#and even if after you are gone there are wicked things done in your name

[vihola]

Tagged by @mimabeann​ to do this uquiz about tragic Greek figures for my OCs, thanks!

Merkara: Bellerophon

chimera-killer, pegasus-tamer, eater of your own soul: icarus flew too close to the sun, but you flew too close to gods who would prefer to remain untouched. could you not find enough joy in being a hero, a husband, a father and a king? olympus will never accept your presence upon its mountaintop, so best quit while you're ahead, before your horse bucks.

Relu: Patroclus

clever patroclus, beloved patroclus, poor patroclus: you do not fall into madness, nor vanity, nor hubris. not, that is, for your own sake. love for that golden-haired man, sorrow for your countrymen; it is for his name that you don his armor, and for the dying greeks that you ride into battle. every piece of you is willingly given away, even if after you are gone there are wicked things done in your name.

Tagging @chaoticspacefam​, @starknstarwars​, @swtorpadawan​, @caelys​, @darth-bagel​

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece. 

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for. 

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them. 

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you. 

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame. 

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips. 

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words. 

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit. 

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.” 

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight. 

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready. 

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did. 

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here. 

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain. 

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you. 

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events. 

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.” 

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.” 

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm. 

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to. 

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect. 

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle. 

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love. 

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day. 

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.” 

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas. 

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit. 

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way. 

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain. 

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy. 

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on  your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out. 

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his. 

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go. 

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold. 

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs. 

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth. 

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands. 

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him. 

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist. 

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length. 

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him. 

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye. 

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder. 

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”

[galamalion]

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike. 

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight. 

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you.  “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become. 

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

[marzghost]

// NAMEMC SPOILERS

My boissssss what have the watchers done to youuuu! God can you imagine the horror. Once death meant you were free. Safe from whatever sick game you were forced to play but now even that isn't sacred. There is no rest for the wicked.

Mumbo was gone for two weeks and Skizz got buried a week ago. Mumbo was mourned and Skizz is still probably being mourned only for their friends to be forced to see their bodies being dragged out from their graves and forced to do whatever sick and twisted things the watchers want them to do. Sick and twisted I tell you, SICK AND TWISTED!

CAN YOU IMAGINE HEARING YOUR FRIENDS GIGGLING AND LAUGHING LIKE NOTHINGS CHANGED AFTER LOSING THEM BUT THIS TIME IT'S NOT BECAUSE OF A JOKE YOU MADE BUT BECAUSE THEY'RE HUNTING YOU DOWN. THIS ISN'T LIKE THEY'RE ON RED THIS ISN'T THEM. THEY HAVE THEIR BODIES. THEY HAVE THEIR VOICES. THEY MIGHT EVEN HAVE THEIR MINDS BUT THEIR EYES DON'T SHINE ANYMORE WITH THE SAME JOY OR LOVE EVEN THE RED NAMES SHOW! THEY HAVE NO LOYALTY! NO SENSE OF FRIEND OR FOE! THEY HAVE NOTHING TO GAIN BECAUSE THEY ARE DEAD AND THEY JUST WANT TO SEE CARNAGE! THEY ARE NOT RED NAMES AND EVEN THE RED NAMES FEAR THEM FOR EVEN REDS UNDERSTAND SOLIDARITY AND FRIENDSHIP.

Imagine being Grian...

The reds are no longer the biggest threat on the board and they are scared. Imagine being a green.

[thyras]

→ the bearer of fruits

PAIRING → mairon | halbrand | annatar (sauron) x f!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 8.9k words

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - dark!reader, mentions of abuse (sauron kind of manhandles reader and threatens her, while she throws stuff at him), mentions of trauma, some fluff (if that can even be associated with him), manipulation, dark deeds, unprotected p in v, implied smut, handjob, pregnancy

SUMMARY → after your husband’s departure of Eregion, you are left hollowed and sorrowed. you find solace in your work and planting your seeds until an unexpected visitor shows up at the gates of Eregion.

AUTHORS NOTE → wow this took ages to finish, sorry about that. i've been so busy with school and mom life that i just was so drained of inspiration for this part. i wanted to touch more on reader and his background as it really defines how their relationship works. they are very hot and cold with each other, she may be really dark at times, even darker than him at times, but she is good at hiding it and even can suppress it. idk i hope you guys enjoy as well be reviving up in the next few parts. @sansaorgana you asked me to tag you, so here you are my friend ❤️

FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

The fire crackled against its fuel as you flipped through a volume from the First Age. You had dove into anything that could take your mind off the sorrow you felt with his departure again. This time, you thought of starting to sow some seeds for your husband’s plan. For weeks, you had been coming after all the smiths had gone home, and you would be left in silence, hoping that one person would see you.

Which had not happened once.

Your hand fanned across the page. The silver band on your finger caught the light and shined its beautiful blue hue in the moonlight. A smile crept up on your face as you twisted it around your finger. The bluish inscription appeared in Sarati lettering, the ancient written form of your kin.

You rarely spoke Quenya anymore, but the inscription on the ring was something you always remembered.

Fairest of maidens, in the moonlight, you shall find me, for we are never truly parted.

You had been there in that elven forge of old when he crafted the ring. When you bound yourselves in mind, body, and soul. The Beauty of the Woodland was no more, for she had become his Wicked Beauty.

You snorted softly at the name. The Beauty of the Woodland. That’s all you had been to your kin, a goddess crafted by the Valar and sent to honor your family with your fair beauty. Your life before your husband had been nothing but pure subjection to fill that role and heal your kind.

For you were perceived to be an emissary of Valar in fair form.

But that was hardly true; you were just an elf gifted with refined beauty, which a woman of no consequence birthed. No fair powers filled you other than the gift to heal.

As you had done with him in those days.

The morning was bright, reflecting on the golden leaves down onto your glittering hair. You pushed some behind your ear as you bent down to gather some fungi to take back with you. You had ventured alone early in the morning, not a wise thing, but with years on you and a keen sense for danger, you always carried a blade concealed in your sleeve.

You started humming a sweet song while moving through the woods, peeling off fungi and picking medicinal weeds you could not grow. Your humming grew into a lovely, silvery song.

You hesitated a moment, though, when you reached for a mushroom nestled in a small patch by a tree. A certain iciness came over the forest, the gloominess of a rain cloud crawling over the once bright forest. You stood up and swallowed hard as the eeriness fell even more over the forest.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose suddenly as if you turned and looked behind you. Nothing. Your pulse raced. Your hand reached under the sleeve of your robe for the blade. Your eyes closed as you took a few shallowed breaths before a shadowy breath crossed your ears. Its disembodied voice caused you to shiver. You took a few breaths before opening your eyes and throwing the blade at a tree behind you.

You turned and saw nothing but the shining blade in the tree. As the sun was shining once again and the iciness over the forest lifted, you walked over and pulled your blade out before saying some Quenya words to the tree in sorrow for the damage.

You turned and went back to pick the mushrooms quickly. The darkness was gone, but you still felt its lingering touch on the shell of your ear—the caress almost as seductive as the taste of the finest wine or fruit. You licked your lips as a dark smile rose on your lips.

The darkness had touched you as a little girl; watching your father turn mad at your mother’s lovers, killing her in front of you, had changed you before you even were a teen. In later years, you plotted to kill the man for killing your mother.

Each day, you waited.

And watched.

Until you struck one night, holding a pillow over his face as you plunged his dagger into his heart. The pillow muffled his screams. You leaned in and spoke;

“For the Valar have forsaken you, Commander, and I am their justice.” You paused and took the pillow off so he could look into his daughter’s dark eyes. “See my face, and know it is I who have ended you.” The shocked look crossed his eyes before the light of the Valar left him.

You had been so dramatic in the following days, playing the part of a grief-stricken daughter. Only to hold back the triumph and satisfaction of ridding this world of the man who abused you and your mother enough to stray.

You returned to the road that would take you to your village. It would not take long to get back into the confines of those walls.

Your cage.

Your shackle.

It only brought more blackness to your heart lingering there. But you could hardly protect yourself on a long journey to find another set of kin. Your feet stopped as you felt a whisper of a breeze and turned to see a man walking, well limping, just ahead of you, hand covering his leg as the fabric of his pants was tainted with blood. His reddish hair glistened in the golden sun, much like a flame would as it would against its fuel. The strands were long and braided on the sides.

He stumbled, and you raced to grab his frame before he hit the ground. The weight of him caused you to collapse onto the dirt road. You looked down to see he was an elf, from what kin you did not know. His face was of the fairest beauty, someone to rival even your own. He smiled weakly.

“By the Valar,” he breathed hoarsely. “Have I reached Valinor?” You shook your head and told him your name and that you were a healer. He repeats your name back as if it was the sweetest of nectars. His hand reached up to touch your cheek, eyes fluttering as he swallowed hard.

You looked down at his leg and saw the deep puncture of something in his upper thigh. He had fashioned a tourniquet above the wound to stop the blooding, no doubt. His eyes looked up into yours, pleading almost.

"Boar," he breathed hoarsely again. You nod and smooth your hand across his clammy cheek in a comforting gesture.

"I'll get you well again; it's the least I can do." The man nodded, and you smiled before trying to help him get up. He tried greatly not to put all his weight on you as you walked, but it would only cause him even more great pain. So when you reached the outskirts of your village, you signaled for a couple of men to help you get him to your home.

Once the stranger was laid on the bed, you thanked the other men and began mending his wound. Throughout that time, you could not help but feel the warmth of his eyes on you, watching as you cleaned and worked tirelessly in your craft.

"You are so beautiful," he said through labored breaths, "like a star from the heavens." Your face warmed, and you finished bandaging his leg carefully. He reached up his shaky hand to push some of your hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine and caused you to look over at him. You knew he was probably delirious from the blood loss and infection. He would not remember a thing when he woke up, but you prayed he would.

"Get some rest; I'll be here when you wake." You smiled, took his hand, and gave it a light kiss of reassurance. A smile touched his battered lips before his eyes closed. You laid his arm across his chest and rose out of your chair to start the clean-up.

Hours later, when he awoke again, you sat a bowl of stew next to him on the small table and a glass of wine. He sat up, took the bowl, and began eating eagerly as you moved back to the small kitchen.

"Thank you," he said, inclining his head to you.

"You're welcome," you paused. "You should be well enough to travel by morrow's eve; your kin must be worried about you." Something in his eyes changed as he lowered the bowl to his lap. His eyes turned dark like yours had when you murdered your father. A touch of your darkness rose as his did.

"I have no kin," he said softly, his eyes still staring at the bowl in his hands. You nodded before turning back to the worktop, where you continued to mash your herbs.

Silence grew over you both until he spoke again moments later. "They perished in the war." You nod. Many of your kin had as well, but again, it was not even sorrowful to you. These people had stood by and let their commander abuse you and your mother.

"I'm sorry," you said with fake sorrowfulness. “To lose one's kin is a tragedy that most of us do not heal from.

"You speak as if you know of this," he said, reaching to grab the glass. You nodded in an ever-convincing gesture toward his question. If it was not for the darkness of the hour, you swore you saw a nebulous smile touch his lips.

"My father died in the war; his company was ambushed, and before the rest of the force could reach them, they all but perished." You lied while staring at him in those dark eyes as he watched you. Your secret still hidden.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, inclining his head toward you. But before he could continue, you spoke again.

"Don't be; he was an arrogant, abusive man." You flashed him a dark smile. He could not help but chuckle. "I was more sorrowful for the men under his leadership, and I thanked the Valar for freeing me of his abuse." You looked down at your stone, knowing you had already told him too much of your despise of this place and its memories. But it felt good to touch the darkness again, that part of you that you forced into submission to keep your facade of the virtuous, sweet, elven healer.

You heard him stand up and move over to you. His fingers cupped your chin and brought your face to meet his gaze in the dim light of the candles. His eyes were dark as night and full of desire, and you gave him an equally dark smile.

His grip tightened on your chin, and you let a sharp breath fall out as you closed your eyes. His hot breath crossed your face and sent shivers down your spine. Before his lips could meet yours, you pushed on his chest. Your hand was placed against his fluttering heart as his gaze watched you, waiting for you to make the next move.

"I hardly know you,” You said, giving him a playful look. “And it would look less than virtuous for you to be seen touching me." You continued, fingers gripped onto his shirt as you raised your brow to taunt him more. The darkness in his eyes seemed to come alight with an animalistic presence. A growl rumbled through his chest as you ran your fingers down his chest. “Now, you would not want to take a fair maiden’s virtue?” you said with a fake pout. The mischief in your gaze made a nebulous smile touch his face again. It sent your pulse racing as every inch of you heated up.

“Temptress,” he breathed. Releasing your chin and running his warm fingers down your neck. “For you have deceived an even greater deceiver.” In an instant, you had your fingers wrapped around his throat and backed up against the wall. A blade hovered above your fingers, cool Valinor silver pressed against his jaw. You felt the tension in his neck as he swallowed and lifted his chin to give you better access to the skin, his eyes closing as you leaned in slowly.

“You think you have deceived me?” You said, watching his eyes flicker open when a laugh of disbelief left your lips. “I knew you were watching me. The second I walked into those woods. I played the fair innocent maid, oh so sweet.” You tightened your grip as you leaned in to run your tongue against the skin of his jaw. His muscles tensed under your grasp again, your teeth grazing his chin. “I bet the singing got you real hard.” You tempted, his eyes closing again as his nostrils flared. “Hard enough to do my bidding and be rewarded with a taste?” Your lips ghosted over his. His hands kept perfectly still next to him, fists clenching as he struggled to stay calm against your grasp.

“Little one, you have no idea who you are bargaining with,” he growled.

“I have an idea,” You run the blade just underneath his jawline. A trickle of black blood fell to no surprise to you. You leaned in and lapped the sweet nectar, coating your lips as you took in some of his essence. It tasted godly, giving you a taste of his malice and power. You craved more and wished to allow this being to cover you in it so you could know what true power felt like, not the innocent power of one's flesh but the over someone's mind and soul—morphing them into what you wanted. “So what shall I call you, my lord? Or do you want me to scream out your true name as you have your way with this fair maiden?”

He reached up and pushed more of your hair out of your face. The touch was so gentle for a man who had murdered so many of your kin. You should have been scared of him, terrified even. But you knew you were just as black-hearted as he was, which probably drew him to you.

You were an expert manipulator and temptress.

A true dark widow leading any unsuspecting man to her web of deception. This time, though, you had caught the Great Deceiver in your web; he was yours now. Your two dark souls were finally connected, yearning for release and pleasure.

"Mairon,"

The clinging of a glass brought you out of your musings before looking over at the source of the sound. Celebrimbor strode up the staircase with a glass of wine for the both of you and a pile of parchment between his left arm. "May I join you?" he asked as a smile touched his lips.

You nodded and motioned to the chair. Finally, your plan bore fruit. He set a glass down in front of you. You reached and brought it to your lips, drinking the liquid as he moved to lay his papers out on the table across from you. Designs, no doubt, for more rings. You turned back to your reading, delicate fingers turning the large page as you read the old words.

"I see you have taken an interest in First Age magics." You look up at him as he took a drink. "It is a delightful read, even for someone who was there."

"I never experienced those magics, only the ones to destroy." You said truthfully, but you hid your dark smile at the mention of the shadowy being who had taught you many of those dark things.

“I forget myself. You lost all your kin to him.” You gave him a sorrowful look before turning back to reading. Celebrimbor raised a brow at you as your left hand moved across the page. His gaze fell when the moonlight from the window caught your ring, causing the inscription to reappear. He moved to pick up your hand as a missing piece of his puzzle had probably been solved, but before you registered what he was doing, he had the ring of your finger in haste.

Your body weakened with age, and signs started to appear on your once beautiful, serene face, showing how your choice to stay in Middle-Earth had affected you. The air in your lungs grew cold, and your mind became lonely as you could no longer feel his power and dark thread against you—the life force to your beauty and enhanced healing abilities.

Celebrimbor watched you shift and change, then glanced down at the ring. Even more surprise crossed his face as he stood and walked quickly to the window, hoping to see how it worked. But the inscription all but faded as it was not connected to your essence anymore. Your husband's blood had given you vibrant beauty for the rest of your days, but only if his gift was placed upon your finger.

The bond you shared and promised to keep had been laid into that ring, blood mixed with blood. His vow was recited and dropped into the molten Valinor silver ore as you recited yours. He forged it under the starry, moonlit night in love and promise for more. Thus, it created the final piece of your bond, gave you access to some of his abilities, and gave the beautiful silver its blue hue.

The Valar were displeased with his creation and choice to massacre your people, citing that if he genuinely were remorseful for his deeds, he would return to Valinor to pay for his crimes. At the same time, you paid for yours in loneliness and longing for the Undying Lands that you would never meet.

You both turned your backs and knew no road to redemption did not leave you separated from one another. So you both agreed to cleanse and heal this world in your image so that you may sit upon your thrones and finally have peace from the looming threat of the Valar’s wrath.

You were sure he had just felt the parting, and soon, his shadowy form would be upon you—or worse.

"How–ho–" he stuttered out as he tried to get the blue hue to show again. Your frail body stood and snatched the thin silver ring from his hand before slipping it back on, and you shifted back into your youthful, beautiful form again.

The air in your lungs returned, and you felt a tear fall from your eye. The comfort of his mind and soul returning, the pain of silence and separation becoming too much. You gave the little thread a soft tug to tell him it was alright and just part of your plan. "Teach me," His eyes were blown wide almost as he moved over to the table quickly almost knocking the wine glasses off. "Tell me everything or show me how you did it,"

"I did not do anything, Lord Celebrimbor," You said, covering your hand so he would not have another chance to snatch the ring off your hand. "It was a gift from my late husband to torture me," you said with slight anger; though this was about to be a clever story, your beloved was probably about to be very disappointed in you slandering his name.

Celebrimbor looked at you, confused. "His dying wish was to see me live an immortal life tied to this." You hold up the ring to him. "For being unfaithful to him. It is my shackle, my lord, and I doubt you wish to craft something as such." You look back down at your book, hiding the pain in your face as you tell such lies about your husband, but this was needed to keep Celebrimbor going. Keep him thinking about the other rings, sowing your husband’s dark web in even his absence.

"But you wear it proudly? And your reaction earlier tells me he means more to you." You cursed at your earlier slip in disguise, but no one had ever tried to take it off your finger. So it caught you off guard, and your mask had faded. You had not expected him to do that.

"I wear it because my immortality depends on it; my gift to heal depends on it. I wear it so I can live." You finally look up at him, and your eyes gaze into his. "Wouldn't you do the same, my lord?"

"But you have used your ring for good," You held back the snort at his comment. "Healed Eregion for centuries and been an utmost loyal friend to my family." All for your husband's benefit, he had an in and a watchful eye here. He had what he wanted, and you had a warm place to sleep while you waited for him.

"You flatter me, my lord," Your eyes turned back to the page as he touched your shoulder.

"I am sorry, my friend; I did not mean for my impoliteness. Forgive me." You placed a hand over his and smiled softly up at him, your charming, deceitful self on full display.

"It is quite alright." He released you before going back to his chair. He picked up a quill and began scratching out notes. You returned to your reading until a cool breeze entered the room from the window, causing your senses to heighten as you felt the shadows come to life. A small smile touched your lips, knowing he was about to play one of his little shadowy games. His ghostly hand wrapped around your throat, fingers trailing against your soft skin.

"Don't worry, there is an illusion over you," his voice said against your ear. "You will appear to be reading."

"And what do I owe the pleasure, husband?" You felt the pain on his form at how you did not hide your irritation, or it was coming from him for another reason. He was not allowing you to see where he was for whatever reason.

“Can a husband not check in on his wife?” You swatted his shadowy hand from touching you. The Black Speech curse that floated across sent a nebulous smile, touching your lips, knowing he was not in the mood to play games. But neither were you.

His hand moved back to your throat, hand tighter as his lips went to your ear. “You would do right to remember who—“

“I tire of these excuses, husband.” You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself in complete control. “I also tire of these lies, " he growled.

“You are such a burdensome woman,” he said as his fingers grabbed your hair, yanking it back. You could see the dark embers of his eyes encased by his shadowy form. “Always speaking of things she knows nothing of.”

“But that’s why you love me,” You reach up to touch his shadowy face. “Without me, your immortality would have been oh so tiresome.” you teased. Your finger ran across where his cheekbone would have been. “But you’re right; I am only some innocent maiden who knows nothing of the plan she helped mold.” Another growl went through his shadowy lips, fingers tugging even more on your hair, pulling a whimper from your lips.

“We both know you are far from innocent, little one.” You had to laugh at that. “For you deceived the Great Deceiver at his own game,” you hum as his hand ran down your chest, ghosting over your breasts and down to your ripened core. You grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“It would do you good to remember that,” you growled. “It would also mind you well to tell me where you are.”

"Sowing seeds,” you rolled your eyes at his even more cryptic answer. "Just as you are, my little temptress," His shadowy lips wrapped around your ear. "Though I warn you if he touches you or your ring again, I will take pleasure in killing him right now.” You whimpered at the thought and bit down on your bottom lip as his hand met your skirt again.

“You spoil me, husband,” his dark chuckle filled your ear. “Do not forget that I can only stall for so long," you bit back at him. “He will keep hammering me about the ring,” he hummed in answer to your statement before the brushes of his tongue ran across the shell of your ear. Your walls and stomach fluttered in anticipation of your reunion once again. He was playing dirty, but whenever did he not?

"I'm aware," he whispered before nipping at your ear. A whimper left your lips in response. Through this whole interaction, you had not as much as glanced at Celebrimbor through the illusion until now.

He was working away, taking a sip of his wine occasionally. Utterly undisturbed by you and your husband’s interaction. “Only if he saw you right now,” your husband breathed against your shoulder. “In all your dark glory, wanton with desire for the very man they fear. Oh, the scandal it should cause.” He kissed your shoulder lightly before moving up your neck and back to your ear. “That innocent elven maiden disguise you have carefully constructed, completely broken against my cock.”

His lips nipped at the sensitive tip while his hand ran back to your stomach, cupping it softly.

"I will it," he breathed.

And like a gust of wind, he was gone. Illusion falling.

The lingering sadness mixed with his words caused another set of tears to fall onto your face.

He willed it.

Sunrises turned into sunsets, and each day felt like an eternity. Since his appearance that night, you had grown longingly for him even more, knowing he was still alive and well, to some extent. 

But you had waited centuries with even less uncertainty. It was always a game of patience.

Though you had grown tired of it now.

You tried your best to distract yourself with the mundane tasks of being a healer, such as setting broken bones and healing minor cuts. Sure, your assistants could do such things, but it helped busy your mind and distract you from the aching in your heart as you longed for his touch and his breath on your ear. 

It drove you mad when he tortured you in the night, shadows bringing you almost to the brink, only to leave you hanging like he wanted to build up the tension of your separation. You had many a thought to take your ring off so you could stop the torture, but you knew that was not the brightest idea. He would only make it worse for you after he arrived.

You bared it, though.

As you awoke this morning, something in the air told you today would be different. The air was crisper and tasted like the electricity of a storm rolling in. A smile touched your lips as you felt the lingering touch of his caress on your lips. You brought your thumb to meet your bottom lip as he had the night before, tracing across it in sweet memory. Your heart filled with what little warmth you had left in it, only reserved for the dark shadow that filled your dreams and drove you mad with his ghostly touches.

You threw the blankets off your body and got out of bed, feet walking across the stone floor toward your balcony doors, opening them to see the bright morning light into your chambers. Back when you had a semblance of pureness in your heart, you would have probably enjoyed this sight, the singing of the birds flying across the river to the sounds of the city waking up. 

But that had long left you.

You found solace in the dark, stormy days and long, cold winter nights. Something about them made you feel like he was there with you after settling into Eregion. The only warmth you sought was his embrace and the dark aura that always seemed to follow him, encasing you and bringing out the life in you. Never light, just life.

He completed you in so many ways, just as you completed him.

Your arms leaned against the railing as you took in a familiar scent, one you had not smelled in many centuries—blue daises. They used to grow around that first city you and your beloved made your home in. The name had long since been forgotten through the ages. But you could always remember that smell.

When you both tried to seek peace and redemption for your dark souls, you settled down into a slower way of life. One where you tried to suppress the darkness and power-hungry souls that lived in you both, hoping it would be enough, wishing that your deeds to help the people would wash your slates clean. When there was still a tiny part of you both that was still pure of heart.

As always, you had taken on a life as a healer, and your husband did what he did best.

Created.

He created beautiful things for you at that time—things you still had tucked away in the soft confines of your jewelry box, even if they did burn when they touched your cold, dark being now. But nothing surpassed the ring you wore on your finger even though it was both your undoing.

His fingers pushed your loose strands behind your ear as you sat on one of the many flower-covered hills surrounding the city that you both had made home. Your cheeks warmed against his gaze. It was not uncommon for you both to find solace away from the city limits, as you both kept to yourselves in hopes that your dark souls would find the space to heal.

“Tell me about your day,” you asked; a smile touched his lips as he looked down at your hand, reaching to take his. “I know he has you busy, as you are so gifted.” Your husband nodded and he began to tell you about his day. You hung on his every word and gesture, getting glimpses of what he would have probably been like before his corruption. The brightness in his eyes, playful and gentle touches that he would give you at times.

You had noticed that darkness falling away in his eyes the more he did good. 

The more he healed that dark part of him.

“I do have something for you,” he said, bringing you out of your musings. You raised your brow in suspicion. He moved to cup your chin, pulling your face to meet his briefly as his pillowy lips moved against yours. A giggle escaped your lips as he broke away and laid his forehead on yours. “I promised you that you would never want for anything; if you asked, it would be yours no matter the cost.” Your fingers moved to cup his face and nod.

“I remember,” He released you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful piece of jewelry. Blue stones hung in a setting that looked reminiscent of the blue daisies that surrounded you and grew in front of your home, that you had tended so carefully to over the years. The stones shined in the sun's light and pulled you in more. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Crafted for my beautiful wife,” you turned and lifted your hair so he could lay the necklace on you and clasp it closed. “Forged with silver from Valinor and blue gems of the mountain. All made for the beautiful woman meant to wear it.” He leaned in and kissed your neck as your fingers touched the stones, his fingers skating across your stomach and caressing the white silken fabric you wore. 

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed as his lips lapped at the skin of your neck and down to your shoulder. “Thank you,” He hummed against your soft skin and continued to nip and suck on the skin he exposed when his fingers pushed down the silken fabric that rested on your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warmth of the sun. “I want to remind you that children come up here, my love.” He did not reply with words but with a grip on your breast before pulling you into him. His other hand traveled down to your core, only to make a symphony leave your lips as he fucked you into a withering mess as he always did.

You both lay bare against the warmth of the swaying grasses and flowers, intertwined still as your post-coitus bliss still hung against you both. He slid one of the blue daisies behind your ear as you kissed him passionately, fingers moving up to cup his face as he wrapped his arms around you.

Hearts and souls as one, once again. Full and warm.

“I have been thinking,” he started as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. The sun had become your greatest friend in your time here, you glowed again and seemed to fill with even more peace than he had ever seen in you.

“That is never a good thing with you,” he glowered down at you as you made the jab. “But go on,”

“I want to forge you a ring,” he breathed. “One that will bind us immortally.” You swallowed hard and moved to place your hand on his cheek, his head leaning into it as his lips kissed your wrist softly.

“We have been here before, love,” you started as he sighed. “Our hearts are still so black that even the slightest taste of power could set us off.” He continued to lay his head in your hand, only now his eyes were looking at yours.

“I know, and we have worked so hard in trying, but–” You cut him off with a passionate kiss. 

“No more talk of this,” you breathed against his lips. “We promised to leave it all behind. We have built our own little bits of peace here. They have not noticed or wish to not meddle in our progress.” They, being the Valar, which you both wished to please in this time, hoping they would renounce both your crimes and allow you to live in a world of bliss and longevity together.

Though you felt that lingering wish for power and control deep inside him still. The lingering tendrils of Morgoth’s weavings were still embedded in him, fighting with the pureness that was trying to show itself again. “I know you wish to lavish me something so great, but it would be a creation built in the dark. The magic used would not be of light as we wish but of darkness.”

“Divine,” he breathed, leaning into you again. “Let’s try,”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as that once eerie feeling resurfaced. Telling you the peace here would be limited once again.

Limited it was.

The darkness crept back in. 

Slowly at first, only with signs that were noticed by you. His mind elsewhere while yours tried to keep on moving forward. Late nights in the sitting room doing whatever had been consuming his mind, to the irritation he had about his work.

On one occasion, you walked down to see him muttering to himself and scratching away at something. You moved over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder causing him to jump as he had been so consumed by his task. Your eyes swept the page to see designs for a ring. Your ring.

“I thought we were behind this?” You said, trying to take the parchment from him, causing him to rip it from your hands, tearing the parchment in half. His eyes darkened as a growl rumbled in his chest.

“And I thought you trusted me?” You looked at him, bewildered by the boiling temper in his eyes. For the last few centuries, nothing but a lovelorn look had been in his eyes. 

“I do, but love, this ring does not prove my love and loyalty to you.” you breathed, holding up your half of the parchment. “It will only drive you down a path I cannot follow.”

“Cannot follow?” He yelled. You flinched and looked down at your feet, hoping not to upset him more. He moved over to you and wrapped his fingers around your throat. “You follow me; remember, I took you from that place and gave you the revenge that you sought. All because I love you.” Tears kissed your cheeks as he tightened his grip, dark eyes blazing.

“I love you too, but they will take you from me if we do this.” You cried. “A separation greater than any we have experienced before. Do you want that for me?” He sighed, loosening his grip on you, and ran his finger across your cheek.

“Then let me just make you this one ring so even if we are ever parted, you will still feel like I am there with you.”

That one choice, one singular choice, had changed your relationship forever. You agreed and he forged the bonding ring and the darkness now awoke in you again after centuries of it being only a quiet hum.

He grew obsessed and consumed by the desire to create more rings to bring order to this world. You watched as he drove himself mad with this all-but-consuming task.

Power over the flesh.

He kept saying. In those times he did not seek your comfort, grew cold and distant towards you. Each time you would walk to that hill and the flowers would wilt and die against your touch until there was none left. A personification of what was to come.

You stopped going until the darkness in your heart returned. Things began crumbling in your lives; he lost his temper more, filled people’s minds with his sickness, and fell so much further into his obsession.

The day everything changed, you watched as he stood in the doorway and told you he was going back to Fordowaith and taking up his place in Morgoth’s wake so he could finish his work. He asked you to come with him, take your place by his side, and be his queen, but you told him no. 

You told him that there was no path you would not follow him. Told him that you would continue the plan, but you would do it your way. A way that kept you together.

You left him standing there.

And went on your way.

You stood back up and turned back towards your chambers, the sun becoming too much for you as your mind dove even deeper into the maddening memories. It was too much at times, and you tried not to let it affect you, but it did.

It broke you to part yourself from him, but you knew somewhere in your heart he would find you again. And he had.

As you got ready for the day, your hands skated across the fabric over your stomach. The skin had yet to stretch, but you knew they were nestled deeply in your womb.

The greatest creation he had ever made.

You had known for a bit as the dizzy spells overcame you and heightened smells that sometimes nauseated you. Life grew a little brighter in his absence, but not enough to quench the need to feel him there beside you, sharing in this joy.

After your musings had ended, you got right to work and attend to your duties. You made your rounds and finished just before lunch. You started back to your home when you felt the lingering pull of that dark thread crawling up your spine. You turn and see guards walking up the road with a man on a horse.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you saw him. The coppery strands glistened in the sun as he continued towards the gatehouse. You moved out of the way and watched as his green eyes met yours, a smile touching his lips as your face warmth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bowed your head in response before he passed, and you were only left with the lingering warmth of his shadowy thread wrapping around yours.

You rushed back home, knowing he would probably visit after speaking with Celebrimbor.

But nothing came of it.

And the night rolled in with not much as a word. The claps of thunder and flickers of lightning filled your darkened chambers. With the rain spilling moments later.

And you could not help but add tears to the sound of the pattering rain.

Heart aching at his rejection, yet again.

Slap.

Your hand connected with his face, sending shivers down your spine as his elven head turned in response. Hand shooting to his face as you seethed with anger. Your pulse raced as he looked back up at you, eyes burning with a fire you had never seen in him before. You stare at him with your seething gaze. He was so stunned by your reaction that he moved up to you with a pace unmatched by any mortal being. His fingers gripped in your hair, yanking your head back. Those elven eyes seared into yours as he snarled at you.

You did not flinch or pull away from his grasp. The pain was only temporary, and the satisfaction of seeing the red mark coming up on the pale face caused a smile to touch your lips before you spoke.

"You dare not hurt me, husband," His hand gripped harder, pulling at your roots. You struggled not to whimper at the action like you always did. Your desire to not give into his temptation and prolong this argument until he was buried deep inside you and taking you like the feral animal he could be at times. Though this time, you knew he was deprived and wanting, so this would only make his restraint last so long before he gave in to his desire to control you.

"Do you want to test me?" He growled. "Because I have killed people for less."

"And I've killed people for the fun of it, my lord," your eyes burning now as his grip loosened just a tiny bit. A chuckle left his lips, knowing you were fully capable of wreaking havoc on entire cities and his heart. "You leave without a word and only appear in my chambers again when you see fit. In a whole new disguise, may I add." You spat out at him. "What web are sowing now?"

He released you and moved past you into your chambers, speaking words that were inaudible to you. "I am protecting you," he finally said.

"Protecting me?" you say in disbelief as you move over to your desk where your books and papers are. "That's all I get?"

"The less you know, the more believable you can be." You gripped a book. The anger in your bones at his lack of faith in you had you seething for an even grander fight. You wanted to slap, punch, or kill him for even believing you could not be believable at your own game. You had spent centuries here building relationships and trust that it was laughable for him even to consider himself of more importance than you at this moment.

Your hand gripped the thick leather volume harder before your anger boiled over, and you tossed it at him, but before it could hit him, he pushed it out of the way with his abilities.

"The more believable I can be?" You roared. You grabbed more and continued to throw it at him, anger surging even more. Your pent-up heartache at his mistrust poured into each onslaught. His eyes watched you as he moved out of the way of your blows, books, quills, and jewelry box hitting the wall behind him. The pain in your eyes did not affect his emotionless face in the slightest. "Are you doubting my skills?"

"Are you doubting my judgment?" He roared back at you. "Because as I see it, you questioning me tells me they have gotten into your head." You moved quickly and pushed him over onto your bed, using all the darkness in you to overpower him. He sat up, looking at you with disbelief at your action. You had never dared to touch him in anger in all the centuries. Sure, you had been close before, but this was different. He was questioning your loyalty to him. 

"How dare you question my loyalty," Tears touched your cheek. "How dare you threaten me and treat me like one of your little puppets when all I have ever been to you is faithful."

"That's not what you told Celebrimbor," he taunted, trying to sit up, but you moved to straddle his hips, holding him in place before wrapping your fingers around his neck.

"If you believe the words of a lie," You growled at him. "Then surely you've gone mad." You leaned down over him, the other hand pulling up the skirt of your nightgown over your hips while delicate fingers hungrily searched underneath his robes.

“This argument bor—” his train of thought stopped as your hand found what it was searching for. Your eyes watched as his closed against the grip of your hand. Fingers sliding up the length till your thumb traced against the tip, pulling a low hiss from his lips.

“This bores you?” You taunted, pumping lightly against the hardened flesh that filled your grip; his hips arched into your tugs as you rolled yours softly with your motions against him. You finally lean into his ear, motions growing. “If this bores you, then you have gone mad.” The tension lines in his neck tightened as you ran your teeth against them, nipping the pale skin as you went. You were in control for the moment, trying to get him to remember who he belonged to.

Your strokes grew in intensity as you could tell his peak was coming, his deprived state causing his body to fail him. “My sweet,” You breathed into his ear. “My oh so sweet Mairon, in all those centuries apart, you still believe you have control.”

His eyes opened, and he growled as he quickly had you on your back, his painfully hard cock at your entrance. His eyes burned into yours as he thrust into you quickly, pulling a moan from your lips as you closed your eyes. He leaned down to your ear. “Control is only an illusion, wife. I let you believe what you want, but you bow to me, no one else.” You whimpered against the sickly, sweet words. His thrusting grew in intensity as he took pleasure in the way you silenced the control over him, letting him take you as he saw fit.

You were a devious creature that was as slippery as a serpent. But he was only but a mirror of that. He never had to command your mind or inflict his magic on you. You surrendered so willingly, already kissed by the darkness ages before he crossed your path. Desire drove this relationship at times, a sickly sweet desire he had never fully understood until he felt those hips against his fingers, guiding you through the movements. It was maddening as the sounds of your climax repeated over and over throughout that tiny home in that long-forgotten elven city. The night you both had given your souls to each other.

After that, there was nothing he would do for you. He would murder whole cities and move the oceans just to please you. He only wanted to give you everything you desired—jewels, clothes, even a child.

The thrill of the chase, of the fight for dominance, never bored him. Even if he told you otherwise, these ‘arguments’ were sometimes needed to remind you who pulled the strings to your heart and who pulled his. The anger and heartache only fueled your desire to seek control and dominance over him, trying to hold him close to you as if he would sleep away into the abyss again.

You had left before.

And it broke him.

You sought the rational solution to lie in wait. Let them come to you. Build relationships, reputations, and trust in those you wish to subjugate.

Greed had chased you away. He paid dearly for that and spent centuries as a pile of omniscient form of liquid goo. As he regained his mind, he thought of you and how he wanted to find and surrender himself to you—telling you how you had been right. He would never doubt you again.

But you had taken your ring off.

You took the one connecting piece off, and you were nothing more than a distant memory in his mind. He had no idea where you were or if you had perished. He sometimes cursed himself for using the ring to bind your bond. But he never thought you would unbind yourself to him.

So when your mind disappeared again, it weakened his weakened state even more. He needed to feel you, and it angered him that you would even think that was a smart idea, but he had asked for trust in those first years.

And trust was a two-way street.

Your whimpered pleas for more brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down at you, all unmade under his fingertips. Hair tousled and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful and ethereal as he drove you mad with lust. Your fingers clawed against the linen of your bed, silver band shining in the moonlight as he tore you down with his thrust. Only to remake you once again.

It was not long before you both reached your respective highs. Climax found you both as calls of your names filled the stone walls, echoing into your hearts. His lips moved with yours as you gripped your fingers in his blonde hair. Delicate fingers took their time to ruin the perfectness of the strands. A memory finds you, causing a giggle to leave your lips. The last time he appeared like this was when he first saw you. Though his hair was much different back then, you felt slight sorrow at the choice of blonde hair.

“Red suits you more,” you breathed against his lips. “This,” your fingers moved over the shell of his ears, running up to the pointed tips, causing him to hum at the stimulating touch. “Is how I remember you each and every time I close my eyes,”

He chuckled. “I can change it,” you shake your head.

“No, my sweet Mairon,” you grabbed his face. “I am selfish and wish to be the only one to gaze upon that form.” He hummed and kissed your lips again briefly. Eyes locked as you both sunk into your post-coitus bliss. When the thought crosses your mind. A smile rose on your lips again. “Lord of Gifts,” you breathed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have a gift for you.” You took his lip between yours and sucked down on it.

“What kind of gift would be greater than gazing upon my wife?” Your face warmed before you ran your fingers across his cheekbones. You felt the tickle of uncertainty touch your heart. It was still so early, and you could be wrong in your assessment. But deep in your heart, you knew that you both had created something in the light of that morning when he had willed it.

“The gift of creation,” A darkness flashed across his eyes as you spoke. That earlier worry filled his cold heart. “The fruits of our union.”

“Divine,” he breathed, but you cut him off.

“You are not happy?” He sighed and ran his fingers through your hair. He smoothed out the strands as he tried to find the words to tell you how he felt. In truth, he did not know how he felt. All kinds of emotions crossed his mind until he spoke again.

“It will grow on me; I’m concerned.” You nod, and a weak smile fills your lips before moving to sit up. Fingers running through your hair as you struggle with what to say to him. This was not the reaction you had expected at all. In your belief, you thought he had wanted this as much as you did. His change of heart was sincere, but that was not the case.

“You willed it,” You whimpered. He caught your chin, bringing your gaze to his. His gaze was as soft as he could ever get it to be. Tears brimming in your eyes as you both searched for the right words. He knew you were hurt, and you could sense the fear of the unknown on his dark thread.

“Like any father, I’m surprised and shocked that it happened so quickly,” he finally said. You stifled a loud laugh of amazement at his statement, knowing it was probably not the best right now. But to know he was surprised was shocking; you did not even know he could be that.

“I did not know the Dark Lord could be stunned for words.” A thin smile touched his lips, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear.

“There is a first for everything,”

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 4/?

Sorry for the short chapter with the wait, but! This was supposed to be a 5+1 scenario thing, and I got all of the 5 scenarios finished (other than a grammar read through), so that means I have stuff that I can actually schedule posting :3 Next chapter on Sunday! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 931

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

You shouldn’t have left as quickly as you did, you realize in hindsight.

You had gone there to talk, to make some sort of deal so you could minimize the side effects, and the amount spent with your soulmate. Instead of the universe letting you follow your plan, you found out you had another soulmate, fought him (for less than a minute), tore your stitches, and then got stitched up by your first soulmate.

It was a lot of things. 

Confusing, a mess, weird. 

So you panicked, and ran.

At least it seems they are managing to tame their bonds to you somewhat, as you no longer constantly feel their feelings in the back of your mind. You absentmindedly wonder if it’s easy for them, if they’ve had training with each other. How long have they been together even? You shook your head, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the bonds have turned to a low hum, almost like the noise of a fridge that you tune out as background noise, instead of everongoing chatter.

You are happy about that.

So you don’t seek them out again. 

You don’t want to. 

For as long as you can.

You know you will have to eventually, the side effects will not be pleasant.

But for now, you don’t want them near you.

However, it seems the universe has other plans for you.

Because of fucking course it does.

You meet Wade first, again. 

While working, again.

It’s only been a week, and though Evelyn had told you to rest, there is no rest for the wicked. Or something like that.

The job was supposed to be easy anyway.

Emphasis on supposed to.

Because the universe decides to send Wade your way.

Of fucking course.

It was just being a guard at some rich guy's house party, standing with another guard, keeping watch. Plenty of booze, food, drugs, women and men in skimpy clothing. So far it had gone well, the only thing you had had to do was turn down a few unwanted advantages from some of the aforementioned skimpily clothed people that had gotten terribly lost in their drunken and drugged state.

All you had done was go to the bathroom, checking on your bandages quickly and taking a piss.

When you return, it’s to find the other guard slumped against a wall. You swear, running over, checking for a pulse as you kneel down, gun now in hand. He’s breathing, you reach for your radio, but stop as you feel a gun pressed into the back of your skull.

Fuck.

“Should you even be working right now?”

Double fuck.

You turn around, the gun backs off just enough that it doesn’t brush your nose as you turn around. It follows you as you stand up, your own gun still in your hand, though you don’t aim it.

“Wade.” One of your soulmates- The man stands in front of you, dressed in a red suit like the first time you saw him, weapons and all. One of them currently pointing at you.

“Awwww, you remember my name!” The gun is aimed at your forehead. Around the muzzle it says “smile for the flash” in golden letters. You think you should feel some fear, but there’s none.

You lean forward, saying nothing while keeping a straight face, wondering if you will feel its cold kiss against the warm skin of your forehead. Before you can, Wade shifts the gun so it’s aiming at your shoulder instead, face still and unreadable to you behind his mask.

“You really should be resting, pookie, wounds like that don’t heal overnight, and even if you might get some of our healing eventually, we have not spent any time together for that to happen!” His tone is chipper, if a little strained. Your anger mixes with confusion, and though you want to ask what the fuck he means, you ask something completely different instead.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Now you can tell he’s pouting under the mask as you look him up and down.

“Boooo, keeping it professional. Oh well, I’ll get more of you later. I’m here to scare the ever living shit out of the shady guy that hired you, so he’ll cough up the fuck-ton of money he owes the shady people that hired me. Can’t kill him, but I can maim. And kill people in the way.” That last part is added as an afterthought, and if the universe was any part sane, you would feel a tinge of fear.

It’s not though, so all you feel is annoyance.

“God damn it Wade.” You rub your face, debating on shooting him just so he’ll do something about his own gun that’s still aimed at your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, a phrase loved by many. Oh, since I’m at work, it’s Deadpool. Sorry in advance.”

“Wha-” You don’t get to say anything more, as the butt of Wade’s gun connects with your head, and the world goes black.

—--

When you wake up, it’s to the fire alarm blaring and the sprinklers going, soaking everything and everyone..

Wade, or Deadpool, you guess, did not kill the guy he was after. He did maim him though (he is missing a leg now), and then seemingly for funises, set a vase of roses on fire in the guy’s bedroom. 

Because of this, your clothes are still soggy by the time you make it home, and you curse up a storm as you peel yourself out of them, a headache forming.

Fucking Deadpool.

Fucking Wade.

(Part 5)

[kaixserzz]

eons adrift ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ wanderer x gn!reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎐 ꒱ "i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me." "that's not possible, you and i both know that." "watch me!"

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cw: character analysis-ish, mildly proofread, drabble but it's kinda messy, its more like an idea than a fic LOLLL im sorry, hurt/comfort

scaramouche took you for a naive fool, just as he was when oh so stupidly believed those words as kunikuzushi.

you are but a human. a mere breath of his everlasting eternity. a few hundreds of years and he would forget everything about you.

insignificant, you humans were.

frail.

vulnerable.

so so easy to break.

as he walked into the path of darkness; consuming him and turning him into someone he doesn't recognize in the mirror no longer—kabukimono, kunikuzushi, the love of your life, was long gone. memories like the leaves that turn yellow and crumble to ashes as winter approaches.

yet the winter will remain in his empty chest for as long as he walks teyvat. churning into a blizzard of ice cold pain, destroying everything around him as it grows. he continues to walk this wretched path he chose.

but then he met someone, rekindling the spark that was once there beneath his porcelain skin. trying to light up a burn out wick, to bring an end to his winter and bring forth the beautiful spring he was once.

scaramouche never thought he'd love again.

even after all through the pain he went from the doctor's experiments, after roaming the great expanse of the abyss, after becoming the balladeer, the 6th of the fatui harbingers, he still felt.

love.

happiness.

pain.

sorrow.

and regret.

he hates it, but he loves them, just as much as he loved you.

though he allowed someone new worm their way into his heart, he kept them in arm's reach. he cannot bear to be vulnerable to someone else. they were human, they were to die; he is a puppet, he is meant to live on forever.

but then he heard them say things only you would say. giving him lavender melons you bought off the market, accidentally calling him names only you would know.

he remember that promise you made him before you died.

"i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me."

scaramouche did not understand what he felt when he realized that his new lover, was in fact, just a reincarnation of you. and just like that, your name burns back itself into his mind—a name he thought he had erased into obscurity, along with his past.

he was a fool, scaramouche thought. he laughed at himself, a laugh void of humor, nor joy.

it was your name, your first incarnation, just in a different language.

it appears that scaramouche didn't like this feeling. of bitter butterflies in his stomach, the familiarity when you try to get close to him, the same smile you had, the light full of love in your eyes—it was all too much for him.

so he left you in the snow of his ever growing blizzard. buried under the thick layers of freezing ice.

and again, to your next reincarnation. a fatui, a vendor, an adventurer, a knight, a scholar—male, female, neither, or all of them; tall, short, plump, slim, dark or light skinned,

he cannot bear to lose you just as he first did.

slipping by his fingers, to the one thing he is not affected by.

death.

he doesn't accept the fact that your love has led you back to him, again and again.

why do you even keep coming back? don't you know he's part of the fatui? don't you know what he has done? don't you know what he has become?

and yet you'd knock on his door, calling his name with your voice full of warmth, arms wide for him to take and allow himself to be called yours again—all he had to do was open the door.

he has kept a lock on it ever since he met you again.

worn down and rotten; chains all rusted, handle jammed and barely working. he approaches the door once again. this time, as wanderer. a better version of himself,

one that's finally willing to open the door to you.

but you weren't there anymore, waiting for him on the other side.

how could you? you were never there in the first place.

not with this version of himself.

not as the wanderer.

and maybe that was for the best. even though he cries himself to sleep at night for all the things he has done to you. weeping, as he curls onto the sheets, praying to the stars above in hopes you'd hear his heartbroken apologies, yearning for your love, your touch, your smiles—

this was his punishment for hurting you, for being a fool. he was underserving of your love, after all.

"hey, wanderer, was it?"

a new voice, someone unfamiliar. he refrained from sighing, for buer's sake, and instead took a deep, refreshing breath. he turns, and the stranger smiles brightly at him.

immediately, as if the winds of spring has hit him all so suddenly in the face. the fragrance of blooming flowers that was once buried under the snow, the sun shining brightly in the skies, and birds chirping symphonies.

like the mornings brimming with new found hope, the smell of dew sticking onto his clothes as he trace his fingers all over the a tree's trunk. like the the juices of a fruit he sank his teeth into, dribbling down the corners of his lips and down his arms.

warmth tingled on his skin, and his heart leaps.

"nice to meet you!" you say your name, a name he has heard hundreds of versions before, all so different and yet they all felt and tasted like honey dripping down his tongue. "i hope we get along."

"yeah," he says, almost breathless, as the tears begins to well in his eyes. his fingers tremble, and his smile grew wobbly. tipping his hat down to avoid your gaze, his voice cracks. "i hope so too."

his door was wide open, waiting for you come in.

you grin, and take a step inside.

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

author's note: "i thought this was a dottore only blog? SHUT UP!!!!! SHUT UP!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM MAD AT MYSELF TOO BUT THIS IS FOR @fatuismooches also new format because im too lazy to open my files :/ not back yet, i just wanna write this for the pookie 💗💗 ty for listening to me ramble like a madman ur single handedly gettin me thru it ong LMAOOO /lh

[venerawrites]

helloo! back to humbly ask for more content for him hehe but this time I wanna add for his brother as well!💜

how they'd react to their s/o sacrificing themselves to save them/for their sake? how they are in their last moments together and how they handle the aftermath? I love the Uchiha boys being soft but i cant resist the angst sometimes 🫣

thank you again! adore your work as always!

author's note: I am in an angsty mood right now, so I literally RUSHED to my drafts, so I can finish this request! Thank you so much for sending it and I really hope I did it justice! <3

➤ Sasuke

The death of his s/o would be one of the two things: either the birth of the greatest villain to ever exist or the end of the 'ninja path' for Sasuke Uchiha.

It really depends on WHY did they sacrificed themselves for him or more importantly WHO took their life.

I think no matter when Sasuke has met them (before or after the war), he would take them as granted. He didn't even want to think about a scenario where they would not exist or be part of his life, let alone accept it.

So when they fell in front of him, a giant hole in their chest, his immediate reaction was shock.

This could not be happening... This should NOT be hapenning!

His whole body would be frozen and he would stay in place for at least a few minutes, till your weak attempt to mutter his name brings him back to reality. He immediately rush by their side, cradling their face in his hands while he kept muttering the same words over and over again.

"No, no, no... Don't close your eyes, you are fine! Don't... don't do this! Please!"

(the first and last time he ever said the word "please" to his s/o)

Once the realisation that there was still a battle going on hits him, his rage would erupt like a volcano. He would make sure that whoever is responsible for his s/o being gone would suffer not only painful, but also a gruesome death.

Now like I said above, why did his s/o sacrifice themselves for him and who was on the other side of the attack would be KEY details in shaping Sasuke's future.

I think if it happens way after the war (let's say 10 years+) and his s/o sacrifices themselves for him during mission or during an attack by foreign ninjas, he would most likely retire as a shinobi and seek quiet life somewhere outside Konoha.

(he not only looks like John Wick, but he also follows a similar path... 👀)

He would no doubt contribute their death to him being a ninja and I don't think he can accept the idea of continuing being one, knowing it has costed him so much. He lost EVERYTHING to that lifestyle and now all he had left were memories.

If his s/o, however, died during the war or shortly after, and have the fate to be killed by a Leaf Shinobi there is NO GOING BACK for Sasuke.

Full 100% Villain Mode!

I have no doubt that he will put all his effort, time and energy in avenging his s/o or even worse - try everything to bring them back to life!

Would wage a fifth and even a sixth world war if it means that he will finally find a way to destroy the villages, especially Konoha once and for all.

➤ Itachi

The idea of death never scared Itachi.

He was responsible for countless deaths, including the ones of his own parents, and he himself was clearly seeing the upcoming end of his own life.

Yet the idea of his s/o dying was not one that ever crossed his mind. He has always imagined that they would live many, many years after him, having a beautiful family with someone who can give them everything he could not.

I imagine his s/o would die either during the fight with Sasuke or shortly after.

Just like Sasuke he would be in disbelief and shock at first, but instead of just staying frozen to the place, he would rush toward his s/o and catch them before they hit the ground.

"No... What have you done? You should've stayed away, you should've listened to me!"

Itachi is usually calm and collected, but this may be one of the few times he actually loses control (or maybe even the only one?).

If his s/o was killed before that battle by some other enemy, he would kill his enemy the same way as Sasuke - slow and gruesome, leaving the battlefield a bloody reminder of what an Uchiha is capable of in the name of love.

If Sasuke was the one that took his s/o life, he would not hold back and unleash all his power, despite his weakened state.

He would forget all his initial goals and feelings when it comes to his little brother, and would use every attack in his arsenal with the sole purpose to kill.

However, in that instance, I do think there will be a moment where he will get some clarity before the end of the fight and he is immediately filled with guilt.

If his s/o has never met him, they would still be alive. The fault was not Sasuke's - it was only his.

This would be the key moment when he loses all determination to fight and let's his younger brother take his life.

With his s/o gone, he actually looks forward death. Because maybe someday, somewhere, in another life, he would have a chance to make things right.

That moment when Zabuza died next to Haku... yep, that is Itachi next to his s/o.

He would use the last remaining energy in his body to crawl over to them and slip his hand in their cold one.

(I think I may have made myself accidentally cry with this one... :( )

cc artwork: Karine Vilette

[panda-writes-kpop]

Demon! Dreamcatcher - Giving You A Helping Hand

a/n: i wrote this to help me with my dami b-day fic... so spoilers for that, perhaps? (this has nothing to do with the fic, i just had brain rot from my own idea... and wrote this instead of the fic 🤦‍♀️) I'll get back to requests and that fic eventually, I hope. 🫠

tw: lots of blood and gore for headcannons, demon eats human, the same human gets brutally murdered again and again, my opinions about what sin each girl represents, someone spits on a dead body, lots of death, DC are murder wives (literally)

♡ Masterlist ♡

Prompt - okay, this was pathetic. You couldn't even fight off one person who sent a right hook into your jaw. You didn't want to call her since she'll probably kill the person in front of you, but they started it by pulling out a switchblade.

Yeah, pleasantries went out the door a long time ago. Fuck, this was a bad idea.

Yet you still summon your girlfriend to your side.

○●○●○●○

• Your girlfriend didn't have the most elegant summoning pose - she was in the middle of biting an invisible dish.

JiU - Demon of Gluttony

• Annoyed, she turns to you before smiling and going to greet you...

• -before she notices the small cut on your face.

• Her head snaps to the other direction, noticing the other person who looks terrified at Minji's sudden change in demeanor.

• "I've always wondered what human meat tastes like."

• She lunges and tackles the person to the ground, and you close your eyes as blood and guts fly everywhere

• Not a bit of human flesh lands on you before Minji calls your name.

• You open your eyes to see her wiping her face of blood (as if her clothes and hands aren't soaked in the color red).

SuA - Demon of Pride

• "C'mon, my dear, I've still got leftovers back in hell. Shall we enjoy them together?"

• She's happy you called her - why wouldn't you call the best demon girlfriend to assist you?

• Oh, someone's bothering you? SuA simply opens a portal to hell behind the person and nonchalantly flings them into the portal.

• "Don't worry, babe, I won't touch them. Cerberus will tear them to pieces. :)"

• You forget how terrifying (and hot) she is at times.

• SuA, without dropping her smile, approaches you and gently places her hand on your cheek.

• With a bit of mischievous demon magic, the cut on your face is healed without a scar to be seen.

• She grabs your hand and drags you to a nearby bar.

Siyeon - Demon of Lust

• "Let's go have fun and forget about that miserable person, baby. Doesn't that sound like a much better way to end the night?"

• Your girlfriend drips charisma as she appears in a brilliant display of pink smoke.

• Her eyes glance between the two of you as a wicked smile appears on her face.

• "Well, what do we have here?"

• Siyeon corners your opponent and pins them to a wall with one of her hands as the other strokes their face.

• "You're going to regret ever touching them, you wretched little thing." Her voice drips venom as your attacker's face changes from pleasure to fear.

• The darkness of the night hides the gorey scene as Siyeon, in a brutal display of power, rips every body part from the other person.

• Once she's done, with a snap of her fingers, the blood on her, the ground, and the cut on your face are completely gone.

Handong - Demon of Wrath

• "Now we can enjoy the night together without any disturbances, right?"

• There's no warning after you summon Handong. She simply goes into attack mode after spotting the other person.

• They scream in terror and pain, but she simply scoffs at them

• "Should've thought about that before you punched them, huh?"

• Of course she knows about that, your girlfriend knows about every time someone wrongs you so she can correct things in your favor.

• With nothing but her hands, she's literally ripped them to shreds in what must be a world record.

• "Didn't even put up a fight." She rolls her eyes before landing another punch to their body. "Tsk, what a shame."

• You're the one who has to pull her off of them, with a gentle reminder that the other person was dead a long time ago.

• "I want to make sure that there's no chance that resurrection can happen, my dear." She hisses before spitting on the body.

Yoohyeon - Demon of Greed

• She's not always like this, you swear.

• "Hey, I was busy planning another bank robbery that would be totally foolproof! What are you-"

• She pauses as she looks at you and then the other person.

• "Well, you'll work as bait for Cerberus so SuA doesn't interfere in my plans."

• She snaps her fingers and the other person disappears, but you swear you can hear them scream in the background as you talk to Yooh.

• "They'll have a quick death, I promise!" She squeezes your hands as you nod and agree.

• In her hand, she offers you a bandaid. When you go to grab it, however, she snatches the bandaid away from your grasp.

• "Let me do it, babe!" She whines before opening up the bandaid. "It's the least I can do."

Dami - Demon of Envy

• She's awfully cute for a terrifying, murderous demon.

• She has a less flashier entrance than the other demons, and a less visible response to the other person.

• Her way of handling things is much less brutal. She simply places both of her hands on the person before gently pushing them against the wall.

• Their eye color changes to orange before running off while muttering on about coveting things or people (you can't really tell).

• Dami's attention turns to you as she wipes away any bruises, marks, or blood with the touch of her hand.

• "Are you alright, my dear?"

• Once you've fully reassure her that you're okay, you ask her why she didn't murder the other person in front of you.

• "I know that violence will scare you away, and that's the last thing I want. You shouldn’t be scared of me, darling."

Gahyeon - Demon of Sloth

• For someone who was created to be an incarnate version of envy, she sure doesn't show it off a lot.

• You've summoned her to you, but she's sleeping while standing up.

• So much for getting help from the demon representing sloth. You should probably know better at this point.

• When your attacker tries to approach you with the knife, Gahyeon holds out her arm and catches the other person's arm.

• She then proceeded to harshly throw them into a wall, giving them a quick death with a lot of head trauma.

• Without waking up, she sleep walks over to you. (How does she not fall over her own feet?)

• "There's something on your cheek." She mumbles in her sleep as you touch your face. "You should fix that."

• Thanks, Gahyeon, that's really helpful.

• "I'm going back to bed and I need a pillow." She says before pulling you into her arms. "You're coming with me."

• You can't break out of her grasp as she sinks into the ground, but you give up and accept your fate. That's simply how your girlfriend is.

[hestella]

Hannibal Lector: A New Face

A/N: I'm currently not done watching Hannibal so there are A LOT of mistakes and it probably won't make any sense lol please tell me out of the kindness of your heart if you want me to fix anything or want to let me know. Also some scenes are improvised by me, I don’t own any characters except for my OC(which is, well, you), all credits to Hannibal NBC and Red Dragon series. LOVE YOU ALL

Warnings: mentions of violence, sexual violence, blood, murder, use of Y/N(cause I can't think of a cool name), Fem!reader, kind of POC reader?, psychopath reader, trauma, mental illness, BLIND READER

Will Graham was gifted a special talent, the talent to see and read a person's mind, no matter how wicked or broken it was, he was able to know exactly what and why and how. His talents were greatly appreciated from the FBI, especially solving murder cases.

He had some of friends, but there was one particular and close friend he had, her name being Y/N.

She seemed to be also have a special natural-born talent. After an unfortunate event, she was permanently blinded and needed to have a walking sick with her, but she still was able to memorize and observe the smallest details of practically anything she felt and heard. Her talent was also what the FBI needed, but she never actually applied, or even participate on those kinds of stuff, unlike Will.

In fact, she was just a plain old professor, teaching philosophy, she gave lectures in colleges and universities for a living.

At first Hannibal thought she was boring, until he actually got to meet her.

When Jack got to know Will, it wasn't that long after he also got to know Y/N. Will constantly mentioned her, about her abilities and how she would have thought about some things. Will knew better than to actually mention FBI cases to her, but the other way, there wasn't anything stopping him. If Will was doing lectures, not with the FBI, Jack automatically sought her for help. She reluctantly accepted, not because of the work itself but for Will, thinking that he would heal when she solved some cases for him, giving him a break. She had control of her lectures, so she was at least more flexible than Will. And with all seriousness, she was good. It was different from Will’s way of investigation, but she was able to collect evidence according to the case and end up with a conclusion, which actually helped Jack a lot, since Will’s investigation relied on his assumptions, that he himself couldn't really make sense.

"Whoever that killed these girls probably has some kind of women that look like those victims. It can be a daughter, a long gone crush, a mother...someone that they have deep connection, whether it's positive or negative. That makes them most likely a male." She explained, after listening to all the information she needed.

"We already assumed that this was a male, unintentionally. Any other observations?" Jack said.

"It's most likely a daughter, though. Young, all from different campuses. He chose these campuses specifically, I'd say, probably one his daughter goes to, or is planning to go to." She continued. "However..." She stood up, walking towards the board with the pictures, wandering her walking stick from side to side.

"He...he has a thing for killing. he's not doing this for pleasure, it's...it's more like art. Precise, like....." she turned around. "...like those people who hunt wildlife." she said.

"...what?" Jack asked.

She bit her lips, not knowing how to say it. "...like those people, I can't, I can't explain it." She looked towards Will, or just turned around where she sensed he was, for help.

Will nodded. "..yeah, I get it. I can see that, wildlife hunters."

"He probably also owns some personal space, like a cabin, out in the woods where he can dissect and dress the animals he hunts. That's probably where he killed these girls too. He would have been used to it, if he used to, or still currently is a hunter." She muttered.

"Yes, where he can butcher, cool, and storage animals, and apparently people. Even if someone accidentally saw blood or, smelled something from there, it makes sense because it's for that purpose, except it's for animals." Will continued.

She nodded and looked back at Jack, her eyes not really focusing exactly to him. "...did that help?" she asked.

"...quite." Jack looked at her only white eyes.

“im glad,” she gave him a faint smile. “But I’ve been trying to ask…is there someone else here? Apart from Will, me, and you?”

“allow me to introduce myself, Ms. Y/L/N, I’m doctor Hannibal Lector. I apologize for my unintentional ambush,” Hannibal stood upon respect, even if she couldn’t see.

“ah, so you were the one. I thought I was having delusions,” she turned her head to face him, her white eyes staring somewhat at Hannibal. She walked towards him and reached out her hand, which Hannibal accepted gently and respectfully. “No need to apologize, Dr. Lector.” She gave him a smile too.

“I should say you’re quite flexible on communicating, even though you’re visually impaired. Different from Will, you try to have eye contact with people. No offense, by all means,” Hannibal muttered his short observation.

“I’m not offended, it’s true. But there’s no need to psychoanalyze me, doctor.” She let go of his hand and reminded him, slithering away from Hannibal’s attempt to make her step out of her circle.

Hannibal wasn’t able to get a hold of her. She rarely talked, but rather tried to hint the FBI about the evidence. He tried inviting her to dinner but she was always somehow reserved. She surely seemed careful about who to let in her circle.

Hannibal tried to step into her personal space by packing up food that he made and giving them to her. He planned to do that to Will too, getting to know him and partially using it to show her what kind of a person he was. His plan was this: pack breakfast for Will, then let Will tell this event to her, and then eventually making her comfortable enough for him to make breakfast for her too. It was getting two rabbits by one stone.

Hence, that was what happened. A second of silence surrounded the two, as they chewed and swallowed the food.

“Agent Crawford told me you have a knack for the monsters,” Hannibal mentioned.

Will put down his fork and looked at him. “..I don’t think the Shrike killed the girl in the field.”

Hannibal also put down his fork and leaned a bit forward. “The devil is in the details. What didn’t your copycat do to the girl in the fields? What gave it away?”

“..everything. It’s like, he had to show me a negative to prove that-“ he sighed. “Y/N would’ve explain it better,” he muttered. “it’s like he had to show me a negative so that-so that I could see the positive.” He rubbed his face.

“….Y/N?” Hannibal muttered.

“Crawford wants her. I don’t want her to be, but I feel like she can see more than I can.” Will looked around. Hannibal noticed this.

“…May I ask you a question, Will?” Hannibal said, his breakfast long forgotten. Will just waved his hand, nodding his head. “Do you live with someone else here?”

“..yeah, we, Y/N and I thought it wouldn’t be that bad of an idea, rather than getting separate rooms…” Will explained. Hannibal nodded. So that was the thing he felt was off about the house. He was honestly surprised, but didn’t let that out.

“where is she, then? Sleeping? I would love to share this meal with her too, if she can,”

“She leaves at 4 in the morning to go to her job.” Will replied, taking another bite of the food. “and she’s strictly vegan, so I don’t think she’ll be able to eat any of these,”

“I see. Her job, which is..”

“Teaching. Modern philosophy at Johns Hopkins.”

“ah, Johns Hopkins. I should’ve known.” Hannibal almost gave him a smile.

With the additional information, it was too easy for Hannibal to roll Jack Crawford up and persuade her to be one of his patients too. He added a little bit of extra reasoning with her injury, telling Jack perhaps the right therapy may make her sense more, and less be obstacled by her blindness. It wasn’t his initial goal to help her sense like a not-visually-impaired person, but he was confident it was possible.

He decided to pay a visit to her lectures.

(Should I make this a series??)

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xi - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,700+

Warnings: spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

“Eris…” She hummed to him. “Eris Vanserra.” 

Then her voice grew more urgent. “Eris…Eris…ERIS!” 

He finally shot up in bed. 

Sweat covered Eris’ naked torso as he awoke. Yet goosebumps covered his skin. 

Eris looked to the windows in his bedchambers, and saw that one was open, and there was a strong wind coming through. 

He paused, not remembering leaving it open before he went to bed. 

Slowly, he emerged from his bed and walked to the window. 

Eris stood at the opening, hands gripping the sill. 

A part of him waited for her voice to call out for him still, even now that he was awake. But the wind was quiet, only slightly brushing by him, and cooling the sweat on his muscular chest. 

It was hard to decipher what was actually Y/N calling to him and what was the bond messing with his head. Everything about the two of them felt unprecedented due to Y/N not being merely mortal. 

Eris looked at the block on his nightstand. He had only been sleeping for barely two hours when he’d awoken. That was the most he'd gotten in weeks. 

Go to her, his soul begged. 

Eris suddenly found himself considering his responsibilities in the next couple of days. They were lesser than usual. Why did his heart lighten at that realization? 

Eris closed the window slowly, making sure to secure it this time. 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Rhysand and Feyre had granted access to Velaris to Eris not long after his first visit to the Night Court where he left Y/N with them. They hadn’t really known what to expect in regards to Eris actually taking advantage of the privilege. 

Eris had never explored the mystery city. But the bond or perhaps Y/N’s magic – maybe both – seemed to be guiding him. 

He finally turned a tight corner and stopped in his tracks. 

Y/N sat outside what he presumed was her shop. She’d pulled a chair out and seemed to be taking in the morning sun with a large mug of coffee. 

It took Eris a second to realize that there was a spoon in the mug that was stirring itself, while Y/N’s hands kept warm by cupping the sides. He smirked at the little bit of magic. 

Then he noticed that Y/N was mumbling under her breath, as if trying to hide it from anyone who might be wandering past. 

A part of Eris wanted to turn around and forget this whole idea.

But it was nearly impossible to ignore how much better he felt just seeing his mate. The tension in his shoulders was gone, he stood up straighter, the migraine had finally weakened, and the exhaustion had been replaced with a sudden pierce of energy and awareness. 

Eris’ body moved on its own accord. 

It was only when he was a few feet away that Y/N’s eyes met his and they widened in surprise at his appearance. 

Y/N had been talking, mid sentence, when she noticed him. 

“Sorry,” she blurted out without even meaning to. 

“Never apologize to me, Y/N.”

Eris blinked, suddenly realizing he’d never addressed her by her own name before. 

But then he remembered what Cassian had told him: that many thought Y/N to be crazy due to her gifts in witchcraft. And Eris’ hands clenched into fists at his sides, thinking of anyone saying such things about his mate. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N blurted out. She blinked rapidly. “I-I-I mean, what are you doing in Velaris?” 

“News of your store has reached even Autumn Court…” Eris said. But then added, “But I have business with the High Lord and Lady.”

Though he caught how his words came through his mask still – cold and emotionless. 

And Y/N caught it, too. For she shifted in her seat with discomfort, unsure of how to respond to the clashing of his words with his tone.

Eris cleared his throat and looked at the ground.  

Damn himself. He couldn’t even talk to his mate without sounding like some arse. 

“Are you quite well?” 

His head shot up at the question. 

Surely she wasn’t talking to him. 

But she was. 

In fact, Y/N's gaze studied him with genuine concern. He caught how they lingered on the deep shadows beneath his amber eyes.

While Eris never dressed and groomed less than perfection every day of his life, it appeared his exhaustion was impossible to hide.

Eris bowed his head. “It seems a good night’s sleep has rather been a challenge for me, as of late…”

He didn’t see the point in trying to lie to Y/N. The truth was quite clear and he did not wish to seem like he thought her some fool. 

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m familiar.” 

Eris wouldn’t meet her gaze now. 

But he heard her slowly stand from her chair and walk to him. 

“Would you like to come in for some tea?” 

Eris’ gaze once again shot up to meet her’s. 

Y/N stepped even closer with an encouraging smile. “P-Please, I insist.” 

Eris shifted his weight. “I will not be in your way? Your shop has just opened.”

Y/N shook her head. “Business is usually slow in the mornings, especially this early in the week. I promise it is no bother.” 

Eris finally nodded and put a few steps between them as he followed her into the store. Just before stepping in, he looked around them, half expecting that Spymaster to be watching from the darkness or perhaps even one his his shadows. 

Y/N led them to what appeared to be a backroom in the the store. 

A fire was already kindling in the small hearth. Above it hung dozens of herbs drying from being upside down and hanging in front of the warmth. There was a desk shoved into the corner, with a dozen quills and some notebooks strewn across its surface. 

Eris assumed this was where Y/N did all of her conjuring and casting for her merchandise. 

Despite it being her place of work, Eris still felt like he was tainting her personal space, her closest thing to home and sanctuary. 

“Please, do sit.” Y/N gestured to a small table with three chairs opposite the room from the fireplace. 

Eris watched Y/N as she started moving about the room. He studied her outfit: a full quilted skirt and a simple white, button-up shirt with the sleeves already rolled up for her work. It looked less Night Court than the other outfits he’d seen her in. 

A few moments later, Y/N placed a large mug of tea in front of Eris while she had poured herself another mug of coffee. 

“You are quite frustrating, you know?” Y/N smirked at him before taking a sip of coffee. 

Eris tilted his head. “How so?” 

“You save my life, bring me here – a court where you hold no true friends. Your own brother doesn’t seem fond of you. And even he seemed confused that you helped me at all in the first place.” 

“Anything else?” Eris quipped. 

Yes,” Y/N huffed as she sat back and crossed her arms. “T-They tell me too little.” 

Eris couldn’t help but smirk. “They as in the wind?” 

She hesitated before nodding. 

“The Night Court is the safest court in the fae realm for a mortal,” Eris finally explained, as if it were obvious. “I do not have connections in the mortal realm.”

That was not entirely true. He could’ve brought Y/N to the Exiles’ manor. But he didn’t see Jurian or Vassa as capable enough to protect his mate. Furthermore, they owed him nothing.

Y/N’s voice was almost a whisper as she asked, “Are things really so terrible in Autumn Court?” 

Eris only nodded. 

“It may seem hard to believe and though my circumstances were menacing…” She took in a shaky breath. “There was a moment where I couldn’t ignore how…beautiful it was.” 

Eris froze at such a confession. Y/N was dragged and tortured like a slave through his court, yet she still found the beauty in it, same as him. 

“It is not the land that is terrible,” he corrected. “But its ruler and those who stay loyal to him, despite his evil.” 

“And that is why sleep evades you?” Y/N asked carefully. 

Eris lifted his tea again and simply said, “Perhaps.” 

A peaceful silence settled between them. There was only the crackling of the fire, something brewing in a cauldron above it, and the soft ticking of a clock on another wall. 

“You speak of overthrowing your own father so carelessly…I cannot help but ask: what will you do to make it better?”

Eris was rendered speechless. He realized that no one had ever asked him that – mostly because his plans to usurp his father were a dangerous secret. And the few that knew – which was mostly Rhysand’s inner circle – saw him as no less evil than Beron. 

Y/N interpreted his silence as offense. 

“Excuse me,” she quickly apologized. “I’ve f-f-finally spoken out of turn.” 

Her head bowed in shame as she sipped her coffee more. 

“The farmers,” Eris muttered without realizing it. 

Y/N looked at him with confusion. “The farmers?”

“My father pays them poorly. He does it so they’re competitive, desperate, and will do anything for more money or his favor. I would pay them the wage they deserve.” 

“What else?” Y/N encouraged. 

Unbeknownst to Eris, she had seen a spark light in those amber eyes of his. And she wanted to make it burn even brighter. 

“I would banish all the courtier’s who did nothing to stand against my father’s malevolence, all because they gained either power or riches from it. I would view the other court’s as allies, not enemies who would strike Autumn at any moment.” 

Eris took in a deep breath, as if sharing such a thing was the greatest relief. “Autumn Court would become prosperous from my people’s contentment and harmony, not from their fear and pain.” 

Y/N watched him in shy wonderment. 

“But perhaps I am no better than my father,” Eris muttered, staring into his tea. 

Y/N surprised him by leaning forward with utter determination on her face. “The winds say nothing but hideous things about Beron Vanserra.” She hissed his father’s name as if it were venomous. “Was it not him who allowed my trading through his court?”

She huffed and leaned back, her face softening. “You are not your father. There is much I must learn of you, Eris Vanserra, but that I am sure of. Because you saved my life in the woods that day.”  

The breath had been knocked from Eris’ chest. He could not breathe, he could not speak. All he could do was feel the heavy beating of his heart and the string between him and Y/N get pulled even tighter. 

If Y/N saw the impact her words had on him, she didn’t show it. 

But their moment was interrupted by the shops entrance bell dinging. 

“Excuse me,” Y/N said politely as she stood. “I will be right back.” 

As soon as she left the backroom, a gasp left Eris. It was like he had been drowning until that very moment when those words left Y/N’s lips. Now his lungs were fighting for every breath. 

It took a few minutes for him to gain control of himself again. 

And then he suddenly felt a crest of fatigue. 

Now that Eris was finally in the presence of his mate again, surrounded by her scent and her safe space, could his body finally find rest?

Eris didn’t mean to, but before Y/N returned, he slumped back in his chair and allowed his eyes to slowly close. 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Eris awoke to the sound of something lightly hitting the table in front of him. 

He jolted awake, quickly remembered where he was by catching Y/N’s sent. 

Before him on the table, a bowl of stew had been placed. 

He looked up to see that it was Y/N who had placed it there and she was ladling another portion into a bowl for herself. 

“How long was I asleep for?” Eris asked hurriedly. 

Y/N smirked. “About 6 hours.”

Eris’ eyes snapped to the now empty tea he had been drinking. 

“You put something in my drink,” he accused. 

Y/N sat across from him with her own bowl of stew. “I did. But it should not have been that strong. You are more tired than you let on.”

It was not the tea, Eris thought. You. You are the magic. 

“Are you upset with me?” Y/N asked before taking her first bite of stew. 

He narrowed his gaze, the mask slightly returning. “I suppose it would not matter if I was.”

“I promise you were perfectly safe back here,” Y/N added. “I checked on you throughout the day.” 

That’s when Eris realized that there had also been a blanket placed on his lap. 

He looked at the bowl of stew in front of him again. 

“Do you need to return to the House of Wind?” Eris asked, expecting one of Rhysand’s bats to interrupt them at any moment to fly her home. 

“They had an important meeting in Day Court...or Winter Court. Can’t remember.”

But Eris knew she did remember. Y/N just didn’t trust Eris enough with that information. It could be nothing important, yet she still protected her friends and the Night Court from him. 

“Thank you…for the stew,” Eris told her softly. 

“I’m sure it doesn’t compare to the food at your Court,” she admitted. 

Eris didn’t correct her. He was too busy thinking of this happening once she felt the mating bond, once it had been awoken for her…and she made him this same meal to accept their bond. Eris knew this didn’t answer the magic, he would’ve felt it. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming of the future. 

“You know, Lucien actually asked me to dinner not too long ago,” Y/N said through a smile before blowing on a spoonful of stew. 

Eris’ spoon clattered to the table as he growled, “Stay away from him.”

The growl alone made Y/N laugh at the male, “What ever for?” 

His reaction was exactly the one she had been fishing for and came out triumphant. It seemed rather easy to taunt Eris. And for some reason, Y/N got such joy from it.

“I’ve seen many a female fall for his hollow charm. You can do better.” 

Y/N smirked at that. “Oh, can I?” 

Eris refused to elaborate, choosing to take another bite instead.

Yes, he wanted Y/N to find someone else to love – someone better, safer. But to love Lucien would be the Cauldron’s greatest tortures. And she would be no safer from Beron with him. 

“If I’m being honest,” Y/N started quietly. “I rather pity him.” 

Eris made a noise of disgust. “What for?”

“I do not know much about these mating bonds of faes. But is it not heartbreaking that Elain will not so much as give him a chance?” 

Did Eris dare ask the question that was screaming in his mind to be let out?

“And what do you think of it all?”

“What?”

“Mating bonds.” 

Her brow furrowed in thought. “At first it seemed so…magical.”

“Spoken from a witch...” Eris answered gruffly. 

She glared at him, but continued. “But then Feyre said it didn’t guarantee the two would be happy or in love. And it seemed…r-rather cruel.” She blinked and shook her head. “Look at Lucien…I fear he is lonely. Will he just live the rest of his immortality unloved? And that…that is the true dark side of it all.” 

Eris felt sick at the her words. 

Y/N was so unaware that she spoke of the same thing to her own mate. But to her, it was impossible to have one the begin with. 

“Your mother and father are they…?”

Eris cleared his throat in attempt to push back all the emotions that threatened to expose themselves. “No. No, my mother’s marriage to my father was arranged. No female with any sense would ever agree to marry my father.” 

“And do you have–”

But Y/N’s question was interrupted by the shop bell dinging once again. 

“Oi!” Cassian yelled into the shop. “Are you sleeping in the back again?” 

“Cassian, must you always be yelling?” Feyre giggled. 

“Back so soon?” Y/N called back through a smile. 

“Why?" Cassian laughed. "Did you think we forgot about yo–”

Feyre and Cassian froze in the doorway when they spotted Eris. 

Y/N shrunk in her seat, not sure how to handle their reaction to her guest. 

Feyre recovered first. “Eris, we were not expecting you.” 

“I had already warned him that you were all on court business,” Y/N answered. 

“Ready to go home, Y/N?” Cassian asked. 

“Yes. Store has already been cleaned. I just have to put out the fire and lock up.”

With a wave of Eris hand, the fire extinguished, as well as every candle in the store. 

Y/N paused in awe at it. 

She had assumed Eris had some abilities due to being High Fae and the heir to Autumn Court. But it was still amazing to see. 

“Perhaps we shall wait for you outside,” Feyre answered as she shoved Cassian in the direction of the entrance. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Y/N jumped to her feet and handed Eris a wicker basket that was covered with a grey linen cloth. 

Eris squinted. “What is this?” 

“Sleep candles,” Y/N answered as if it were obvious. “They’re enchanted, but filled with mostly lavender and then some mugwort, rose petals, and rosemary.”

She pointed to a bundle of waxy leaves. “Eucalyptus. Hang it near your bathtub. The steam will impel its relaxing elements.”

Finally she pointed to a jar filled with tea leaves. “This is the poison I gave you earlier today,” she explained with a mischievous smirk. 

“Very funny,” Eris cut.  

He tried not to let his heart warm from her handing him such thoughtful gifts. 

So, instead, he coldly asked, “How much?”

“Free,” Y/N answered, clearly expecting such a question. 

Finally, she realized how dark it had gotten in her shop after Eris blew out every flame. 

“I never really properly thanked you…for what you did for me.”

“I didn’t do it for your gratitude,” Eris answered harshly. 

But at least his words were true. 

Y/N shook her head at him, almost amused by his severity. “Take the candles and tea, Eris. I have to lock up.”

He started walking out the back room when he paused. “Thank you…for dinner. And for the sleep. And for the…company.”

Eris didn’t look at her as he finally finished with, “I am sure you could see how much I needed it.” 

Y/N looked at him with such sincere sympathy. “You are welcome to rest here anytime.” 

Eris walked outside to find Cassian and Feyre talking hurriedly, yet quietly, between each other. It stopped as soon as they spotted Eris walking out of the store. Both their gazes snapped to the basket in his grasp. 

“Testing the merchandise?” Cassian asked with a playfulness in his eyes. 

Feyre elbowed him in the ribs. 

Eris had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the two of them. “I shall take my leave.” 

“Wait,” Feyre stepped forward. 

Y/N emerged from her store, starting to lock it behind her. 

“We have matters to discuss,” Feyre added, ignoring Y/N’s presence. 

Cassian stepped to Y/N with a knowing smirk and his arms held out. 

“Shall we?” He asked with a tilt of his head. 

Y/N groaned. “I’m never going to grow to like flying, you know.”

Cassian lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing. And Eris tried to push down the feeling of jealousy and rage he had at seeing another male holding his mate. 

“I know,” Cassian laughed before launching them into the air. 

Y/N yelped and Eris caught her hiding her face in Cassian’s neck. 

“She’s fine,” Feyre told him as she had closely watched Eris’ reaction to his mate being flown further and further away from him by another male. 

Eris ignored the High Lady’s comment and turned to her, already knowing he would not like this conversation. 

“What is this about?” He asked with cold annoyance. “Have we changed our minds about my visiting rights to the Night Court?” 

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Feyre began. “Though I wish I didn’t have to care, I do. Because Y/N has become one of us.” 

“Yes,” Eris growled. “That has become abundantly clear.” 

“I’m going to show you something. Something she said. Lower your shields.” 

Eris wanted to refuse such a request, but did as she asked. 

Images of Y/N flooded his mind. She was drunk and beautiful, warming the room of what looked to be a pleasure house. 

“I-I’ve had my fair share of lovers during my travels – with mortal men…”

“Lovers,” Y/N repeated her own words in a giggle. “As if they were even worthy of the title.”

Y/N’s face suddenly became somewhat sober, twisting into something almost sad. 

Her eyes grew distant. “It never really ended up feeling how I wanted it to. I was always left feeling…used.” 

She let out a drunken, huff of a laugh. “So I stopped bothering…”

Then Feyre was out of Eris head and his shields returned. 

Eris was breathing heavily, nostrils flared. His chest expanded quickly. And his hands were in fists at his side, both surrounded by a ball of deadly flame. 

Whatever males had ever touched Y/N to make her feel such a way…

Everything in Eris’ being wanted to find each of them and torture them until they were begging him for death. 

Feyre stepped closer and lowered her voice as she uttered, “I do not know what your intentions are with Y/N. But understand…if you do anything to treat her in a similar matter, my Court will counter accordingly.” 

Eris held the High Lady’s glare, not backing down. 

And then he winnowed back to Autumn Court. 

––––––––

please, please, please be nice and leave a comment. leave a book report. dissect what you must. it would bring me such joy.

chapter xii

[midnight-songbird]

As much as we all love Scorpio, there's no denying he deserves to get told off at least once. Maybe more.

This takes place in Scorpio's route, a little after the prologue. The gods have been on earth for a few weeks at this point.

Gender neutral mc, no gendered language used. I am using my own name here, though.

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

Sting Him Back (Scorpio x MC)

I really don't know why I chose him. He's never been anything but rude to me. I try to be nice, but I'm really getting sick of it. He won't even call me by name! He just refuses. It really is infuriating, now that I think about it. If I have to sit through another round of his insults-

"Hey! Stupid human, can't you hear me?! I said get over here and help me!"" Scorpio barks out, startling me out of my thoughts.

Deciding that I've had enough of him, and of being nice, I fire back, "I DO have a name, you know." 

"There's no reason for me to use your name. Stupid human."

"Oh, I've got a reason. It's called respect!"

"Why should I respect a filthy human like you?!"

"Because it costs you NOTHING to be polite! Absolutely nothing! You're making a big deal out of this for no reason!"

"Tch... Who do you think you are, talking to a god like that?" As he speaks, he flashes his upturned sneer at me. Holy hell it pisses me off when he does that.

I have an idea, just to spite him. I've already turned around, my back to him. Standing with my arms crossed over my chest, I pretend like I don't hear Scorpio. I casually make eye contact with Leon and show him a confident grin to silently communicate my plans. He catches on and is unsurprisingly thrilled to play along.

"That Scorpion is stubborn as ever, isn't he," Leon comments.

"Hmph, you're telling me. He's unbearable," I reply back.

"HEY! FILTHY HUMAN!"

I stare at nothing in particular, arms crossed, like I'm deep in thought and didn't hear him.

"Stupid human, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

I give no response. This is about to get fun.

"...Hm? Say something, Scorpio?"

"Yes, I told you-"

"Oh, silly me, must be hearing things."

"DAMMIT HUMAN, YOU BETTER ANSWER ME OR EL-"

Sounds like a good time to have at him.

I whip around to face him, speaking with a mocking tone, "Ohhh, was that supposed to scare me??? Why should I fear a scoundrel like you with no decorum whatsoever?"

"EXCUSE ME?!" comes his indignant screech.

With a sickly sweet smile, a honeyed tone, and a falsely sincere hand to my heart, I say to him, "Oh, of course, you're excused!" My sweet grin turns wicked.

Oh yeah, Scorpio's ticked. Realizing he won't win this, he yells, "UGH!"

And with that, he stomps away, dramatically slamming the door shut behind him.

"Aww, you don't wanna play anymore? That's too bad," I purr out. I'm quite satisfied with myself, if I'm being honest.

With his signature smirk, Leon praises, "I'm impressed, Goldfish. You've got quite the backbone."

Ichthys is shocked, and it shows on his face. "That. Was. AWESOME, WINTER!!!" Now grinning, he adds, "You tooootttallllllyyy told Scorpy off!!!" After his cheers of delight, Ichthys couldn't help himself from sticking his tongue out.

Teorus squawks in agreement, "Yeah! Who knew Goldie could get scary!!!

Dui chimes in next, beaming, "No one can say you aren't brave, Winter."

Huedhaut pipes up with, "I must admit, I admire the snark. Well done."

I play along with Huedhaut, my smile present in my voice, "That's quite the high compliment, considering it came from you."

~~~

Later that evening, I'm still hanging out at the mansion. Scorpio hasn't come back out since he stormed off.

I'm chatting with Dui when I hear something. Scorpio has come back to the living room, presumably thinking I'd be gone by now. The moment he sees me, he stops dead in his tracks and actually growls. I can't say I'm surprised. I am a little amused, however...

Now, Scorpio and I are just staring at each other. Breaking the silence, with heavy sarcasm in my tone, I ask, "What, are you back for more?"

He just scowls, turns on his heel, and walks right out.

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

This is my first fic ever, and I really had fun writing it!

And it wouldn't feel right if I didn't thank @fateinthestars , @star-crossed-mid , @pyxianox , @izaberu-chann , and @eclipsegalaxy ! They all helped me out in writing this! Thank you guys <3

I think I'll have a little epilogue to this at some point, I have no idea when.

[kjack89]

Understand

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

E/R, modern AU.

Enjolras wove expertly through the crowded bar, having done this far too many times, especially recently. He saw the man he was looking for half-slumped at the bar, a row of empty shot glasses in front of him, and Enjolras sighed heavily.

Grantaire spotted him as he approached, and even now, even after everything, Grantaire’s entire expression lit up as he did. “Enjolras!”

His smile was wide and wicked, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the bar, but even his ebullient greeting couldn’t quite hide the fact that he slurred a little on Enjolras’s name. Enjolras pursed his lips, just slightly. After the fight that they’d had, he had fully expected Grantaire to drink his cares away, but Grantaire seemed long past the point of cares.

“C’mon,” Grantaire said, patting the barstool next to him. “Sit. Drink. You’re a few behind.”

It occurred to Enjolras, as Grantaire tugged him onto the barstool next to his and slung an arm around his shoulders, that he hadn’t seen Grantaire this drunk in quite a while. Drinking, sure, even tipsy, but since the first time they’d stumbled back to Enjolras’s together, Grantaire’s drinking had never reached this level.

Which was definitely not a good sign.

Grantaire propped his chin on his hand and smiled at Enjolras. “So what’re you drinking?” he asked, his voice too loud. “Shots? You wanna do shots, Apollo?”

“No thanks,” Enjolras said, nodding to the bartender and muttering, “Water, for both of us.”

Enjolras gave him an even look. “I think you’ve probably had enough fun for the both of us,” he said firmly, pressing one of the glasses of water in Grantaire’s hand. “Drink this and then I’m taking you home. It’s been a long day.”

Grantaire snorted and rubbed a hand across his face, his smile disappearing in an instant. “It has been a long day,” he agreed, looking and sounding exhausted. “Long day, long week, long month…” He trailed off and forced a smile back on his face as he leered at Enjolras. “Long boyfriend, if you know what I mean.”

He tipped an enormous wink at him, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Normally the lecherous thing works for me, but not here, not now.”

The smile again slid off of Grantaire’s face. “Then what do you want, Enj?” he asked, sounding tired and upset and everything Enjolras had expected when he had gotten Bossuet’s text advising him that Grantaire seemed to be attempting to drown himself in vodka. “You want to dissect every single thing you said to me during our fight this morning? Because I already did that somewhere around drink 4. You want to ask me why I picked a fight in the first place when everything seemed to be going so well? That was the topic of conversation at drink 6. Oh, or perhaps you’d like to remind me that you expect more of me, or at the very least, you expect me to pretend like I care – oh look, I beat you to it.”

His voice had grown in volume as he had gone on, and Enjolras winced at the vitriol in his words, acutely aware that people were beginning to stare at them. “Keep your voice down,” he told Grantaire, aiming to keep his own voice calm and soothing, but Grantaire clearly wanted no part of it.

“What, are you embarrassed by your drunk, loser boyfriend?”

Grantaire practically flung the words in Enjolras’s face, and Enjolras flinched, biting back his initial instinct to contradict Grantaire. Partially because he didn’t actually think that Grantaire was a loser, but most because he knew when Grantaire was picking a fight, and the last thing he wanted was for Grantaire to twist his attempt at comfort into something it wasn’t. “The only one you’re embarrassing is yourself,” he said instead, struggling to keep his voice even and controlled. “Now you can either come home with me or I’m calling you an Uber, but I’m not doing this with you here.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just glared at him, and Enjolras shrugged, pulling out his phone so that he could order an Uber for him. Suddenly, Grantaire’s hand shot out, closing around Enjolras’s wrist, and Enjolras glanced up at him, Grantaire’s expression inscrutable. “I love you, you know,” Grantaire said, his voice still several decibels too loud, as if he didn’t care that the entire bar could still hear him. “But for the life of me, I can’t understand why you would ever love me back.”

Enjolras stared at him, completely taken aback by the words that had just come out of Grantaire’s mouth. “Are you…are you serious right now?” he asked, his voice cracking, just slightly, and when Grantaire shrugged, Enjolras twisted his wrist out of his grip so that he could reach out and take Grantaire’s hand in both of his. There were a million things he wanted to say, a million reasons he wanted to give, but instead, he did the only thing he could, and turned it back on Grantaire. “Why do you love me?”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me,” Enjolras said. “You don’t understand why I love you? Well, then I want you to explain why you love me.”

“I– that’s not the same thing!” Grantaire spluttered. “You’re – you’re you!”

He gestured so emphatically at Enjolras that he almost toppled off his barstool, and Enjolras rolled his eyes as he helped right him in his seat. “And you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “I don’t understand how anyone could not love you,” he told Enjolras, with the kind of honesty brought on by far too many shots of vodka. “I don’t understand how Combeferre and Courfeyrac can spend as much time with you as they have and not just fallen head over heels in love with you.”

“I imagine the amount of time they’ve spent with me is probably why they haven’t,” Enjolras murmured wryly.

But Grantaire ignored him. “You just—” He shook his head admiringly. “There is so much broken in this world, so much that it’s, it’s incomprehensible for any person to even begin to make a difference, and somehow, you do. You give every part of yourself to trying to make the world better in whatever little way you can, and you never let anything, including and especially me, stop you from trying.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “And that’s why you love me?”

“Yes.” Grantaire barked a laugh and scrubbed his free hand across his mouth. “No. I don’t know.” He dropped his hand and tilted his head to look up at Enjolras. “I love you because you make me want to be someone more than I am.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “And I love you because you make me better.”

Grantaire made a small note of dissent. “Be serious.”

“I am.” Enjolras pronounced the words with as much iron as he usually saved for his calls to arms. “You make me better. You make me want to be better. You ground me and remind of exactly why I do this. And you soften my rough edges and keep me from working myself to the bone on a half-brained idea that probably won’t even accomplish what I was intending anyway.”

He echoed Grantaire’s words from earlier in the day back to him, but gentler, sweeter, with a teasing lilt and no sharp bite, and when Grantaire smiled, just slightly, Enjolras smiled as well, lifting Grantaire’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss against the back of his hand. “I love you because you helped me figure out how to be whole.”

There was something unreadable but impossibly soft in Grantaire's expression as he looked at Enjolras. “I want to kiss you,” he told him.

Enjolras laughed lightly, feeling for the first time since he’d set foot in this bar like they were still them. “What are you waiting for, my permission?” he asked with a grin. 

“No,” Grantaire said, swaying just slightly in his seat as he searched Enjolras’s face before confessing, “I’m drunk and there seems to be two of you, and I’m not sure which one I’m supposed to kiss.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately before leaning in to kiss Grantaire on the forehead. “C’mon,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s get you home before you say something else you’re going to regret in the morning.”

Grantaire let Enjolras pull him to his feet, patting automatically for his wallet. “Wait, I need to pay my tab—”

“I got it,” Enjolras told him, having slipped his credit card to the bartender almost as soon as he had sat down.

Grantaire leaned heavily against him. “You better have tipped well,” he said.

“Believe me, I did,” Enjolras muttered.

Grantaire blinked up at him. “I love you,” he repeated, as Enjolras wrapped an arm around his waist and steered him towards the exit. “And I’m not gonna regret this in the morning.” He considered it for a moment. “Well, maybe just a little.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Well, you’ll have to call me in the morning and let me know.”

Grantaire frowned. “Why don’t you come home with me and find out for yourself?” he asked, with just a little bit of a whine in his voice. “Save me from having to make a phone call.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Enjolras told him. “Not tonight.”

“Not like that,” Grantaire said, a little impatiently. “I mean – just come home with me, Enj.” Enjolras’s resolve was already wavering when Grantaire added softly, “Please.”

Enjolras sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But if you regret it in the morning, it’s your fault, not mine.”

Grantaire gave him a bright, genuine smile. “I won’t,” he promised.

“Good,” Enjolras said, pressing a kiss to the top of Grantaire’s head. “Because given how shitty your mattress is, I might.”

[alovesongtheywrote]

Nightmare Academia P.15 | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, a prank has unforeseen consequences. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: ghosts. also, maeve, a little bit

♥ A/N: yeah, i added a ghost subplot. why? because i wanted one

♥ Word Count: 2244

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

You knew what prank could you pull with the weight of Reid’s expectations on your shoulders.  

It was simple really- simple and perfect.  It would be subtle, but once he noticed, oh, it would be so annoying.

Book by book, you were going to steal the entirety of Spencer’s personal library and replace it with your own.  Would it take a million years?  Yes.  But fuck, it would be so worth it to see him get grumpy about this.  You would give him exactly what he’d asked for.

Something to be mad about.

Sneaking into Spencer’s office wasn’t difficult.  You knew when he would be out, and you knew how to pick a lock.  After breaking in, all you had to do was pick a book and leave one in the space left behind.

You went for a classic- Pride and Prejudice.  You slipped the book into your bag, careful not to damage the delicate thing.  In its place, you left some random romance from your shelf.  You’d read it years ago.  There was no substance, only smut, and a paper thin plot that would drive Reid up the wall if he read it.   

Once the deed was done, you bolted from Reid’s office.  If anyone asked, you would have told them you didn’t even know where it was.  That would’ve been a lie, but whatever, you were being sneaky.  

That evening, you returned to your own office.  As you slid into your chair, the lights flickered.  The lamps, the lights above you, all of them.  Making a mental note to get that checked, you stashed Reid’s copy of Pride and Prejudice away inside your desk.  There it would stay, lying in wait until all of Reid’s collection was in your possession.    

The second the book was stored away, Reid’s face appeared in your doorway- an occurrence which grew increasingly common with each passing day.

“Reid!  Hi!  What’s up, do you need something?”

“Yeah, actually.  You haven’t seen my copy of Pride and Prejudice, have you?  I can’t find it anywhere, I thought you might know.” 

The look on his face told you he already knew.

“No, Reid- whyever would you assume that I’d know where your things are?”

“Because you steal my things.  All the time.  Constantly.”

You grimaced a little bit, “Fair point.  Well, I haven’t seen it, but I’ll let you know if I do.  Should be hard to miss, right?  You’ve probably- I don’t know.  I can’t think of a book-related insult right now.  Pretend I said something horrible.” 

He rolled his eyes at you as a smirk crossed his lips, “I thought I told you to stop going easy on me.”

“You did.  This isn’t me going easy, this is me being stupid.”

He sighed, “You’re not stupid-”

“Bold assumption.”  

Spencer paused after that.  He didn’t say a word.  He just stood there for a moment, lingering in your doorway like a ghost.  

“Y’know, if you’re going to steal my books, you should at least bother to give them a read-through.”

“Hehe, a Reid-through.  Like Reid.  Because your name is- anyway.  Good night, Reid.  Good luck finding your book.  Get the hell out of my office.”

He let out a soft laugh, “Good night, (L/N).”

“Good night.  Loser.”  

You could hear his bark of laughter echo through the hallway.  

You leaned back in your chair after he was gone.  The book seemed to hum from the desk drawer.  You thought, for a second, about taking Reid’s advice.  Of course, you didn’t.  

Why would you ever do what Reid asked of you?  Exactly.  You wouldn’t.  Just like Reid said, you would never take his words to heart.  Besides, you just assumed that he’d anticipated your wicked scheme and placed plastic bugs or some other shit inside the pages for you to find.  You would not be foiled by something as simple as a plastic bug!  Not this time!

Over the next few weeks, your crime spree continued- and you had plenty of crime to commit.  Reid had an insane amount of books on criminology, philosophy, psychology, sociology, and a handful of classic works of fiction- and you were 100% sure he had fully memorized each and every one of them.  

He even had a weird amount of your personal favourites.  Books you loved, books you had written analyses on- Pride and Prejudice wasn’t the only one.  Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room, Ginsburg’s Howl, Shelly’s Frankenstein.   Of course, you nabbed them.  You took everything you could get your terrible gremlin hands on, stashing the product of your crimes away in your office.  

With every book you stole, you filled the empty spaces left behind with books of your own.   Slowly, Spencer’s collection of books became yours, and yours became his, and he didn’t even seem to notice.

Then you found The Narrative of John Smith.

The book was lying on his desk when you found it.  It was far too easy to just grab the thing and run.  You returned to your own office at the end of the day, body electric with the joy that petty theft brings.  You placed the book in a desk drawer, planning to forget about it like you forgot the rest of his collection, but something wouldn’t let you.  Something was different this time.  The book seemed to burn in your mind, begging to be taken from its hiding place.

You took Reid’s advice.  

You opened the book.  Inside was the text you expected to find- the Narrative of John Smith.  There was nothing too special inside.  No annotations- no little notes scribbled in the margins, no phrases highlighted or words circled.  There was just one quote, on the very first page inside the cover in handwriting that didn’t belong to Reid.  

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another." 

Thomas Merton.  It was a beautiful quote- but as you ran your fingers over the inked letters, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d stumbled onto something you weren’t supposed to.  This note felt like a secret, some hidden part of Spencer that you weren’t meant to see.  

You could feel eyes on the back of your neck.  As you shut the book’s cover, a chill ran up your spine.  Goosebumps covered your arms.  You tried to shake it off.  Surely this was just a manifestation of your guilt for finding a secret of Spencer’s- the lights flickered.  

You felt a breath against the skin of your neck.

There was no one there.  You spun around searching, but your office was empty.  You were completely, entirely alone.

You nearly threw that fucking book across the goddamn room.

You didn’t, of course, but you almost did.  You weren’t sure how Spencer managed to find a haunted copy of The Narrative of John Smith- the book itself was uncommon enough- but of course, he fucking did.

Honestly, when you thought about it, it made sense.  If you were to pick one person to have a haunted book, it would be Reid.  His eyes held a million tragedies inside of them.  The man himself looked like the ghost of a Victoriran child that died of tuberculosis.  It wasn’t surprising at all, then, that the man himself would be haunted.

You did want to return the book, though.  You could complete the rest of your prank without it.  Stealing all but one of Reid’s books would still be a good prank, you were sure of it.  Even if it wasn’t, was it worth risking a haunting for the sake of a joke?  Nope.  Nah.  Not in the fucking slightest.  You scuttled back to Reid’s office as fast as you possibly could.  

The halls were empty this time of night.  Spencer’s office was in the same condition.  The door was shut, but not locked, and the lights were off.  You slid inside as quietly as you possibly could.  Your heart pounded in your chest as you moved through the dark.  Those unseen eyes were still following you.  You placed the book down on his desk.

The moment you did, the lights in Spencer’s office flickered on.  Your heart stopped in your chest- behind you, someone cleared their throat.  Without a second thought, you picked up the book and actually threw it across the room.

It landed, with a thud, against Reid’s face.

“Ow!”

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed, covering your mouth with your hands, “Holy fuck, I’m so sorry- are you okay?”

Spencer shook off the blow relatively quickly, “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m- (Y/N), what are you doing in my office?”

“I’m uh- I was…  You have a lot of interesting books.” 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, “So you were stealing my stuff, again?”

“Maybe.  Hey, just by the way, I think your book is haunted.”

Spencer just rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.  He didn’t say anything else.  Instead, he looked down, away from you, turning his attention to the book you’d thrown in his direction.  The cover had opened exposing the first page.  The Thomas Merton quote glared at you from the page, dark ink visible even from the other side of the room.  

Spencer stayed silent for a moment.  You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear his breath hitch.

He knelt down slowly, taking the book into his hands.  His fingers wrapped around the cover carefully, like the tome was a delicate, precious thing, “Where did you find this?”

His voice was low, almost ominous- Spencer almost didn’t sound like himself.  

“It was on your desk this morning.  I just grabbed it, I didn’t- I swear I didn’t plan on throwing it across the room.”

“Good,” he got up without looking at you.  His focus was on the book, on the first page, on the quote, “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t, I promise.  I’m-”

“Don’t apologize again.  Just… don’t take this,” he walked towards you, keeping his eyes on the pages in his hands.  You backed up, pressing your body against his desk.  You gripped the edge of it tightly, nails almost biting into the wood.  

Spencer stopped just in front of you, towering over your body with every cursed inch of his height.  When he finally looked at you, when his eyes met yours, there was something uncannily close to grief in his eyes.

“I know I told you to make me mad, but- don’t do this.  You can have whatever else you want.  You can take whatever else you want.  Just… don’t take this.”

“Okay.  I’m s-”

“What did I just say about apologizing?”

“Right, right, my bad.”

He placed the book down on the desk.  He left his hand there, flat on the desk’s surface.  His arm caged you in, slightly.  You could feel your heart begin to race, and you fought a silent, internal battle to get it to stop doing that.  

“That’s a little too close to sorry for me.”

“Ah, right.  I’m… sorry, fuck.”

He shook his head,  “A PhD in English and you can’t find anything to say?”

“Leave me alone, Reid.  I’m tired and scared.”

He scoffed, turning away from you to lean against his desk, “Scared?  Of what, ghosts?”

“More or less.”  

You couldn’t see his face, but you could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

“What would a ghost want with you?  You haven’t killed anyone, right?  You aren’t someone’s unfinished business?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then you’re perfectly safe.”  

“Oh?  And when did you become a ghost expert?”

“Probably that time I died.”

You paused, eyes widening as you processed exactly what Spencer said.  Last time it was, “I’ve been shot three times.”  This time it was, “I’ve died once.”  You were suddenly sure that this man was trying to drive you insane.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said, (L/N).”

You blinked.

“Spencer?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are- are you a ghost?”

He didn’t answer you.  The two of you stood there for a minute, just listening to the buzz of the fluorescents outside.

“(L/N)?” He broke the silence.

“Yes?”

“Get the hell out of my office.”

“Right-!  That’s- I’ll go.  I’m sor- fuck.  Yeah, okay, bye.”

Reid said nothing.  He just watched you leave, not smiling until you were safely out of the room.  He reached back, then, for the book.  

It wasn’t there.

He turned to his desk, searching the top of it for the familiar cover, but he found nothing.  The book was gone.  He looked to the doorway, half-expecting you to be there with the thing clutched in your hand but the doorway was empty.  

Something hit him in the back of the head.

He stumbled forward, letting out a sharp cry.  When he turned to see what had hit him, he found what he had been looking for.  

The Narrative of John Smith.

“Reid, are you okay?” you appeared in his doorway no, but the book wasn’t in your hand.  It was on the floor, pages open to the carpet beneath it, “I heard you scream, and I-”

“I didn’t scream,” Spencer reached out, picking the book back up.

“Yeah, you did.  You made a little aaa noise.  Is everything okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away.  He just looked at the ink on the book’s first page.

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another." 

“Hey, (L/N)?  About those ghosts-”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know :D

[theworldcrossing]

Are you… vulnerable?

Yandere Dark Tom Nook x gen!reader

_______

Warnings: 18+ MDNI content, NSFW, Yandere dark, no consent, jealousy, possessiveness, kissing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mature, smut, obsession.

“Are you… vulnerable?”

Tom Nook stands before you, towering over the bed where you lie, drenched in sweat and stripped bare. His silhouette fills the room with an oppressive weight.

You instinctively shuffle backward on the mattress, your breath hitching. The Tom you knew is gone. His fur bristles wildly, his claws glint under the dim light, and his eyes burn with a manic intensity that wasn’t there before.

He closes the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing ominously. Without sparing you a glance, he finally speaks, his voice a slow, deliberate drawl.

"You know… I get it. You’re angry. Angry that I took your place as mayor of Crossing. Angry that I assigned you to lesser tasks."

His words cut deep, but it’s his movement toward you that sends a chill down your spine. His massive frame leans over you, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. He reaches out, his paw grazing your face, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"I even felt bad at first, knowing that being the leader of Crossing was something Ynchtome Crossing himself gave you. But…" He pauses, his claws lightly tracing the curve of your jaw.

"… I heard he forced your hand, didn’t he? Tell me, darling, isn’t that true?"

Before you can respond, his mouth crashes onto yours.

You freeze, shocked and disgusted, before thrashing against him. Your hands pound at his chest, but it’s like striking stone. He chuckles, the sound low and guttural, vibrating against your skin.

Finally, he pulls back, letting you gasp for air. But his grip remains firm, his gaze unwavering.

"I know the things I’ve done to you were cruel. The stunts I pulled with Isabelle and the others to ruin your reputation… it wasn’t easy for you, was it? Being branded as someone who ‘abandoned’ their post? But don’t worry. I took care of anyone who dared to hurt you."

He begins unbuttoning his sweater vest, his actions slow and deliberate, as if savoring your terror.

"Remember when I took you to work at my little shop in the woods? How I made you run deliveries? Then I turned you into nothing more than a property manager. And finally… you became my personal tool."

His shirt falls to the floor, and he climbs onto the bed, his weight pinning you down.

"At first, I wanted to punish you for leaving me. That’s why I made you wear that tight uniform, just to see you squirm. To watch your beautiful face burn with embarrassment. To teach you one thing…" His lips curl into a wicked smile.

"Never leave me again."

His clawed hand trails down your leg, forcing you to remember every moment of degradation.

"You always found a way out, though, didn’t you? Even in that pencil skirt, those stockings, and those heels, you still managed to escape. That day, I wanted to throw you onto my desk, make you scream my name, and take you right there. But no. You slipped through my fingers again."

His knees settle between your legs, the tension unbearable.

You stare at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than the monster above you. The memories flood back — the years of manipulation, the endless games he played, how he twisted your role as mayor until you were nothing more than his pawn.

Meanwhile, he grew stronger. He grew richer. He grew untouchable.

A sharp sound breaks your thoughts. The unmistakable rasp of a zipper being undone.

"If I have to mark you…” His voice is hushed, almost reverent. “If I have to taint you, claim you, tear into your flesh so everyone knows you belong to me…"

His paw grips your waist firmly, his claws digging into your skin.

"… then I will do it. Without hesitation."

You feel the tears spill before you realize you’ve started crying. You know that after tonight, after this moment, you won’t be able to get up on your own again.

This little piece came to mind while working on The Choice of Crossing and Bonus 1.2 of Dear Ocean, which I’m currently finalizing. It’s almost done, and I can’t wait to share it. In the meantime, I wanted to keep my account alive, as it’s been on pause for a while. This short fanfic is here to tide you over, hoping it will please you and make you look forward to what’s coming next.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

for dragon deity au, would reader build a sort of resentment towards deities in general? Like I know for a fact I would, if I was treated as less then, and used as a sick sort of food source, especially if just now their trying to take back their actions

Yeah, Reader would be, in the non-cursed words: Royally miffed. They would be scared, they'd feel sick, and they'd feel completely alone and helpless. They aren't even an adult yet, and they just found out the people they've been with, who they've been nothing but respectful and kind and loving to, might have been planning at some point to sacrifice them and gain their power for themselves. They'd leave, as fast and as far as they could, and they would not look back.

The platonic yans are... worried. Guilt-ridden. Paranoid.

They used to devour the essence of other dragon deities and demigods, and while they hadn't done so in about a century or few before meeting Reader... They had thought about if they should do it with them. And then after spending time with them, and getting to know them, and feeling loved by someone who wanted nothing from them and only looked up up them... Well, the guilt ate at them, to the point they couldn't do it. They couldn't, they wouldn't, do that to Reader. They know they've done awful, horrible things... They've had their fair share of wicked deeds and cults and paranoia... But... Reader is a kid. A really small, breakable, mortal kid, who they know has their own blood running through them. And they've been horrible in the past, they've waged wars and won them, they've made and conquered and destroyed empires and civilizations, in their name and for their own gain and greed... But this is Reader. This is someone who is one of them. Their own flesh and blood. (They've taken in mortal-born demigods before, they didn't sacrifice all of them... but... they weren't really worthy of them, were they? They'd started over with them, raised them, gone through the "rebirthing"... But they didn't exactly stop being awful to everyone else, did they?) So they more or less do a blood oath, unbreakable and unbending, and cannot be broken or taken back: They will not sacrifice another one of their own for their own gain. They will become better, or risk sacrificing their own god-hood and lives.. They'll start from the top, they'll actually be the parents they should be, and do everything they can to fix and rebuild their own odd family...

(I don't like the platonic yans bring mean for long, but for the sake of the plot and horror themes of this au, they initially act like some ancient, bloodthirsty deities who had sacrifices and cults done in their names...)

(I do promise they get better! They do! But, uh- yeah, having to come to terms with eating the essence of your own kind is a very bad thing, and that they shouldn't do it, and they shouldn't have done it at all (an obvious no-no, but it's a horror and dragon and deities au, so for the sake of the plot and elements-) They decide they have to start making efforts efforts change, stick by those changes, and start being better people- dragons- deities- whatevers... And... there are more than just sacrifice rituals, though, and they plan to try and fix things, starting with a few of those... One for oaths unending, one for honor-and-truth-binding them and their souls to their new objectives, and one for rebirth... And with those, they can start anew, make a new Era for their kind...)

(Ask any questions you have or share anh theories you have, and I'll answer them the best I can, okay?) (I also apologize if I have given y'all a new trauma au that keeps you brainrotting at night- I might need to do a cuddly creatures au after this-)