#a man who's always been but never been around : the almighty

[nemesyaaa]

losing my religion // dark!cult leader!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; god loves you but not enough to save you.

warnings : mentions of religions. manipulation. cult. smut. corruption kink. small town church trope. religious trauma. purity/innocence kink. slight of god complex. first time. dark/soft!rafe. mentions of murder. sweet lamb trope. coercion. smoking. little age gap. heaven goal. mentions of size kink. glorification. be careful with the warnings. minors DNI.

author's note : it's around 5k words. pfiouuuu. televangelism by ethel cain playing in the background please.

“ father, will i go to heaven ? ”

“ father, will i be this good all my life ? ”

“ father, where was god when i thought he was there ? ”

“ father, did god let me sin on purpose ? ”

you lived in a small remote village, the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and where there were no secrets. well, you thought there were no secrets because everyone here was a true and firm believer. all the locals lived for god. and you would do anything for him and for your ticket to heaven. you had been baptized as a baby and had grown up as a child of the lord, and his most faithful angel. you have acted so well since your childhood and were sure that your death will be a pleasant trip to paradise.

you went to church every day because you always had something to say to god, to ask him, to make him understand. you prayed to speak to him, for him to see you, for him to hear you, for him to know how grateful you were for the life he had given you. your parents had always recommended that you cherish your existence, but also everything that happened to you, the misfortunes as well as the pleasures. life was neither all rosy, nor all white, nor gray or black. you were the only person to give it color. so your religious sister told you that you just needed to know how to paint, but that sometimes you would fail, you would fail but that it didn't matter. because you will make a masterpiece again sooner or later.

you were a devoted child, a faithful lamb with no anger inside, but above all full of love. you gave it to everyone when god had taught you and commanded you to share it as much as possible, that it was this feeling that would bring peace on earth. and who did not want peace, who did not want to please his creator? you were a good girl, so sweet and innocent, the kind sweetheart of the town, incapable of harm or sin, always dressed in your white dress and your little black shoes. you wear everything that can please god. you walked through the church hallway to join the choir, holding the candles. the world had his eyes on you, but especially this tall man lodged in the dark corner.

this man was not god and you knew it, because god would never look at you that way.

you wouldn't know how to describe this gaze on you, but it made you uncomfortable. you continued to move forward, holding the flame preciously against you. you sang with your angelic voice, glory to the almighty, glory to the one who made your existence so beautiful, to bring your back to life every time you felt, and this guy was still staring at you like you were the only person that existed, like the world had taken away the entire universe except you.

maybe you were an angel. after all, you were among the Lord's faithful.

you had never dated a man in your life. your parents and god forbid you, because you needed to stay pure for the good one. you had to remain virgin and clean for your future husband. you were forbidden to look at them, touch them or talk to them except for church activities. you were so loved by god so you had no right to sin, no fucking right to betray him. you had to remain as intact as the mother of everyone, as virgin mary.

you were as holy as the bible, the treasure of the creator. you were devoted like a lamb to his owner, as the followers to the cult leader.

you had never experienced something like touching yourself, making yourself feel good, and anything that included carnal pleasures. you didn't know about pornography, sexuality and lust. you walked away from it as if it were the devil. you were unable to make your god mad, you were too scared for that.

you were faithful to the lord. you helped the people of the village, homeless, the destitute, poor children, the elderly, you helped the world become a better place even when it seemed to be turning against you.

at the end of the mass, everyone, the priest had sent you to collect the funds from the locals.

you were standing in front of the steps. people were always kind and smiling to you as you were collecting funds for the church.

and you had been waiting for this voice to come at you.

“do you really want to go to heaven ? ”

you turned to face the man from earlier, the one hidden in the benches. you answered him with the sweetest smile, and the most nervous look. "yes, i do everything to go there. am i not good enough ? "

“everything?” the stranger had laughed kindly, but it had offended you slightly with that soft giggle.

“ why are you laughing ? this is not funny. ”

“ slow down, baby. you're too pretty to get on your nerves. ” he had pulled out a cigarette.

“will you forget God for a second and be an angel to me ? ”

“ God is in my heart, is in me. i can't forget him, even for a second. he's the reason why i'm living. ”

“ be sweet, angel and light it for me. don't say no, your divine father is watching you, you don't want him to catch you refusing to help a stranger and be mad at you? ” you looked at him with strange open eyes but you accepted. because he was right.

you didn't know how to say no to people. God didn't teach you to say no. people needed to help the people.

you lit his cigarette, and during the whole process he looked at you, his glare scanned your face. you were staring at him, and saw your own silhouette in his eyes, your shadow dancing in the perfect blue of his pupils.

you felt the heat in your cheeks, the burn of his gaze on your skin. you were unwell. you didn't like this situation, the unsteady feeling, the stranger proximity.

when you met him, you felt like a sinner more than a believer.

but he smiled at you. the soft kind of smile that made you forget everything, that made you feel so dumb.

“would i go to heaven now?” you teased him with a small laugh to echo his words.

“not yet but i can help you if you want if you're serious about that.” he answered.

“ i'm serious. ” you were really curious, and he had your full attention. you knew it wasn't good to talk for that long with a man. especially, older. but you took the risk.

you should have stopped when he complimented you because your parents said that men who are nice to girls like you always have bad intentions. but there was also something so charming and bewitching about this man. the way he was adorable. you didn’t see the evil in him.

“i really want to go to heaven, i swear on my life, sir. ”

“ sir ? such a polite thing but i'm not that old, sweetheart. i'm tall, not too old. ”

“ anyways, i really want to go to heaven !! ”

“you already said it, doll. i think God is tired of hearing it now. he wants proof, you know. he needs to see how devoted you are to him. ”

“how can i prove it to him?”

"i know God. i talk to him every day. i am his ruler. do you know what that means? that i am the one who decides for him whether people go to heaven or not. i am his most loyal servant, so he trusts me.”

“are you really connected to God?”

"you are too. we all are but the difference is that i can take you to heaven. i promise you." he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently , a tender and unique gesture that made you shyly smile. “i’m not an angel. not yet.”

"yes, i assure you. i knew it as soon as i saw you in that church. join me." he announced with a warm voice.

“you have always been divine, i never doubted it. you have to go to heaven, you understand? you can't behave so well, be so charitable and disappoint God? and you wouldn't dare doing it, don't you, pretty lamb ? because do you think he will forgive you ? no, sweetheart. you will be punished and rejected like every sinners. ”

“ you're wrong ! God loves me ! ”

“you don't understand. you must be perfect until the end, you must be a great god masterpiece, not his biggest failure. you can't just be the chorus of this choir, be the beautiful thing who holds the candles at mass, the kind soul who helps others. you can't be just that when i can offer you even better and absolutely everything you want. any of your wishes. join me and i will make all your wishes come true, i will make you the new face of the paradise. i will make God see you everywhere. ”

"it seems so unreal...i don't know..."

he had cut you. he didn't want to give you time to think, leaving room for the barrier of doubt."you have to join me, isn't that what you wanted? for me to find you? if you believe in god, you have to be a good girl, make the right choices. "

“okay….” you finally agreed.

he waited for you in his car, one hand on the steering wheel. and you joined him inside. there was so much euphoria in you. you felt like you were doing something so right, so you had this goofy smile on your face.

"does God think i'm a good believer ? i pray every day, i attend mass every time, i sing in the choir and in my rooms all the songs dedicated to him. i only have the Bible as a book and i read it all the time. i can't do anything wrong. i'm good, i promise, i'm good. ”

"is that true? you'll have to show me so I can tell."

“I’m going to pray for you too.” you added. “I pray for all the souls in this world.”

“oh yes my angel will pray for me. i want to hear your prayers, all your prayers about me. but not in front of me. "

“ why ? ”

“ seeing you bent on your knees for me will make me sin. i wish you could see the kind of temptation you are. ”

you had arrived in front of a mansion. you were so flustered and nervous. you didn't understand what you were doing in front of this place, and why he had brought you here. he took your hand, reassuring you with his touch, and guided you inside.

you were not alone. there were other people, women and men. all dressed slightly the same, as if there was a regulation outfit. the atmosphere was strange, a little sectarian. there was an organ playing in the background, and everyone was looking at you kindly so you tried to relax.

"don't be afraid. they're like you, they just want to go to heaven. can you understand?"

you nodded and he showed you around all the places. he even showed you a room and said it would be yours. she was pretty, absolutely perfect but she wasn't yours. not that of your house.

"I'm not going home?..."

"what do you mean? this is your home now. we're a family."

"a family? i have parents, they will worry…”

"i thought you wanted to be close to God. were they lies? you know, you shouldn't joke with religion, and with words. if you want to be a good little christian, if you want to go to heaven, it is to me, and only to me, that you must be devoted.”

"I...I...no, i promise! I'm sincere! i'm sorry, really, I'm sorry. " you now felt terrible. there were so many tears in your eyes, you couldn't even see the room clearly.

the man smiled before taking you in his arms. "it's nothing, you just need to be clearer with your words, okay? I'm your only savior, you don't need others.”

he had wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I have a gift for you…” he whispered and you found your smile again.

no one ever gave you gifts. it was so rare. “open it” he told you.

it was a dress. not the one you usually wore. “you have to put it on. don't you want to shine, shooting star ? ”

" now ? "

"now." his voice was a little firmer.

“i can’t change in front of you…” you admitted. "you're a man...and I'm a girl...it's sinful, it's like having sex! we have to get married to have that intimacy. "

he smiled and laughed. "you've never been naked in front of someone? you've never left this body in front of someone else?"

he had approached, slipping up behind you, towering over you with his height, his hands resting on the corners of your trembling shoulders.

“my sweet thing, it’s as if you’re begging me to corrupt you.”

“what do you mean?”

“that i must see this body.”

" Is it bad?"

“What would be bad, angel, would be to upset me.”

he had pulled the tab of your dress to lower it a little. there were shivers in your body. you felt like you were doing something wrong.

"you're not doing anything wrong. this is what god wants you to do. he told me."

" It's true ? "

“ only the truth. just now. i wouldn't dare lying to you, my sweet. ”

there was nothing you could refuse god. If it were his will, you would do anything.

"but I've never done anything like that? I always thought it was wrong, that I didn't have the right."

he pulled your dress down to the floor, your naked body revealed in the mirror. you could feel his gaze growing more intense as he took in everything you had shown him. "is my body okay? I mean, this is the first time anyone has seen it so..."

"sweetheart, I've never seen anything so beautiful. but I don't just have to see it to judge it, I have to touch it. will you let me ? "

“Lust is a sin.”

“do you want to know my name?”

you had just now realized that you didn't even know his identity. you nodded your head.

“rafe.” he spelled it. “ you must know my name to pray for me, but also to glorify me.”

“glorify ?”

"you must glorify me. salute me and worship me. these are the rules if you want to go to heaven. you must be devoted, I told you.."

" fine…”

he sat on the bed, and you moved closer but he stopped you.

"no, no. all this sweetness but no useful brain ? ” he mocked. “ to worship me, you must be on your knees. ” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“ treat me as the same way you treat your god, angel. because this is what i am to you. i want to see your legs bow down for me, i want to see them treading the ground up to me. i want to see that precious look at the same height of my knees, let me see that head lifted up to glory me. "

he had lit a cigarette, the fourth since you had spoken, and had smiled when you started walking on your knees towards him.

he pressed his hand against the growing bulge in his pants.

“open your mouth.” he commanded and you obeyed, and he slipped his cigarette between your lips. “don’t smoke it, hold it only. don't go against my rules. can i trust this dumb baby brain for once to not disappoint me ? ”

he had taken off his pants, with his boxers. and you turned your head, strongly ashamed by his action.

he mocked gently. “in your place, i would not look away, that would avoid unpleasant surprises when this thing will be buried inside your virgin cunt, sweetheart. ”

he had retrieved his cigarette, and turned your head towards him.

"I can't believe you've never seen one. you've been such a good girl to me. you've been waiting for me. "

“will god hate me?”

“how can i show it to you?”

"it's not god you have to fear, it's me, sweetheart because I'm the only one who will decide for you from now on. do you understand? I have to be sure that you are deserving."

“give me your hand. let me guide you...do you trust me? ”

“ i trust you, rafe. ”

he had positioned your hand on his cock which was already hard. you shivered. your hand was clumsy around his painfully boner. yet you had heard him let out a grunt.

his fingers moved with yours, accompanying you in his lewd movements. you had god in your head, heart and body but your fingers fisted around that thick dick made you warm and good. you hated that feeling, but you can't deny the pleasure. it was the first time. you weren't used to it. you moved back and forth with little confidence, while he kept your grip around his bulge. you followed his back and forth, pumping him with fragility. you weren't sure if it felt good but his muscles had tightened.

your fist slid over his length, your hand working massively. your touch was divine, he threw his head back. you could feel his abs twitching in synch.

“open those legs. let me see that sweet untouched pussy. i'm gonna take such good care of it. are you still trusting me ? ”

“ yes…”

you didn't want to. it flowed between your thighs, the wetness spurted in a mess on the floor. and you weren't sure if that was a good thing. you couldn't tell if it was pleasure or not. it was new to you.

“trust me, you don’t want to make me repeat that a second time. do you ? ”

and that was enough for you to bend to his will.

"you feel, baby ? the sweet mess between your legs ? don't hide from me. ”

you continued to masturbate him up and down. you turned him on so much that he already wanted to come in your hand. his cock twitched in your hold and his balls slapped repeatedly against his skin.

"does that make you feel good? do I need to do better? do you want me to put my lips on..."

he had cum on your face. and you stepped back in surprise. “let me clean you up…”

you came back to him thinking he was going to wipe you but he caught his seed with his fingers, and brought them to your mouth. “if you don’t want me to put them down your throat, you better lick them now.”

you lapped up every last bit of cum on his fingers until they turned white again. you knew he was serious when he threatened you. "that wasn't really a warning, I'll do it someday. I really want to use every part of your body. and you'll let me. yes ?”

“whatever you want...”

he smiled and stroked your hair. “you learn quickly.”

you didn’t really know why but his recognition made you happy. she had an impact on you. you needed, and sought, his validation. it promised you to be even closer to god, to show god that you were faithful to him.

you had this urgency to please rafe, to show him that you could be really good.

for rafe, you were another girl that he led into his cult, another lamb in the troop. you were perfect, you always had the profile. he knew it as soon as he saw you.

he had come to the church only to see you. he attended every mass and ceremony hoping to corrupt you. you were so innocent, so kind and so sweet, and above all, you were ready for anything.

you prayed every day and read the Bible. so you had a desire, a goal, a faith.

he had placed you on his legs, his hands caging your waist, wrapping each part of your hips. “I’m going to make you an angel.” he had said, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet entrance.

“I’m going to go to heaven?”

"it's heaven that will beg for you to come to it, I can even say. but you still have to do one thing for me..."

“tell me. I’ll do anything.”

" good. i really want you to take that dick. show me how much you want to reach eden, i want to see god in you when i'm fucking you. i want to hear prayers in that mouth for how i make you feel, how perfect i am to you and that sweet cunt of yours.”

you rubbed your dripping pussy against his cock, feeling the feverish, leaking tip against your slick folds. you had gently entered him between your impenetrable walls until now, letting out a long and loud moan when you felt his dick getting even harder inside you. It took you several bounces on his thighs to get used to, your pussy stretching around him. you could feel every inch of his length filling your canal but also widening it.

his large hands covered your ass, gripping the gummy flesh of your cheeks, his body moving and following your movements. he had grabbed your face to force a kiss from your already open lips, sliding his tongue against yours. a drool dripped from your jaw, as your pelt slammed and bounced violently against his. your hands were around his neck, trying to keep up the pace.

seeing you struggling and jiggling, he laughed. “even if you had prayers, you couldn’t even say them, too fucking dumb for that shit, right now ? ”

and it was true, you weren't even able to say a word without gurgling. you had tears streaming down your face, your moans were locked against rafe's glossy and pretty mouth, and you were trying hard to take his big cock as best you could. his dick was stuck between your sticky walls, your breasts hitting her toned chest.

“keep going, you’re perfect…” his smile was evil because it motivated you.

you were riding him without even being able to think. you were a fragile little thing doing bad things with a bad guy.

but you wanted to please him. you wanted rafe cameron to think you were good and deserving. you wanted to go to heaven, so you did your best.

and he knew it. you had broken your purity for him.

you were convinced to do something right, convinced that god saw you and that he would be proud to see you so devoted to him.

you didn’t see the harm. you were an angel and you let a demon corrupt you.

you had succumbed to man and his vices, you had let sin enter into you, and let it do you good.

rafe knew what he was doing. you had been his prey. and he couldn't wait to see you at his feet, to make you his perfect doll that he could handle so easily.

because it was only the beginning before you were completely his, completely in control of you, choosing what you eat, what you want, what you wear, what you think.

you were his and his only.

you were his nice girl, not god's one, the one who smiled at everyone, who always prayed in the church pews, who helped those most in need.

he had found you and snatched you from god. because it wasn't him to whom you owed your life. you were wrong and he had to correct that.

you were an angel, and he loved seeing you cry for him. your tears was made for being looked by his ocean eyes, to felt loved by his kisses.

he was completely buried inside you, plunged so deep that you were completely dizzy. and every time you thought he couldn't go any further, he surprised you. you were pretty sure he could put a baby inside you right now, just from the way his cock thrusted inside you, invading your shaking body.

you had squirted and cried, accompanying your tears with apologies. "you're fine. it's just means you liked it. it will also happen to me, angel. don't worry.”

the more he called you angel, the more you began to believe that you were one. you had squirted again but now you weren't scared anymore because he had reassured you. you had been afraid that it would be a disgusting thing and that he wouldn’t want you anymore.

but it was so strange. he was both gentle and cold.

“stop...I’m going to be pregnant!”

"that's not how it works...but if that's what you want, I can take care of it...whatever the angel wants.”

after that day, your life had been totally different, completely transformed by rafe.

you were part of this community now. you were all brothers and sisters, united for a common goal. you always prayed. but above all, you were completely manipulated. you were so controlled that you forgot your family, your friends, your entourage, your involvement in church. only god remained with you. he was still there.

you wore the outfits rafe wanted you to wear, you ate the food he wanted, you only talked about topics he allowed, you became someone else. you were what he wanted you to be.

but one night you heard god. you were sure it was his voice in the darkness. you were sleeping in rafe cameron’s arms, his bicep resting on your stomach. it was strange to see him sleeping like a child when he behaved like that.

you had begun to follow god’s voice in the darkness, your feet pacing and pacing through the empty hallways. the light guided you, it was he who accompanied you. he pulled you out, into the huge garden.

“do you think you can leave? do you think you can leave me ? are you that fucking dumb ? ”

Rafe’s voice made you jump. you weren't sure if you woke him up because you were a quiet person. but now he was in front of you, and he really didn't look very happy.

"I have to leave..."

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

“god spoke to me.”

"oh really? god may be talking to you but you need to listen to me. aren't you grateful for the life i gave you? didn't you want to be good? you're tear up your ticket to paradise. just bury yourself alive at this point."

tears had started to fall down your cheeks. you felt trapped because you didn't know who to listen to. god or this man?

your feet moved towards rafe. as you approached, his arms stretched out as if to reassure you.

“i’m sorry….i'm really sorry…..”

“i know you are but you also know that it’s not enough.”

“so tell me what i need to do to be good enough? ”

“you must sacrifice yourself. ” he said with that deep serious tone.

you looked at him with fear. you couldn't kill yourself.

“ i can’t kill myself, rafe…”

“i know, angel but don't worry, i will. ”

“ what do you mean ? i always did what you wanted me to do, i always been so good to you, i never be against you and your rules ! you promised me heaven, you promised me....everything. was that a lie ? you 'ever be serious to me ? answer me...never ? rafe, i was all what you wanted me to be, even that was not enough for you ? ”

“ i really wish you were. any last word, baby? ”

“ can you at least shoot me in the heart ? ”

“ tell me why...”

“ it's the last part of me you never took away from me. but now that i will die, you can take it. it's all yours. ”

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 203 }

attention seeker.

alternate title: the five times he purposely got injured to get your attention.

sylus x (non.mc)healthcare.worker!fem.reader

notes: healthcare worker can be any profession of your choosing in the medical field like nursing, physician, pharmacist, physical therapist, etc.

{ i know you’re faking it, but that’s okay. }

ever since sylus knew of your occupation as a healthcare worker, the man stopped healing himself using his abilities, always wanting you to take care of his injuries and wounds.

he didn’t care how his wounds could heal with just a mere snap of his fingertips. all he wanted was to feel your soft touch; to bask in the way you would always dote on him as your fingertips would lightly trace at his cuts and bruises.

“what's this? aren't you the almighty leader of onychinus who can't be killed? why would you ever need my services?" he recalls you asking him in a giggle, earning a growl of your name from him as he gave you paper thin excuses.

"i have been feeling more exhausted than usual, and am unable to bring forth such abilities. so... are you going to heal me or not?" his haughty reply would always earn him a playful roll of your eyes at him, yet you were never one to deny him of his needs (a fact that he was all too willing to take advantage of.)

currently, he was busy examining his supply of weapons, and his hands itched with a sudden desire to run his fingers through your hair while bringing your pliant form into his embrace. frustrated at how distracted he was feeling, sylus pushes himself away from his desk all while taking deliberate strides toward your shared bedroom.

he arrives at the master bedroom within a few minutes, letting a huff in response as he pushes aside the doors, revealing your sleeping form settled comfortably atop the king-sized bed. sylus freezes in his steps, wishing to take a moment to admire you. crimson eyes trail down your body with adoration shining within his gaze, taking note of how vulnerable you looked as his silk sheets were tangled up within the length of your legs.

after spending a few moments simply watching you, sylus steps closer to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he reaches out a hand to brush back your hair. while burning your image into his very memories, he couldn't help but reminisce about the times he had given himself an injury or experienced pain, just so he could begin to heal with your gentle touch...

{ ... }

sylus had purposely put himself in the middle of a bar fight the moment the bastard had managed to give him a black eye in response to his intervention. he was around the area, wishing to check on the businesses he owned when he stepped foot into the bar.

immediately, he knew something was amiss when he caught sight of a drunkard messing with one of the female bartenders, the scent of vodka reeking from the bastard's very veins when sylus stepped closer to him. he merely placed a hand on that drunkard's shoulder when the bastard swung at him, managing to land his fist against sylus's eye.

red hot anger was felt coursing through his veins as he grabbed the vodka drenched man by the collar of his torn shirt, forcing him to land head first against the onyx counter. when he hears the satisfying crunch of bones breaking against the marble counter, a sense of satisfaction fills him-

but sylus wanted more-

he was bloodthirsty, and he felt the way his left eyelid seemed to pulse from the sudden impact of the asshole's punch-

yet what ultimately stops him was the sight of your smiling face, and how you would have been so disappointed in him for ruthlessly killing for no good reason.

with a scoff, sylus shoves the drunkard away from the counter before dragging his body out of his bar, tossing him outside and into the pouring rain. "you're lucky i felt generous enough to spare your life. leave this place and never come back, unless you really have a death wish."

sylus was uncertain if the man had even heard him when he started to puke profusely, earning another grunt of disgust from onychinus's leader as he looked away from the vomiting man.

turning away from the mess, sylus goes to check on the bartender, and once he was certain she was unharmed, he leaves the bar through the back exit and rides his motorcycle, with the intention of returning home to his shared penthouse-

of returning home to you.

filled with motivation thanks to the thought of you, sylus purposely speeds through the rain, dodging traffic as he rode between several vehicles with you as his sole purpose. after racing through the city, he finally arrives back home, parking his bike in its usual spot before making his trek back to toward the penthouse settled at the top floor.

the moment he unlocks the door, he was greeted by your smiling face, with your arms already outstretched to welcome him. however, when you notice the purple and black bruise beginning to blossom against his left eye was when your demeanor completely changes.

"oh my god, what happened to you, sylus?!"

"hm? what do you mean?" he was frowning, but here you were, chattering around him like a worried, mother hen.

"your eye...! your left eye has the worst bruise on it!" you tell him with a hiss, taking him into your shared bedroom before settling him on one of the couches. he was ready to protest, the words ready to spill from his parted lips when you suddenly disappeared into the bathroom, pulling out a first aid kit before rejoining him on the couch.

with your eyes filled with love and concern for him, he allows you to gently dab at his bruised eye with a cold handkerchief, biting back a grin as you worked on treating his bruise.

he never used his powers to heal that night, for he found a much deeper comfort in having you care for him instead.

{ ... }

the day he had broken his arm was completely and utterly accidental on his part. he was simply working out, not paying any attention when the weights on the shelf slid down and just happened to land on his arm.

upon feeling such an impact on his arm, he let out a string of curses, but refused to readjust his arm and heal himself. when he steps out of his personal gym and greets you, he purposely lays the extent of his pain on thick.

"sweetie... i'm afraid an accident happened... could you help me? i believe my left arm is broken."

you were in the midst of reading a book when he returned back home to you, already seeing the worry in your gaze as you stood up from your seat. "sy, what happened?"

he lets out a hiss when you gingerly touch at his arm, hiding back a grin before admitting to you. "i think a fifty pound weight fell off from the shelf and landed on my arm when i tried to catch it. the pain... it's too much to bear. i can hardly focus."

that was when your doting nature reappeared, helping him into bed with the same determination shining in your eyes as you put some ice on his arm while offering him some medicine to aid with easing the pain.

you spend the next hour or so scolding him, telling him to be more careful as you help with keeping his arm in place, already making plans to set up an appointment at the clinic for him as sylus couldn't help but simply smile in response.

never before had another human being shown so much compassion and concern for him-

and he loved every minute of it.

{ ... }

the bruises on his back and abdomen caused by luke and kieran's training was also a mess that sylus had purposely brought upon himself.

knowing that his kids henchmen were all too eager to train and show off their newly acquired skills at ambushing him, sylus allows the twins to treat him like their own personal punching bag, knowing that their blows were hardly painful-

but it was enough to cause a series of bruises appear all across his body, causing your gentle hands to remain glued to him, doing everything that you could to help him heal.

after spending two hours with the twins, sylus dismisses them the moment he hears you coming home from work. knowing that you were currently undressing in the bedroom, ready to destress after a hard day at work.

with a half smirk donning his features, he enters the bedroom dressed in his gym clothes. calling out your name, he catches your attention, watching as you turn around and face him.

"hello, my grumpy crow." he grumbles at your nickname for him, but welcomes you in his arms with little hesitation. you lean up to press a kiss against his lips, allowing him to deepen it for a brief moment before pulling away from him.

you meet his gaze, arms already coming up to wrap around his neck when you saw several purple and black marks on his chest.

"sylus, what happened to you?!" you let out a gasp, taking a step back as you saw several bruises blossoming against his pale skin. he simply hums, feigning innocence as he looked down at his chest. "oh, luke and kieran's punches were so light that i barely felt them. i guess they're getting stronger now if they're able to bruise me like this."

a look of suspicion crosses your lovely features, but instead of questioning him, you let out a sigh before taking his hand and leading him into your shared bathroom.

with his luxurious, porcelain tub in sight, you turn on the faucet, allowing the hot water to fill before focusing your attention on sylus. he meets your gaze, expression filled with a calm confidence. he watches as you step closer to him, hands running up the fabric of his tank top before sliding it off his body. you do the same with his shorts and boxers, leaving him completely bare for you.

"wow, you've stripped me of all my clothes and have yet to pounce on me, that's quite an achievement, kitten." you roll your eyes at his teasing words, pushing him into the tub as he lands inside of it with an audible splash!

his eyes darken with desire for you, hands running through his now soaked strands of hair. he sits back up against the tub while watching you with hungry eyes as you shed the rest of your clothes. once you remained just as bare for him, you join him, settling yourself on his lap while gently massaging and soothing the bruises seen across his body.

unfortunately for you, your innocent touches simply served as a means for sylus to unleash the entirety of his desires on you, making love to you as he stopped caring about the sheer amount of water that lands against the marble flooring of the bathroom in response to sylus's passionate movements... simply basking in your cries of pleasure.

{ ... }

the day he had gotten sick with a fever was something that was truly accidental on his part.

it was a stressful time for him, with news of a traitor lingering within onychinus taking over his time as he sought out the mole. sylus had spent countless nights looming over his men, his eyes never leaving their sights before he came into contact with a man who's thoughts were filled to the brim with greed.

upon realizing that the bastard had been leaking important information to a rival, sylus takes it upon himself to get rid of the problem permanently, refusing to give the man a second chance (even as he begged for his life.)

yet by the end of it all, a strange exhaustion was felt coursing through his veins. his steps were uneven and heavy when he manages to return back to the penthouse, panting while thinking of you (always thinking of you).

the moment he comes home and sees you in the kitchen, the scent of your cooking filling his nostrils, he thought he would be excited to see you; to bask in your cooking as he was finally able to relax after such an arduous event.

but all he felt was an impending nausea, leaving him trembling and coughing as he struggled to get on the couch. hearing his struggles, you shut off the stove and cease cooking, coming closer to him.

"sylus!"

you settle yourself in front of him, taking note of the haziness seen within his gaze. normally, his eyes shone a bright red and ruby hue, so filled with life-

yet now, they became hazy and dull, losing the light it once had due to his mental exhaustion.

sylus was unable to respond to you, letting out a deep sigh when he feels the palm of your hand touch at his skin. you gasp, feeling just how hot his skin was beneath your touch. "you're burning up...!"

still in a haze, sylus was dimly aware of the way you helped him stand up, practically dragging his body towards the bedroom as his fevered body was pressed up against you. he didn't know when or how it happened, but you had placed his body in bed while peeling off his clothes, leaving his expensive suit in a pile in the corner of the room.

the man was about to respond to you, telling you how his suit was worth what a businessman makes in a year, but was unable to do so. he was going in and out of consciousness, dimly aware of you saying "i'll be right back..." before disappearing from his view completely.

sylus's hands itched with the urge to grip at your wrists-

to prevent you from leaving him so soon when all he wanted was for you to stay by his side and hold him; to comfort him when he was in such desperate need of you.

without you here, the man found it difficult to close his eyes and fall asleep, your absence making him feel even grumpier as he sat up from his spot in bed. losing track of time, he was ready to stomp out of the room (using all of his remaining strength if he had to) just to get to you and force you to come back with him.

but his anger soon disappears the moment you enter the room with a tray in hand. he tilts his head at you, seeing what looked like a steaming bowl of soup with a tall glass of ice water and some tylenol. setting the tray on the nightstand, you click your tongue and hold the bowl in your hand.

"what am i going to do with you?"

sylus chuckles in response to your question, "what are you going to do with me? well, you're going to take care of me, of course."

you let out a soft laugh before dipping the spoon in the broth, gently blowing on it before feeding it to him. you bask in the way he allows you to feed him, showing you a vulnerability that you had never seen before. once he finishes eating the soup, you offer him two tablets and watch as he drains it with the glass of water. only when you place the emptied glass on the tray did he make his move.

with your hands free of all bowls and utensils, sylus wraps his arms around your body, crushing your form close to his chest before laying back in bed with you. a series of giggles was heard coming from your parted lips, and sylus found that he had enough strength to bask in such a sweet sound.

he continues holding you, allowing your gaze to meet with his, you gently brush back his hair with a smile, smoothing back the lines seen against his forehead before gently telling him, "go to sleep... you need it."

sylus lets out a huff of your name, taking a hold of your hand before biting down against the side of it. "only you have the power to tell me what to do and how to live my life. remember that."

returning your form closer to his embrace, sylus holds you to his chest before slowly falling into a peaceful slumber, feeling all of his stress melt away the moment your warmth begins to surround him.

{ ... }

it was just a simple cut on his cheek-

but the way he kept pouting glaring at you made it seemed like he was in an excruciating amount of pain.

sylus was mad at you, remaining settled on the couch while refusing to look at you.

"if my blood drips on the couch, then it's your fault for not healing me."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes even further upon hearing his theatrics. "sylus, you and i both know that you can survive a simple gunshot wound to the chest. this cut is nothing in comparison, my love."

a plethora of grumpy sounds were heard coming from him, his arms now settled across his chest as a bitter scowl paints his expression. "and i told you i don't like abusing my powers. so are you going to help this heal or not?"

bullshit.

if that's the case, how on earth did you heal before i came into your life?

you wanted to call him out on his lie, you really did-

but seeing the soft (almost puppy dog look) in his eyes makes you stop. as you sift through your memories and think back to all the times you had helped sylus 'heal,' you had a sudden epiphany.

perhaps it wasn't the fact that you could help him heal him, but rather...

he liked the fact that you worried and constantly doted over him, since caring for him was an integral part of your love language.

with a wistful smile, you head back into your shared bedroom, taking out your first aid kit before returning to sylus. you sit directly beside him, gently taking a hold of his chin, revealing the thin cut on his defined cheek to you. with a q-tip in hand, you apply some of the antibacterial ointment on it before gently covering the slender line of blood with it. once it was completely covered, you choose a rather colorful band-aid decorated with blue penguins, settling it directly over the cut.

"there, better?" you set off the first aid kit to the side, ready to leave when sylus grips at your wrist.

"not quite, darling. you missed a step." his eyes were shining with mischief now, pointing directly at his 'injured cheek' now covered with a bandaid. "you know what to do."

letting out a feigned sound of annoyance, you lean in closer, pressing a kiss directly over where you had placed the bandaid as you felt him smiling against your lips. before you could move away from him, sylus ends up tackling your body against the couch, littering your face with obnoxious kisses as he elicits the sounds of joyous laughter from you.

{ ... }

by the end of his reveries, he was left smiling, heart filled with love for you as he slowly joins you in bed.

making sure that his movements were slow and steady, he manages to get into bed without disturbing you, taking you into his arms with a grin on his face.

sylus takes a minute to admire you once more, brushing back your hair while relishing in your natural beauty. "i can never get enough of you..." he admits in a hoarse tone, wondering just how lucky he was to be able to say that you were his; that you belonged to him alone.

filled with adoration for you, sylus allows himself to close his eyes, visibly relaxing in bed as he places your body on top of his chest. you stir for the briefest of moments, but end up smiling in your sleep, somehow knowing that you would always be loved and protected by him...

a.n. - lmao my current major / career goals has to deal with the medical field, so this was a very self-indulgent story for me to write (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[lavandulawrites]

Cares

Yandere Kinich x reader

This idea came to me when suddenly and I just had to write it down asap

Synopsis: Ajaw has finally found someone he considers his friend. He is however not the only one. The normally arrogant dragon, finds it fascinating how Kinich is spiralled deep into love and obsession.

Masterlist

Warnings: written in Ajaw’s point of view, Ajaw sees reader as both a friend and a motherly figure, murder, dismembering, Kinich is both down bad and insane, Ajaw cares (?!), drugging, abduction

Word count: 1058

Ajaw found the black haired man to be extremely annoying. He rarely showed any signs of hurt by his remarks and he put him in timeout way too often. He was in other words stupid and a sorry excuse of a man. Ajaw could feel himself greying in anger at the thought of his dismissal. You however, were different. You were kind (nauseating so) and you always brought Ajaw tasty snacks (as he deserved naturally). You entertained him in various means, unlike a certain useless man.

You were the only human Ajaw tolerated. And he made it known to you. For that’s how kind the Almighty Dragonlord was. To both his dismay and his curiosity, he was not the only one who thought highly of you. Oh, far from it.

Ajaw tried to stay out of human concerns as much as possible (it was after all offensive to his greatness to be a associated with humans), but he found it fascinating how much Kinich cared for you. He would always bring you food if you had forgotten to bring any, put on sunscreen for you (Ajaw found it gross how Kinich’s face reddened at the feel of your skin, he could sometimes swear he could see him wetting his lips like a hungry dog. Disgusting), take you on picnics and buy you gifts. The great dragon never got such nice things from him, even when he had been on his best behaviour.

When Kinich had managed to persuade you to try bungee jumping with him, Ajaw had for the first time in his life not had the desire to cut the rope and let you fall straight down with a splat. It was a weird feeling.

Conflict always seemed to rise whenever you were conversing with someone who wasn’t Ajaw nor Kinich. Ajaw was only offended that you speared another human your time instead of bringing him snacks, but Kinich was seething. His jaw was clenched so hard Ajaw could almost hear his teeth breaking in half. His fist tight causing the veins on his arms to stand out like a sore thumb. He clearly always intimidated the stranger enough that he or she left in a hurry. Had Ajaw not been as strong and amazing as he was, he would himself have been frightened.

Your naivety and kindness was something that clearly troubled his servant. He always worried about you and always came up with poor excuses to see you (be it meeting you or watching from the shadows). Normally would Ajaw not help him, no he would rather have sabotaged him, but since it was you he lend him his hand. You were clearly rather weak compared to the raven haired man and himself. Shorter than Kinich and not a fighter. Which was something the hazel eyed man seemed to appreciate.

Following you around became an everyday occurrence and Ajaw for once helped Kinich. When Kinich asked him for his help to orchestra a dangerous situation where he would come in and save the day, he didn’t think twice before agreeing.

He still wanted his body, but it was no longer his main focus. It was a strange shift in his behaviour, but not unwelcome. It was nice to have a friend after all.

Months had passed and both him and Kinich had gotten closer to you. It was clear as day to Ajaw that the ancient name bearer was head over heels. Especially when he caught him sniffing some clothes he had stolen from you. Ajaw never let that go and tormented him with it whenever he saw fit.

It was a lazy sunny afternoon when Kinich came barging into their home. His eyes were blown wide in rage and his limbs shaking. Ajaw was an expert in recognising blood thirst and Kinich oozed of it.

“The fuck are you barging in for, you useless fool?!” the dragon trumped his foot angrily on the air.

“Shut up, Ajaw. I need your help.”

“Don’t talk to the Almighty Dragonlord like that!! I should teach you a lesson! And why on earth should I help you?” he crossed his arms and raised a brow.

“It’s regarding [Name]” he didn’t need to say more for Ajaw to agree to help.

The forest was thick and dark. Mist covered the ground as far as they could see. Kinich had swung his claymore without his help and already ended the puny man’s life. That was he got for being a treat to your well being he had said. Ajaw had to agree.

Kinich dragged the body through the forest creating a bloody trail behind them. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air causing Ajaw to bare his teeth. Such an awful smell.

The man was as useless in death as he was alive. Heavy he was too, judging by the laboured breathing of the normally strong man.

The body was thrown on a makeshift table of old wooden planks. Thin fingers ran over the many knifes and cleavers in the worn knife roll. It was obvious to the yellow dragon that this wasn’t the first time Kinich had dismembered someone. It was a mystery just how many he had slain in the name of protecting you.

With a giddy smile, Ajaw watched as he lifted the sharp cleaver and started working. The bald easily cut through the flesh. With furrowed brows he worked around the bones with the precision of the most talented butcher. It was an eerie sight; the black haired drenched in blood.

After about an hour or so, he was finished. “Do you know of a good place to dispose of this?” he asked the dragon.

He watched through his sunglasses of your struggle. It was fascinating how you thought you could overpower the taller man in your drugged state. Kinich was clearly irritated which made the sight even more entertaining. It had been so fast. Before you know it you were drugged by the juice Kinich had so kindly offered you and brought home to the two of them. Not that Ajaw was on to complain. He found your company enjoyable and he even cared for you.

He couldn’t wait to see how this would unfold. What would happen first? Would you accept your fate or would Kinich finally, properly snap?

Only time would tell.

[anantaru]

Hi Yoru.

Which boys do you think would be most gentle during sex?

including. neuvillette, ayato

cw. soft dom, we love strong men being sweet, fem! reader

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

the iudex of fontaine neuvillette, who's each respectively admired and respected by the people of his nation.

indeed, he was a mysterious man in quite a lot of ways, and of course with this in mind— there came great responsibilities which the man made his priority to fulfill as good as he was able to.

until his dying breath.

to say that he was strong was a clear understatement, but even someone such as neuvillette can find himself rather fatigued at times, especially when he always tends to go well over his capabilities for the people around him.

it has not always been this way, however, whenever he found himself in an exhausted state of mind, he instantly comes rushing home to you, and neuvillette will not admit it, he simply cannot, but he had missed you so very much that it was burning a deep hole in his heart.

it's difficult to be vulnerable, and in the beginning he believed that being open and unshielded in front of you might make you view him in a different kind of light— because in his own very mind, neuvillette wanted, no, he needed to look powerful and almighty for your sake.

you are his everything, and he promised himself to never suffer from another loss in his life again, more so protect you to the fullest extent.

"ahh, it's okay," you utter in a sweet voice, instantly noticing how neuvillette's breathing hitched and his muscles relaxed, but you can more importantly feel the overeager acceleration of his hips grinding into your warm cunt, so eager it made you giggle,

"you're here now," your hands slowly cup his cheeks as he melts into your touch, a soft smile parting from his lips as neuvillette sighs in appreciation of you, "you're home now,"

now, heed yourself, because if you believe that you would be able to make neuvillette relax under this particular choice of words, you were clearly mistaken because with displaying it to him all exposed and while he pleasured you, infused with real desire, his heart burns through his strong chest as he let his lips trace the breadth of your cheek, lingering across your ear as his teeth sank into the nape of your neck, claiming you and deepening the approaching orgasm flooding through you from the very inside.

the greedy roll of his groin into your cunt was fast and ruthless, the repeated sounds of skin buzzing over skin slices across the shells of your ears as he begins to squeeze and knead the fat of your ass in his palms— to get a good hold on it, you know?

so neuvillette can twist and turn you against him as he pleases, fitting his hips in between your legs so perfectly that your walls shape a little too well around his throbbing length, his erection snugly tucked in as you pitch your hips up to receive his fast thrusts.

the way he handled you was interesting— both rough and soft that you're smiling from head to toe, the thought that neuvillette would never forget to be gentle with you despite the bundled up heat in his chest, he'd always fuck you right and nasty, his deep thrusts rattling through your skin that you think you'll bruise once he's done with you, your pitchy sobs uncontrolled at every draw his hips fucking you hard, plunging deep.

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

the dizzying intensity of ayato's thrusts, the focused face when he grinds himself a little deeper in you, and lastly, the complete authority he held given his position were the key factors on your current state— his hands tight around your wrists, his dripping cock in a possessive hold that burned away the worries churning his mind and downed it to a single spark of nothingness, replacing it with deep need to feel and taste you all around him.

you'd think with all of this considered, most people honestly wouldn't believe that your boyfriend was actually anything else other than frightening and mysterious in his own rights— yet they do not know him the way you did, because ayato decided to show you his real, unprotected self.

when he comes home to you after a rough day consisting of his responsibilities, it was the best thing ever, something he was looking forward to each day— being enveloped by your warm hold while he nuzzles his face in the nook of your neck was the most soothing piece in his life.

your intoxicating scent and how you tasted would absolutely relax him— one kiss and he melts under your trace, although do not get fooled because it would also turn him on, your delicate touches and candid little kisses going straight to his cock like a strong bold of lightning of some kind, setting his loins on fire.

and ayato believes he must be dreaming when you finally lead him to the bedroom, carefully discarding the clothes he wore and taking your sweet time with undressing him, placing each individual piece next to you— never forgetting to be content when he exhales shakily at the way you soothed yourself on him, then he flinches when your cool finger pads slide across his strong abs, never stopping to admire his beauty like you completely worshipped him, just as much as he worshipped you.

with that out of the way, ayato's new choice of voice was low and commanding, it was mind altering to the point where it made a slight shiver manifest and run down your spine as he fills your cunt with the speed of lust and love.

your pussy was dripping through his shaft pistoling in and out until he's pushing hard and fast into you— both lost in the restless friction as you listen to the crumbling whimpers concealed behind his restless groans. your room was engulfed by the scent of sex and pheromones as you arch your back into his touch, your eyes drifting close on a fresh surge of lust splitting your pussy in half, head rolling aside in easy surrender.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[animeyanderelover]

can i request gojo with a darling who can touch him even when his infinity is on? (I think it's canon that he can never turn it off completely so that would be his first time actually having physical contact with someone)

Huge thanks to everyone who helped me with this request by explaining how exactly Gojo’s abilities work! I’ll start watching the second season as soon as all episodes are out for anyone who is wondering. I added a bit of stuff to make for an more interesting read.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, clinginess, obsession, touchiness, manipulation, gaslighting, paranoia, isolation, abduction

The first touch

🩵Gojo has been having his eyes on you even before he knew about your very special abilities. That basically means that you have this white-haired menace terrorising your daily life whenever he can. You almost have the impression that he can sniff you out among the many million people in Tokyo as he always finds you somehow. You're honestly just so fed up with him but are terribly introverted and feel too scared and awkward to explain to him clearly how you feel about his constant intrusion. You doubt that it would get through his head anyways so you silently endure the man's clingy, whiny and increasingly affectionate antics. Satoru knows no personal boundaries when it comes to you or rather he just decides to ignore it. You're just too cute~ Your unwillingness to stand up for yourself leads to ruthless abuse from his side.

🩵He has had it coming one way or another as he senses your growing frustration with his unbelievable clinginess and disrespect of your privacy. Worst is that he's at this point provoking you because he wants to see what you look like when you snap. So when your string of patience finally snaps as you feel his hands rubbing your shoulders and fawning over your current anger, you've had enough. You swing your heavy handbag at him in a moment of short and impulsive anger. Satoru doesn't move from his spot as he doesn't worry. His Infinity is activated so the handbag won't hit him. It'll easily just be seen as you missing your target, which is right now his handsome face. He sees your handbag moving closer to his face and just gives a small grin... At least until the fucking thing smashes against his face with full force, heavy with all of your stuff inside.

🩵Everyone who would know him, would probably laugh at him if they would see him in that moment. The almighty Satoru, stumbling back in shock before tripping over his own feet and landing onto the ground. That would have never happened if he would have been around anyone else. But he isn't around anyone. He's with you. Sweet, weak and lovable non-sorcerer you. Around you he never has his guard up unless he senses danger. Not because he underestimates you, although he definitely does, but because he feels like he can just be himself around you. That's why he's so thoroughly unprepared for this. For a moment he just sits on the ground in bewilderment, his face pulsing with pain from the impact it just had with your handbag. You start frantically apologizing as soon as you realize what you've done, flip a bit out when blood seeps out of his nose. You quickly rummage through your handbag as you search for something to stop the bleeding.

🩵Gojo on the other hand, who slowly starts coming back to reality after this major shock, touches his face in a daze. When he pulls his hand back, his fingertips are covered in blood, in his own blood. He looks at the red liquid like it is something he has never seen before in his life, as if it's something alien-like, before he jumps abruptly up. You flinch and shrink when he bents down to your height, brilliant blue eyes seemingly trying to look deep into your soul as he asks you quietly how you just did that. His voice is slightly strained with emotions you can't fully detect. You do see some of them swirling around in his eyes. Curiosity, shock, surprise but also something else. Something you haven't sensed in the silly and clingy man before. It unsettles you deeply. You don't even know what he just meant with his question just now and Satoru seems to realize that too as he pulls back, allowing you to breathe again.

🩵He leaves you a while after that incident and even if he tries to keep his normal facade up, you sense that something has startled him. If only you'd know. Satoru's mind is occupied with this accident the whole day. How were you able to do that? You're a non-sorcerer by all accounts and he didn't sense any cursed energy from you nor from anywhere around you. You were honestly expecting him to not show his face so soon again yet instead he rings at your apartment in the early morning hours. You're majorly confused and frightened by the fact that he seems to know where you live as you have never told him that yet Gojo pushes past you like he's been here a hundred times before. His eyes briefly fly through your current home, noting that it is quite small if you'd live with him, you could have everything you would want before he asks you the most ridiculous question you've heard all week. "Can you slap me?"

🩵You look at the man as if he has suffered from brain damage due to your handbag yesterday. How does one even respond to such a request?! Weirdest of all is that he looks at you with genuinely curious eyes. Can you slap him? Can you touch him with your own hands and everything you hold in your hands even if his Infinity is on? You hesitate a tad bit too long before he decides to provoke you a bit to anger you enough to do as he just asked you. It works as it is early morning, you've just found out that he knows where you lived and you're also still quite tired. You're in no condition to endure his teasing as he reminds you of embarrassing accidents he's had the joy of witnessing. The next thing he knows, he feels the impact of your hand against his cheek with more strength than he assumed. Maybe he underestimated your strength just a tiny, tiiiiny bit. Nevertheless though, as he rubs his stinging cheek his eyes are glued to you as a realization comes to him that changes his life. You, a non-sorcerer, somehow have the ability to seemingly nullify his Infinity... How?

🩵It must be the biggest irony of the universe. His darling is metaphorically and literally his one and only biggest weakness. A tiny part of him really has to chuckle about this but for the most part, Gojo suddenly grows by leaps and bounds more paranoid. He is the strongest in the sorcerer world and he couldn't even count on both hands how many people constantly pray for his downfall but can only do that as he is literally untouchable. With his situation he would already be under normal circumstances be overprotective and slightly paranoid that someone would instead resort to making you a target and use you against Gojo. He has to protect weak you for that reason against all the evil in this world. Yet with the knowledge that you can touch and by extension of that also harm him, a new fear inside of him grows. What if his enemies would decide to set you up against him to have you kill him? Or worse, what if you yourself would decide to rebel against him and would try to harm him?

🩵If you wouldn't have this special talent, he wouldn't be worried. Because then you simply wouldn't be able to harm him although your betrayal would still badly sting due to the lingering scars of Geto's betrayal. Yet with the added aspect that you can actually hurt him, Gojo's paranoia worsens. The image of you being his downfall, the only person he genuinely loves and trusts in this world, breaks him somehow. It isn't likely considering that he is far above you in all physical aspects and still has other abilites, not to mention that you would never sink that low, yet the fact that it is the tiniest possibility is enough to drive him a bit mad. You'd never do that, right? You love and care too much to ever think about killing him or even slightly harming him, right?

🩵You don't know where those sudden insecurities and his paranoia come from, you never imagined the Satoru you knew for a while to be so fragile underneath all his confidence and silliness. You wish that he could revert back to that side of him, even if it was possibly only a facade. Because now Satoru is downright suffocating and scares you even. You can't do anything to escape his tight grasp though and even if he doesn't hold you, you're still stuck in your new home. In his own huge mansion, installed with a security system that would never allow you to step outside unless he's with you. You will never leave his side, he won't let you. No one is allowed to find out about you and your one of a kind abilities. It is the bittersweetest irony ever. The warm touches of yours he so yearns for are the only ones who could also kill him.

[ebonyheartnet]

Clockwork was powerful, but he was far from almighty. Some paths could not be altered, some worlds were beyond saving, but this…

As he picked up his grandson’s broken body, the child’s clock began to spin.

🦇

Ignoring the pendant around his neck for a moment, Bruce looked at the world frozen around him. The last thing he saw was that damned alley behind the movie theater, but now he was in the manor. As he tried to adjust, a hooded figure melted out of the too-bright walls.

“Your assumptions are correct, detective. This is the end, but I come bearing cold comfort.”

“Who are you?” Bruce asked, weary but ready to fight.

“Your friend Diana would call me Kronos, but your son, Daniel, once called me Clockwork, then grandpa,” said Clockwork. “You don’t have to trust me, but you’ve loved them both. I just want to cushion the blow.”

“Explain,” Bruce demanded.

“Very well, but let’s go to your family.”

Clockwork led the way down to the cave, and Bruce followed begrudgingly. Several of the bats were huddled around the computer, with a few getting ready to head out. The screens showed the energy from Bruce’s final jump, all the way in that damned alley.

“Are they safe like this?” Bruce asked.

”No,” said Clockwork, “but it will be painless. When I restart time, you’ll only have a minute to speak. That will not be enough to evacuate.”

“Why not give me the hope then?”

“Bruce, I have already done something incredibly cruel in the name of kindness. If I gave you anything else—if I lied that there was a way out—you would waste the gift.” Clockwork shrank down to a child. “Daniel will know what happened one day, and I don’t want his hatred to extend beyond a few centuries.”

“Wait, Danny will survive this?”

“And only Daniel can,” Clockwork confirmed. “Leaving will hurt, but only a new lifetime could begin to heal what he’d already suffered.”

Before he could ask, a portal opened to several screens, and he could feel his heart break as everything played out: Danny’s original world and his first parents’ betrayal. The way that both Drake twins would’ve been stillborn without the swap. The nuclear war when he killed Joker—

“I’m sorry that Darkseid’s pact with Nergal delayed your friends. The worlds without a laughing magician almost always face excessive magical interference.”

“Then why not place Danny somewhere safer to begin with?” Bruce growled. “Why hurt him like this when my son’s already been through so much!”

“A laughing magician cannot be anticipated by the divine, and I…” Clockwork aged into an old man. “Bruce, I was a terrible father, but my little warden has me wrapped around his finger. I couldn’t risk him being banished or bound in a deal before he could advocate for himself.”

Bruce wanted to hate him for it. He wanted to hate the paranoid logic that would break Danny’s heart again and again. He wanted to tell his son the truth and hold him through the tears. He wanted to soothe the hurt himself. He wanted to hide it so that Danny never felt the blow.

He wanted, like any good parent, to keep his son safe and happy.

“You and I are far too alike,” Clockwork said bitterly. “Thank you for loving him. Thank you for refusing to forgive me.”

“So what now?” Bruce asked.

“I’m taking everything Daniel needs to the new timeline. His records, his things, and even the few articles. He acted like a ghost in public, so we can just slip him in.”

“There will be gaps,” Bruce stated.

“I will help bridge them,” Clockwork promised.

“And he’ll know about us?”

“There is no timeline where I attempt to keep the truth from Daniel and avoid him devouring my core,” Clockwork said.

“That isn’t a yes.”

“Though I would not begrudge him his vengeance, such a thing would make Daniel hate himself.” Clockwork smirked as he matched Bruce’s age. “That counts more than my word.”

“And where is Danny?”

“He had a headache, so he’s fast asleep upstairs.” Clockwork’s gaze softened. “He’s going to wake up in a world where no one remembers him, but everyone he loves here is alive and well.”

“And you’ll show him this one day?”

“I promise. He will know as soon as it will not destroy him.”

Bruce took a shakey breath and walked until he was halfway between both groups. He hadn’t bothered dealing with the tears until now, but he wanted to see them. He wanted…

“Will any of us join him?” Bruce croaked.

Clockwork hesitated.

“Ectoplasmic ghosts form when the soul condenses under pressure. If I tell you the truth, either anguish or relief will damn you. I’m sorry.”

Bruce wanted to push, but just this once…

“Do it.”

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (17) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: finally, you enjoy your honeymoon. 

word count: 1,417

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: another short chapter im so sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, sexual references, implied smut, pet name (petal), not proofread

Light streamed in through the window as the sun began to rise. Coryo’s pale blonde hair almost seemed to glow. You reached up, brushing a strand away from his face. He looked so soft like this. He looked a lot softer generally now. Could this be the almighty honeymoon phase of a relationship blinding you to his flaws? No, you mused. Coryo had always been different around you. Before, you thought it was out of distaste, but now you knew the truth. 

You ran your thumb over the swell of his cheek. This was nice. You understood why Coryo always liked to touch you. There was something so sweet about it. Something so intimate, knowing that no one else will ever touch him like this. A smile tugged at your lips. You scooted closer, kissing him softly. You couldn’t help it. 

“Now who’s accosting who?” Coryo teased, his eyes still shut.

You pressed another kiss to his lips. “What? I can’t kiss my husband?”

Coryo’s hands settled on your waist. He rolled over onto his back, pulling you over so you laid on top of him. “If you promise to wake me up like this every morning, you can kiss me whenever you like.”

“Deal,” you giggled. 

Finally, Coryo opened his eyes. He reached up, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. He smiled up at you, his pale blue eyes twinkling. “What are you doing awake so early? The point of a honeymoon is to relax.”

“I was admiring my husband. Is that not also the point of a honeymoon?”

Coryo pulled you down for another kiss. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You held back a giggle as you remembered where else that tongue had been—how your Coryo spent the entire night between your legs until you begged for mercy. Coryo’s fingers carded through your hair, tugging you closer. Your nose bumped against his. This time, you did giggle. 

“You think my kissing technique is funny?” Coryo chided. His tone was playful, though. A far cry from the boy you thought you knew on the schoolyard. 

“I think I am lucky to have such a loving man for a husband.”

“Don’t try to distract me. You laughed as I kissed you,” he said. You leaned in to kiss him, but this time he let out a sarcastic laugh as your lips touched his. “Doesn’t feel very good, does it, petal?”

“You are a spiteful man, Mr. Snow. You don’t even know why I laughed.”

“Tell me then.”

You pet Coryo’s hair, a soft smile on your lips. It was a stark contrast to the wetness you felt between your legs as you recalled the memory of last night. “I was thinking of where else that filthy tongue of yours has been.”

Coryo’s eyes fell shut. You felt him stiffen against your thigh. Your smile turned to a smirk. “Oh, petal, you can’t say things like that first thing in the morning. I’ll never be able to continue my day like this.”

“Hmm, but we’re on our honeymoon, aren’t we? What else do we have to do but enjoy each other?” you reminded.

His eyes snapped open. A low hum reverberated in his chest. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Your smirk grew. You shifted off of him, slipping out of his hands. Your feet hit the floor. As you moved toward the door, “In that case, I’m going to ask if breakfast can be made. Do you have any requests?”

Coryo let out a growl. He followed you of the bed, trying to grab your hips and pull you back against him. “My little petal has some thorns of her own, hm? I think you know what I want for breakfast.”

“No, no, I don’t want to kill my husband. Not after I’ve decided to like him, you know.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m thinking pancakes.”

You slipped out of his hands again, giggling to yourself as you made a beeline for the door, shutting it behind you. In the distance, you heard Coryo fumble with the door before his footsteps echoed down the hall. You picked up your pace, nearly making it to the kitchen when you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind. A squeal escaped your lips.

Coryo’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Now, I’ll let you tell the staff to make breakfast,” he growled, “but as soon as we’re finished, I’m dragging you back to our room and finishing you off as dessert. Am I understood?”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Snow?”

His teeth nipped at your earlobe. “It’s a promise, Mrs. Snow.”

And he kept it. 

“How many children do you want?” you asked Coryo as he dragged a rag between your legs, cleaning up the mess the two of you made. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as his brows pinched together. 

“Does it matter what I wish? You’ll be the one giving birth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course it matters. A marriage is a partnership. We should discuss these sorts of things.”

A sigh escaped his lips. He stepped away, taking the rag to the bathroom. You were left alone for a minute before he returned. Coryo climbed into the bed. He settled on his back and pulled you into his arms. “One, I think. I would like to give you the experience of motherhood, if you so wish it. But I don’t think I can handle seeing you in that sort of position more than once.”

“That sort of position? What are you—oh.”

It was easy to forget about his mother. Even though you knew this was the cottage where she had him and was going to have his sister, the very same cottage she lost her life in, it was easy to forget. One part of the Coriolanus that you once knew that remained true for your Coryo was that he kept his true, most vulnerable, parts to himself. In a lot of ways, he’d exposed those parts to you. But there were still things that you still hadn’t been exposed to. This was one of them, you supposed. 

“I don’t know what I would do with myself if I lost you,” Coryo said. When you tilted your head up to look at him, his eyes were shut. If he hadn’t just been speaking, you might have thought him asleep. “Burn all of Panem to the ground, I suppose.”

“You don’t mean that, Coryo.”

“None of this matters if I don’t have you by my side,” he said. His grip on you tightened. “When I was younger, I had always dreamed of being King. My Grandma’am and Tigris were always so sure I would one day sit on the throne. We would talk about all of the glorious things I would do. How I would honor Panem. But these few years I have sat on the throne…While it was what I expected, it didn’t bring me satisfaction, joy, like I thought it might.”

His eyes opened again. A smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t feel joy until the first time I got to dance with you, my petal. And now that I have it, I’m afraid I must be selfish with it. I won’t do anything that would risk your health and safety. And to bear a child…That is the one danger I cannot completely control. Should anything go wrong, I cannot do a thing. I have to place my trust in the physician to ensure your safety. I don’t like having to trust others. Besides you, of course.”

“Coryo…”

“One child would suffice to carry on the Snow legacy. Any more and I fear I might keel over with the anxiety.”

You rolled over so that you half-laid on his chest. Reaching up, you carded your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for telling me that.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Well, you told me your anxieties. I thought it was only right that I told you mine.”

“And I think I would be happy with just one child, too,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “But I am in no rush to have any now. I was just curious.”

“How I love that curious mind of yours.”

A part of you, one that you were still trying to familiarize yourself with, nearly said that you loved him too.

[muiitoloko]

See Me

Summary: Metatron, the former Voice of God, faces his greatest challenge: loving and protecting a human from a distance, unseen and unheard.

Pairing: Metatron × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst

Author's Notes: Honestly, I have no idea why I wrote this—just got hit with a sudden urge for some good old angsty, cliché vibes and had to roll with it! 😅

Also read on Ao3

When all this began, Metatron was furious. The idea of being demoted from God's spokesperson, the Voice of the Almighty Himself, to a mere guardian angel was unthinkable. He had been the one who spoke God's will, who delivered divine messages with a biting wit and an air of celestial authority. Now, he was expected to guard a single human life, and a newborn at that. It was a role that felt beneath him, a task for lesser angels, not for someone of his rank and stature.

But there was no arguing with the man upstairs. God's decisions were absolute, unchangeable, and Metatron, despite his anger and frustration, had to accept this new role. He took it with the reluctance of a soldier sent to clean the latrines after years on the battlefield, and when he first laid eyes on you—the newborn baby he was supposed to guard—he felt nothing but resentment. What was so special about you that he had to waste his existence watching over your every mundane moment?

And so, with a heart heavy with disdain, Metatron began his task. He watched over you as you grew from an infant into a little girl, your parents' first child and clear afterthought. It didn't take long for him to notice the imbalance in your household, how your parents lavished attention on your younger brother while you were left in the shadows. You never seemed to mind, never voiced a complaint, always the quiet, unassuming child who asked for nothing and expected even less. But Metatron could see how it hurt you, how you longed for a kind word, a gentle touch, anything to show that you were loved, too.

Years passed, and the little girl grew into a young woman. A kind woman—too kind, Metatron often thought with a bitter edge. Kind to everyone around you, even when they didn’t deserve it. You gave and gave until there was nothing left, and still, you smiled, still you pretended that it didn’t matter, that you were content with the crumbs of affection you received.

But Metatron saw through it all. He had watched you for years, after all. He knew that your kindness was a mask, a way to protect yourself from the endless disappointments that life had thrown at you. Your parents, who never saw you; your brother, who took their love for granted; your ex boyfriend, who used your gentleness as a convenience; your friends, who abandoned you when you needed them most. You were not the fool you appeared to be, not the oblivious girl who floated through life without a care. You were sharp, intelligent, and painfully aware of every slight, every cold shoulder, every broken promise.

Metatron hated it. He hated how they treated you, hated how you let them, hated the world for being so blind to your worth. And yet, despite all his celestial power, he could do nothing. He was bound by rules, by divine decree, unable to interfere in the ways that mattered most. He could only watch as you smiled through your pain, as you laughed with those who didn’t deserve your joy, as you loved with a heart that was destined to be broken time and time again.

And somewhere along the way, amidst the anger and frustration, Metatron began to feel something he never expected: affection. It started small, a quiet appreciation for your resilience, for the way you held yourself together when the world seemed intent on tearing you apart. But it grew, steadily, inexorably, until he found himself thinking of you not as a duty, not as a burden, but as something precious. Someone precious.

He knew it was wrong. He was an angel, a being of pure spirit, created to serve God’s will. He was not meant to feel, not like this, not with such intensity. But the more he watched you, the more he grew to admire you—your strength, your kindness, your intelligence hidden beneath that façade of simplicity. You were so much more than the world saw, so much more than anyone gave you credit for

But you were also fragile, your heart worn thin by years of neglect and quiet suffering. Metatron wanted nothing more than to reach out, to touch your cheek, to tell you that you were not alone, that someone saw you, truly saw you, and cared. But he couldn’t. He was bound by the very laws that had demoted him, and so he remained at a distance, watching over you, protecting you from the shadows, always close but never close enough.

And the anger that had once filled him—anger at his demotion, at the unfairness of it all—had slowly transformed into something else. It was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was directed at the world that had hurt you, at the people who had failed you. And it was tempered by a deep, aching love that he could never express, a love that he knew would remain unspoken for all eternity.

Metatron had watched over countless lives in his long existence, but you were different. You had changed him in ways he didn’t fully understand, had softened the edges of his celestial being, made him feel things he never thought possible. And it terrified him, this attachment, this love that defied all the rules of heaven and earth.

But he couldn’t turn away. Even if it meant enduring the pain of watching you suffer, even if it meant standing by as others hurt you, Metatron knew he would stay by your side. Because you were worth it. Because in a world full of shadows, you were the only light he had left.

And so, he continued to watch, to guard, to love you from a distance, hoping that one day, somehow, you would find the happiness you deserved. And though he could never be the one to give it to you, he would be there, always, watching over you, protecting you from the worst the world could offer, even if it meant sacrificing his own peace.

For what was an angel without his purpose? And Metatron had found his, in you.

That night, Metatron sat unseen in the armchair across from you, his hazel eyes watching intently as you moved around the living room, carefully setting out snacks and arranging cushions for the movie night you had planned. Your movements were meticulous, your expression one of quiet anticipation, as if this night meant more to you than you would ever admit. You had invited your friends, or at least those you thought of as friends, hoping for a few hours of laughter and camaraderie. Metatron couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at how much you invested in these people who had proven time and time again that they didn’t deserve your kindness.

He watched as you placed the final bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, stepping back to survey your work. You seemed satisfied, a small smile playing on your lips as you reached for your phone to check the time. They were supposed to arrive any minute now, and you were ready, hopeful even. But as Metatron sat there, unseen and unheard, he knew what was coming.

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed in your hand, the screen lighting up with a message. Your smile faltered slightly as you read it, but you quickly forced it back into place, your kind nature refusing to let disappointment take root.

"Hey, I’m so sorry, but my grandmother is sick, and I need to stay home tonight. Rain check?"

Metatron’s eyes narrowed. He knew the truth—your so-called friend wasn’t home with a sick grandmother. No, they were out, laughing and drinking with others, not sparing a single thought for the invitation they had so casually dismissed. But you didn’t know that, and as always, you believed their excuse, sending back a message full of well-wishes and understanding.

"It's okay, take care of her! We’ll do it another time," you typed, your fingers moving quickly over the keys before you set your phone down, that hopeful smile still lingering, though it had lost some of its shine.

But the night was only just beginning, and as you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a drink to go with the snacks, the phone buzzed again. Another message, another excuse. Metatron saw the way your shoulders tensed, the slight pause before you picked up the phone again, your eyes scanning the words as your heart sank a little further.

"Something came up last minute. I’m really sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. Hope you have fun though!"

Again, you believed them, because that was who you were. You always saw the best in people, always gave them the benefit of the doubt, even when they repeatedly let you down. Metatron watched as you sent another understanding reply, but he could see the cracks beginning to form in your carefully constructed armor. He could feel the weight of your disappointment, even if you wouldn’t acknowledge it yourself.

And so it went, one after another. Your phone buzzed, you read the message, and each time, your expression grew a little more resigned, a little more defeated. By the time the last message came through, you were sitting on the couch, your phone clutched in your hand as you read the final excuse.

"Sorry, I totally forgot I had plans tonight. Maybe next time?"

That one hurt. Metatron could see it in the way your eyes lingered on the screen, your thumb hovering over the keys as you tried to find the right words to reply. You wanted to believe them, wanted to think that they had genuinely forgotten, that it wasn’t intentional. But deep down, a part of you knew the truth. They hadn’t forgotten. They just didn’t care enough to remember.

Still, you sent a reply, something kind and understanding, as you always did. But the energy had drained from you, the excitement that had once filled the room now replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. Metatron hated that silence. He hated how you just accepted their behavior, how you allowed them to hurt you over and over again without ever standing up for yourself. But more than that, he hated how he was powerless to do anything about it.

You sat there for a while, staring at the screen of your phone as if hoping for a miracle, for someone to change their mind, to show up at your door and make the night what you had hoped it would be. But no one came. No one messaged. And eventually, you set the phone down with a sigh, reaching for the remote to start the movie you had planned to watch with them—now watching alone.

Metatron wished he could tell you that he was there too, that he was watching with you. He wished he could comfort you, let you know that someone cared, that someone saw you, truly saw you. But you didn’t hear him, didn’t see him, didn’t feel him. You were alone, just as you had been so many times before.

The movie played on, but you weren’t really watching. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the messages, the excuses, trying to convince yourself that they were genuine, that they hadn’t meant to hurt you. But then, your phone buzzed again, and this time, Metatron knew it would break your heart.

You picked up the phone, your eyes widening slightly as you saw the notification. One of your friends had posted a picture, a group shot of them all out together, laughing, drinks in hand, the night filled with the kind of joy you had hoped to share with them. You stared at the screen, your heart sinking as you realized they hadn’t just canceled—they had gone out without you.

They hadn’t forgotten to invite you. They just didn’t want you there.

Metatron watched as the tears welled up in your eyes, your hands trembling slightly as you set the phone down, your gaze fixed on the screen. You tried to hold it together, tried to tell yourself that it was a mistake, that they hadn’t meant to leave you out, that there was some reasonable explanation. But deep down, you knew. You always knew.

He hated how you never seemed to see the bad in people, how you always looked for the best, even when they repeatedly showed you that they didn’t deserve it. He hated how they hurt you, how they took advantage of your kindness, your generosity, and left you with nothing in return.

And yet, despite everything, you still believed in them. You still wanted to believe that they cared, that they were your friends. It was a kind of stubborn optimism that both infuriated and endeared you to Metatron, but in moments like this, it was more than he could bear.

He wished he could reach out, touch your cheek, wipe away the tears that threatened to spill over. He wished he could tell you that you were worth so much more than the way they treated you, that you deserved friends who loved you, who saw you, who valued you for the incredible person you were. But he couldn’t. He was bound by the laws of heaven, and so he remained in the shadows, watching as you curled up on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold the pieces of your broken heart together.

The movie played on, but you didn’t watch it. Your mind was too full of the images on your phone, the laughter and joy that you were so painfully excluded from. Metatron wished he could tear the world apart for you, make it right, make them see what they were missing. But all he could do was sit there, powerless, watching as the tears finally fell, silent and unnoticed, just like you.

And as the night wore on, Metatron’s heart ached with a pain that was all too human. Because in that moment, he realized that no matter how much he loved you, no matter how much he wanted to protect you, there was nothing he could do to heal the wounds that others had inflicted on your heart.

All he could do was watch over you, love you from a distance, and hope that one day, you would find someone who could see you the way he did—someone who would never let you cry alone.

Later that night, after the painful realization that you had been excluded from yet another gathering, Metatron watched as you moved through your bedtime routine with a sense of resigned heaviness. He had observed this ritual many times before, each movement familiar and practiced, but tonight, there was a sadness in you that he hadn’t seen in a long time—a sadness that tugged at something deep within him.

You brushed your teeth, washed your face, and changed into your nightgown, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. But there was no comfort to be found in the familiar routine tonight. Your movements were slow, almost mechanical, as if you were going through the motions without really feeling them. Metatron noticed how your shoulders slumped, how your gaze seemed distant, how your eyes were red-rimmed from the tears you had tried so hard to hide.

When you finally finished, you walked over to your bed, the room dimly lit by the small lamp on your nightstand. Metatron’s eyes followed your every move as you knelt beside the bed, your hands clasped together, your head bowed in prayer. This was how you always ended your day, no matter how difficult or lonely it had been—you always prayed, always spoke to God as if He were right there beside you, listening to every word.

But tonight, there was a heaviness in your voice as you began to speak, a tremor that betrayed the depth of your sadness. Metatron leaned forward slightly, his heart aching with a pain he wished he could take away, as he listened to your prayer.

“Father,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “thank you for another day, for the health and strength to get through it. Thank you for my family, my friends, and for the people I was able to help today at the hospital.”

You paused, your voice trembling slightly as you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Metatron could see the way your hands clenched together, your knuckles white as you fought to keep your emotions in check.

“Please, watch over them,” you continued, your voice wavering. “Watch over my parents, my brother, and… and my friends. Keep them safe, Father, and give them the happiness they deserve.”

There was another pause, longer this time, as if you were struggling to find the words to say. Metatron watched as a single tear slipped down your cheek, your eyes closing tightly as you tried to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“I… I don’t want to be ungrateful,” you whispered, your voice thick with anguish. “I know I have so much to be thankful for, and I try, I really do. But… I feel so alone, Father. So alone, and… and I don’t know what to do.”

Metatron’s heart broke at the sound of your confession, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He wanted to reach out, to comfort you, to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was there, watching over you, caring for you in ways you could never imagine. But he was bound by the laws of heaven, unable to reveal himself, unable to give you the comfort you so desperately needed.

Your voice shook as you continued, your words spilling out in a rush of emotion. “I try to be strong, to be kind, to see the good in people, but… but it’s so hard, Father. It’s so hard when… when they don’t see me, when they don’t care. I try to be a good friend, a good daughter, but… but it feels like no one wants me. Like I’m just… invisible.”

Another tear fell, and then another, until they were streaming down your face, your body trembling with the effort of holding back the sobs that threatened to escape. Metatron could feel your pain, your loneliness, as if it were his own, and it took everything in him not to cry out, not to break the rules that bound him and reveal himself to you, to tell you that you were seen, that you were loved, even if you didn’t know it.

You bowed your head lower, your voice barely audible now as you spoke the words that had been weighing on your heart for so long. “Father… please… help me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this. I’m so tired of being alone, of being… unloved. I just… I just want someone to care. Someone to see me… for who I really am.”

Your voice broke on the last word, and with it, the dam of emotions you had been holding back for so long finally burst. You buried your face in your hands, your sobs muffled against the bed as you cried out all the pain, all the loneliness, all the heartache that had been building up inside you for years.

Metatron felt his own tears welling up, his heart shattering at the sight of your suffering. He had watched over you for so long, had seen every tear, every heartbreak, every moment of loneliness, and it had taken everything in him not to intervene, not to break the rules and offer you the comfort you so desperately needed.

But tonight, as he watched you cry, as he listened to your anguished prayer, something inside him snapped. He couldn’t just sit there, invisible, powerless, while you suffered. He couldn’t just watch as you cried yourself to sleep, believing that you were unloved, unseen, when nothing could be further from the truth.

For a moment, Metatron considered defying the rules, revealing himself to you, showing you the love and care that he had been holding back for so long. But he knew that it was impossible, that it would only cause more harm than good. And so, he did the only thing he could—he prayed.

“Father,” Metatron whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he gazed at you, his heart aching with a love that he could never express, “please, give her the comfort she needs. Let her know that she is not alone, that she is loved, even if she can’t see it. Let her feel my presence, if only for a moment, and let her know that I am here, watching over her, caring for her.”

And as you cried yourself to sleep, your prayer still lingering in the air, Metatron remained by your side, his unseen hand hovering just above your cheek, so close but never close enough. He stayed there, watching over you, guarding you, loving you in the only way he could.

And as the night stretched on, Metatron made a silent vow to himself. He would do everything in his power to protect you, to guide you, to help you find the happiness you deserved. And even if you never knew he was there, even if you never saw him, he would never leave your side.

Because in a world full of shadows, you were his light, his purpose, his reason for being.

And he would love you, from a distance, for all eternity.

As the days passed, Metatron continued his silent vigil, watching over you as you navigated the challenges of your life with the same quiet resilience that had drawn him to you in the first place. Today, he accompanied you to the hospital where you worked, his presence unseen but ever vigilant. You were a pediatric doctor, a role that suited you perfectly, given your boundless compassion and patience. It was in the hospital that Metatron saw the truest reflection of your heart, the way you poured yourself into caring for the children, giving them your time, your love, and your undivided attention.

The children adored you. To them, you were more than just a doctor—you were a friend, a protector, someone who made their days in the sterile, often frightening environment of the hospital a little brighter. They loved you because you saw them, truly saw them, in a way that others often didn’t. You took the time to listen to their stories, to comfort them when they were scared, to make them laugh even when they were in pain. And in return, they gave you their trust, their affection, and, most importantly, their honesty.

Metatron watched with a mixture of admiration and concern as you moved from one patient to the next, your demeanor calm and professional, yet always with a warmth that set you apart from the other doctors. You were in your element here, surrounded by the children you loved, and for a few hours, at least, you could forget the loneliness that plagued you outside these walls.

Today, one of your patients was a little girl named Sophie, a bright-eyed child with a contagious smile despite the illness that kept her in the hospital. She had always been one of your favorites, and Metatron knew it. There was something about her spirit, her resilience, that reminded him of you. As you entered her room, Sophie’s face lit up, and she greeted you with the kind of enthusiasm that only children seemed capable of.

“Doctor!” Sophie exclaimed, her voice filled with joy as she reached out for your hand. “I’ve been waiting for you all day!”

You smiled warmly as you took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And I’ve been looking forward to seeing you, too,” you replied, your voice soft and full of affection. “How are you feeling today, Sophie?”

Sophie’s smile faltered slightly as she thought about her answer, but she quickly brightened again, determined not to let her discomfort show. “I’m okay,” she said with a shrug, her tone a little too casual for a child her age. “But I wanted to tell you something!”

“Oh?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as you sat down beside her bed, your full attention on the little girl. “What’s that?”

Sophie leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she whispered, “Doctor Marques likes you! He told me!”

Metatron, who had been hovering nearby, listening intently, felt a surge of irritation at the mention of Colin Marques. Doctor Marques was a natural flirt, the kind of man who spread his charms indiscriminately, with little regard for the feelings he left in his wake. Metatron had seen his type before—men who were all too happy to take advantage of someone’s kindness, to make promises they had no intention of keeping. And the idea that Marques might be trying to worm his way into your life, into your heart, made Metatron’s blood boil.

You laughed softly, a sound that Metatron usually found comforting, but now it only made him more agitated. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice playful as you ruffled Sophie’s hair. “And what did Doctor Marques say exactly?”

Sophie giggled, clearly delighted to be sharing what she considered a very important secret. “He said you’re the prettiest doctor in the whole hospital, and that he likes talking to you because you’re nice. He said he wants to take you out for dinner!”

Metatron clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists as he fought to keep his composure. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. Marques was nothing but trouble, and the thought of him trying to charm his way into your life, to take advantage of your kindness and generosity, was enough to make Metatron want to interfere in ways he knew he shouldn’t.

You, of course, took Sophie’s words in stride, smiling at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Well, that’s very sweet of Doctor Marques,” you said, your tone light and nonchalant. But Metatron could see the faint blush that crept into your cheeks, the way you ducked your head slightly as if embarrassed by the attention. He knew you well enough by now to recognize that, despite your dismissive tone, the idea of someone showing interest in you wasn’t something you took lightly. You had spent so long feeling invisible, unappreciated, that even the smallest bit of attention was enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were worth noticing after all.

But Metatron knew better. Marques wasn’t interested in you for the right reasons. He was a man driven by ego and desire, and the idea of winning over someone as sweet and unassuming as you probably appealed to his sense of conquest. It wasn’t about love, or even genuine affection—it was about the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of knowing he could have you if he wanted.

And Metatron would be damned if he let that happen.

Over the next few days, Metatron made it his mission to keep Marques at bay. He couldn’t interfere directly—his powers were bound by the laws of heaven—but there were other ways to make sure Marques stayed away from you. Little things, subtle things, that the doctor wouldn’t even notice. A misplaced file here, a scheduling conflict there, a sudden page that called him away just as he was about to approach you. It was all too easy for someone with Metatron’s celestial abilities, and he took a certain grim satisfaction in watching Marques grow increasingly frustrated as his attempts to get closer to you were thwarted at every turn.

The other angels noticed, of course. The guardian angels assigned to the children you cared for, and even Marques’ own guardian, a rather irritable angel named Maraues, were quick to pick up on Metatron’s interference. They didn’t like it—they were bound by the same rules as Metatron, after all, and they knew how important it was to respect the boundaries set by the Almighty.

But Metatron didn’t care. Let them talk, let them frown and shake their heads. He knew what he was doing was right. You deserved better than Marques, better than the casual flirts and smooth talkers who would only end up hurting you in the end. You deserved someone who truly saw you, who loved you for who you were, not for what they could take from you.

And if Metatron had to play dirty to keep Marques away, then so be it.

One day, as you were finishing up your rounds, Metatron noticed Marques lingering near your office, a bouquet of flowers in hand and a hopeful smile on his face. It was clear that he was planning to ask you out, to finally make his move after days of trying to catch you alone. Metatron’s eyes narrowed as he considered his options, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a way to prevent this encounter.

As Marques started to approach your office, Metatron acted quickly. A slight flick of his wrist, a whispered word in the ancient language of angels, and the door to your office suddenly swung open, revealing you standing there, your expression one of surprise as you saw Marques standing just outside, flowers in hand.

But before Marques could speak, Metatron intervened once more. He sent a sharp, insistent thought to one of the nurses down the hall, and within seconds, the nurse appeared, rushing up to Marques with a look of urgency on her face.

“Doctor Marques, we need you in the ER right away!” she said, her voice breathless with urgency. “There’s been a serious accident, and they need your help immediately!”

Marques hesitated, clearly torn between his desire to talk to you and his duty as a doctor. But in the end, duty won out, and with a frustrated sigh, he handed the flowers to the nurse, instructing her to give them to you before hurrying off down the hall, leaving you standing there, bewildered and alone.

Metatron couldn’t help but smirk as he watched Marques’ retreating form. It wasn’t the most honorable way to handle things, but it was effective. And that was all that mattered.

But as you stood there, holding the bouquet that had been left behind, your expression softening into something that Metatron couldn’t quite decipher, he felt a pang of guilt. He knew he was protecting you, that he was doing what he thought was best, but he also knew that you longed for love, for companionship, for someone to see you the way you deserved to be seen.

And so, as you placed the flowers on your desk, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, Metatron vowed to himself that he would find a way to protect you without stifling your chance at happiness. He would keep you safe from those who would hurt you, but he would also keep his eyes open for someone worthy of your love, someone who could give you the happiness you so desperately deserved.

Until then, he would continue to watch over you, guarding you from the shadows, doing everything in his power to keep you safe—even if it meant bending the rules a little along the way. Because in a world full of pain and disappointment, you were the one thing worth fighting for.

And Metatron would fight for you, for as long as it took, until the day came when you no longer needed him.

But deep down, he knew that day would never come. Not for him. Because somewhere along the way, in the midst of his duty, in the midst of his anger and frustration, Metatron had fallen in love with you. And though he could never act on it, though he could never reveal it, he knew that his heart would belong to you for all eternity.

And that was enough. It had to be.

Metatron’s heart felt heavy as he watched over you that night, his unseen presence lingering in the quiet darkness of your bedroom. He had made sure you were safe, that you had finally drifted into a restless sleep after the emotional turmoil of the day. The soft rise and fall of your breath was the only sound in the room, and Metatron felt a pang of longing as he stood beside your bed, his gaze fixed on your peaceful face.

You were so vulnerable, so fragile in this moment, and yet there was a strength in you that Metatron had come to admire deeply. He had seen the way you faced the world, the way you endured the pain and loneliness that seemed to follow you like a shadow. And though you didn’t know it, he had been with you every step of the way, silently guarding you, protecting you from the worst of what the world could throw at you.

But tonight, as he watched you sleep, Metatron felt a deep sense of frustration and helplessness. He had done everything he could to keep you safe, to shield you from the people who didn’t deserve you, but it wasn’t enough. You were still lonely, still longing for someone to see you, to truly see you, in the way that Metatron did.

And so, with a heavy heart, he made the decision to return to Heaven, determined to speak with God Himself. If there was anyone who could help, it was Him. Metatron wasn’t one to beg, but for you, he was willing to do whatever it took.

As he ascended to Heaven, the familiar, brilliant light of the celestial realm surrounded him, and his usual sharp wit and sarcasm returned as he passed by his angelic brothers and sisters. He could feel their curious gazes on him, their whispers of speculation about what could have driven the Voice of God to such a state. But Metatron paid them no mind. He had one purpose, and he wouldn’t be deterred.

Finally, he stood before the throne of God, the presence of the Almighty filling the space with a power and serenity that would have brought any other being to their knees. But Metatron, as always, stood tall, his hazel eyes flashing with a mix of determination and frustration as he addressed the one being who could change your fate.

“Father,” Metatron began, his voice steady but laced with an underlying edge, “I need to speak with you about her.”

There was a pause, a silence that stretched on for what felt like an eternity, but Metatron waited, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that God was aware of you—how could He not be? But it was one thing to watch over you as Metatron had been doing, and another entirely to intervene in your life in the way Metatron was about to request.

When God finally spoke, it was not with words, but with a presence that filled Metatron’s mind, a sense of knowing that transcended any human form of communication. And in that moment, Metatron knew that God understood exactly what he was asking for.

“You know I cannot grant this request, Metatron,” came the silent, omnipotent reply, gentle yet firm.

Metatron’s jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling up as he struggled to keep his tone respectful. “Why not?” he demanded, his voice thick with emotion. “She deserves more than this—more than the loneliness and pain she’s endured. I’m not asking for much. Just… just let me find someone for her. Someone who will see her for the incredible person she is, who will value her and love her the way she deserves.”

“Humans have free will, Metatron. They choose their own paths, their own loves. No angel, not even you, can interfere with that. It is not our place.”

Metatron’s fists tightened at his sides, his frustration mounting. “But she wants to be seen,” he insisted, his voice growing more desperate. “She’s spent her whole life being overlooked, taken for granted, treated like she’s invisible. Can’t you see that she needs someone? Someone who will finally see her the way I do?”

Another silence, longer this time, as if God were considering Metatron’s words. But when He spoke again, the answer was still the same, unyielding and absolute.

“It is not our place, Metatron. She must find her own way, make her own choices. You cannot choose for her, nor can I.”

Metatron felt a wave of helplessness crash over him, a rare and unwelcome emotion for someone of his stature. He had always prided himself on his ability to solve problems, to find solutions, even in the most difficult situations. But now, standing before the Almighty Himself, he realized that there was nothing he could do. He was powerless, bound by the very laws that had created him.

But he couldn’t let it go. Not this time. Not when it came to you.

“She wants to be seen,” Metatron repeated, his voice low and filled with a pain he hadn’t meant to reveal. “And so do I. I want her to see me, to know that I’ve been there all along, watching over her, caring for her in ways no one else ever could. I want her to know that she’s not alone, that she’s never been alone.”

God’s silence was deafening, the weight of Metatron’s confession hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, Metatron feared that he had gone too far, that he had revealed too much of his heart, too much of the forbidden love he had for you.

But then, something changed. The presence of God seemed to shift, to soften, and Metatron felt a warmth in his chest, a deep understanding that transcended words.

“You both want to be seen,” God finally said, His voice gentle, filled with a compassion that Metatron had never experienced before. “But that is not something that can be granted by divine intervention. It must come from within, from the choices you both make. You must let her find her own way, and you must accept that you cannot interfere.”

Metatron’s heart ached with the truth of those words, a truth he didn’t want to accept. But he knew, deep down, that God was right. You had your own path to walk, your own choices to make, and no matter how much he wanted to protect you, to guide you, he couldn’t force your hand. You had to find your own way, and he had to trust that you would.

But it didn’t make the pain any less real.

Metatron bowed his head, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his unspoken love, his unfulfilled desires. He had always prided himself on his duty, on his ability to carry out God’s will without question. But now, faced with the one thing he couldn’t have, the one thing he wanted more than anything else, he felt the sharp sting of failure.

“I understand,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll protect her, as I always have. But I’ll… I’ll step back, and let her find her own way.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Metatron felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder, a warmth that soothed the ache in his chest, if only a little.

“You have done well, Metatron,” God said, His voice filled with a kindness that Metatron hadn’t expected. “Your love for her is pure, but you must let her go. Trust that she will find her way, and know that you have done everything you can to protect her.”

Metatron nodded, though the motion felt hollow, empty. He knew what he had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier.

With a heavy heart, Metatron turned away from the throne, his gaze fixed on the floor as he made his way out of the celestial chamber. The other angels watched him as he passed, their expressions a mix of sympathy and curiosity, but Metatron ignored them. He didn’t want their pity, their understanding. He wanted you.

But he knew he couldn’t have you. Not in the way he wanted.

And so, as he descended back to Earth, back to the place where you slept, Metatron steeled himself for the task ahead. He would continue to watch over you, to protect you from the shadows, but he would no longer interfere in your life. He would let you find your own way, make your own choices, even if it meant watching you fall in love with someone else.

Because in the end, all he wanted was for you to be happy, to be seen and loved the way you deserved. Even if it wasn’t by him.

But deep down, Metatron knew that a part of him would always long for the impossible—to be seen by you, to have you look at him the way he looked at you, with a love that transcended all boundaries, all rules.

But that was a dream that would remain forever out of reach.

And so, with a heart heavy with unspoken love and unfulfilled desires, Metatron returned to your side, watching over you as you slept, knowing that he would never be more than a guardian, a protector, someone who loved you from a distance, unseen and unheard.

But it was enough. It had to be.

Because he had made a promise—to protect you, to love you, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

And Metatron never broke a promise.

[makuyi13]

"The Least They Could Do" (Morpherine / Morph x Wolverine)

by @makuyi13

"The ways they could make him happy if they were Jean. But they weren’t. Logan was the man, the myth, the legend, and Morph was just Morph. And they were just friends.

And they hoped to God that was enough."

-

Author's Note: Alright guys I've gotten over an adequate amount of my fears and written a little one-shot after years and years of not being able to write fan-fiction! So anyways this is a really big step for me and I'm obviously very nervous, so please be nice. If I messed up on Morph's pronouns or grammar or spelling somehow, though, please do tell me so kindly. Anyways fellas enjoy I hope it's good :)

Oh I added some more edits, too. The ending is better now.

Edit: The hell have I been doing not posting this on AO3. Here you go fellas https://archiveofourown.org/works/57571678

-

Logan was upset. Again.

It was like the guy was sentenced to be upset for life. There was always something for him to be frustrated about. There would be a few days, weeks if he was lucky, when there wasn’t, and all was well. But then something would go wrong again.

This time it was about Jean.

Again.

She was to have a baby with Scott.

And of course Logan was upset about it.

Morph felt bad about it, being such good friends with Logan and all, and caring about him and his happiness so much, but there was a part of them that was glad that Jean was with Scott. They didn’t know why, and there was always a bit of them that didn’t want to find out. And even worse (Morph felt horrid about this), there was always that part of them that hoped Logan would never have Jean.

It made them feel evil, wishing that kind of misfortune upon somebody, especially their best friend. And being evil was a wretched thing, they knew, but they couldn’t help it. They couldn’t help it at all.

Smart people knew better than to bother Logan when he was upset. But the good thing was that Morph didn’t necessarily consider themself smart. So that was how they found themself opening the front door and stepping outside the mansion to go find Logan.

It happened to be cloudy. All murky skies and chill, although there wasn’t excess moisture or cold. Morph walked down the slight slope, hands behind their back, looking around. Logan was slumped in the distance, staring off. Morph jumped and started, almost running, but caught themselves just in time. As they stepped nearer, they suddenly became painfully aware that they had hands. They tried to drop them by their sides, but they seemed too stiff. Crossing their arms seemed weird and hostile. Keeping them behind their back just seemed awkward and unnatural.

They shook their head forcefully. What was wrong with them? That coffee Jubilee made them must have had something in it. Morph shoved their hands in the pockets of their sweater after whatever fumble just went on. Ignoring it all, Morph opened their mouth to say “hello”.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Morph cringed. Of course what came out instead had to be something dumb. They felt their face burn and suddenly felt a strong desire to dig a hole and die. God Almighty, why would they say that? Just why? Why did they always have to try and fail to be funny?

Logan didn’t look their way, but grumbled something under his breath instead. He didn’t say anything else, and Morph took that as an invitation to sit down next to him. They brushed their long skirt, gathering it as they settled. They began to have second thoughts about this. Maybe Logan didn’t want to see them. Maybe they couldn’t really make Logan feel better. Maybe Logan didn’t care if they were there or not. After all, who were they? They were just a friend. They weren’t even Jean.

But… that didn’t really matter, did it? They didn’t need to be Jean to have the kind of time that they wanted to have with Logan. Did they?

Morph realised they were staring and studying Logan a little too closely. Running their eyes along his brow, down his temple, his mouth… Ugh, they thought to themself. That was really pathetic of them. Ripping their eyes away and trying to shift a little to seem a bit more animated, Morph heard Logan sigh next to them. As if he had been tensing his muscles the entire time he was out here and had relaxed them just now.

“You know you don’t have to follow me around when I ain’t feelin’ well, right, bub?” Logan finally spoke, his voice gruff yet slightly defeated.

“It’s the least I can do,” Morph shrugged.

And yet it kind of was the truth. There wasn’t really anything Morph could do to make Logan feel better but this. They thought all the time about all the things they could be. Thought about the sweet songs they would play for him if they were some kind of musician. The long, heart-warming letters they would write if they were some kind of writer. The ways they could make him happy if they were Jean. But they weren’t. Logan was everything; he was the man, the myth, the legend; and Morph was just Morph. And they were just friends.

And they hoped to God that was enough.

They blinked a few times. Keep it together. Clear the mind. But now they’ve realised that Logan’s shifted his body so that they’re sitting across from each other, facing each other, and now their mind’s a little too clear. Blank, even. And then Logan’s reaching for their leg and their heartbeat’s getting loud and fast, fast and loud, and then that thick, rough hand of his is touching the fabric that’s swimming around Morph’s legs, and all they can think of is damn, all they can hear is the heavy, rapid thump of their heart. 

But all Logan does is touch the hem of the skirt and softly say in his tough, gravelly voice, “This looks good on you.”

And it suddenly means the world to Morph. Their heart squeezes tight and releases. He likes my skirt, he likes my skirt. They dare to look at his face. It's saddened, defeated, creased with age and worry and hardened with pain, and yet they can't find ugliness in it, because there's a sixteenth of a smile lingering on his chapped lips and an unbearably sincere look buried deep in his brown eyes, no matter how much Logan tries to hide it all and shove it under. And that's when Morph knows they would wear that skirt over and over just to see that kind of look in Logan's face again and again. A confusingly, maddeningly good kind of feeling is rushing through their veins, and Morph wants to push it away, tell it to leave them alone, but they can't. Because they do love that feeling, even if they don't know what it is.

"Thank you," Morph breathes, wishing they had more to say.

And then Logan avoids their eyes, turns his body away and it’s over. Morph could kick themself. But instead they silently swear not to say or do anything stupid while they’re with Logan. So they just sit. And so does Logan. Neither says a single word. Neither moves. It’s just Logan and the grey sky and the still air and the lawn and Logan and the silence and the sweater weather and Morph hoping with all their heart that Logan was feeling a little bit better at least. But then again, they didn’t really do much for him. They couldn’t really. All they could do was just come and be there and try their best not to fumble like an idiot (again). Even if Logan said they didn’t have to.

It was the least they could do.

[ithebookhoarder]

Blind With Rage

Description: Whilst you've handled witness interviews alone before, as part of your work at Nelson and Murdock, you know that Matt's always close by and all-too ready to step in if you ever need him.

A/N: He protect. He attack. He is a snack 😅...

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, mentions of crime, swearing, Matt being a full-on protective baby XD

Masterlist

Being a lawyer, you were used to visiting clients in rough places. Prisons, holding cells in local stations, and even crime scenes - you’d been to them all. 

Even with a vigilante for a boyfriend, and rather unorthodox client base, there wasn’t much that could surprise you. Working at Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law, had pretty much ensured it. 

Still, this morning’s meeting had gone pear shaped and you’d barely seen it coming. 

You’d only been sat with a possible witness for you latest client’s case for about five minutes, before it had happened. Matt had been running late at the time and Foggy was out of the room, talking to officers in the corridor, leaving you alone with the man opposite you - which was totally fine. After all, you'd handled witness statements alone before and it wasn't like there wasn't a dozen officers in the building with you if anything did go wrong. 

Also, you only had a couple questions that needed to be asked before you could go back about your merry way and possibly swipe a quick lunch on your route back to the office. If anything, you were more concerned about your choice of sandwich than the petty thief sat on the other side of the table.

He'd so far been cooperative, corroborating your client’s story that he had been nowhere near the crime scene when the crime had occurred. Picked up by police after a failed pickpocketing, the man opposite had apparently been near the scene of the crime and confirmed your client was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he was pretty quick to tell you who was around when the crime had occurred and just who he thought might have done it.

"Thanks, Mr Jerome," you’d nodded, scribbling the last of your notes on the yellow legal pad in front of you. "You've been incredibly helpful. My client will really appreciate your testimony."

"Anytime, sugar."

Yep. That was it; That was the moment when things took a turn for the worst. 

You could see it now, playing back in your mind in slow motion… the way he’d followed the nickname with a rather crass compliment about how you were looking that day. 

His eyes then dropped, roaming up and down your body in a way that just made you feel dirty without even being touched. 

And when you’d told him to stop? That the meeting was done? He’d lunged. 

Of course, he hadn’t got very far - his handcuffs attached to the table made sure of that. Still, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't jumped at the sudden movement.

You flinched, opening your mouth to say something. However, you never got the chance as the door slammed open behind you with an almighty bang. It was then that you saw who was responsible for the sudden interruption as Matt Murdock came racing into the room so fast it made your head spin.

Wait, when had he got here?

You blinked, staring up at your partner with shock as he reached over and pulled your chair back with a harsh screech, cutting you off from protesting. You could see the fury rolling off of him in waves and for a moment you couldn't be sure it wasn't directed at you.

Thankfully, the source of his rage became clear as he positioned himself in front of you, his focus never leaving the man sat on the other side of the table. He had created a literal human-shield between you, a silent challenge against your would-be assailant.

Without a word, his hand reached backwards, hauling you to your feet and frogmarching you from the room. His grip was ironclad.

"Matt."

"Y/N, don't."

"Wait, Matt," you barked, "Let go of me, I had it under control-"

"-Of course you did, Sweetheart. Wait here," he ordered, his tone lethal as he addressed the police officer waiting for you both in the hall. It was clear you weren't going to be allowed anywhere near that room again and that he was holding this poor officer responsible for ensuring that was the case.

A sudden urge to argue roared up from inside of you, but you bit your tongue as Matt released you. You didn't need to ask if he was ok. It was clear he wasn't from the concerned pull of his brow. If you didn't know any better, you'd have said he was actually worried about you.

"I'll be back in a minute. Mr Jerome and I need to have a quick word - stay here with Foggy."

You weren't entirely sure if talking was actually Matt's plan, given the way his hands were clenched at his side. Still, no one made a move to stop him as he marched back into the room you'd just come from, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the two-way glass rattle.

He'd always had a flair for the dramatic.

"Wow."

Wow indeed, you thought, staring across the room at Foggy. The fact the other lawyer looked like he was trying not to laugh made it clear what he thought about the entire exchange.

"Whatever sassy joke you're about to make, Nelson, just don't," you grumbled, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“I wasn't going to make a joke,” Foggy scoffed, his shit-eating grin only growing as Matt's furious voice echoed from the other side of the wall.

"-You feel like a tough guy, huh? Picking on other people? You utter piece of sh-"

The both of you winced at the sudden flurry of colourful expletives.

“I mean, I’m sure Matt would have thrown himself just as chivalrously in front of me if some sleazy douchebag made a gross comment about me.” 

You eyes were rolling before he even finished the sentence. “Foggy? Shut the hell up.”

[iennoganan-aha]

This au idea wormed it’s way into my brain and it won’t go away 💀💀

Au where like, scott and Eric grew up as brothers or something idk,

I imagine Scott is a decently good older brother, but also not really, kinda a douchebag, he doesn’t want to hang out with his brother and his 4th grade Friends as an almighty 9th grader.

I think cartman would totally be a clingy younger brother, I feel it in my soul.

In this au, Scott lives with Liane and Eric, and has Eric's whole life, they're always been brothers.

I imagine Jack Tenermon left Liane one night, around when Eric was born (so Scott was like 6) and never came back. Scott really wants to find him again, and so does Eric (to get payback for leaving their mom)

So the jack tenermon chilli incident probably still happens, just intentionally this time, and as like, payback for leaving their mom or something,

Scott was very upset :(

Idk man, I don't want to make a whole story out of this, it's just for silly doodles of Cartman with some positive attention in his life. Idk maybe because he had Scott growing up he isn't as big of a shithead who knows.

Don't repost to other cities please!

[omletteflipper]

Why?: Volo x Reader

After everything you've been through, you can't help but be kind to him. But why?

Spoilers for post-post-game.

You were hardly aware of the tall grass crunching under your feet as you hiked along the cliffside. You had searched every nook and cranny for the slightest hint of the man who betrayed you. Why were you looking for him? Why did you care? After hours of trekking and months of searching, you didn't have enough energy to ponder them.

You turned a jagged corner and ducked under an overhang when suddenly you saw it: a hole in the rock face that was just big enough for a large person to squeeze through. You impulsively stuck your head in the gap and let out a gasp.

The cave was decorated with various artifacts that you had never seen before. If that wasn't obvious enough, a yellow and white bedroll was spread across the floor. This had to be it.

"Hello."

You turned around and instinctively threw your arms over your face, cowering from a blow that didn't come. You slowly lowered your arms to see a frustratingly beautiful man staring down at you.

Time had not been kind to Volo. His hair was unkept and knotted, and his once-white tunic was streaked with dirt and grime. It was almost... pitiful.

As if reading your thoughts, he looked down and cringed at his own appearance. "The wilderness was- easier to traverse in my Ginko Guild uniform."

You were shocked by his lack of aggression, but more than that you were shocked by your own. It was by pure instinct that you sought out this man, this man who had tried everything to strike you down. Did time alone in the wilderness make you placid? Did it make him placid?

You searched your pockets and pulled out a haircomb made of finely carved Magikarp bone.

Volo's expression shifted as you offered it to him. He was always hard to read, but now that you know what he's capable of, his true emotions were even more unknown. "Why." he finally said.

You looked down at your feet, not knowing the answer to his question. To his thousand unspoken questions. Because you were my friend? Because I learned a lot from you?Because even though you tried to strike me down I somehow kind of respect you?

"Because your hair is messy."

Volo snatched the comb from your hand and gingerly attempted to run it through his once-beautiful hair, but the teeth quickly got stuck in a matted section.

"Let me help," you offered.

He tried in vain to break up the tangled blond mass before finally tossing the comb at you and sitting down on a rock with a huff.

You gently took his hair between your fingers, assessing the damage. It was clear that he had at least bathed during his exile, but river water could only do so much. It would take hours to detangle it all.

Volo fidgeted under the heat of your gaze and the touch of your hands. He looked like he wanted to speak, but the two of you were locked in an inescapable silence as you began slowly fixing his hair. He knew you wouldn't fall for his usual charms. You knew he wouldn't respond well to talk of redemption. You worked in silence until you gently draped a freshly detangled lock over Volo's shoulder.

"Thank you."

You both spoke the words at the exact same time. Volo turned to see you stifling a laugh with one hand loosely placed over your smile.

"You're welcome." You both quipped simultaneously.

Now Volo was laughing. Oh Almighty Sinnoh how you missed that laugh. It reminded you of your adventures together seeking out legendary pokemon. Before Spear Pillar. You sighed and looked at him wistfully. His round face and sharp chin, his half-lidded grey eyes that squinted a little when he smiled, his strong arms that you could finally appreciate through his threadbare tunic. In that moment you realized you were finally seeing the real Volo.

"Why?" Volo asked again, as soft as a song.

As you searched for the right words you suddenly felt the weight of your pack dig into your shoulders. You dropped it in front of you and held out the comb again.

"Because your hair could have been messy."

You reached into your pack and pulled out a set of fine clothes woven with threads of gold.

"Because your clothes could have been dirty."

You reached in again and pulled out a set of tinctures and bandages.

"Because you could have been hurt."

Again and again you pulled countless gifts from your pack. Sweet-smelling soaps, a collection of leather-bound novels, a set of hand-drawn illustrations of each of his Pokemon, warm woolen socks. Each gift with a sentiment. A worry. A prayer.

Volo gazed at you as you spilled your heart onto the rocks by his feet. The chosen vessel of his silent god was here, worrying for him. Seeking him out. Spending months of time and wages just to ensure his well-being. A few months ago he would have called you foolish. Before that, he would have shoved down his emotions and thought of you as a useful tool. But now? All of the feelings he desperately tried to ignore since the day you met came flooding back.

In an instant you were in his arms. You hadn't even registered that he stood up, yet here you were swallowed up by his mass. Your head pressed against his chest as he cradled your body with ease. You melted into each other's touch, breathing in the mountain air.

You gazed up at him, noticing the soft intensity in his eyes as he stared back. His arms shifted slightly, tightening his grip around you. Unkempt as he was, Volo was still beautiful.

"Why?" You asked.

You could feel Volo's chuckle vibrate through his body before trailing off into little hums. He removed one hand from your embrace and ran his fingers along the combed section of his golden hair. It was his turn to lay his heart bare to you.

With every chance encounter, Volo had grown to admire your love for Pokemon. With every legendary pokemon and plate you tracked down together he began to grow fond of your presence. The world was so unfair, and yet over the past months Volo found himself yearning for the company of its protector.

"Because... I love you."

Volo said it with certainty. No smirk on his face or humor in his expression. A few months ago he considered you proof that life was nothing but unfair to him. Now, you were proof that the world was kind.

You squeezed him even tighter and buried your face in his chest. It was only after catching the sound of Volo's racing heartbeat that you realized you never gave him an answer.

"I love you too."

Volo smiled his signature toothy grin and suddenly your feet were off the ground. The both of you laughed as he spun you around with adrenaline-filled joy.

The two of you collapsed onto the rock with you in his lap, enjoying each other's warmth. You reached to run your fingers through his hair when you remembered. You pulled the comb from your pocket and began untangling a second lock of hair. You could stare directly at his face now. You liked this smile much better than the smirk he used to wear. This one crinkled his eyes into a warm expression and rounded his cheeks. The more you stared, the more you noticed a pink blush creep across his face.

"May I kiss you?" You found yourself asking.

"Are you sure?" Volo's smile faltered. Another set of unspoken questions. Are you sure you want to trust me again? Are you sure I'm worthy? Are you sure you want to love me?

"Yes." You breathed.

Volo's lips crashed into yours with surprising intensity. His grip on your body tightened as he poured every ounce of passion he had ever had right into your lips. You let out a squeak of surprise as he leaned you further down until your head was parallel to the ground. His hand cushioned your head against the rock as you felt his whole torso pressing on your body.

Every moment you thought he'd break away he didn't. You were locked in your embrace as the sun began to set and the heavens began to unfurl. Finally, when you thought you'd fall asleep with your lips against his, Volo slowly pulled back and searched your expression. Was that too much?

"I- wasn't expecting that."

"I've waited a long time." Volo said simply.

You suddenly became aware that the gifts you bought were still scattered at your feet. "It's getting dark. May I stay the night and care for you?"

"It would be an honor."

[lilliankoo]

“TITANIC” (I) SHIP OF DREAMS ♰ jjk.

♰ series masterlist / more info.

pairing: artist!jungkook x rich y/n!

synopsis: the port is bustling with thousands of passengers and the ocean liner- titanic stands in its all glory in front of you, but among all this pretty chaos, a man with paintings in his hands catches your eyes. this titanic voyage is bound to open new doors for you- which one will you choose?

genre: strangers to lovers, star-crossed lovers, smut.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: [things are just getting started] classism, descriptions of ocean/freezing temperatures, rich/poor themes, controlling mother, talks about (forced) marriage. future smut.

author’s note: things are just getting started, this chapter is more of a “pilot” and setting the stage for the plot! i apologize if its boring lol + i am not a professional writer :D don’t expect some Shakespeare level flow or plot building lmfao ok enough! lets go.

April 14, 1912

1:11 am

“I still think we have met before” you tell him as your teeth chatter and goosebumps ignite your skin due to the chilling ocean water. The subtle ocean waves roar and wrap around your waist once in a while as if they are inviting you; inviting you to go with them and let go of the hands of your lover. The lover who is holding your hands so desperately; laced are his fingers in yours as if this is how it's always been- you and him; hand in hand. Always & forever.

The tears cascade down from his cheeks into the ocean water, you watch as the teardrops trudge from his lash line into the saline water- one by one. He hiccups and looks around hoping to catch someone’s eye and get you both out of this.

“I need you to at least try to get on this door, there is enough space” he says hastily, tries you to get on the piece of door he is on right now, moving rapidly as if every minute is precious- which is, considering how the water temperature decreases minute by minute and it is getting harder for you to even blink. The little ice flakes sit on your eyelashes like pearls in the ocean; so beautiful- almost making you look like an angel on earth.

you smile dreamily as you close your eyes and rest your head on both of your connected hands; not even trying to save yourself because you know it is an attempt that has no success, “i think i saw you in france, you were selling one of your paintings” you say trying to ignore the fact that your lower body is freezing and you cannot feel anything. It is a numb feeling- not only in your legs but in your heart too. In your heart too, because no matter what you do you cannot change the past and fix this.

he drops his lips to your forehead and kisses it. tries to feel your skin for the last time but he can’t. Because his lips are freezing and so is your body. The kiss doesn't feel like the kisses he used to give you in his warm bed. The way he used to murmur promises in between the light kisses on your lips- however, this kiss feels like nothing but a false promise. “Everything will be fine” “we will always be together” when you know that the more you both speak the more breaths you are wasting.

A moment passes as he lifts his head from yours and looks at you. Looks at the way the cold gives a natural pink blush to your cheeks and how prepossessing you look right now. Suddenly, he remembers the words of his grandmother; something she used to tell him when he was a young kid. “Man glows differently when he is about to leave this earth and go to the almighty” he never understood what she meant. He drops his eyes from your eyes to your lips- which are pinkish like the roses he used to put in your hair all the time. In that moment, Jungkook swears he had never seen someone more beautiful like you. his smile fades when he realizes the words of his grandma; the words something along the lines of “glow and leaving”. his heart drops in the pit of his stomach deeper than the ocean you are in right now. Jungkook shakes your connected hands hysterically as he nudges you to open your eyes.

“y/n! y/n! open your eyes my love! ” his voice cracks as he hopes for you to respond back. waits for you to open your eyes, laugh and say something like “i was just trying to scare you i'm right here!” or something. but nothing. Not a single sound to his ears besides the sound of furniture and bodies floating around and the sound of the silent ocean.

A moment passes again, the temperature in the atmosphere decreases and Jungkook’s body starts freezing; ashes of ice decorate his eyelashes and cheekbones, his lips turn purple pink and for some reason he can’t feel his hands. can’t feel the softness of your hands. His eyes keep closing on their own but he tries to keep them open- because he doesn't want you out of his sight. scared that you might leave him if he blinked his eyes even once. murmurs “come back” for the last time as he watches your hands leaving his cold ones, watches you go with the waves as if you accepted their invitation. watches your beautiful face one last time as his eyes close entirely.

April 10th, 1912

7:30am

The port is bustling with thousands and thousands of people when you and your mother finally reach there. Some are carrying suitcases on their heads, some their children in their arms and some are waving at the passengers already aboard the gigantic ocean liner. Words like “write me when you get there” “bon voyage” “will you come back” reach your ears as you and your mother surf through the ocean of people to reach the boarding line.

“Darling, stick with me, we don't want these peasants touching your supple skin” your mother says, pulling you to her side and looking at the people around like they are not humans. like they don't have blood and limbs just like her. you scoff internally at your mother’s remarks, you smile at whoever makes eye contact with you. you notice the way some even blush and shy away as someone like you dressed in finest silk gowns, diamonds and pearls even looked their way.

Last night you remember how the news of boarding the ocean liner was dropped on you. “darling we are going to new york” your mother told you as she handed you the pamphlet- “ship of dream, the titanic” in bold lettering caught your eye and some sentences like “largest vessel in the world” “queen of the ocean” “once in a lifetime opportunity” and so on. you sighed because you know what this is all about. the liner is going to be filled with fellow millionaires and richest of the riches, this is nothing but your mother’s plot to find a groom for you.

Now, looking at the Titanic in front of you, you indeed can agree that it is truly the queen of the ocean. The vessel stands at a height in its all glory, the flags afloat in the air proudly as if they are proud to be displayed at a liner like titanic. your mother nudges your arm and motions you to close your amused mouth. you don’t miss the way she glares at you and almost says “behave” through her eyes. you nod and look around and smile whoever smiles your way. The weather is serene; the sun shines surrounded by clouds and the temperature is chilling due to the water you are being surrounded with. you and your mother both stand near the first class boarding gate as your mother informed you how the son of the titanic shipwrights “the son of the man who built this giant”- her words- will escort us and by the way, she smiles and rolls back her shoulder, You know it is something more. that the supposed man is the man she wants you to marry.

While waiting for the supposed man to arrive, you look around the port and at the families. you notice how some are giddy, some are crying and some are hugging their loved ones. your attention is derived from the crowd when you hear a man talk to your mother. “Welcome mrs.dewitt bukater” a man dressed in a black breasted jacket addresses your mother as he hugs her and kisses her cheek. your mother smiles and motions for you to come forward. before you can speak the man takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“mademoiselle” he says and bows his head, not letting go of your hand. you smile and tell him to just call you y/n. he smiles and introduces himself too. “It's a pleasure to meet you Mr.kim, we thank you for all your pleasantries and the efforts you put in for our utmost comfort” you say just the way your mother made you practice last night. your mother smiles proudly looking at you and the Mr.kim in front of you.

“Just mingyu is fine, y/n and it is my utmost pleasure, it is the least I can do” he says while smiling and letting go of your hand. “The liner is going to sail in 30 mins, mrs. bukater if you don’t mind, would you like to meet my mother while I show y/n around? there are some things i would like to share with her” he says as he holds both of your mother's hands. your mother wholeheartedly agrees and enters the liner- however not before hugging you and saying something in your ear. “We are rich but mingyu is the type of rich that can buy you an island in minutes. behave and keep in mind what i told you ''. and you exactly know what she means. you smile forcefully and nod your head. you look at your mother entering the liner and as she talks to a woman you guess is mingyu’s mother.

Mingyu touches your lower back and extends his hand in the direction of the bow of the titanic- motioning you to walk along with him. “y/n, Titanic is the largest and most luxurious passenger ship right now '' he tells you as he walks you through everything the liner is made of. as if you care. He points at the liner’s windows and railings telling you about the metal it is made of. He tells you about the luxuries the liner offers, the gym, the personal orchestra and so on. you look at him and the way he sounds so passionate about it- almost proud too since his daddy dearest built it. you control yourself from yawning as this is a topic that doesn’t ignite any desire and simply bores you. The topics you usually enjoy are about art and paintings however you guess mingyu is not that type of a person. “y/n, the titanic has 16 watertight compartments designed to keep it afloat if damaged which means it is unsinkable, even the god cannot make it sink” he tells you smiling proudly as he looks down at you. due to the height difference, you crane your neck at him then the liner in front of you.

“That is impressive but you shouldn’t challenge the almighty that way” you say, unlinking your arm with his. you wrap your arms around your torso as goosebumps rise on your skin due to the chilling oceanic temperature, you look around and at the people in the third class boarding ; you see people trying to get on the ship as it's boarding soon. However, someone special stands out to you the most.

a young man wearing suspenders and with black hair catches your eye. Only the back of his head is visible to you as his back is facing you and he doesnt turn around much, a suitcase by his feet and some frames wrapped in newspapers that look like paintings in his hand. the officer asks him something and he replies. the officer motions for him to step aside. you watch the conversation from afar and come to the conclusion that the man is being denied boarding. “mingyu what's going on over there” you ask him, still looking at the man who now wipes his eyes- which you think is because of tears. Mingyu laughs and tells you how the business of third class is not ours.

you turn around and look at mingyu. study the way his eyes scan your face and linger at your lips. hooked. you smile and trace his jawline with your finger. “Well, Mr.kim, you're the man in power” you say and his breath hitches. his breath hitches because he knows where this is going. knows you are testing him and the power he holds. However, in reality the only person you care about right now is the one with paintings in his hands. the one that has tears in his eyes. Mingyu nods and tells you how he will take care of it. you watch him go over to the small crowd and talk to the officer. you are still at a distance and cannot hear what they are saying. you watch them from afar, the man still has his back to you, mingyu looks through some papers and just as soon as that man is about to face your direction someone calls your name.

“mademoiselle dewitt!” You turn around at your name and come face to face with a man that you guess is in his 50s with some streaks of grey hair in his black hair, dressed in a breasted jacket just like mingyu- wait, he looks alot like mingyu too- the man bows his head and you accept the hand he offers. “good morning mademoiselle dewitt, i am kim joong-ki, the shipwrights of titanic” the man says. the man who designed this liner stood in front of you, bowing his head. you were confused as to why a powerful man like him was there for you. you greet him back and compliment him for his work on this titanic.

The conversation goes on for a few minutes before joong-ki informs you how well he knows your father and wishes he was aboard too. However, due to your father’s diamond business, he had to stay back. “We should get going, the Titanic is going to sail soon, please come along this way, i will bring mingyu in a minute” joong-ki informs you while nudging you in the direction of the door.

“y-yes but i am actually wai-” your words are cut off as he practically runs off in the direction of his son. the officer in front of you motions to enter. Just as you are about to enter you look over at that man’s direction in thid class area and see him entering the titanic, you could only catch the glimpse of his side profile as the moment was short but you were sure that he was handsome. The giddy feelings sits in your heart as you think about how you entered the queen of the ocean at the same time as the man who caught your eyes.

The vague descriptions written in pamphlets about the interior of the Titanic didn’t do any justice at all to the beautiful reality as you look at the grand staircase in front of you. The staircase in front of you right now is supposedly one of the most impressive features of the entire ship. The ship tour started a while ago. Just as you entered the titanic, your mother introduced you to the women she befriended and all of them decided to do a tour accompanied by Mingyu and his father. from what you have heard from joong-ki so far- that this lavish staircase spanns six decks from boat deck to E deck and continues through the F deck. whatever that means.

“As you can see ladies, the staircase is crowned by an extravagant wrought iron and glass dome along with a large chandelier at the centre. The dome provides natural light to the stairwell before being artificially lit at night from behind. If you step down a little, you can see at the central landing of the A-Deck staircase is an exquisitely carved clock with allegorical figures on either side, known as Honor and Glory Crowning Time and At the foot of the staircase, on the newel post of the middle balustrade, is a bronze cherub holding an electric torch” kim joong-ki gives a descriptive tour of the staircase, pointing out every single detail. you watch as everyone awes in amusement while you wait for the clock to strike another hour and hope for this unannounced tour to end quickly.

It's been approximately two hours since the Titanic set sail and since then you only have been doing the tour and it looks like it’s still not over. “mother, i'm going to step outside on the deck and breathe in some air” you whisper to your mother who flares her hand around signaling you to leave her alone as you are ruining the important information dear mr.kim is giving. you smile to yourself and shrug before mingyu or anyone else can notice, you step out and head to the upper deck.

you take a deep breath as you reach the deck and see the beautiful ocean around you. you have always been intrigued by the ocean’s beauty- always wondered what’s deep inside the water and so on. you laugh as the air flows through your hair dramatically ruining your perfect curls. you laugh because this is the most free you have ever felt in a long time. you don’t need to fix your hair or act womanly right now. there is no one around but the ocean. you fix your skirts and smooth down the material of your gown before standing in front of the railing. The railing is cold to your hands and it sends a weird chill to the back of your neck. you smile and look at the lower deck which is for the third class passengers. Since everyone has just gotten on the Titanic & is still exploring and settling in, there are not lots of passengers at the deck right now- besides a man near the left railing with his back to you; who looks like is sketching and a group of men smoking near the right end side.

The man sketching sticks your attention as he holds a notebook in his hand and a pencil in his other. momentarily, he lifts his head from the notebook to the front and that's when you notice he is drawing the oceanic view in front of him. you smile and lean a little more to see his work when suddenly your bracelet unlatches from your wrist and falls on the lower deck. The very same bracelet that matches with your “heart of the ocean” pendant adorning your neck. For a moment you freeze and assess whatever took place just now. you look around helplessly and down at the man and the group but none of them noticed the dropping. you instantly run in the direction of the entrance and internally pray to the almighty that no one gets their hands on it before you. you run through the stairs to the third class entry gates. you run fast as you can and follow the directions displayed in the corners to the lower deck. Just as you are about to open the lower deck’s door, someone catches your arm.

“Madam, this is not a suitable area for you” a man that you guess is a butler warns you. He lets go of your arm and blocks the gate by standing in front of it. “Sir, i will make it quick, i need to go” you plead to the butler with tears in your eyes as you cannot stand the chance of losing your bracelet that was gifted to you by your grandmother.

“I am sorry madam, the third class area is filled with poor filthy passengers, some pathetic men might take advantage of you” he replies as he shows no sign of stepping aside.

“I order you to step aside before i talk to Mr. kim” you warn him.

“But madam”- the butler sighs when you don’t budge and he steps aside while telling you to “make it quick”.

you run once again and reach the area you kind of guess it dropped. you look up to the upper deck and calculate the location of the railing you were previously standing at. you look down at the floor but you meet with nothing but with a piece of paper in place of your supposed bracelet. you look around confusingly and pick up the paper. you unfold it and come across a scribbled note.

“Meet me where the nest resides and the stars shine brighter than they are, meet me in the pale moonlight and maybe I will tell you where we are - J ”

next chapter- brooklyn baby.

taglist: @currently-stanning-bts @justagirlinlovewithsevenboys @namelesskeid @jksbibomp @withluvjm @heartstealer-law @badgyalcedi @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @september-husband @yourbobaeyestell @pointofviewyugyeom @ohcarolinamin @jungkooksmytype @erensfavblackie @kaithezaftig

[harukaprism]

Love ever after

Pairing: Alhaitham x GN!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, a bit a swearing, jealous Alhaitham

Word Count: 1,369 (nice)

You swore off relationships, swore off love, locked your heart away after the last relationship ended horribly. This time it was just you and only you. You moved away from your hometown and found yourself in the heart of Sumeru, accepted into the Akademiya and given a fresh new start. 

It has been like this for two years now, studying, school, work at the Cafe, then home to sleep finally. Your cold heart at the bottom of your to-do list, but imagine your surprise when your path eventually crossed with the insane scribe you met when you first came to the city in a daze. 

At first you hadn't realized who helped you find the apartment building, show you around town and which rooms to go through the school but as you got used to your new life it hit you and you avoided Alhaitham at all costs. 

In the past he only showed up every once in a while at the Cafe you worked at, but as you grew more comfortable around his presence it seemed the more he became a thorn in your side that hid itself from removal. 

Just like every other night, Alhaitham was sat in a corner reading his many books with a dinner and drink barely touched in front of him, Kaveh made a surprise appearance as he usually did. 

But it seemed you and Alhaitham were sick of the blonde on this night, as you had served them drink after drink having to endure the torture of Kavehs rants. Meeting the teal and scarlet eyes often scribe you walked over to their table for hopefully the last time you gave your best customer service smile to the two roommates. "Kaveh, is there anything else I can get you tonight?" 

His amber eyes met yours as he huffed. "No, I'll be taking my leave now." Dramatic as always the blonde strode out of your work with a certain pout. 

The silver haired man made no attempt to thank you but you didn't need it so you walked back to the kitchen to keep cooking and serving other customers. The night drew to a slow pace as all the students and citizens resigned for the night. 

You finally made your way to Alhaithams table to clear away the now empty plate of food. "I'm surprised you ate it after the time Kaveh took up." 

"I took bites between his rants." Finally looking up from the book he met your eyes. "His projects weren't too uninteresting, of course I already knew about them being that-" 

"You are The Scribe." You interrupted teasingly. "Yes yes, all hail the almighty Scribe of the Akademiya." With that you turned and took his dishes to the kitchen to wash, he'd be here until closing to finish his book, then you'd go your separate way as always.

When you finished everything and were closing up you spotted the silver haired man waiting outside. He claimed to be so unpredictable, yet you knew this was incorrect as you tracked his movements every night in the Cafe. "Did you get a lot of reading done?" You asked as you approached him. 

"I tuned out Kaveh so yes actually." Standing up from where he was leaning up against the building you allowed him to approach you. This was routine, he'd bid you a good night and be on his way. 

"Good for you." Securing your bag that held your uniform you started to walk past you. "Good night!" You were used to the silent walk home yet footsteps followed you. 

"How are your studies going?" This surprised you, he never walked you home he never asked about what you did in school. 

“They are fine, why so interested suddenly?” Looking at him his face was unreadable, like usual but there was something different about his eyes. “I am working on a large project with another student, we are meeting up tomorrow to work on it.” 

He was silent for a moment before he spoke up. “Are they competent enough to give you a passing grade?” Why was he so worried about your grades now? 

“No, I don’t think so. His grades-” 

“His?” Alhaitham interrupted as he stopped walking right outside of your apartment building. 

“Yes? Is there a problem?” What was with him? “Haitham, what has gotten into you, are you in work mode? Do you need something from me as a student?” When he said nothing and only stared at you you fished out your keys from your bag and walked to the front door. “See you later.” 

The next day after getting ready for a day out with your school partner you were met with the tall and broad chest of a certain Scribe. “Haitham, what the hell? Don’t you have papers to review?” Rubbing your nose you met his eyes, though instead of his normal deadpan look there was something more stirring. 

“Where are you going, it’s too early for you and school hasn’t started for your Darshan.” What the hell was his attitude? 

“Did you wake up in Kavehs bed or did you skip your coffee?” Pushing past him you started to walk into the city, agreeing to meet with your partner outside of the cafe. Thankfully he didn’t follow you and your work got along swimmingly, stopping through Gandharva Ville for a snack.

When you got back to the city and got to work you noticed the normal table that held the roommates only had the blonde. 

“What did you do to Alhaitham? He got home and he was just ranting and raving and was stomping all over the house.” Kaveh huffed as he leaned against his arm. “Normally I piss him off, you did something.” 

“Kaveh, I literally have no idea. Last night he was acting weird and asked about my studies, then when I brought up that project I told you about last time, he got all pissy.” With a huff you balanced your tray on your hip as the two of you started to think. 

Why would he get mad about you and your partner, the two of you only partnered up because his backed out of the Akademiya at the last minute and you just wanted to help. 

“Wait, hold on. Did you tell him about your partner in the project?” Kavehs red eyes shot open quickly as he stared at you. 

“Well yeah of course I did, why wouldn’t I?” Like a Sumter Beast the realization hit you. “Holy shit!” Tossing your tray on the table you ran out of the cafe quickly. It would take you a few minutes to get to his office but running at a full sprint shouldn’t take long. 

Dodging people left and right you ran right into his office where you knew he would be, his silver hair the only thing you could see over his obnoxious book, he didn’t even grace you with a glance. “Yes?” 

“You’re jealous!” You exclaimed while the laugh you had been trying to hold bubbled to the surface as you watched his body go rigid. Instead of facing you he only turned in his chair away from you. “Haitham, are you seriously jealous of my school partner?” Walking around his desk you pushed the book down to see his face. You were met with a pleasant pink hit of blush on the apples of his cheeks. He didn’t speak like you thought he would, he just refused to meet your eyes as he looked away. “As a man of truth isn’t it important to face the facts?” 

This time he did speak. “You don’t need him to finish your project. I will help you.” Was he serious? He wasn’t even part of your Darshan! “I know that face, despite not being part of your Darshan I happen to know a lot about the topic of your project.” 

“Of course the all mighty Scribe does!” Barking out a laugh you held your stomach, when you saw a smile crack his ever stoic face you knew that you were falling for him in a way you swore you would never do. 

“We start tonight, I need a reason to be away from Kaveh.”

[loveydovey-leviathan]

“i want you to be the last one i love”

lucifer x gn!reader

-

lucifer has been alive for millions of years, he’s watched mortals die his entire life– their puny lifespan could never be compared to a being such as him, angel or demon. and in between the years, he’s had lovers. some confident and suave, some shy and timid, the one-night stands, the long-lasting relationships, he’d thought he had experienced every kind of romantic love imaginable. he knows how it feels to be in love and he knows it’s loss, the ache it leaves that goes away eventually. after the fall, he stopped looking for such things. he was busy and there was always something going on. he didn’t think he’d feel like this in these circumstances.

but he’s proven wrong (by you yet again), you’ve always had a knack for getting under his skin in the loveliest ways conceivable because he’d never think he’d fall for a human, and someone who seems to adore causing the most amount of trouble for him no less.

but god, father, lord almighty and whatever else humans called the man upstairs– did you make him feel things he’d never felt before. it’s indescribable really, and that in itself is an incredible feat. you make his heart feel so full it almost hurts, you care for his family just as much as he does and you fit in like you were always meant to be here with them- with him.

and maybe his father had mercy on him after the fall, maybe he pitied what he had done to his sons– it didn’t matter to lucifer because you’re here now. you make everyone happy and you try your best and you love him and his brothers as best as you can. he looks at you– smiles and laughter around the table, and he knows that you’re the last one he’ll ever love.

[onyourhyuck]

Looks That Kill. | L.MK (M)

prologue- “I belong to you, only you.” + “I hoped you said we’d be something more.”

summary: the new kid moved into town and y/n already has a bad feeling about him. one day a late night walk down to the woods changes everything between them, a secret comes out of the shadows sparking taboo feelings.

tw- werewolf romance. college mention. fantasy. wolf hunters mention. smut. fluff. death mentions. blood. horror . Fem!y/n. Dom Mark. Breeding kink. Hickeys/marking, praising.

notes- HALLOWEEN KINKTOBER FIC.

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the secure night welcomes you comfortably, slippers stomping on the wet soil with ease, kicking past the withered autumn leaves. woods in the town has always been safe and sound, in fact this town only has around 2,000 people residing in it.

there is history amongst every corner of this town in south korea from the west shore end. this town used to be roaming with supernatrual creatures hence why it’s earned the nickname “ghost town”, it’s foretelling that big fur muscle monster resembling both a man and a wolf at once standing on two feet ran its money for this place.

tearing apart hunters left and right mercilessly, going on a frenzy of blood lusting hunger. the creature of the night earned its infamous name as the servant of the moon. the werewolf.

a man at day and a wolf at night. what a bunch of bullshit right? you scoff aloud not to shy particularly as you was alone.

you’re a young college student who is very much a logic over bunch of ghost stories. You are the person who would scream in middle of the camp fire ‘I don’t believe in it until I see it with my own eyes’ motto. people who tend to believe In paranormal activities, watching these tv shows late at night ghost hunting looking for entities all night and somehow make money profit from it; you think pity of them.

people earning money doing fortune telling and psychic mediumship upset you deeply as you think of them as conartists scamming people who are gullible enough to be used.

calling you pessimistic was known from others, but you prefer the term realistic. There will never be a day in your life where you will ever believe in supernatural.

But this was going to happen today. a loud snap echoes within the foggy woods, you turn around in bare pyjamas stop the moment your sharp ears perk up to the sudden define crack. breathing stops as you was solely looking straight ahead to the right where it came from.

“tsk a stupid badger probably stepped on something.” y/n mutters turning around to walk away, a growl reappears as quick as lighting behind. it grew more frequent as it ups syllables more and more.

Your heart skips a beat. Why was the feeling of suffocating there when you’re right in the open woods with fresh oxygen? The girl turns around to check what could be possibly growling. In her head she lists multiple animals such as:

bears, if South Korea ever had any. Maybe it was foxes, or perhaps cats. maybe even a dog.

but not a darn silhouette ominous figure with bright yellow eyes glaring right at you where she stands still as a frozen statue. The only certain thing moving was the heavy wind, even the trees has stopped dancing about. It seems the entire woods became extra quieter when the strange creature hiding amongst the dark fog and black shadows, the entire animals residing in the forest have copped themselves away. As if they all knew that trouble was bound to happen. The instinct to run was there like a visible red button with emergency warning in bold letters, but the body felt numb to act on it. Your brain was fighting by fleeing the scene, the body did not respond. For once in your life You felt fear, paralysing your veins deeply. she couldn’t believe her bloodshot eyes, shaking as the creature starts its movements forward.

She whispers under her breath. “Screw it im going to run.” you shout turning on your heels immediately, sprinting ahead with almighty speed. never in her life has she ever ran so fast to the point everything felt like a blur. the girl couldn’t see trees as clearly anymore and nor did she stop to look back. Darkness follows you behind where the creature corners up behind the girl chasing with its baring large canine teeth practically savouring a bite out of you. The girl gasps on her husk voice holding it as she glances back once.

Feet slide off the edge rolling down the steep lopsided hill where the girl polls backwards landing face front in a pile of reddish orange brown leaves. picking herself up quick, not wasting any minute, she lost a slipper. Unable to turn back to retain it, she carries on escaping without.

You run quick once again only to be stopped by the creature cutting off with a shortcut. The mortified human falls backwards, crawling away as fast as possible as she leeches on the pile of leaves in her dirty palms.

the creature’s breathes heavy with snarls coming out of the gaping open mouth, resembling a wolf yet also a man. The black furred animal corners the girl by it’s claws, tugging on the ankle. You yelp kicking forward with the knack of balls she has in herself, by reaching forward with a rock, grabbing it and then penetrates the heinous monster’s eyes.

She saw the creature back off with a gnawing irritation, then running off to the end when it’s noticed the sky was changing colour rather quickly. You felt weirded out by such an action from the creature.

i mean why would it stare at the sky and hurry off? wasn’t it weird? and what exactly was it? junghyun grabs herself off the floor immediately following the animal from behind, trying to keep up with its inhuman speed as much as possible.

though when running after it, you wouldn’t be met with the creature.

you were met with a human laying on the ground, unconscious, barely breathing and also buttnaked in middle of nowhere. you gasp at the person in shock as she slowly approaches it, poking the person’s back. she only earned a soft snore as a response.

there’s no way that this man was the creature. i mean how did it make sense? what proof was there?

your face lights up when a moment replays in her mind. the monster’s eye was attacked by a rock. so if the man sleeping soundly in front of her was the monster, he would have a black eye.

the girl crouches down turning the guy forward so she could take a first glance at the face. she gasps. “oh my god it’s the new kid.”

you slowly lifts the boy’s face more observing the eyes, it had a slight bruise on his right eye. she shifts eyes feeling uncomfortable by staring at her classmate who is buttnaked in middle of the woods and might be a freakin’ monster.

god you pray you’re hallucinating.

╰──────────────────────╮

The eyes shot open relieving the night like it were a movie on replay record, trembling at the foreign ceiling, he felt his skin prickle with muscles contracting at each movement he did. the wrists tug forward, poking at the belt rattling on the bed frame that had him so trapped in such an unfamiliar setting.

Mark grunts. He can’t figure out where he is, nor did his strength find his body to be able to pull away. Usually, he could do so as much as he pleases. But now he used all his darn energy and strength last night chasing something without his control.

“Where the hell am i.” Mark let’s out with another rough grunt pulling against the belt on his wrists tying it to the bed entirely.

“my house.” a feminine voice pierced to the front where the door opens revealing a young girl with brunette long hair, holding a frying pan in front of him like a defence shield. he eyes her up and down, hissing. “you’re the girl in my English class.”

“yeah and you’re the foreigner kid.” you bark back. “Who’s also a werewolf.”

he lifts his head in shock hearing exclamation. unable what to say, Mark only panics more and more against the belt, this time with actual force to escape. this whole plan was to leave Canada for a new life not to become the most wanted mythical source on earth. you breathe heavily moving closer.

“you’re not going to say anything?” you poke confused on the side, finding it completely weird that he wouldn’t deny it or agree to it. mark turns to you with a side glare, a look that kills anyone.

you gulp thinly. Mark saw the way her throat shrieks, he feels her heartbeat from a mile away, the way her body language curls up on the frying pan that she depends on to protect her from a werewolf, a literal monster machine, does she think mark can be stopped with a frying pan of all things? he scoffs mockingly in his head watching the timid mortal. “should i give you a poetry on how i’m not a werewolf?”

mark spat, watching you who peeps with a soft head shake. the boy speaks with venom in his voice, “then no.” mark growls turning to the belt on the wrists.

“I don’t understand.” You shakily tell rolling down the walls in front of the bed, dropping the frying pan that would circle on the floor till it fell flat. legs curling to the your chest as your arms wrapping on it, watching the boy in defeat.

mark didn’t bother turning back to watch the girl who spoke like her entire world was a lie, it wasn’t his responsibility what she feels. What was his responsibility was to not get caught and to stay away from the spotlight. He failed both those things, clearly.

“i mean..you’re a werewolf I seen it with my own eyes. How..I thought it was all myths.” You slowly starts. mark stops playing with the belt edge, where his head subconsciously looks at your pale face. she looks terrified, tired and hell of a mess. mark purse lips in a thin line.

“i’m not a scientist who can explain how. but i’ll have you know that i don’t attack humans. i’m just trying to live a low life, somewhere peaceful and quiet.” you hears the boy say. the way he spoke about it much calmer and not in a hostile defensive way, meant that he was being truthful. you slowly stand up, approaching the bed that mark was laying on forcefully.

he watches her like a prey wondering what she’s about to do. you whisper. “you won’t kill me if i let you go and forget his ever happened right?”

“i wasn’t going to kill you anyways.” mark replies as he felt your trembling cold hands undo the belt on the wrists. He was quick to retract them back, but with your body weight.

mark has you on the bed pinned above him. He is hovering over you with great strength, looking you dead in the eyes with the brown amber iris that were once a bright glowing yellow. you gulp itching to get out, your legs squirming till he squeeze your smaller hands in his palm.

“you said you wouldn’t kill me.” you exclaim.

“that’s right but i never said anything about hurting you. especially with my right eye.” he hawks as you were brought to look at the black bruise on the eyelid, you glare completely defending your actions.

“you deserved that. you chased me in the woods.”

mark said nothing, letting go off the wrists and then pulling himself off the girl’s fragile body. he rubs the back of his head noticing that he was given underwear, that was nice thoughtful thinking at least. your body sits up about to stand up, but the man’s voice stuns you still.

“I hurt your leg accidentally.” He admits turning around to face her leg. He walks crouching down lifting it up to roll her jeans, he saw her careless badly wrapped bandage that could barely stay on the wound. he bites his inner cheek. She carefully tread.

watching him continually wondering what he was about to do. but the moment he demands first aid kit she caught on the idea he was going for. Y/n was more than pleasant enough to give him the power to the first aid in the room. The boy re-did everything even better, better than the ones you committed to do.

As the white bandages wrap on the scratch open wound, thankfully it never got far too deep into the skin just a little on the edge. you wince when he tightens the last bit of bandages with a tie.

Mark looks up murmuring. “Sorry for hurting you. I’m not in control when i transform.”

“It’s okay at least you helped me out.” you softly gaze at him. “What’s your name?”

“Mark Lee. How about you?” to be honest it was clear you guys hardly listened to the register when the teachers called your names out. The boy was just as curious as you were.

“Y/n.”

╰──────────────────────╮

It felt surreal that you and mark have become so close over the course of just three weeks. You kept his secret and even lend him a home at your place. You both go to school together and leave together.

Mark has opened up to you about lots of things and usually, he never does that but with you it felt so comforting and easy to do so; it’s as if he knew you before for a long time.

Like old friends reuniting.

Mark’s from Canada, born and raised. He moved from his home county just few months ago because of his first transformation as a werewolf. He got caught in his wolf form running around scared, so he flew off to South Korea where his parents were born. He had no one.

But he has you now. You made it clear to him that you’ll do anything to help.

Now you’re both walking through the woods, classes have been dismissed and you’re on your way home. chasing each other down the woods pathway, he was quick to catch up with you tackling you to the floor. Your bodies rolling together as one until you both stop, sliding on top of each other. Mark on the ground laying flat as he was met with you on top.

You’re letting out gentle pants as your hands rest well on the sides of his face. Mark with trembling eyes sparkle, meeting beautiful ones that perceiving the world differently from him. He was interested in you, no doubt, a human like you was a gem to people like him. You didn’t spill his secret for whatever reason.

It’s rare finding humans like you nowadays.

“You know you really gotta stop using that wolfy power on me.” you complain softly as you stand up, throwing out your hand. Mark takes it gladly, standing up with a laugh.

“Then.” He pulls you roughly into his chest, where your face firmly looks at him. You felt your breathing hitch on holt as your face was barely inches away. His lips were practically breathing fire on your cold lips. “Stop playing with me, y/n.” He coos letting you go.

You pout watching him leave so casually as he grabs your bag and his bag. He’s start to carry them both as he walks home. You whine following him.

“But it’s fun playing with you!”

On the way home you arrive quickly. The two of you made yourselves back at home considering the fact you two were literally sitting in the lounge watching tv.

One hard thing living with mark was that he eats the entire fridge. Mainly meat. He’s always craving meat and it sometimes amazes you how much he can eat.

Mark sits still munching on the chicken wing as if his life depended on it. You watch openly for far too long, when the boy brings you to reality.

“Yah why are you eyeing me like that? Have you never seen a hungry werewolf before?” he barks and you scoff. “I think I have like three weeks ago at night.”

“That was a mistake.” Mark replies putting down the bone on the plate, licking his fingers.

“I have a question Mark.” You suddenly entice and he hums in response wondering what is was, not turning to look at you as he was busy licking his thumbs, watching the tv.

“Do you only turn on full moons?”

“Yup.”

“Can you speak to dogs when you transform?”

Mark looks at you with the most unserious face. “No. Y/n I can only communicate to other werewolves.”

“Ahhh. Then how about reproduction? Is it the same as wolves?” You blurt out all curious. Today in biology you learned about wolves actually, they mate pretty easily.

You wonder if it’s the same thing with the seasons. Mark suddenly coughs on his saliva hitting his chest with heavy breathes. The boy’s face turns lightly reddish pink and his ears were bright coloured. You blink wondering what was actually wrong?

“I- we reproduce just like humans do. ” He would ask raising an eyebrow. “So you don’t need to turn to fuck somebody, noted.”

You were a curious little thing to mark. The boy simply nods but awkwardly looks away brushing the back of his head, he clears his throat. “Yeah. I haven’t experienced it yet.”

“I heard that first rut is rough for beginners. No self control whatsoever. It doesn’t sound pleasant. It’s even worse when you don’t have a partner to do anything with.”

You felt the way he spoke about werewolf things as if he was alone in it. He was technically alone. Werewolves come in pacts, these creatures, people and community are meant to be together. Meant to do things together, just live together. But you try to make it up to him. You might not be worth twenty werewolves but at least, you can help him through his first’s as a true werewolf.

Holding his hand suddenly you tightly embrace, he turns to you slightly surprised but you flash him a smile.

“I’ll be there for you, so it won’t be that bad.”

Those words were meant to be encouraging for this young werewolf all alone in his world, but little do you know he wasn’t really going to let you be part of everything. he knows the risk. For your safety he would rather put you aside. Your worlds are so different, it could definitely put a strain on it. Y/n wasn’t aware of it sooner that she’s falling hard for the boy and mark was doing just the same.

╰──────────────────────╮

“Y/n!”

A young boy runs up to the girl with a string of pants. You look down raising an eyebrow, as your two friends, Jaemin and Jeno surround you.

“Chenle? Hey what’s up.” You comfortingly speaking.the Chinese boy waves with a short sided smile. “Hey, Mark wants me to pass a message that he left to go home. He wasn’t feeling well.”

“Honestly he looked slightly ill. He had a fever and he even seemed agitated.” Chenle trails half worried and you widen your eyes. What was happening to mark? What made him run so much.

Jaemin hums a bit facing y/n. “What’s your relationship with him?”

You scrunch up facing the boy questioning you, like he was a detective. “None of your business jaem.”

Jeno let’s out a silent ‘ooo’ teasingly before nudging your arm. You scorn out with a sudden shove as you grab your phone to call mark, walking away midway dialling. Three boys watch you leave without an answer from you, extremely suspicious that you’d walk out on them. I mean you don’t have many friends. Who are you worried about so much you’d leave your three only friends?

“Yah she seriously walked out on us three…”

The three boys murmur in unison, actual disbelief showing through their eyes,

So when you ran to go home the moment Mark’s number came into multiple voice mails, you didn’t look back or regret it. The boy was important to you. You were worried he was sick, perhaps dying too. You know he’s different but it doesn’t scare you, not anymore at least.

Mark’s a genuine guy who hides a lot from the word and people afraid he’s going to be judged or hurting people around him. You weren’t weak though. He might view you like a mortal, but you’re not weak.

The moment you’ve entered the house his room was shut on the lock. You knock constantly, shouting for Mark to open up. With few pants remaining in your breath.

“Mark you okay? Are you ill?”

…

“Please speak to me. What’s going on? Chenle said you’re ill.”

…

Another silent reply. You purse your lips into a thin line as you lean closer to the door, banging on it. But then when your right ear took a whiff of a soft growl emerging in the background of the room, your eyes widen. Pressing your entire ear on the door you could hear faint noises. Groans growing louder, animal-like growls and sometimes you would hear Mark cussing. You pull away hitting on the door again.

“Mark you don’t sound so good, please speak to me at least.” You demanded on your tip toes. This time you would hear creeks on the floor put on action as the door half jar opens. Seemingly Mark didn’t want to open it fully but he was caught by surprise when you kick the door open jumping in a hug to pull the boy in this warm loving embrace. He stumbles on the floor, aching at your heavy loving.

“Easy there.” Mark murmurs lowly as you sigh of relief. Your foreheads touch momentarily but when it did, he burned your skin, leaving a red mark. You flinch away in disbelief.

“Oh my god you’re burning up.” You exclaim and he lets go off you, pushing you off. Y/n blinks how much mark has separated himself from her, as he stands up. The entire body language was off putting, he was more socially distant, he seems distressed and aggravated, as if he was a dog going rabid. Mark wasn’t sure what this was, until he felt your presence. He curses himself for being this way.

You come forward to feel his forehead again but Mark immediately rejects your touch by pulling on your wrist, he squeezes it like a warning sent to you. The same look from the first day you met, he was flashing it right down at you. Looks that Kill.

Something was very much different about him, about his entire character. This wasn’t like him, perhaps this was a full moon transformation..

You thickly gulp, but you didn’t dare look away, you held the eye contact.

“Mark are you transforming tonight?” You trail softly. The boy lets go off your hand shaking his head, he sits on his bed, running fingers in through the black hair.

“No…”

You softly interrogate again, hoping to find the answer. “Then you’re definitely ill Mark, we need to get you to a hospital. Quick.”

He scowls at your human thinking immediately saying how dangerous this was. Doctors can easily find that his body is reacting different than the human body would. These type of people working in science and hospitals have been danger to him from the start, they could very much take his dna and run tests. Mark can’t risk being found out.

The man spat, showing hint of annoyance . “No that’s a suicide mission. I’m fine y/n.”

“You’re not fine. Just tell me what’s going on!” You exclaim with frustration, but the moment he told you your body froze .

“I’m going through my first rut. Now get out this could end badly .” Mark demands watching you up and down. “It’s already embarrassing for myself to be telling you this. I’d appreciate it if you just…leave for your safety.”’

The situation got worse, maybe in Mark’s head everything went downhill the minute he’s told you what actually was wrong. Because now you’re submitting yourself to a werewolf undergoing their first rut.

You see werewolves are social animals. They have to stick together with their own kind but it’s hard to do that when Mark is alone, technically he’s a lone wolf and it could severally damage and kill him mentally. Though he had you and he’s never felt the need to look for a pact or to feel lonely. You’re his driving force, his pack, the one he relies on more than family. You are his new family. In other words being apart really distressed him when he realised his body is undergoing the first rut. This was probably one of the things you really can’t help him out on.

Or at least that is what he thinks. You were full on tugging your body closing the door shut. Mark thought you would have left but instead you locked it in with you and him, in the room.

“Y/n I told you to leave.” Mark shouts.

“Mark you’re in pain I can’t leave you.” You tell in agony, walking to mark as you go on your knees watching him.

“You can’t help. Please go.” Mark looks away from you. You’re practically insane for even considering you could.

You shake your head. “Mark look at me I can help you. I’m not doing this out of pity. I’m doing this because i care for you.” Your hands reach the ends of his face bringing it around to look at you. The way your hands felt like a safe place for him to let go off every worry was like magic to him. He softly looks at you, as he runs his thumbs on your soft lips and at the end of your chin, lifting your face up. You were totally at his mercy, at his power. You’re on the floor submitting and something feral really went inside him, because the next minute he was dragging you on the bed pinned roughly on top of you, gazing in your eyes with the most killing look of a predator. The littlest movement makes your heart beat, he could hear you from miles away with that kind of heart aching at the danger he poses to you. But he didn’t sense fear from you mentally .

“You say you’re doing this because you care for me. Is there really nothing else to it?” Mark raises a question that’s truly been bothering him for a while. “In what way do you care for me exactly. Is it family? Friends? Or maybe something more...”

You watch him carefully as he runs his hands down your small waist, embracing the curvy figure you portray out there just for him to feel all night long. The way his fingernail traces itself to the hips and then stopping at your inner thighs where he squeezes tight leaving red marking on your skin. You flinch at the sharp pain with his nails dug in your skin, soft whimpers coming out of you, to him that felt like heaven hearing it through one ear the another.

“I want to be there for you. I hate seeing you go through this alone. Is it so wrong for me to give myself up to you?”

You shriek when he came closer hearing a very specific line that made him harder to control himself. Give myself up to you. Those words were exactly what he was looking for subconsciously. Just like any werewolf, they love to intend on power through their loved ones.

You knew you’ve done something to Mark, as if you have this big large chain leashing him to you because he grips on you tighter without any thoughts of letting you leave anymore. He gave you a warning, he gave you an option to leave. But it’s no longer there. He grunts.

“You’re making this hard for me sweetheart we’re you always this troublesome?” Mark growls watching you. You hum softly gazing down at his lips and eyes. “You do realise what you’re setting yourself in for, right?”

Mark spoke catching you off guard as you were already falling to his temptations like a mortal without any dignity. You strongly nod.

“I’m all yours Mark.”

God don’t say those words, it’ll be so hard to stop myself. Mark thought. He cursed you in his head wondering why you’re so compliant with this, you must be insane to be thinking of ever sleeping with him. Hell he could even kill you he doesn’t know. It’s just as risky as death, this was practically death to you. He doesn’t know how much control he’s going to have over himself to make sure you won’t hurt.

“Y/n…I don’t think this is..-“

You pull mark forward with a kiss on his lips, enough to let him know you’re fine with anything he’s willing to do and give you. If this is what helps him through the first rut she’s more than willing to. Perhaps your personal feelings got into the way, because you did end up having feelings for him, and you hate yourself for falling in love so quickly with the boy. But how can you not fall in love with him? Mark’s been an amazing company, a friend you could relate to, not only was he different, you really didn’t want him to live a bad life. He’s never hurt a fly. Mark survives on woodland animals or your freaking fridge.

He’s possibly one of God’s most Saint humans he’s ever created on this earth.

The next minute his lips were biting down on yours as he focuses on stripping you off the loose fabric. The man above you did as he pleases, exposing your bare skin to his eyes, you’ve blessed him the minute he was eyeing you down, he felt his mouth drooling just by looking at how flustered you already were from just a simple kiss.

You were rubbing on your legs together, becoming sensitive from just small areas like your neck. Mark husky voice paints your skin with goosebumps, as he speaks sweet nothings on them. Admiring the chain of reaction he has over your gracious body.

“you’re practically soaking down there, all from a kiss.” Mark announces with his deadly voice, slicking the fingers at your folds. You flinch upwards with a gentle moan, holding your palm on your mouth. He smirks, glancing up at you.

“I want to hear you y/n. Who do you belong to?”

You weren’t sure what’s gotten over you but you did not hesitate to announce that you were his only. To tell a boy you met in the woods late at night when he was trying to hunt you down like you’re his dinner, now this might be metaphorically just like that, he was burning for you, begging for some kind of release and physical touch. The hormones weren’t making it easier. Mark wasn’t thinking straight enough, you made him go absolute feral just by your consent and kissing alone. You grip the hem of his grey setback hoodie, looking him in the eyes.

“I belong to you, only you.”

Those words meant so little to other people in the society but to you and mark it changed the entire relationship dynamic. You see werewolves don’t mate for life but even though they take their picking partners seriously, if anything Mark would pick you over anyone. You’ve kept his secret. You’ve took him in your house. You came running for him just because he was going through his problems, you sacrifice a lot for him. Maybe this time, he should treat you. Make you his, give you the world. Work hard for you.

He wants a life with you he’s came to a conclusion. Mark doesn’t want to see you with anyone else but him.

The next minute you were stripped with a man with a chocolate abs hovering above you. You’d be loud enough to prevent neighbours to be worried for you, you aren’t going to surprised if tomorrow morning you run into them and they’ll be extremely awkward with you; there was no way they did not hear you, Mark was making it impossible to be quiet. Hell, he wasn’t going easy on you, but you loved that. Loving the way he was so animalistic about it, treating you with both love but can’t help to let out those whines and growls at once in your ears slipping them like music notes. The way he fit inside you with enough burning stretching, you became addicted to the pain. He whispers words of well done to you, words of how amazing you feel, that you’re his and no one else’s.

He can’t help but slip up a momentarily descriptive sentence that left you running laps, laps into liking the idea more and more the way Mark was begging for it.

“God Y/n do you want me to fill you up? Scream how much you want to be filled till you’re stuffed. Let others know what you want so badly.”

Mark groans feeling the inside become tighter, you were clenching unconsciously just by hearing the idea in your head, it sounded so good. You whine tugging your fingertips on his bare back, arching your body up as he was hovering you from behind, pounding without a single differ intention from stopping.

“please give it to me mark I’m begging. I need it.” You croak out into your hands. He smirks lazily, lifting you by your hair carefully. His lips start to trace you down like a map, marking you with reddish bruises going purple very quickly . His sharp canine teeth sent shudders down your spine practically.

“Mmm such a good girl for me. Taking whatever I give her. Never complaining.” He praises you, somehow leaning your validated with a warm happy emotion boiling in your abdomen.

Mark would do exactly as you wish. He won’t stop until you’re full as you demanded. Your walls painting white in his bodily fluids as he didn’t dare pull out immediately, Mark let’s you cock warm him for a while as he gathers the strength to drop his lifeles tired body beside you. You did the same rolling flat on your side of the bed.

Though by the end of it. You were both left in your calming presence. Mark pulling you closer as you snuggle in. He was much calmer and he felt happier it was with you. Him losing his first virginity to you. He whispers.

“you know when i asked what you felt for me?” mark softly tells in your ears as he was resting his face in your soft silky hair. inhaling your shampoo scent. you hum a soft yeah.

“I hoped you’d say you wanted to be more than friends.” he smiles to his childish thoughts. you look up with a soft grin,

Loving his round boba eyes watching you as if you meant so much to him, that he was so grateful for you. “I do. I love you.”

“I love you most, y/n.”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu. Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates.