sure that you are the Hero's Soulmate is strange. Soulmates are such a strange concept, at least to you.

How can you be that lucky? To have a perfect match every lifetime?

Knowing you've lived multiple lives in this world is even stranger.

It explains a lot, though.

Is the fact that you're both Link's soulmate and someone who's lived a dozen or more lives in Hyrule account for you being so heavily drawn to the Legend of Zelda?

Does it make your fascination forgivable?

You can't say.

You aren't sure it matters...

But now that you accept the truth, you are remembering more and more. To the point you are ready to go shake your past lives because who is that far gone on some man? (You are, apparently.)

Breakfast isn't anything fancy, just a little bit of the rations you got from older Wind. It's enough to keep you going though, and that is always a plus.

("Breakfast is important, Sunshine!" An older teen with sandy hair defends as he presses your favorite meal into your hands because he knows you've been so busy you are forgetting to eat sometimes.)

After you eat, you start walking again, following Spooky.

Spooky seems to have a destination in mind, moving around confidently.

Every once in a while, they pounce on a leaf or make a low chitter sound at a bird they can't reach.

It's adorable in the 'kitty!' sense.

(Who knew ambush predators could be so sweet? Oh, that's right, every cat person ever.)

Walking alone where you have no idea where you are and the knowledge monsters could be anywhere is awful. You think you prefer the tension that the boys have going on. At least they also provide security and extra swords.

There's a deep empathy for each of your ... the ... your boys. (They are your boys, though, aren't they?)

Each of them have been alone like this, especially Wild, Sky, and Hyrule.

Spooky rubs against you as if sensing that you need to come out of your mind to focus on your surroundings.

It's probably a mile or two in that you hear hissing and clicking.

Oh shit.

That can't be a skulltula... right?

You turn to the right and catch sight of a good five skulltulas. Two in the trees and one on the ground.

Great.

You know what's worse than one giant evil spider?

Five.

Five giant evil spiders are worse.

These are so much more terrifying in person.

"Well... fuck," You groan.

Is running an option?

You hesitate too long.

The spiders are already almost to you.

Fuck.

("Skulltulas are the worst," an older teen bemoans to you as you comb your fingers through his hair. "Getting them off walls is still in my nightmares.")

How are you even supposed to flip these things to get to their weak spot?

You step back a little to create some more space and grab your sword.

Spooky growls low and long, tail swishing as they stand at your side.

The fight is a blur. Half instinct and half clumsy inexperience leads to what is probably a weird show.

Dodge.

Kick.

Strike.

Deflect.

Pain laces through your leg at a branch ripping into the skin.

Blood.

Spooky flips a skulltula with a growl.

You plunge your sword into the beasts weak spot.

It dissapears in a shrieking hiss and puff of dark magic.

"Good kitty!" You call.

The fight goes on like this.

You keep the attention, dodging and sometimes stumbling, while Spooky waits to ambush and flip them over.

You finish off the last skulltula with a victorious cry.

As soon as you finish the last spider off, you look to Spooky.

"Good kitty!" You declare again.

Spooky sits down and starts panther bath time.

Which is probably a good plan.

You put your sword and shield back where they go before taking stock of your own injuries.

There's the cut on your shin, shallow but painful and bleeding.

There's quite a few bruises.

Wincing, you press your fingers to a sore spot on your bicep. The bruise there isn't any fun but you'll live.

You could use potion from Legend, but you don't want to waste it on something like this. There's something in your mind that says you need to save it for something worse.

("If we're ever separated and you're low on supplies, you should try to conserve potions and faries, firefly," a man says gently as he wraps you in his arms. "I hate to say it, but still...")

These half memories are driving you up a wall, and they don't even have a license to drive. It feels like there should be commercials for a class action lawsuit.

You sigh, reaching into your pack for your water and some bandages.

You'll have to clean it better later, but for now, clean water to rinse and sterile bandages is better than leaving it open to the elements.

You rinse the cut and wrap bandages around it. You tie off the bandages before putting everything else away.

By the time you're ready to move more, Spooky is sniffing the air. They sniff the air the way that cats do when they smell something they want.

Oh?

Spooky starts walking into the trees before they stop and look back to you.

Well, who are you to ignore them?

You follow them into the trees.

Spooky leads you through the forest with insistent looks and lashing tail. They seem antsy about moving to wherever they are leading you, and after the ambush of skulltulas, you are eager to follow.

Stupid spiders.

"Where are you bringing me?" You ask as you duck under a branch.

Spooky stops, tossing you a look as their tail lashes a little faster.

"Oh, come on, Spooky, I'm exhausted. I hate those stupid spiders."

Spooky lets out a crooning sound and levels you a look.

You laugh, reaching the panther and scratching behind Spooky's ear. "Thank you for saving me, pumpkin."

Spooky rubs up into your palm before they stand and start walking again.

They walk a little slower this time, leading you until you are just before a clearing and you can hear voices.

Oh...

Did Spooky just bring you back to the boys?

Bad kitty!

(You don't mean that Spooky is an angel.)

Well, if this is how things are going to be... at least you won't be the only one with a sword now.

(And if you are honest... it's sort of a nice idea to stay with your boys and get to know them again.)

Spooky sits in the treeline, waiting for you.

You huff, breaking through the trees, "Really? This is what you wanted me to see?"

The entire chain has stopped what they're doing to look over.

Several go still.

At least six pairs of eyes go wide.

Wind gasps, calling your name excitedly.

You wave, "Hey, sailor."

Epona neighs happily before trotting away from where Twilight is brushing her and over to you.

Spooky sits just behind the treeline, watching.

You gasp, hugging Epona happily when she reaches you. "Sweetheart!"

Epona huffs affectionately, bumping her muzzle along your shoulder.

You happily fish out an apple to pass to the mare. You hear the youngest snicker at the sight.

"What are you doing here?" Wind asks as he joins you and Epona. "What happened to your leg?"

"Spooky lead me here after some skulltulas got the drop on us." You wave off, stepping to the side but still petting Epona.

You don't want to come off as weak or childish... and really... there are worse monsters.

("Don't downplay your feelings just because others might have it worse. Your experiences matter, my love," a man with a green headband and mossy eyes says as he presses a kiss to your cheek.)

"Skulltulas?" Legend asks tightly. "Are you okay?"

"Spooky?" Wind asks.

"Yes, I'm fine - oh!" You glance around realizing that Spooky hasn't come out. Well, now, that is just rude. You call out, "Spooky, here kitty kitty kitty!"

"A cat?" Twilight perks up.

Wild and Hyrule also seem curious.

Spooky stalks out and runs themselves to you on the side opposite of Epona before going to sniff Wind.

"That is not a cat!" Legend tenses immediately, eyes wide.

"Get that - thing 'way from Epona!" Twilight hisses, rushing towards his horse.

"Wind get back here." Warriors says sharply.

Wind laughs, letting Spooky sniff him. The boy seems fairly unbothered and almost seems to feel a rush of delight.

Twilight grabs Epona's reigns and tries to tug the mare away only to be met with an unwilling to move horse.

"Hey now, Spooky is a good kitty." You say, reaching out to pet the panther.

"That's not a cat!" Twilight manages.

Several others make sounds of agreement.

Time looks like he's silently praying.

Sky looks ready to laugh or cry.

Four is not looking at you, fists clenching so tightly his knuckles are white.

Legend still hasn't let his muscles relax.

Spooky rubs along Wind happily before circling around to sniff Epona.

Twilight gets between Spooky and Epona, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Hey! You hurt my cat, and I have to break your legs." You say sharply, genral animal love over riding any dislike for conflict you may have.

"If yer- pet hurts Epona-" Twilight grits out.

"Spooky won't."

"That thing -"

Spooky slips by Twilight and weaves between Epona's legs, purring as they rub up on the mare.

"What in blazes?" Twilight gapes.

"Good kitty!" You clap.

Spooky weaves around to you again, sitting at your side. Their tail lashes as if daring the chain to comment further.

"Where'd you find Spooky?" Wind asks with bright eyes.

"Spooky found me, walked right up to me in town while I was sitting outside. They like napping on me."

"D'ya have some sorta magic over animals?" Twilight wonders

"No?"

"Let me get this straight," Sky says slowly, his voice tight as he walks over. "Some stray panther came up to you in the middle of a town, and you- let it nap on you now?"

The wood carver looks like you could push him over by blowing on him.

"Yes. You can't move a sleeping cat," you say as if this is obvious.

Really thought that's just one of the rules of being a cat lover.

"That is a panther!" Legend calls with a straining voice.

"Big cat." You shrug.

"Predator!" Warriors groans.

"Hylia, help us," Four manages weakly.

You wave them off. "Spooky is a good kitty. They helped me kill giant evil spiders."

Spooky preens as if they understand that they're being praised.

"You're my hero." Wind informs you breathlessly.

"What? Why?"

"I want a pet panther."

"I think I'm Spooky's pet." You laugh.

Spooky just starts purring.

Wind laughs, too.

"Wind no one is getting you a panther," Warriors grits out lowly.

Wild is creeping over now, staring at Spooky with bright eyes.

Ah, yes, champion of the wilds... of course, he wants to meet the big cat.

He's always so good with animals.

("That is a bear - why are you trying to register a bear at my stable?" A man demands as someone with a bow on their back grins down at him.)

Spooky looks to Wild and yawns.

"We are not keeping a panther," Time says as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

You frown immediately, "Why not? Spooky's a good kitty."

"We don't keep wild animals as pets," Time sighs.

"He's right," Twilight agrees immediately.

Warriors crosses his arms, "Panthers are dangerous."

"You guys keep Wolfie," You protest on instinct despite knowing the wolf in question is really just Twilight.

It's maybe a little underhanded, but you really want to keep Spooky!

Also, it's probably easier for everyone if you aren't separated since Spooky dosen’t like that.

Stretching the truth still feels a little weird...

You've committed, though.

"That's different," Twilight defends quickly.

To be fair to him, it is different.

"Spooky is friendly! They kill monsters, they hunt their own food, they're a good gaurd cat," You reason.

Warriors just stares at you with the most deadpan look to date. "That is a wild animal."

"Preadators are horrible pets," Legend grits out.

"Still think I might be Spooky's pet," you shrug.

Hyrule bites his lip before he mutters something to himself. Looking somewhere between amusement and disappointment.

"Not better," Four manages finally.

Wind rolls his eyes, "Spooky seems fun!"

"We can't just keep a panther," Four says as he stares at the panther in question.

"Counter point," Hyrule pipes up, "How are you going to get rid of a panther that's adopted someone?"

The others all fall silent, trying to take this question in. It's a good question.

How do you separate a panther from their person?

Wild manages to kneel by Spooky and begins petting them. A soft, wondrous smile spreads on his face.

You smile softly, "See? Spooky's sweet! Isn't that right, pumpkin?"

Spooky gives a low rumble.

"Farore on a stick," Legend groans, earning himself several dirty looks.

"Spooky's a good kitty. They helped me kill skulltulas! And you saw that they like Epona!" You coax, repeating several earlier points.

Spooky is purring now, happy to lean into Wild's hands.

Twilight just stares at you with a face that a mix between resignment, fondness, grief, and exhaustion.

"If this goes poorly we get rid of Spooky," Time sighs.

Sky, Legend, and Four look distinctly sea sick.

Warriors looks like he might scream.

"Yes!" Wind beams.

You smile at the kid, trying to ignore the fact that you know his future. That's a weird thought.

At least you know he lives through this.

"Yer sure Spooky is friendly?" Twilight asks, something weighty in the words.

"To us? Absolutely!" You say firmly.

Twilight frowns but he steps closer.

He steps close enough to hold a hand out to Spooky.

Oh!

Oh yeah!

Twilight is a cat person.

("The barn cat had kittens today 'n they're cuter than a bug in a rug, darlin'!" A man grins at you as he takes your hand, alreadytuggingyou towards the barn.)

Spooky sniffs the hand and then nudges it with their nose.

Twilight steps closer again and starts petting their face gin slow and cautious movement.

A smile starts to creep up on his face. Something deep in your soul soothes at the image. He has a nice smile.

(You miss it.)

You glance around the others while Twilight, Wild, and Wind love on Spooky.

Warriors and Time stand together now, discussing something in tight tones.

Legend and Hyrule sit together and keep eyeing Spooky. Hyrule seems curious, but Legend looks ready to run.

Sky and Four are also eying Spooky, but Sky seems curious in addition to weary.

You frown.

Legend looks ready to absolutely bolt, and Four doesn't look much better.

Oh.

Right.

Minish and rabbits are technically prey.

Fairies are hit or miss...

Four won't look at you.

It makes your heart writhe and flail miserably, but it's obvious enough. Four doesn't want anything to do with you just now.

It hurts to know he dosen’t want to speak with you, but that's his right.

You move away from Spooky and the three males who are loving the panther up and start towards Legend and Hyrule.

Legend looks to you with wide eyes when you stop before him and Hyrule.

"Are you two okay?" You ask.

"Uh- fine!" Hyrule says way too fast.

"Just... not a fan of wild animals..." Legend manages faintly.

You smile softly, fondness you aren't ready to examine the origin of seeping into your being. "It's going to be okay. Spooky won't attack, and if for whatever reason they do, I'll stop them."

Legend swallows hard, "Don't do that. It's fine..."

"Hey, it's going to be okay, I pro-" You start only for Hyrule to interrupt.

"No promises!" Hyrule yelps as he grips his tunic in both hands tightly.

"Okay?" You manage, more confusion than anything.

Oh.

Promises.

Like in the dream.

("Honeybee, you have to be very, very careful when you interact with the Fae," an older teen says as he holds your hand in both of his. "You can't make Promises with a fairie. That's so dangerous... even if it's me.")

"Just... I don't like Promises." Hyrule says softer, looking away.

"Okay, that's okay. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry. It will be okay, though. Spooks is a sweetheart."

"I- Jesus jumped up christ," Legend laughs shakily, "Who gets adopted by a panther?"

You shrug a little, "Me, apparently. Maybe I'll befriend a rabbit next."

The rabbit comment is a spur of the moment joke out of your mouth before you register it.

Legend's ears dust pink at the tips, his eyes are wider yet. He almost squeaks when he asks, "Rabbit?"

"You never know," you say.

Legend just nods dumbly.

"Is your leg okay?" Hyrule asks, bringing the injury up again.

"There's a dull ache, but I'm fine it's not too bad."

Legend looks you over, hand twitching as if he wants to touch you and is holding himself back.

Apparently accepting that you're their soulmate allows your memories and intuition to start surfacing more.

It's... strange and sort of nice to know the chain so much better... but you already know them, even before.

This makes your head hurt.

"I could heal it?" Hyrule's offers.

You shake your head, "No thanks. Save your magic, I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" Hyrule frowns.

"I'm sure," you say.

Your words don't seem to reassure either man much, but they seem to drop it.

"Well, it's good the skulltulas didn't win," Legend manages faintly.

Hyrule elbows his predecessor sharply.

You snort. "I'm glad about it too."

Legend gives a weak smile.

"You should go get Spooky before Twilight tries to pick them up," Hyrule says with a soft laugh as he points to the scene behind you.

That's probably a good idea.

You offer your most reassuring smile, "Spooks will love you, trust me."

You turn to go save Twilight's spine from his apparent need to lift a panther.

"We should keep moving soon," Time calls out.

-------

Warriors watches you, Wind, and Legend. The captain notes how Sky is in front of you walking with Four. nearby but far enough away for you not to pull him into the conversation.

You're snickering as Wind flits about you and Spooky.

Warriors still can't believe you have a panther.

His Dove would never bring a panther to the group.

Wait.

Fuck.

His Dove would absolutely do that.

He gives a slow, heavy sigh that does nothing to diminish the aching fondness.

Warriors shouldn't think you bringing home a random panther is adorable. He really, really shouldn't.

He does anyway.

He finds himself tuning into your conversation.

"Keep your panther on the other side of you," Legend groans when Spooky tries to sniff him again.

You snort, gently pushing Spooky away. "Be nice, pumpkin."

Legend just sighs, "I can't believe you're calling that predator something so sweet."

"What can I say? It fits," You laugh, scratching Spooky's face.

Wind glares at Legend. "Are you giving them shit about the best cat ever?"

Warriors agrees with the groan Legend gives.

"Wind," you sigh.

"All I'm saying is that hearing a predator get called 'pumpkin' is strange," Legend says easily.

"That's ridiculous," Wind scoffs.

"Okay, well, Ledge has a point," you shrug.

"Ledge?" Wind snickers.

Legend just sighs heavily, with far more token exhaustion than anything. "Just shut up, sailor."

"What, you don't mind being called Ledge?" Wind grins.

"I won't call you that if you don't want me to?" You offer.

Warriors can barely stand this conversation, and he isn't even in it.

"It's fine," Legend says with only a little panic. You know the normal amount of panic.

"You sure?"

"It's fine," Legend waves off.

"Oh, that bridge dosen’t look steady," Hyrule says from ahead.

That last bit feel ominous...

The group gathers around Time a few feet from the bridge.

"Maybe one at a time?" Warriors suggests.

There's a few rounds of agreement, and then there's the debate of who goes first.

Wild and Time go first.

Then Hyrule and Sky

Then Wind and Twilight go.

Four goes after that with Legend.

Your turn comes, and you cross it, with Warriors, making it halfway before the bridge breaks, and you both fall.

There's a heart-stopping stillness and cracking sounds.

Warriors manages to make panicking eye contact with Time as the old man grabs Legend and Sky to stop them from running at you two.

The bridge gives out, and all Warriors can hear is screaming and air.

There's screaming of both of your names and Warriors has just enough sense to reach out and grab your wrist.

His hand closes around your wrist just before you both plunge into the river.

All sense of direction is lost in the current.

Water rushes around him, pressure changing.

He tightens his grip on your wrist.

Light is visible.

Warriors feels you try to get to the light, so he kicks his feet to try and help, still holding your wrist.

There's pressure and then -

Warriors breaks the surface in time to see you.

You give shuttering, wheezing coughs.

He hopes this is the worst of your problems.

-------

Next

Taglist: @danyzta @vrsin @silver-the-pendejo @tulip-does-stuff @justanotherweeb666 @yourlocaltreesimp @blueberrysungie @victoryssong23 @shu-leepy @sleepifonlyigoti @sour-patch-delight @phlying-squirrel @pumpkincitrus @krys0210 @theregoeskittykat @fuckingfaraway @doodle-with-rhy @luxreader

[sugar-gumdrop]

Kenma Kozume x Reader

Kenma chuckled under his breath when he heard the familiar sound of someone ramming against his locked bedroom door.

“Open up, it’s me!” Your voice, muffled by the layer of wood between you two, called out to him in agitation.

He took his time getting up, gradually sliding his chair away from the desk before spinning around.

“Hold on, I’m coming.” Your persistent knocks didn’t deter him from a leisurely pace. By the time he had crossed the room, you had grown silent on the other side.

Knowing better, the boy quickly scurried away from the door after unlocking it, expecting you to come flying in as you always do.

But nothing happened.

“You still out there?” he questioned, wary you may be plotting something.

“Yes, I am!” you huffed. “But my arms are full, so can you open it, please?”

He approached the danger zone once more, accepting the possibility of getting the door slammed into his face when it opened. For good measure, he only nudged it open a crack to peer out.

Standing in the hallway was you, a large box in your hands.

“Here,” you declared, shoving forward the box as he opened the door further, letting you in. “I came bearing gifts.”

“What’s the occasion?” he asked nonchalantly, though he was internally scouring his memories for anniversary dates, birthdays, or any potential reminders that escaped his attention.

“Nothing in particular, just ‘cause.” You moved past him, dropping the mystery gift on his bed. “Now hurry up and open it! I can’t stay long; in fact, I was initially heading over to the convenience store to grab some stuff for our get-together later before deciding to stop here.”

Even if you were only popping by for a couple of minutes, it still warmed Kenma’s heart that you thought of him.

That you cared enough as his partner to make little moments like this count.

Curling back the cardboard flaps, the butterflies swarming in his stomach vanished. Confusion settled in for only a mere moment before dread consumed his every thought.

“Now I know for a fact you can’t say you don’t like it because everything is in your size and style!” Perhaps because you were in a rush or expectant of gratitude, you fell short of detecting his shaking fingers as he held up the first thing in the box.

His scarf. The same one he lent you a while ago when you had swore up and down you weren’t cold, yet didn’t complain when he wrapped it around you. Even nuzzled your face into its warmth.

“It’s all my clothes…” Kenma glanced your way and was petrified to find out you weren’t even looking in his direction; rather, your body was turned towards the exit.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t keep hoarding them forever,” you murmured, trying to stay upbeat but failing.

You were never this quiet.

Rummaging through the box as if desperate to find some answer to his distress, he pulled out countless hoodies, shirts, and even that pair of sweatpants he lent you to sleep in when you stayed the night.

It was the story of your relationship, all wrapped up tightly in a container that now seemed way too small to Kenma, even though he couldn’t carry it with one hand.

You coughed from behind him, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Anywho, I need to get going. See you later, yeah?!”

You waved goodbye instead of hugging him like you would usually do.

This time, Kenma was the one to reach out first, but you were too far away and already halfway out the door.

“W-wait!”

You paused, swinging your body back to face him as you hung on the doorframe. “What is it?”

“Are you…” He didn’t want to say it. God forbid his assumptions were true. But it was better to spit it out now instead of ruminating on the unknown. “Are you breaking up with me?”

You didn’t say anything.

Instead, you reacted with action, rushing forward to engulf him in an embrace. When you pulled away, you smiled timidly while pushing back his dual-toned hair away from his face.

“Of course not! Why would you think that?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Unless you want to break up with me? If so, I think you should talk to me first-“

You gasped as he buried his head into your shoulder.

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt. “You were the one who started it first, returning all my clothes without warning.”

“Oh, well that’s because…” You trailed off. When Kenma retreated from his comfortable position buried in your shoulder, he found you now gazing at the ceiling. “Don’t make me say it out loud!”

“Say what?”

Now he noticed your fidgety actions and flushed cheeks. You were probably like this the whole time but he failed to notice as he experienced his own turmoil.

“They don’t smell like you anymore, so what’s the point in keeping them when I could give them back to get refreshed?”

Kenma didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity.

You were the one who had to break the silence.

“Forget I said anything. It’s so embarrassing to say out loud-“

Abruptly, you gasped as your vision turned black.

“Just say what’s on your mind next time,” your boyfriend stated. He watched as you fumbled to get the jacket off your head he just threw at you. The same one he had been wearing all morning as he lounged around gaming. “After you put that on we can head to the store together.”

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[aethon-recs]

Honestly dont expect this to get a reply at all but I absolutely love your work and as a avid harrymort reader I was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics that you would classify as gut wrenching or have made you cry. Your list?recommendations? Are honestly my go to whenever I need a new fic and I wanted to thank you. I would have never have read Liquida Tenebris, Anabiosis, or Phobia without you and that’s just a crime. I look forward to your master list and hope the reading gods bless you by not discontinuing an ongoing fic of your’s.

Thank you so much, this note means so much to me 🤍 I'm so glad to hear that you found some beloved fics from these lists, tagging @dymis (Liquida Tenebris) @itsevanffs (Anabiosis) @katsitting (Phobia) so that they can see your kind words too.

In terms of your ask, yes of course, please see below for a list of angsty tearjerkers or fics that fucked me up. Hopefully there are a few on here that you haven't had the chance to read yet!

*

Tomarrymort Angst Recs

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 (T, 192k, complete)

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic (E, 260k, complete)

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

Haunted and Hunted by @obsidianpen (E, 497k, complete)

After the incident at the Department of Mysteries, Lord Voldemort discovers that Harry Potter is his human horcrux. The course of the Second Wizarding War is forever altered.

Heartbeat by @phantomato (E, 24k, complete)

Harry, dumped into the past, communes with dangerous men.

Heartbeats by @cyandenial (T, 10k, complete)

Harry Potter, a medical student, volunteered to help in St Mungo's hospital for the summer, to gain extra credits and some practical experience. He was assigned to look over one old man, a task no one wanted, because Tom Riddle wasn’t making it easy for anyone. His horrible attitude brought about every nurse to tears, and Harry was determined not be among those who cried. To everyone's surprise, he managed somehow… Until he didn't.

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 28k, complete)

When Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for eighth year, he meets a new classmate: Tom Riddle. For better or for worse, he's the only one who does.

seven by lilacscented (T, 7k, complete)

Harry meets Tom Riddle on the first day of school. He has just turned seven. “So you’re like me,” he says, a statement, not a question. “Meet me in the woods later this afternoon.”

Til Death Do Us Part by @duplicitywrites (M, 117k, complete)

When Harry becomes the Dark Lord’s prisoner, his only solace is in the fact that his eventual death will set Wizarding Britain free.

The Orphaned King by @silenceinwinter2019 (E, 134k, complete)

In an AU where Voldemort wins, Harry starts his seventh year. They had a new defense professor, who moved with precision and power and spoke as if he was used to people hanging onto his every word. He called himself Marvolo Gaunt.

We Still Have Time by @duplicitywrites (T, 9k, complete)

On Samhain, the veil between the physical and spiritual world weakens enough for the living to speak with the dead for a brief period of time. Tom and Harry are graced with twenty-four hours together before one of them must return to the other side, only— Which one of them is it?

*

[jinwoosungs]

10/07/24; 05:40pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you watch them fall in love with someone else ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes and warnings: unedited; non!mc reader; unrequited love; angst, no comfort. do not ask for a part 2. mc names for each story ( lorelai, ashley, teresa, melody )

thank you @/nyashykyunnie for providing the banners for this story ♡

{ she's got you mesmerized, while i die | why would you ever kiss me? | i'm not even half as pretty | you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester | but you like her better... i wish i was heather. }

to sylus, you were simply someone he hired to help with making his life easier. his relationship with you was nothing short of a mere business deal, with your mere existence seeming to be a means to an end.

yet foolishly enough, you had fallen for this cocky bastard, knowing you would do anything to please him-

anything to make him happy.

you couldn't count the instances where you sacrificed your own dignity for the sake of furthering his agenda alone. from sleeping with his enemies to obtain their secrets, to risking your life backing him up in various situations that more often than not, ended up in a gunfight-

you truly didn't understand why you would put your body and heart through such torture, simply to receive a mere nod of approval in response. it was during times like these, when you're so busy nursing your wounds, that you wondered why your traitorous heart beat so strongly for him, despite knowing how he didn't reciprocate your feelings.

in order to feel better about this whole situation, you managed to convince yourself that sylus was a busy man. that he didn't have time to feel such trivial emotions like love; that he treated you well enough, and as long as you could forever remain by his side, then you had no complaints.

you were a fool, purposely living in this tiny sandbox, convincing yourself that you could survive on mere scraps alone when it came to sylus.

yet that all changed when a certain hunter crash landed into his life, changing not only the course of his life-

but yours as well.

you had simply tagged along, being sylus's all too willing shadow when the young woman foolishly stepped into the n109 zone with an agenda of her own. as sylus takes her back to the warehouse, you could detect the fear and anxiety in her voice even when she willingly went against sylus.

and it was with those eyes, so filled with conviction, that you could see the way the walls around sylus's heart was beginning to crumble. he makes a few snide remarks to the woman, yet you could hear the amusement in his voice when he steps closer to her, pressing his hand over hers that felt much too sensual for your eyes.

envy was felt choking you, and you had to turn away from the scene. ice was felt coursing through your very veins at the sight, and you bit down against your bottom lip with such intensity that you swore that you were close to drawing blood.

thoughts pertaining to your denial kept repeating itself in your mind, like a never-ending mantra, and you knew that deep down you were simply trying to lie to yourself.

sylus was simply using that hunter as well.

she was just as much of a tool to him like you were.

that woman is nothing special.

yet it all came crashing down one late evening, when you stepped into his room in hopes of seeking some sort of comfort from him. you were dressed in a thin nightgown, with your heart racing with anticipation within your chest. while admiring his sleeping face, you were filled with a longing for him, finding yourself praying that he would somehow return your feelings and take you in his arms all while admitting that he never wished to let you go.

when your hands reached out to him was when he began mumbling in his sleep, stating the syllables that made up a name that had your heart cease its beats almost immediately.

a name that wasn't your name-

"lorelai..."

you felt like you couldn't breathe, hearing his deep voice becoming so filled with yearning for that woman that it made you sick to your stomach. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and you quickly turned away from him all while biting down against your fist.

lorelailorelailorelailorelailorelai! it was always her!

the woman with the smooth, pale skin and alluring gaze; her doe eyes and perfect hair managing to captivate sylus within mere minutes of him meeting her. your heart was utterly destroyed along with your confidence and love for him.

after everything you had done for him, he still refused to give you his heart-

yet it was stolen so freely by that perfect woman... lorelai-

you didn't think you could forget the way sylus spoke her name, filled with such reverence that it made you feel dizzy with envy.

spending several days avoiding sylus, doing your best to cut him out of your life. you wanted to skip any confrontations, not wishing to even admit the truth about your feelings when it came to him-

but as always, you were foolish into thinking that sylus would ever give you an easy way out.

you had been taking your usual trek home, ready to enter your apartment complex when a flurry of black feathers begin marring your vision, making you stop dead in your tracks when the onychinus leader appears before you. his large hands grips at your wrists almost painfully, making you cry out.

but perhaps more so than the pain was the fact that he treated you roughly, clearly not caring about your own well-being whereas he treated lorelai like she was made of porcelain.

"where the hell have you been?" annoyance twists sylus's features, morphing it into an expression of absolute disdain for you. "i've spent weeks trying to get in contact with you, and it turns out you've had me blocked this entire time?"

anger surges through you, and you use that sole emotion to fuel you when you manage to shove sylus away from you. his eyes go wide, taking a few steps back while giving you an incredulous expression. strengthening your resolve, you meet his gaze and give him the iciest glare that you could manage.

"we need to stop this charade, sylus. i can't go on working for you, not when you make it so damn obvious that i was never the one for you."

a flash of emotion was seen within his crimson gaze before quickly disappearing. his jaw seems to tighten in response to the way he was now gritting his teeth, "what are you talking about?"

you sharply inhale, finally spilling your darkest secret to him, "i love you, but you don't give a damn about me- not like you do with her."

surprise flashes across his features, and he takes an unsteady step towards you, "you... what?"

shaking your head, you angrily wipe away your tears, "i love you, that's why i can't be with you anymore. everything i've done, i've done for you, to make you fucking happy- to make you acknowledge me."

with your head held high, you meet his gaze and tell him (all while managing to keep your voice even), "if you want me to come back to you, then you need to make a choice. knowing how i feel about you, how i've always felt about you, you need to choose-

if you want me to come back, it's me. but if you choose her, then i'll be forever gone from your life."

sylus looks away from you, remaining silent for just a few seconds before his body began to shake, his laughter seeming to pierce through your heart, "you have no idea how long i have yearned for her... so to have lorelai so much closer to me than ever before, it's clear that i would accept any losses, including you."

the devastation you felt in that very moment was almost too much to bear, with you quickly running away from him. the tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, and every memory you shared with him continues to play within your mind.

your love-

the sacrifices you had made for him-

it had been all for naught.

when you were hired to work as one of the general surgeons as akso hospital, you felt as though you had hit the jackpot, landing a job at such a prestigious hospital in the heart of linkon. feeling happy at being able to further your career, you didn't think that anything could possibly distract you.

that is... until dr. zayne came into the picture.

you had heard about his achievements in the medical field, and you held a great deal of respect for him. becoming a cardiac surgeon of his caliber was no easy feat, and the fact that someone so young could accomplish it was commendable to you.

in fact, you were eager to start your work life with dr. zayne-

however, what you didn't expect was to fall so deeply in love with him at first sight. his bright eyes and the way his tiny smiles would constantly invade your mind was taking its toll on you. each time you would think about him, daydreaming of scenarios with your beloved doctor, your coworkers could see your lovestruck expression and take note of how your cheeks would suddenly go warm at the sight of zayne.

you were just so enamored with him that you gathered your courage and asked him out, first. after all, there was no penalties for developing a relationship between coworkers as long as both parties kept it professional while on the clock.

the memory of you confessing to zayne became a fond one. you had heard from yvonne that his favorite food were macaroons, and you figured that you had a better chance of winning his heart by gifting him his favorite food. so, with the box of colorful cookies in hand, you step into zayne's office and offered the gift to him all while confessing your feelings for him.

"zayne, i apologize if you find this... unprofessional, but i can't hide my feelings for you any longer. i... i truly like you so much, so please, will you give me a chance and go out with me?"

you watch as his eyes grow wider, an embarrassed expression taking over his expression as he hides his lips from you with the palm of his hand. he seems to be deep in thought, and after much deliberation, he accepts your confession and agrees to date you.

for the first couple of weeks, you were on cloud 9. zayne was nothing short of being the perfect boyfriend, taking you out on weekend dates at the end of your long shifts while giving you special trinkets here and there.

but there was one glaring issue-

zayne never once kissed you.

sure, he gave you gentle hugs here and there, yet each time you would lean up to try and kiss him, zayne would inevitably look away from you, saying that he was tired or how it wasn't the right moment to kiss.

despite how he never once complained or said a word to you, his lack of affection-

or rather, the lack of him reciprocating your affections, was taking its toll on you.

and you couldn't figure out the reasoning behind his distance until much later.

you had just come out of surgery, and as you stepped out into the lobby, you saw something that made you freeze, unable to move or say a single word.

standing a mere few feet away from you was zayne, and he was smiling at a petite woman. never before had you seen zayne appearing so soft before. the woman seemed to be chattering on about something to zayne, and your boyfriend did nothing but smile at everything she said-

as if he were hanging on to her every word.

feeling the pinpricks of jealousy beginning to surface, you march towards zayne and take a hold of his hand, doing your best to maintain a casual air as you cling to zayne and smile at the other woman. "zayne, i was looking everywhere for you!"

your laughter was strained as you eyed the woman, feeling the envious feelings begin to rise upon seeing how... perfect she looked. with kind eyes and full, rosy lips tilted up in a smile, she greets you. "hello, you must be zaynie's girlfriend! my name is ashley, and zayne's been my friend since we were little kids! he talks a lot about you, and i'm happy he's met someone so wonderful."

from your periphery, you could see the way zayne winces upon hearing ashley's words. it was clear that her calling zayne as simply her friend was enough to earn a wounded expression from him-

and that was the moment your epiphany came.

there was a reason why zayne never kissed you; why he never went beyond hugging you while taking you on simple dates-

it's because his heart had never been yours to begin with-

it belonged to her.

the blood had already rushed to your ears, blocking out whatever ashley had said before she excuses herself, leaving the hospital lobby. in your daze, you look down to see zayne clutching on to something tightly, realizing that ashley had made lunch for him.

feeling your throat go dry, you manage to tell him, "we need to talk."

zayne gives you a stiff nod, following you towards the upper floors and into his office with almost robotic movements. upon reaching the privacy of his office, you close the door, watching as zayne gingerly places the container filled with ashley's homemade lunch on his desk.

"who is she?"

zayne doesn't meet your gaze, simply staring out the window, answering your question softly, "it's like she said, she's a childhood friend."

"...a childhood friend that you love."

your heart was felt shattering all over again when zayne stiffens momentarily before visibly relaxing, as if feeling some type of relief-

like he didn't need to lie to himself or hide it anymore.

you thought hearing him confirm your suspicions would be the end of your heartache, but it was so much worse when he admits to you, "ashley is the reason why i worked so hard to become a cardiac surgeon. she... she has a heart defect, and i wish to save her life... to keep her alive and live a happy, fulfilling life."

his admission has left you reeling in response, the pain becoming so palatable that you could feel your heart begin shattering into a million pieces. "if you love her so much, why aren't you with her?" you ask him, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

zayne simply shakes his head in response, "she doesn't feel the same way for me... and truth be told... she deserves better than me. even though i've loved her through every timeline and universe, i-"

your heart couldn't take zayne's pain any longer, the hurt you once felt for him quickly becoming overshadowed by the unconditional love you still felt for him. taking him within your embrace, you feel the way he trembles against you, clinging to you as soft sobs were wracked through him.

and when he finally lifts up your chin, meeting your gaze while sayig your name with a broken gasp, he finally kisses you-

the taste of your first and last kiss with him was salty with his tears, yet you were too far gone to realize that this single kiss of desperation was made in response to his own lingering emotions for ashley-

never for you.

"there's a new girl that's going to be my partner at the association... and i'm in charge of looking out for her."

xavier tells you as you prepared dinner for the night. you frown at this information, but thought nothing of it. after all, he was skilled at his job as a hunter, often receiving praise for his strength when it came to dealing with the wanderers that roam the world.

"that's fine, i know what your work entails, xavier. you're a hunter, and if there's a newbie you need to train, then that's the end of it." you tell him with a hum, your back now facing him as you focused on cooking once more, missing the relieved expression on his face.

you serve dinner and ask him about his day, only to receive one word answers in response. this also seemed a bit strange for you, since xavier never really shied away when it came to telling you about his day and how he felt.

you had both been dating to close to a year now, with you growing closer after becoming friends. you realized that you both shared similar interests and just... naturally progressed your relationship into something a bit more romantic. at the 6 month mark of your newly developed relationship, you decided to move in together with him.

it was true that you dated and had a few other boyfriends before, yet none of them were quite as serious as your relationship with xavier. despite never once saying the l word to each other, deep down, you knew that you were falling for xavier. in fact, with the sheer amount of times you had gushed to your family and friends about how much you adored him, they were confident that you would get engaged the moment your one year anniversary hit.

with the date quickly approaching in just a few weeks, you began to paint your daydreams, thinking of different ways xavier would propose to you while giggling like a little girl. you had always dreamt of having the perfect proposal, and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of what was to come.

after serving dinner, you sit across from xavier, taking a few bites here and there all while sneaking glances at him. you couldn't stop grinning at him, which makes xavier raise his eyebrows at you in suspicion.

"what? do i have sauce on my face?"

you snort and quickly shake your head, reassuring him that you were simply caught up in your reveries. xavier doesn't bring up the subject any longer, simply returning to his meal.

later that night, as you both got ready for bed, you were dressed comfortably in your favorite pajamas all while anticipating xavier's return to you. after his usual shower, he comes out of the bathroom with a plush towel wrapped around his head. tossing the damp towel into the hamper, he gets into bed, with you expecting your boyfriend to face you while taking you in his arms.

but when he gets into bed with his back turned towards you, you had to fight back the strange pang felt within your chest. your mouth kept opening and closing, asking him if he was okay-

"sorry, i'm just a bit exhausted. let's just sleep..."

ignoring the way your throat seemed to clench in response, you give him a stiff nod, only to realize that he couldn't see you. "r-right... i understand, you're tired, that's all."

the tears were felt brimming against your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, falling into bed while clenching your eyes shut. you tried to ignore the lingering suspicions, distracting yourself by counting sheep until you could fall into a restless slumber all while trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be okay...

{ ... }

the weeks leading up to your first anniversary with xavier was strained, to say the least.

for starters, he seemed to be taking on more missions than usual, all while telling you that teresa was still new and needed someone with experience like him on these higher level missions.

at first, his reasonings didn't bother you or raise any alarm, and you simply allowed him to work with teresa because it was his job and that woman was his partner. you couldn't let your insecure thoughts put a damper on his job.

even when you saw him less and less-

your love never once wavered for him.

on the day of your one year anniversary, you decided to surprise him at work instead. surely, he would have completed his mission sometime during the late afternoon, and you were certain that he would appreciate your kindness.

with his favorite takeout in hand, you walk into the hunter association building, weaving your way through the area. it takes you a few minutes to locate him, but when you went down to the lower levels and could see his familiar, blond hair, you quicken your pace, his name already on the tip of your tongue when you freeze in your steps.

"i thought i had lost you!" xavier's voice was heard cracking as he wrapped his arms around another woman, seeming to crush her slender frame against his chest. your heart begins to ache at the sight, making your labored breathing feel even more painful as you struggled to remain calm and not hyperventilate.

but, it was clear that such a heartbreak would not break even when he opens his eyes and sees your trembling form staring blankly at him. even after seeing you, xavier does not move away from the woman, seeming to hold her even closer to him as he shakes his head at you.

while meeting your gaze, he mouths a few words, and you could read his lips while taking in those harsh syllables. you drop the bag of takeout, your choked sob echoing throughout the area as you ran out of the building.

your sobs coupled along with your gasps for air were making a scene, with some of the civilians looking at you with bewildered expressions. yet you stopped caring, allowing your mind to piece together what had always been in front of you ever since teresa had come into his life.

xavier distancing himself from you-

xavier suddenly filled with the desire to protect teresa, a woman he had just met-

the way he held her so tightly at the memory of nearly losing her-

a sudden cry of your name stops you from taking another step, your stupid heart suddenly filling with hope when you hear xavier's voice and his rapidly approaching footsteps.

you hear him stop a few feet away from you, his voice strained once he begins speaking once more. "i... i'm so sorry, i didn't want you to find out like this, but you have to know the truth."

it takes you a herculean effort to fight back your tears, but you knew you had to hold it together and allow xavier to finally explain himself. "i do care about you... but... fuck, the moment i saw her, everything else just melted away. all of my life, my entire existence, was simply waiting for her to come back to me. i've waited so long for her... and what i feel for her... it's like... like gravity isn't what's keeping me grounded, but she is."

you had no idea what kept you rooted on the spot, knowing that both your heart and mind were screaming at you to move away. but, you couldn't find the strength to do so. instead, you had to listen to his words once more, the same ones he had mouthed to you earlier-

"i'm sorry, but i love her..."

when the beautiful and charming rafayel confessed to you, you accepted his feelings and simply wished to date him just to have fun. despite his occupation as an artist, rafayel was so full of life- so full of light that you couldn't stop yourself from basking in his brilliance.

during the first few weeks of your relationship, your rafe was achingly sweet and cute, often giving you sketches he made of you when he drew your portraits on a whim. he liked calling you his muse before pressing audible kisses against your features, earning a series of joyous laughter from you. because of how much you adored rafayel, you often liked to spend the night at his place, where you would both order your favorite seafood and simply watch cheesy rom-coms together.

as time went on, you began to realize that you were falling hard for the young artist, with him being constantly on your mind even when you were at work. and just when you thought you couldn't love him anymore than you already did, he surprises you by gifting you a gorgeously crafted bracelet that had cute little seashells along with aquamarine gemstones.

altogether, your relationship was achingly perfect with rafayel, with you being certain that he would become your endgame. truly, there were times where you felt like your relationship with rafayel was too good to be true-

yet sadly, you would learn the harsh reality when it came to his feelings for you, realizing that the love rafayel had given you had been his own way of coping.

when it was nearing your 8 month mark of being together with him, rafayel suddenly became distant with you, often locking himself within his studio as he seemed to produce copious amounts of artworks. of course, when you tried to see his new paintings and sculptures, rafayel would hide them all away from you, covering them all with a thick sheet while distracting you with a date.

this behavior was strange, but you thought nothing of it. perhaps he was nervous about an upcoming art exhibit, and he didn't wish to reveal anything until the day of his exhibition came.

so, you went along with it, making up excuses each time rafayel would stiffen when you hugged him, or suddenly turned his head away from you each time you tried to kiss him.

but perhaps what hurt the most was the day you found out the reasoning behind his growing distance. rafayel told you he needed to take a break from making art and invited you over to enjoy the evening with him. you arrive an hour earlier (unable to contain your excitement at finally spending some time with him), and caught him with streaks of paint decorating his outfit.

he mentions how early you are, yet still allows you inside, telling you to make yourself at home while he takes a quick shower. as you rest against his kitchen counter, you hear the shower go off and smile. a few minutes pass, and you felt the palm of your hands begin to itch with a sudden sensation.

biting down at your bottom lip, you look towards the area where rafayel keeps all of his artwork. you were filled with curiosity, wondering what he was working on that made it such a touchy subject for rafe each time you asked about it.

you close your eyes, still hearing rafayel in the shower when you decided to push yourself away from the counter. "i'll just take a quick peek, then put the sheets back in place. he won't even notice."

stepping into his gallery room, you turn on all the lights, coming closer to the sheet as you gripped at the corner of it before pulling it away-

only to reveal a gorgeous carving that depicted a mermaid. she was by far the loveliest creature you had ever seen, with her soft features carved with a gentle smile as she held a pearl within her slender hands. from the amount of care rafayel had put into making her, it was clear that this sculpture was made with love.

there was just one problem-

the mermaid looked nothing like you.

your throat was felt painfully clenching at the sudden realization, but you brushed it off as mere paranoia. surely, there was some other art piece that held your likeness. as you trail your eyes towards a canvas now, you felt your heart sink even further.

it was the same woman; her features matches that of the mermaid sculpture, but this time, you could see the colors. her cheeks were painted in a rosy hue, with each paint stroke seeming to accentuate the soft beauty the woman displayed. around her neck was an aquamarine pendant in the shape of a banded tulip seashell. trailing your eyes further downwards towards the frame, you felt your heart clench upon seeing the title of his painting:

melody, my beloved queen

your mind was racing now, and the sheer intensity of the hurt and envy you felt renders you incapable of taking another step. you were so caught up in your reveries that you didn't even realize that rafayel had come out of the showers until he places the sheets over his works once more.

"you- you weren't supposed to see that."

slowly, you turn around to face him, and his guilty expression was more than enough proof, confirming your suspicions that the woman he kept painting and sculpting- this melody-

he loved her.

"why did you even approach me when your heart was never mine to begin with?"

you were proud at how even your voice came out, and when rafayel tried to stutter out some excuse, you immediately cut him off.

"no more bullshit lies, rafayel. tell me."

the artist lets out a string of curses, running a hand through his damp hair. unable to meet your gaze out of shame, he sighs before admitting, "it's because she doesn't remember me... even after meeting her, she only sees me as a friend. she... doesn't remember me."

your throat was burning now, and you could feel the tears streaming down your face, "then why waste your time with me?"

rafayel meets your gaze, a pained expression painting his features. yet his next words succeeds in absolutely devastating you:

"i used you as a means to try and forget her."

the agony you felt was indescribable, with you immediately turning away from rafayel. the sting of his betrayal was felt coursing through your very veins when you rushed out of his home and into the cold, night air.

you wanted to grip at your hair and scream at the top of your lungs-

you wanted to claw at the sidewalk, making sure that your nails bled with each scrape against the concrete-

but perhaps most of all, you wanted to rip your heart out for still loving rafayel despite it all-

even when you were no longer his muse.

[ all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!! ]