#and it isn’t possessiveness. it’s bitterness. bitterness and hurt.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I got a break from work so I’m gonna write this.

Hi, I was the anon that wrote about dimidue and emblaskr (guess that’s the ship name) earlier and the problematic biases underlining both (moreso with Askr and Embla).

Also, I absolutely do not hate Askr, he’s my favorite character, but I did want to hide my identity in that previous take as much as possible since Embla’s a pretty popular character. But it was cowardly of me. The rest of this post is going to elaborate on why Emblaskr is problematic and reflects racist trends in the media.

If Embla truly loved Askr, she would have never tried to hurt him so gravely. Invading his kingdom, trying to kill everyone he holds dear…that isn’t love. That’s obsession, jealousy, selfishness. When he died, I believe it was less that she cared about him, but more that she lost the chance to have someone unfailingly caring about her again. It’s a matter of possession and satisfaction. She can’t have Askr. When she dies she calls out his name, but again that reinforces not her love for him, but her desire to not be alone. It is inherently selfish because even as she dies she thinks only of how she is affected. She laments being alone, not how she cares about Askr. If she cared about him, would she have ever tried to commit such terrible acts of violence and hatred against him? Never in the story do we see her atone, see her feel guilt.

Embla is all about control. Controlling her people, controlling those that go to Askr, controlling Askr even. Because she doesn’t want him to be happier than her. She wants him at her level.

TV Tropes has an article called the Black Best Friend. Askr isn’t confirmed as black, but he is a poc character, and this trope can affect non-black poc as well. The details of this trope are quite similar to how Askr is. For the sake of length I’ll only go through a few.

Askr “is used simply as a means to make the white character look better.“ Without him, Embla would never have received her Freudian excuse. She would have been the equivalent of Surtr without Askr’s existence.

Askr is “flawless to the point of being unreal.“ He is unimaginably perfect. He has no flaws, no deep seated issues to speak of. One can argue he may not have been a good listener to Embla in their flashback, but the problem is that this isn’t an issue that is talked about or delved into. He is also a bit oblivious, but again, this is ignored. It would have been great if Bruno called Askr out for his ignorance and seeming apathy, but it doesn’t happen. What about how he and his sister suffered due to Embla’s bitterness? I would have loved Bruno calling Askr out for trying to paint a sympathetic picture of Embla in front of him, since his life was ruined by and ultimately taken by her later on. And I would have loved if Askr reflected on that, apologized, and realized that he himself does not deserve to be the long-suffering supporter of a woman who hates him and wants to destroy everything and everyone he loves. But this doesn’t happen, and Askr is glossed over to be genetically perfect. We can brush him aside so we can focus on more of Embla. This isn’t good treatment of Askr. Actively ignoring facets of his character to make him bland and generic compared to the “deep” and “complex” Embla is just a symptom of racism, in trying to make sure he doesn’t overshadow her.

Askr “revolves almost entirely around a white character.” (Found in the laconic tab). As before, he is merely focused on the white Embla. He should have been a prominent character on his own, but he is instead quickly killed off (see another familiar trope on the website, Black Dude Dies First). Askr is the first prominent casualty of the book on top of having less screen time than any of the other ocs. We even see Letizia more than him, alive at least. The following times he shows up is in her memories. He provides even more development and focus for Embla!

Askr only exists to uplift the Embla, to carry her trauma and help her process it, and to no benefit of his own. She belittles him, threatens violence against him, and it’s seen as…romantic? The white female character actively engaging in war viciously attacking him and emotionally abusing him is…romantic? If this was a relationship that existed in real life, Askr would be considered a victim of abuse. And there are relationships like this in real life, sadly enough. Embla is capable of her actions and I’m sick of seeing her woobiefied by parts of the fan base. And it is her own fault that she refuses to see past her flaws. She is long past being a victim. It is not Askr’s job to handle her emotional maturity and make her better. Embla is trying to, once again, COMMIT GENOCIDE. Against HIS people! He absolutely does not need to show her kindness, nor does he need to coddle her when HE is the victim! And the audacity to imply that Askr gaining independence and being strong enough to advocate for his worth and safety is “selfish”? (Speaking to the anon whose take was a response to mine). That is wrong on so many levels.

Most of the time, nonwhite characters in media have to be paragons to be even remotely palatable to the fan base. But white characters (most often men, but sometimes women) are often given more excuses for their actions. They can be war criminals. They can be violent and petty and make mistakes. And it is absolutely problematic to DEMAND Askr be there for Embla at all times at the expense of his own mental health. What about his suffering? His pain of being cast aside? The stress he must feel over having to be perfect because if he makes ONE mistake, she snaps? Because that’s what happened! One little misunderstanding and she was lost to her own wickedness. That is frightening to think about, and shows she really was never good. She just had the privilege of being surrounded by goodness and allowed to hide in its light. It is unbelievably disgusting and unrealistic to expect someone to be unfailingly devoted as they are repeatedly broken down by someone who supposedly “loves” them.

.

[junkosblunt]

Junko: "The most despair I have ever felt in my life was killing my sister."

Mukuro, in the afterlife: "JUNKO LOVES ME MORE! SUCK IT, YASUKE!"

no because i know mukuro’s weird ass was lowkey thrilled when junko murdered yasuke because it was one less person to steal junko’s attention away from her 💀

[jankillbride]

.

[ki-yomii]

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby. 

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style. 

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?” 

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest. 

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir. 

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss. 

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: NSFW, yandere, suggestive noncon, possessiveness, Sukuna in general

gn reader

Sukuna gatekeeps you – has you in a chastity belt anytime his cock isn’t inside you.

It’s an archaic piece – made from the mouth of some extinct beast – sharp ivory canines making for a painful entry if anyone dared try. 

The key is also gatekept. Close on his person – actually – inside his mouth – one that appears on his body with the small ornate item lying on the wet bed of his tongue. 

He’s strangely giddy when he puts it on you – and when he takes it off – chuckling a bit with a small smile – something playful and perverse glinting in his garnet eyes. More than the obvious arousal – you think he’s happy to assert his ownership.

His habits seem more possessive than protective – like a dragon coveting treasure – lovesick for his jewel and paranoid over someone robbing you from him.

When it’s bad, when you’ve done something or said something that unnerves him, he’ll even put you on a leash and have your legs shackled, too. He doesn’t take kindly to defiance. You’re his pet – and when you forget it, he doesn’t hesitate to remind you.

But he doesn’t hurt you. He has no interest and feels no need to exert pain on something that’s so far beneath him. Fighting you would be a joke at best – and would only result in your death at worst. And you both know this – it’s always been painstakingly clear.

He only levels you with a look – his expression jaded – annoyed – but almost a little bit saddened as well. As though he realizes that no matter how he domesticates you… he can never make you stay out of your own will.

He doesn’t know why that bothers him. It shouldn’t. You’re but a fickle soul among other fickle things at his mercy – your life so trivial it might as well be meaningless. And yet, looking at your face, feeling your touch, hearing your voice…

He’d thought the bitter taste of loneliness would be washed off over time, but it seems the bite never dulls – only deepens its teeth. And you are his only solace.

So he needs to keep you. Whether you want it or not – be it by collar and fear – you belong to him.

[ahhhwomen]

Eternal Slumber.

Vampire Empire

Part 5

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is kinda just a filler chapter while I work on requests (if anyone else have any feel free to drop by my inbox), so it may be a little while until part 6, that being said, enjoy lovelies!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), death, suicidal ideation  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: They say a taste of death can change a person forever. However, they never take into consideration, that maybe, that’s the only thing coating your tongue on a regular basis.

Word Count: 2k

Taglist

There are tiny spikes of ice against the metal, almost like a layer of fuzz over the orange rust. It creeps into every crevice, the metal bars groan and creak, and the water, frozen inside some of the weaker spots, bursts and tears apart the material.

The cold was affecting everything.

You stare at the metal hook responsible for keeping you in place. The concrete around it is dented and smoldering. With a microscope, it would look like a mountain falling apart. Stone by stone.

It wouldn’t take much force; you ponder if you could release it with just a weak tug. You probably could, but you don’t bother.

Your body sinks lower, and the concrete scratches against your stomach. Red welts burn in displeasure as the friction reawakens the former punishment. It’s as if the weight of your body has doubled overnight, you can’t keep yourself up.

It’s hard to breathe.

It’s hard to stay awake…

The cold was affecting everything.

Including you.

You glance out the window with meager eyes. The trees pass by faster than you can keep track. Your head pounds, and you want to rest.

Just for a moment-

A gruff voice disturbs your peace for the hundredth time.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep.”

You had been lying in your enclosure all day, preserving your movements for only necessary situations. You wanted to dream it all away, but you knew you shouldn’t.

With both your nose a fresh pink and fingertips a bleak blue there wasn’t much to do other than to study your surroundings.

Your eyes glide over the same small details you have stared at for years, though there was a beauty to your misery, every corner and prickle of this place glittered against the slim beam of light from the hallway. The golden gleam reflected like sunlight against the ice, however, where you lay chained and tense under your red lamp, it felt more like a mockery.

With a sigh, you looked over to the empty shackles, frozen to the ground opposite of you. Your muscles burn as you grip the ground firmly and attempt to lift yourself up. Your arms shake in effort, your nails grinding against the pavement, but you can only manage to push upward for less than an inch.

Then a light thud echoes as you fall back down.

You’re so tired…

Your eyes slip closed for a second, there are a select few in the hallway that whine and growl, and you try to shift your focus onto them. Their hoarse voices screech against your eardrums, and you can’t help the grim expression as you listen to their cries…

There were more yesterday…

Of course, it was a given that this place took away some hope, but you know that isn’t the reason the numbers of distain more than halved overnight.

The rag over your lower half shifts away from you with every minuscule movement, it slides against your bottom, and slowly, the grime and dirt settled within the flimsy material slather itself against you as it leaps the final length and falls off.

It’s almost as if it knows you are too tired to move it back.

You are so sick of this place.

The cries are silenced as you hear the familiar thunder of shaking keys.

With a bitter glance to the other side of the room, you pity yourself; if you had any strength left, you would wrap the chains around your neck and hang yourself.

You huff in annoyance as the redhead shakes you vigorously yet again.

You can feel a swift, but gentle, slap on the back of your head. The redhead’s hand taps against you, her palm making quick contact with the greasy hair.

At your whining Wanda voices her opinion, “Don’t start with me, I told you not to fall asleep.” The powerful woman’s annoyed voice wraps around your lingering headache. Her calm tone was more like a booming against your forehead.

Shifting under the red leather, you whimper even more. The heating blasting towards you feels strange. Hot air sifts around you, almost like a tunnel of wind directed solely at your slumped frame. A noise, a mix of a hoarse cough and a weak cry, can be heard as Wanda shifts her own heat toward you too.

Realizing you won’t back down on your bitching, Wanda retrieves her hand with a roll of her eyes and refocuses on the road in front of her.

Trees and livestock pass by in a blur, there are tiny speckles of muck and dirt against the expensive windshield. Snow sits snug in the more stubborn corner of the window, small flacks forming a pile unmovable by the front wind.

Goosebumps prickle Wanda’s skin, the bite of winter making its entrance this early must really do a number on places like the shithole you´re from.

The car lifts for a moment as one of the bumps rustles the lambo, you shrink in on yourself, your pale skin retreating to hide under red leather. The redhead’s foot pushes downward harder, the exhilarator vrooming as she frowns.  

Wanda doesn't even know what possessed her to take you, but if she left you there, you would surely be dead by the end of the day.

Natasha was always far better at understanding humans, however, given the little bond you two have, she is unsure how the other redhead will react to your current state. She glances at you in her peripheral, your lips are tinged blue, same with your fingertips and toes.

You don’t even shiver, and Wanda passes another stop sign with no regard. Shivering is a good thing; it means your body is aware you are cold. No shivering is bad, like really fucking bad.

Her hands tighten against the steering wheel, the skin between her rings and knuckles, clamp and squeeze in an irritating pinch.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that if you aren’t yet hypothermic, it won’t be long until you are.

With a sigh, Wanda reaches over to settle the jacket more tightly around your frame.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive to the house, Wanda makes it in seven.

Natasha frowns, and the smell of burned vegetables invades her senses. With an irritated scrunch of her nose, the redhead goes to trash yet another pot of attempted soup.

The goo of estranged ingredients jiggles unsettlingly at the top of the trashcan as Natasha pours the substance out. The ring on her left pointer clinks against the pot as she places it back on the stove.

She can never get it right.

With a huff, the redhead pulls out her cell phone, her hand wraps around the silver piece and she goes to find her messages. Her thumb makes quick work of checking on Wanda yet again, the pad of her finger taps the screen rapidly, the remains of her failure smudges against the glass, and Natasha cringes.

Her unread reply to Wanda’s previous questions remains the same, wiping her hands and phone off with the kitchen rag, the redhead walks over to her preferred room of leisure.

The clacking of her heels hitting the flooring is dampened as she steps onto the carpeted part of their little den.

A soft glow illuminates the living room, and the tenseness of her shoulders lessens as she lets the orange hue wash over her.  

Plopping herself on the green couch she reaches over to her purse, the case reports she needed Wanda’s thoughts on lying on the very top. The paper brushes against her fingers, the white sheets threatening to tear as Natasha's nimble fingers search through the mess lower down.

She is just about to read them over again, when the familiar rumble of her wife’s car, pulls into their parking lot.

Shifting the gear stick, Wanda finally manages to park, your shuffling and whining had certainly not been helping. She can see her wife waiting for her by their door, but Wanda knows she is going to have to wait a moment longer.

You sit beside Wanda, your body wringing and shifting, you feel hot, and sweat rolls down your forehead.

The black belt meant to secure you through the drive feels more like a restraint as you push your shoulders against it. Bone threatens to pop out of the socket as the strong treads hold your weight back with ease, the pressure against your bruised body does little to deter you.

Wanda tusks, “Stop that.” Her hand reaches over to you and unfastens the belt, “Calm down baby, we are already here.”

Wanda pauses.

She scrunches her eyes, her left hand tightening the hold against the steering wheel.

Wanda doesn’t do nicknames, or sweet ones anyways, not unless it’s her wife.

Yet, the nickname had slipped without a second thought.

She has little time to think about it however, the sound of weak banging calls out to her, the redhead’s attention shifts and she groans in annoyance as you have now moved on to trying your luck against the metal door.

Your fingers run along the interior of the door, the pounding in your head makes it hard to see, and everything blends together in a mess of colors and sounds. You try to feel your way to the handle, but only expensive patterning can be felt as you try gripping the handle.

“You can never make it easy for me, can you kitten?” The redhead mumbles to herself.

The black tinted windows stop anyone from seeing what is happening inside Wanda’s car, but the taller woman can see Natasha shifting uneasily at how slow her usually effective wife is being.

With a sigh, Wanda rolls up the sleeves of her blouse, the silken material gliding and scrunching at the crease of her elbow.

In an attempt to settle you, if only for a moment, Wanda presses her right hand flatly against your chest. With a controlling movement, she pushes up and down to signify a breathing cycle more suitable than your erratic one.

She holds her unoccupied hand against your thigh, rubbing it up and down gently. The friction does nothing but alarm Wanda further.

Knowing she can’t turn around now, Wanda steps out of the car, your scent leaking out into the chilly wind outside their estate.

The shift in Natasha’s behavior is one not entirely surprising yet distinctively fascinating as the smell of your cold blood clings to the inside of her nose.

The taller woman moves to your side of the car; she secures you tightly in her arms. You try your best to squirm out of her hold, your hands clawing against Wanda’s covered biceps, but with how tired you are it’s little use.

You slump into the redhead’s body. Her leather jacket forces you even deeper into the scary woman’s embrace.

Realizing there is no winning this, you finally fall into the deep exhaustion that lies beneath your skin.

Natasha stands as still as a statue. Every muscle within her expands and contracts, but she can’t move.

Until she can.

At a young age she was taught that every choice one makes has consequences, every decision she has ever seen through in her life has been planned to the very tee before any move was made. She never “vamped out”, she never made a mistake, and every notion of her life was just how she planned for it to be.

Why, because Natasha knows restraint.

Your limp body lies seemingly lifelessly in Wanda’s hands.

Natasha doesn’t think.

The weight of your slim body is removed from Wanda faster than even she can comprehend, her leather jacket that was lying close to her chest, just as you were, is now gone, just like you. For a reason she cannot explain, anger bubbles beneath the exterior of the older woman as she watches Natasha carry you to the house.

With a speed unchallengeable Wanda stands just behind her wife. Her hands wringing the material in front of her in a firm grip, the black fabric is soft inside her clutch.

Holding her back by her jacket Wanda questions her wife, “What are you doing?” her anger lingers within her tone.

Enough so that any other day Natasha would stop dead in her tracks, today, however, was not one of those days.

The thick fabric of Natasha’s suit slips from nimble fingers as Natasha rips herself away from the redhead. With a blank face, she turns toward her wife, two prominent canines peeking out between soft lips.

“She is freezing to death.”

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[hattiewritesalot]

am i allowed to cry?

Eris Vanserra x fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly harsh punishment from his father, Eris is left choking on his own emotions, and the guilt that comes with them. Pain is weakness, until it comes to his mate, Y/N. Set before the events of ACOTAR

Warnings: parental abuse, mentions of Beron 🤢, lots of angst, lots of hurt/comfort. unedited lol

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head for ages and I figured I should finally write it (title is from guilty as sin by Taylor Swift)

———————————————————————————

Eris’ shaking hand clutches at the cloak he’s wrapped around his aching form, stumbling and limping back to his chamber, desperate to get somewhere private before, Cauldron forbid, any of his brothers see him.

The lashes on his back sting with the force of a thousand needles, the prickly pain curling around his spine and puncturing his muscles.

They’ve never hurt like this before. Maybe he’s getting weak.

Eris Vanserra would rather die than be known as weak, but right now? With gory gashes up his back? With bitter tears pooling at his lashlines? With a broken heart to match the shattered fragments of his childhood? He’s nothing but weak.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

He’s a dishonour to his family, to his court, to his people- to his mate. His precious mate, with her soft hair and sweet smile. She’s always been too good for him. His father himself had uttered it under his breath the moment he’d introduced Y/N to his family.

He hopes she isn’t in their chambers.

He hopes she’ll never see this weakness that has possessed him.

He shoves the heavy door open, eyes darting around the vacant room. Thank the Mother, Y/N must still be on her evening trip to the library. He moves quickly, tossing the bloodstained cloak on the floor, and turning towards the mirror.

The pale skin of his back is torn, the crimson of his blood coating just about every inch of it, covering the splashes of freckles and old scars.

Eris can’t control the tears that start to trickle down his cheeks.

This is dreadful. Not the gashes, those he’s used to. But the tears. He’s not allowed to cry. When did he become so weak!? When did he let himself become so susceptible to the raging emotions that have taken hold of his soul? When did-

“There you are, I was wondering when you’d be back-“ Y/N walks out of the bathroom, a bright smile on her face, but she’s too quick for him to hide.

Her face falls. She sees the blood. She sees the wounds. She sees the tears.

She sees the weakness.

Eris can’t speak. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is a loud sob.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

But then, her gentle voice fills his ears, and her hands cradle his face, lips kissing away the tears on his cheeks. “You’re okay.” She murmurs. “You’re gonna be okay, honey. I’ve got you.” He sobs harder. She fetches a cloth, hastily soaking it with cold water, and starts to swipe at the blood on his back, letting him bawl into the crook of her neck like a baby. “I’ve got you. Let it out, Eris. You’re allowed to cry.” No, he’s not. He’s weak. Weak, weak, weak-

“You’re so strong, baby.” She whispers.

…what?

“You’re so strong, so brave. You’ve been holding this in for so long.” She kisses his hair, continuing to gently wipe the blood away. “My strong mate, I love you so much.”

“No-“ He chokes out. “No. I’m weak.”

“Why do you think you’re weak, Er?”

He frowns. Isn’t it obvious? “I’m crying.”

“You just got beaten by your father. I’d be surprised if you weren’t crying.”

“But still, I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be weak.”

“I cry. Do you think I’m weak?”

He gapes at her. “N-no-“

“Exactly. Case closed. You’re not weak either.”

He’s silent for the next ten minutes while she treats his wounds. He watches her pretty face, pondering what he did to be so lucky to be her mate.

When she’s done, she pulls him down on the bed with her, positioning him to lie on his stomach between her legs. She twists his red hair in her fingers. “So strong.” She repeats. And the heir to the Autumn Court says nothing, nuzzling his nose into his mate’s neck. If she thinks he’s strong, then by the Cauldron, he supposes he is.

———————————————————————————

i am an eris vanserra stan first and then a person

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Seventeen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] warning: suicidal ideation no smut this chapter sorryyyy

Info: the boy is going through it. [diary entries from Ani {dates are odd but I promise it’ll make sense later}] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

September 9th, 11:53 pm

Anakin immediately reacted to your sudden, startled jolt. The gasp you’d inhaled had him momentarily concerned you may have hurt yourself in some way, it sounded pained and although he wasn’t sure what it could’ve been, that didn’t mean he could dismiss the idea entirely.

”You okay babydoll? What happened?” He asked, setting aside his Xbox controller to give you his full attention.

”Yeah!” You squeaked, nodding your head quickly, though your movements were perceived as slow by you. “Yeah, just uh, one of those weird ‘almost asleep but suddenly I’m falling’ things.”

”Oh…” He nodded, relaxing a little bit. “Do you need me to get you some water or something? That kind of thing is stress induced you know.”

”Yes.” You swallowed hard, fighting a lump in your throat that just refused to diminish. “I know, uh I think maybe I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

“Well, alright.” He said, giving you a critical once-over before waving you off and returning to his game.

Scurrying off to the bathroom in the most awkward way you possibly could, you shut the door with a bit more strength than anticipated, causing Anakin to call out and check on you. One forced ‘all good’ later, you were sitting on the closed toilet lid with your head in your hands. The initial panic was beginning to fade now that you’d removed yourself from the situation, making room for fear to frost over your skin and halt your critical thinking.

Ghost could be anyone, logically you know that. So there is no reason to fly off the handle and accuse someone you care deeply about of committing many, many crimes. There isn’t any way for you to peacefully have such a conversation without it feeling like an attack. In the event you are wrong, such an assumption would no doubt spell the end of the one and only stable, loving relationship you’ve ever had.

If you’re right… well.

But you’re not. Of course you’re not, how could Anakin be capable of some of the things, any of the things Ghost has done? He’s a gentle giant, the guy who would rather scoop up spider in his bare hands to set it outside instead of squashing it. He makes you feel special and adored, your moments with him are calm and caring. He’s practically the polar opposite of Ghost.

Ghost has his moments, few and far between, where he is more than the mask. The moments when he’s less grey and more moral. Less animal and more man. He’s what you’d expect a jar of licorice would be like personified. The candy no one likes, the one that gets over looked and outright hated on. But the people who actually like licorice, they defend it until their dying breath and it seems like you’ve become quite fond of the bitter sweetness and the tough to chew exterior. Once you get past it, it’s really not so bad. Just like Ghost.

you shook yourself out of the stupor you were in, standing up to turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, hoping to startle some sense back into yourself. After patting the sensitive skin dry, you pulled out your phone and promptly brought up your own contact info, dialing the number to call Ghost. It rang, once, twice, three times before disconnecting. He had hung up on you.

He had never hung up on you before this moment. While you knew he had every right to ignore you, perhaps never even speak to you again… you couldn’t let this go. So you tried again and again and-

‘What do you want?’ The text chimed through just before you could hit the call button one last time.

‘I think we should talk soon.’

’Why the fuck do you want that? You’re calling me this late for that? You should be groveling for forgiveness.’

‘This is me groveling?’ You audibly huffed at his response, waiting for him to send a follow up or not.

‘You can do better than that. I’ve seen you beg for cock, you know how to grovel.’ He responded.

‘Does it matter?’

’yes.’ Was the simple reply, short and sweet and read in his voice he uses when he snaps at you.

‘Nevermind.’

’fuck off.’

’Really?’ Outwardly scoffing at the text when it popped up on your screen.

‘Oh no, did I hurt the baby’s feelings?’

‘I should be meaner.’

‘But I won’t.’

Three texts in a row, three texts all containing completely different tones. Sarcastic, irritated, and ‘pissed but i still love you’. You thought about replying, started typing out a message but erased it, only to do it again. Finally you decided against replying at all, turning off your sound and putting the phone back into your pocket, flushing the toilet for appearances sake and running the water again.

You planned to head back to the living room, but saw that Anakin was cleaning up… sloppily, but still. He was straightening out the throw pillows and blankets, returning his controller to its spot beside the tv and pushing all the stuff on the coffee to one side, then calling it finished.

“Anakin. Are you alright?” You asked, standing in the entryway to the very short hall.

“Yes.” The word short and clipped.

“You sure?” Your voice was meek, timid, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want to sound… nit-picky or anything; it’s just that your cleaning habits seem to have changed and I know how you are about having a clean space.”

“The first thing you say to me after coming back from the worlds longest piss is ‘hey why’s your house messy?’ Really?” He scoffed, his eyes flickering down to your hands, your pockets.

“I don’t mean it like that.” You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together in a show of frustration. “I’m just worried that’s all, you never leave stuff like this, especially before bed.”

“No, no.” Anakin waved your half-apology off like he didn’t care to hear anymore from you. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get right on it.”

“Hey, it’s late. Don’t-“

“Shut up alright? Just… just go to bed.” Anakin snapped, shooting a glare over his shoulder at you.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?” You asked quietly, your face morphing into something resembling disappointment. He’d said that to you jokingly plenty of times, but this time, you knew without a doubt he meant it. The way it was delivered spoke volumes to how he was feeling.

Anakin sighed, turning around to run both hands through his hair and ruffle it up frustratedly. His arms crossing over his chest tightly, clenching his fists with his jaw set firmly, the muscle rolling beneath the skin when he gritted his teeth.

“I am sorry.” He said enunciated every syllable, almost looking through you rather than at you.

“Is it because of the pill?” You asked, meaning only to understand the situation better, though causing it to worsen.

“What an astute observation baby!” Anakin sneered, throwing his hands up frustratedly. “Wow. Now if only you could poke your cute little head a bit farther out of your ass. Yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Questioning him didn’t seem like the best option currently, but what else were you supposed to do?

“It… it really doesn’t matter.” He grumbled, spinning away from you to walk toward his kitchenette. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll feel better if I clean up. I’ve just been so stressed.” He hissed the last word, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Can- will you let me help at least? It’ll get done quicker.” You offered, trying to be helpful might distract him and you from everything else.

“No.” He sighed, his hands laced behind his head, his shirt riding up just a bit as he leaned backward to stretch. “No, I want to do it. Just go to bed. Please?”

“Kisses?” You asked quietly, clasping your hands in front of you awkwardly.

“Yeah, yes of course.” Anakin softened, coming toward you with open arms and an odd expression on his face.

Pretty, clear, sapphire eyes rake over your visibly anxious body. He seemed stuck between barreling past you to lock himself in the bedroom, scooping you up to hold and console you, maybe even smacking you if you spoke a few more tart words.

He did none of those. Instead he gingerly touched your face and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his expression unchanging in an uncomfortable way. His gaze piercing straight through you, burning upon entry and icing over at the exit. The muscles all relaxed save for the few pulling the corners of his mouth downward in a subtle frown. You hated it when he went blank like this, his emotions were completely unreadable, his skin taking on the properties of stone to stay cemented in place. A physical example of someone taking brick and mortar to their heart and mind.

“C’mon. I’ll put you to bed.” He said softly, nodding toward the closed bedroom door.

Turning the handle and pushing the door open, he led you into the cozy space that you were so hesitant to enter earlier. You braced yourself to have your fear confirmed, thinking you may find a hair band that didn’t belong to you, a false eyelash, the scent of someone new on your pillowcase. But as you walked to your side of the bed, stepping over a few stray clothes in the floor, you surveyed the nightstands, his was uncharacteristically crowded with cups and a collection of gum wrappers, yours was just the way you left it.

Technically, your ‘nightstand’ was really just half of his dresser. What wasn’t occupied by his large and ever growing hoard of shiny chains and oversized jewelry, rings, belts, wrist cuffs and the like; was home to a few of your things. It was mostly just for convenience sake, you did live just across the hall. All you really needed here was a little pink basket with your name sharpied on it that he’d bought for you containing all your ‘girlish possessions’.

Hair bands, bobbi pins, a scrunchie and a large hair clip tucked away in a small, clear plastic case that lay at the bottom of the basket. He even got your brand of mascara, concealer, foundation, blush and lipgloss in a cute heart shaped makeup bag. Among the other items he’d gotten for you were a hair brush, perfume, deodorant, a phone charger, your very own reusable water bottle (so you’d stop crawling over him and chugging his water at 2:00am), and a pink shark plushie that only slept in his bed when you were there.

You’d added your own items of course, your favorite shirt of his, some clean underwear and a pair of shorts and socks. Sometimes you just can’t be bothered to walk across the hall for such trivial things. It’d be nice to have a drawer like he has at your place, but the poor boy has so many clothes the things hardly close at all. So your basket serves you just fine.

After grabbing the charger and scrunchie you climbed in bed, already in pajamas. Already in pajamas. You moved from the mattress like you’d been burned, searing, scorching guilt licking at your palms to make them sweat. Anakin had been to distracted by picking up his dirty clothes and tossing them in the laundry basket tucked inside his closet to notice your knee-jerk reaction to the reminder that you were still in the clothes, still in the panties, that Ghost had lovingly peeled off your lustful flesh.

The panties that still had a little wet spot in the crotch, the ones he’d taken off just before your confession. The ones he threw at you in grieving anguish as he left you behind for the night. Thank the gods for those extra clothes, you grabbed them and swiftly went across the hall, passing a befuddled Anakin who watched you as you walked with purpose to the bathroom.

You couldn’t sleep next to him in that sinned in fabric. Even if he was being a complete ass, he didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. So you freshened up and changed clothes, rolling the dirty ones into a tight ball as if it’d squeeze out some of the shame before you tossed it in his laundry basket. Tying up your hair loosely to keep it out of your face, you brushed your teeth and then returned to the bedroom, opening the closet and dropping the clothes into the laundry basket without a second glance.

Anakin was laying face down across the foot of the bed with his arms limp at his sides, lifting his head to rest his chin on the blankets when he felt your weight subtly pushing down against the soft memory foam. His eyes flickered a shade lighter than before at the sight of you, though they quickly returned to the flat, unfeeling eyes you rarely saw.

“Why’d you change?” He asked, his voice rumbling tiredly in his chest.

“Just… wanted to feel clean before bed I guess.” You answered, looking down at your lap where your hands rested palms up.

“Clean.” He scoffed, nodding his head. “Okay.”

“What?” You snapped at him, irritated by his tone or perhaps feeling a bit agitated by being questioned on such a sensitive topic.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He sighed, giving you a lopsided, half-hearted smile. “Let’s get you to sleep.”

You didn’t verbally respond, not pleased with his response or the way it was delivered. Simply pulling up the covers to your chin while Anakin situated himself atop the blankets with an arm tossed over you, groaning because he realized the lamp was still on. So he rolled to his side of the bed, reaching out with his right arm to pull the chain. He audibly hissed as though the movement hurt him, turning your head to watch as he rolled back over with a scowl on his face. Not one of anger, but one of swallowed pain.

“You okay?” You asked softly, shifting to face him as his left hand snuck under the blanket to lace his fingers with yours. There was just enough light filtering through the open bedroom door for you to see the annoyance flash over his features.

“I’m sore.” His tone flat again. “Pulled a muscle or something I think.”

“I can rub your back if you want?” You offered quietly, reaching out to gently feather your fingers over the fabric of his tshirt.

“Appreciate the thought darlin’ but I don’t think it’d help. It hurts to touch.” He said, a genuine appreciation in his voice. It was nice to hear some real emotion from him, it relaxed you, knowing he might be coming out of whatever emotional episode he’d fell into.

“I’ve been putting Arnica on it.” He added, scrunching and wiggling his nose like it itched.

“Arnica? Like the stuff for bruises?” You asked confusedly.

“No.” He said sharply, rolling his eyes. “I mean, yes but no. It helps with swelling too.”

“Oh,” You nodded, taking his word for it to avoid anymore upset. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help.”

“Well, you can’t.” He said. You didn’t take it as a jab, although the words fell hard from his lips, you knew he probably just meant it as a matter of fact statement, so you nodded in acceptance.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over his forearm.

“Once I get everything picked up.” He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Listen… today has been a train wreck, I have been a train wreck. I really am sorry.” He whispered, true emotion finally shining through in both his words and his expression.

“It’s okay. It’s just a bad day. Everyone has bad days.” You said softly, looking at him with sympathy. “I haven’t helped the situation I know.”

“I could’ve handled it better.” He sighed.

You shrugged. “Let’s not play the blame game. No one wins that one.”

“True.” He gave you a small but meaningful smile accompanied by a squeeze of your hand.

“Will you wake me when you come back?” You asked, your eyelids getting heavy after Anakin’s release of emotion, it calmed you, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed upset.

“Sure, why?” His eyebrows knitted together as he smoothed out a loop in your loose ponytail.

“Just cause.” You said quietly, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “I want to know you’re here.”

“Cute.” His voice affectionate as he let out a little chuckle. “I love you too.” He whispered.

“I know.” You nodded, still unable to say it.

You just couldn’t. You couldn’t before, you definitely can’t now. You’d already confessed it to someone else, someone who you probably should’ve ran from, got a restraining order against and begged until they locked him away. But that’s just love isn’t it? It makes you do crazy things.

Crazy things like betraying your dutiful and loyal partner with lustful trysts that should’ve never happened. Wild things like getting railed more times than a two dollar whore in the span of 24 hours by two separate men, one of whom being completely anonymous. Your sister would be appalled if she ever discovered that you were fucked with so little respect that you’d been sliced open and loved every second of it. In actuality, you wouldn’t mind doing it again.

All the things love tricked you into doing, you continued to allow and you would do so until the idolatry buried you alive.

Insanely deranged things like killing a man. Your panicked shooting indirectly causing another’s death by your lover’s hands. Perplexing things like the remorse fading in less than a day, the grief of extracting a human’s soul like that should’ve haunted you for life. But if it weren’t for your fear of being caught, you might’ve forgotten it by now.

Even if you could let those words slip through your soldered lips, you’re not sure that the barbs on your tongue would stop you from confessing more than just your love.

Or is it even that?

What if it’s not love and simply security and a devotion to the stability Anakin provides? What if you’re taking advantage of his kindness and trust in you, using him for the best of his qualities and his unwavering faith in you? Could you be so cruel and callous, is it possible you may feel indebted to him in some way and your heart is misinterpreting that for love?

Maybe it’s your subconscious, your self-preservation trying to crack through the deliberately placed cage in your mind. The dank corner of your mind where you squirrel away unmentionables, undesirables and guilessly horrid thoughts and memories. These days it’s getting fuller and fuller, the barrage of incoming files seemed never ending. The curator inside must be struggling, grasping at the iron bars in hopes to come out with only a few paper cuts. If just one of those bars bend, a flood may come running out and you’re positive that sort of unloading might turn you toward madness.

Diary Entry: September 9th

You’re finally asleep. God I wish I knew about your sleeping pills. Then I could’ve just popped one between those soft lips and you’d have went to sleep so much faster but you haven’t told Anakin you take them. I felt like I had to wait for hours, staring at your pretty face. I loved the view of course, however I didn’t love the way your lip kept twitching like you were upset as you were falling asleep. You’re still upset.

You’re just going to have to get over it. I won’t do it again. It was a moment of weakness and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t take it back anymore than I can’t make the memory of it go away. One pill. That’s all. Forget it.

I cleaned everything up. I even scrubbed the kitchen floor just to get some tension out. I’ve ruined my scrub brush, the bristles are all bent out of shape now.

When I went to check the bathroom and see if anything needed tidied up, I noticed my drawer hadn’t been closed properly, I know I didn’t open it. So it must’ve been you. Nosy bitch.

Well. I need a new hiding spot. Or maybe it’s just time to let that shit go. It’s not like I need twelve pair of panties and the other little trinkets I’ve stolen from you. I can take things and not have to hide it anymore.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 9th continued

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I never knew what i was doing but now i just feel like I’m paddling through shit creek with my bare hands and a wooden barrel for a boat.

My world is falling apart and I have no one to pray to because my goddess is just as rudderless as I am. How did i fuck up so badly and how the hell am I supposed to fix it when I just keep making it worse? I feel like I’m losing it, actually, truly losing it. I need guidance and the one person who has always been able to give me that is more lost than I am. I’m not meant to be a leader.

How can I bring you back from the dark when you are my light?

Is it even possible to atone for the things I’ve done or should I do worse and hope it cancels it out? Obviously I won’t try that because you can’t really get much worse than what I’ve done without doing some truly heinous things. See? I am capable of listening to the voice of reasoning I so often ignore.

You ignore yours too. I know you do or else we never would’ve made it this far. I used to think it was because you’re just a fucking idiot. I’ve come to the understanding that you are willfully ignorant.

I can’t even blame you. I can’t, not when I’m the one who set us up for this. It’s my fault and I’m just waiting for the window of your soul to chop me in half like a guillotine the next time I try to crawl through. You gave me such a slim opening and I was barely able to wrench myself away in time to only lose a few metaphorical fingers. The me inside my mind has yet to staunch the flow from the loss.

I know now why you won’t say it. Because you did say it. Just not to me, not to the me I made for you. I don’t know how to feel… relieved maybe, but I can’t help imagine it’s a bit unhealthy. For you I mean. I’m perfectly fine being the way I am, though I never meant to share the worst parts of me with you. Despite knowing, witnessing, participating in such a thing; you still chose to tell Ghost you loved him before you told Anakin.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

Then, you went and confused me even farther and denied me the only organic opportunity to tell you who I am. I’ve already shown you. That was the whole point of continuing all this. I could’ve stopped when we started dating but I didn’t because I didn’t want to. I realize now, you didn’t want me to either. You’ve seen the me I curated and molded into perfection. The me that you deserve. You’ve always had the option to take him and leave the rest behind but you still haven’t and I can’t foresee a future where you will.

Do you love Ghost because he is real? Is he real? Am I?

Have I always been him and never Anakin? Sometimes I think yes. Others I wholeheartedly believe I made them both just for you. Deep down i know its not true, I know who I am. I am an undeserving man. It doesn’t matter what way you spin it,. It doesn’t matter how many me’s I create, I will never be good enough for you. You know that, don’t you?

Can you tell that it’s a half-truth? Is that why you can’t tell me you love me? You know there’s something missing, it’s an incomplete file. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve known all along that I’m a fraud. You’re the only one. Other than my mother of course and don’t you dare make some sort of Freudian joke, that’s just clichè.

You are the only person I haven’t been able to fool. Further proof you are who I believe you to be. A goddess. They have some sort of ‘all knowing’ ability, yes? I’ve compared you to the Greek’s Artemis and her sister-goddess Diana from Rome, Goddess of the hunt. And hunt you have, even on those wobbly legs of a fawn. You hunted, hungry to learn and grow until you’ve turned into the beautiful, powerful doe I knew you were destined to be. My Doe. My Goddess.

You wanted to see me and you did. So why wouldn’t you let me tell you?

Are you afraid? I am.

I’m so afraid I tried to numb myself. Though like the savior you’ve become so good at being, you saved me from myself again. How is it that you can appear at just the right moment? I would’ve taken that second pill had you not come out to stop me. I might’ve even taken all your sleeping pills. Because I am afraid, and what do cowards do when they are afraid? They take the coward’s way out, it’s called that for a reason.

Diary Entry: September 10th

I hate lying to you. I hate hiding things from you.

I hate myself for doing that. I know I didn’t have to but I felt like I did.

I hate myself.

Diary Entry: September 13th

God I’m so fucking frustrated. Why are you being like this!? I don’t deserve this. You tell me you love me, you stop me from showing you my face, and I got pissed so I left. I gave myself blue balls but I’m going to blame you for it because it’s your fault after all.

We’ve kissed, we’ve touched, you’ve straddled my hips and rubbed your warm, wet panties all over my boxers but you won’t let me fuck you. You won’t let me make love to you. You won’t even let me get a finger beneath those pretty panties that I paid for.

There’s only so much my hand is capable of.

What are you afraid of? Telling me you love me? Probably. Last time you fucked someone it slipped right out. What a shame it would be for you to say it to me again.

Date

September 15th

You scrubbed at yourself in the shower, contemplating the man troubles that have plagued you ever since that night you finally made up with Anakin. He’s been grumpy, overly asshole-ish and so unbearably stubborn for the past few days that he’s on thin ice, holding a heat gun over the weak spot. Nothing you say seems to help but it also doesn’t seem to hurt, so you’ve been in a perpetual game of hot potato. As long as you keep going around the circle you won’t get burned.

Ghost hasn’t spoken to you in over a week and you’re beginning to think he may never make an appearance again. He hasn’t left a message, a note, a gift. He hasn’t even been inside your apartment. Ghost had never ever been so neglectful. It’s to the point that you might call and report him missing if you were certain of who he was.

The cameras in your home had been so well hidden that you didn’t think you’d ever find them, turns out they’re pretty easy to spot when theyre low on battery and the damn thing flashes red while you’re trying to sleep. You had always assumed he had a camera in your room, but to have it confirmed and see that it’s directly above your bed… was one of the more uncomfortable aspects of the odd relationship between you.

It was so tiny you couldn’t believe that it actually functioned as a camera. You plucked it from the hiding spot on your ceiling fan and put it in your jewelry box along with all the other things that Ghost had left for you. It was kind of entertaining, like a weird game of eye-spy to see if you could find the others now that you knew what to expect. You hadn’t found them yet, but you knew it wouldn’t take long for the rest of them to need charging too.

Oddly enough, it made you a little sad to think that he might’ve stopped watching. You always imagined that when or if Ghost ever left your life that you’d be relieved. If you would’ve told the terrified mouse who’d woken up to a stranger with a knife all those months ago… that she’d be sitting in the shower floor mourning the loss, well, she’d send you to the fifth floor without hesitation.

You’d wracked your brain over and over again, grasping at any idea that seemed remotely plausible in hopes that you’d conjure up some elaborate plan to fix everything. No grand scheme had revealed itself yet, aside from faking your death and moving out of the country, but Luke would hold a grudge against your faux corpse. You had promised that he would be allowed to die first because he couldn’t bare the idea he might outlive you.

Luke.

Maybe it was time to tell Luke. You wouldn’t have to share all of it, you could even lie a little, make it less rapey and more romantic. Sans murder and add a dash of sweetness. It’s not like you’ve lived a single day of your life for the past few months without telling a handful of lies a day. What’s a few more?

Maybe you should threaten warn Ghost first. As a courtesy of course. He should know if you’re planning on spilling your guts to your best friend, it’s only fair. What’s Ghost going to do? Roll up to Luke’s apartment and duct tape your mouth shut? No.

You sighed, stepping out of the shower, half expecting to see Ghost sitting on the sink again, unfortunately he was not. Unfortunately.

You didn’t have time for this. You didn’t have time to mope about, you’re a girl with a job that you neglected for days on end and they were kind enough not to fire you. So long as you were okay with being on probation; you were of course. Finding another stable job in a city like this on such short notice would be nightmarish. Thank the gods you’re their best waitress.

Ever since you returned to work, Sara has forced you to wear a ‘trainee’ badge and all your regulars have bullied you endlessly for it. Those little old men may seem sweet and harmless but the moment they find something to poke fun at they turn into a pack of jackals. Today you’d be back to serving them coffee sans the trainee badge of shame. Unless of course you are late.

Hurriedly dressing in your uniform and fixing yourself up enough to be presentable, you sprinted out the door and down the steps, quick walking to your car. You’d be late if you leisurely walked to The Bluebird like you normally did. You’d made a habit of parking right next to Anakin’s vehicle, so you had to walk past it everytime you climbed in to yours. You’ve not used your car since you returned from your weekend getaway and Anakin’s car hadn’t been there when you arrived.

You hardly glanced at it anymore, being so used to seeing it there. It always looked the same. He always parked it the same, always backing it in to the spot. So you weren’t expecting anything different when you bent down to pick up the quarter next to his driver side door. It must’ve fallen out of the overflowing change cup he kept in the door pocket.

You smiled, seeing it was face up, taking it as a good luck sign. You needed some good luck, so you picked it up. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed something different about Anakin’s car. The tire.

Dirt. Real dirt. Not the city street gunk or the sand and gravel mixture in the back parking lot of The Cerulean. It was dark earth and grass, trapped in the grooves of the rubber. Where had he gone that he might’ve needed to drive over actual dirt?

——————————————————————————

“Hey doll.” Anakin’s deep voice appeared suddenly to your left, his hand on your back as he walked past you to take a seat at the counter while you finished up taking your table’s order.

You gave him a smile and trudged off to the kitchen, clipping the order slip to the line above the stovetop. As you came back out of the kitchen, you shoved your pad and pen back into your apron pocket, surveying your tables to make sure everything was as it should be before you stopped to talk with Anakin.

“What’s up Ani?” You asked, leaning on your elbows against the counter.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows, tonguing his labret piercing distractedly while he picked at his nail polish. “Oh, uh I just wanted to come say ‘hi’ before I had to go to work.” He said, giving you a little smile, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

“What’ve you been up to today?” You asked, turning around to get him a Pepsi, watching the liquid pour out and bubble up in the cup.

“What’ve you been doing?” He countered, taking the glass from you hesitantly, looking you over like he was searching for something.

“Just been at home and here.” You frowned, unwrapping a straw and popping it in his drink for him.

“Got plans or anything after work?” He asked, taking a sip through the straw.

“No? Sh-should I? Did I forget something?” You asked worriedly.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head, eyes flicking down to his drink and back up to you. “No I just want you to stay at my place tonight.” He said quietly.

“But you work tonight.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m aware.” He said with a snort, looking at you with a flat affect.

“I- I mean I’ll definitely stay.” You nodded. “I just guess I’m surprised.”

“Why?” He asked, curling up his top lip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at your place when you’ve been at work before.” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“You haven’t.” He confirmed, unfolding a napkin in front of him and laying it flat, ripping off tiny pieces.

“Well, first time for everything then huh?” You smiled, hoping to break him from the reeking attitude he was carrying around with him.

“Come out to my car with me.” Anakin wasn’t asking, not even instructing. He was demanding.

“Oh-okay just a second.” You nodded, walking toward the kitchen doorway. “Vigo! Anakin is here, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Yeah sure.” Vigo waved you off, tossing a towel over his shoulder before he flipped on the tap and began washing his hands.

You turned on your heel and expected to see Anakin sitting at the counter where you left him. Though as you untied your apron and tossed it under the counter, you scanned the diner and saw him nowhere. Instead, he was already heading out to his car, the ‘Open’ sign on the glass door of the restaurant swinging back and forth just proved he pulled it open with more force than necessary.

Peering through the glass as you approached the door, hand out to push it open, you spotted him leaned against his car with his arms crossed. His head down, staring at the blacktop beneath him until he jerked to the side, sensing your presence growing nearer.

“Get in.” Anakin opened the drivers side back door for you and gently ushered you inside. A big contrast to the gruff tone he spoke with.

“Yes sir.” You rolled your eyes, speaking sarcastically. It didn’t seem like Anakin thought it was just a good natured jab. Rather, he reacted like it was a personal attack.

He firmly grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it as he climbed into the back seat behind you. He let go just as quickly as he gripped it, wordlessly splaying his fingers across your scalp to apologetically massage your scalp.

“What the hell was that for?” You scowled, batting his hand away from your head.

“We haven’t fucked since you came back,” he said, ignoring your question. “I want you to fuck me.”

Your jaw dropped through the floorboard of the car and shattered on the pavement beneath. Watching him unbutton and unzip his jeans, more comfortably spreading his legs and leaning back, his hands laced behind his head with a grunt. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, waiting expectantly for you to make your move, but you were simply speechless, frozen in place.

“Hello?” He snapped his fingers in front of your face to get your attention. “If you’re gonna sit there with your mouth open at least put it to work.” He scoffed, grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, pulling out his already hard cock with the other.

There was a split second of hesitation on his part, pausing like he realized what he was doing, suddenly coming back to consciousness after being possessed.

“Princess… I’m so sorry, y-you don’t have to do anything.” He turned his head to you revealing his paling cheeks as he quickly released the back of your neck from his rough hold, only to be shocked by the lustful gaze staring back into his worried eyes.

“Th-that was hot.” You squeaked out, melting into submission.

“Wait- really?” He asked, eyebrows pinching together in shameful hope. His hand hovering over the nape of your neck as if waiting for permission.

“Y-yeah, yes.” Swallowing thickly, cautiously sliding off the backseat and onto the carpeted floor to kneel in front of him.

“Sweetheart, no.” He shook his head, a mask of remorse passing over his features. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“Anakin.” You said quietly, “please shut up.”

“O-okay.” He nodded quickly, suddenly timid, so unlike that man from just seconds earlier.

You lowered your head without another glance up at him, moving to swirl your tongue and suck on the silver ball of his jewelry to slight push and pull the metal through the piercing before taking his cockhead between your lips.

You were too busy to notice the absolutely wicked, deriding, straight up unsettlingly evil grin eat away at the faux timidity he’d painted on his pretty face.

Diary Entry: September 17th

Is there a word for when you kind of feel bad about something because you know that you should, but you don’t actually feel bad about it? If there is one I’d like to know it. It’d be perfect for this. It’s exactly how I feel.

I don’t think I’m obligated to actually feel any sort of ‘remorse’ in this situation though because it’s not really my fault. Even if it is… it’s only indirectly. After all the excitement life has finally slowed down enough for me to notice I’m out of my meds. Have been like for a few days.

So, apologies for being a total jerk, but also no I’m not apologizing because I don’t believe you mind it. I think you just don’t like it. You don’t like facing what you already know to be true. Kind of like when you rearrange the magnets on the fridge. You get so used to seeing it one way that you hardly pay attention. But the moment you move ‘em around its like you’re looking at a brand new fridge every time you walk past it. It just jumps out at you.

Same fridge, same magnets. Same me, more Ghost, less Anakin.

Diary Entry: September 20th

Why does life have to kick me in the ass, why won’t it just pucker up and kiss it? I have a nice ass. You’ve said so.

I can list a hundred things that I would rather be doing this week, a thousand if I tried really hard. I would prefer to shove my hand in a manual meat grinder than go back to that stupid fucking doctor.

My mother makes her weekly FaceTime call and turns it into a game of twenty questions.

I know exactly what she was trying to do, fishing for information, trying to see how much I knew. She did the same thing when that murder on campus happened. It wasn’t me. The guy who did it was caught and locked up, it was a senseless crime. The poor kid didn’t do anything but stand in the wrong spot at the wrong time. Just because I live near the campus, doesn’t mean I’m involved. Except for this time.

I don’t do senseless crime. I’m not stupid.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a call from your doctor honey. Did you take me off the information release? You know you can’t do that Anakin, it’s mandatory.’

‘Your prescription hasn’t been filled, you haven’t taken it in over a week! Don’t lie to me!’

Fucking fine. Alright. I love the woman but Christ alive she gets on my goddamn nerves. Now I have to go back to the shrink because I didn’t call and request my meds to be refilled and I didn’t try to pick them up when they were ready. Apparently if you’re three days late to the CVS pharmacy they put your crazy pills back and hold them hostage. Some policy shit about controlled substances.

My mom watched the news and thought to herself ‘hmm, it’s been alittle while since I’ve questioned my son’s sanity.’

Have I not done enough to prove I’m capable of being a functioning member of society? The state says I have. Why can’t she do the same? Officials have signed off on my ability to be normal and surprise! I have ‘maintained mental stability’ and ‘reintegrated into society’.

They’re over it. Why can’t she be?

I mean for fucks sake, she was used to it. Those doctors and nurses who loved to sedate me while I was in that state school weren’t and they forgave me a million times quicker than mom did. I would’ve gotten grounded for months if she had been the one to find out I was stealing meds and reselling them. It’s not my fault they padlocked it with a big clunky thing from the 90’s. A toddler could’ve picked that lock with a spoon, but they trusted a school of delinquents not to capitalize on it? All they did was give me a time out in the bad boy box for a week. It was like a vacation, no classes, no people, no gym.

They expected me to be upset about that? Please.

The only thing I didn’t think I was going to get away with there was the whole therapy-chicken fiasco. My refusal to apologize definitely didn’t help. But when you live in the suburbs majority of your life you aren’t exactly accustomed to a fucking rooster thinking the sun is coming up at 4:00 am. I already had to deal with sharing a room with a chronic masturbator who snored and grease-trap McGee who thought axe body spray could substitute for a shower.

Adding chickens into a coop directly outside my window was the tipping point. A state official who believed caring for animals could be therapeutic almost cost me my graduation. Out of all the animals they could’ve chosen, they picked chickens.

They only lasted a week before I got fed up and wrung their necks like a washcloth.

But I’m an adult now. I’m a big boy, making big boy choices and one of those choices was to stop seeing my doctor. I would’ve kept up with my pills, however, I was busy following my girlfriend to the lake when I got the ‘prescription ready for pickup’ text.

I probably don’t even need them anymore anyway. I’m fine. But now if I don’t get my ass in there for an appointment with Dr. Bullshit I’ll have to get reevaluated through the court and have to see that little bitch ass man-boy I hit with a table. I can’t have that. Not when everything is perfect in my life.

Except for the stuff that’s really horribly terrible.

Appointment: date: September 28th 3:30pm

September 15th 8:23pm

Seconds after unlocking your front door, you flopped down face first onto the couch. Dropping your belongings onto the floor below you with a thud, you had no intention of moving until absolutely necessary. You just wanted to rot. Not because you wanted to die per say… its just that you wouldn’t mind feigning dead for a while and if you just so happened to perish while playing the part of a corpse; well it wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be way easier than living the life that you’ve found yourself in.

Everything had been so undeniably awful lately that the joy had been sucked out of even the smallest things that made you happy before. Like the nice old lady who gets coffee and a slice of cake for lunch, she’s so cute and small and she always leaves a peppermint as part of your tip. It always made you smile, always gave you a warm feeling in your chest, but today was different. Today the gesture made you feel hollow.

Since he left, it’s all you can think of.

——————————————————————————

9:52pm

After peeling yourself away from the comfort of your couch, you showered and ate a dinner fit for royalty: microwave stir fry rice. Then you dragged yourself across the hallway to Anakin’s. For reasons yet to be revealed you were dreading your time inside his place alone. The air felt heavy and stale as you walked through the space, into his living room. It was always like this when he was gone, like the apartment never fully ‘wakes up’ until he steps inside.

It’s odd, feeling like the room you’re in is in a state of dormancy. Yet, it’s not the cause of your hesitancy to stay here tonight, while he’s away. No, you’re hesitant because Ghost he usually visits on nights Anakin is at work. What if he shows up and you’re not there? Will he make an appearance here? Will he think it’s your way of saying you don’t care if you see him or not?

Worse still, could the hesitancy stem from that little voice trapped deep in the recesses of your mind? The one you’ve ignored every time it’s been able to rip the gag from it’s mouth?

The rope of dread wraps tighter and tighter around your neck each moment you’re here alone. No amount of distraction has been able to cure the itch, the burning, nagging itch to get up and search. Is that what he wants? What if he’s been here?

Are there cameras here too? That’s something you’ve never even considered before and the thought makes you feel ill. It’s one thing to have your own privacy breached, but Anakin’s… that’s unfair to him and it’s already gone past ‘innocent’ watching. The camera in your bedroom has surely caught things no one else should’ve seen and that knowledge has begun to haunt you.

He’d been watching you have sex. With him. With Anakin. He had hours of footage, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind at the realization. But only a few were significant enough to take note of. If he’s been monitoring your bedroom activity… why was he only upset about the time you and Anakin had sex in the living room? He was so angry about it, so angry he wanted to roleplay stabbing you. He cut you while he pounded you from behind.

Why hadn’t he been that jealous about every other time? Probably to spare you the embarrassment of knowing the camera was right over your bed. It would be stupid of him to reveal that sort of information, then he wouldn’t have all those videos, perfect for blackmail, presumably great amateur porn. He wouldn’t… would he? He killed a man.

Men?

So it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he might’ve been saving all that up in case he needed it. He did say he’d send those pictures to Anakin if you didn’t behave. That’s blackmail. That’s a threat.

Or maybe, he’d done something even worse. Ghost… could he have…? No. He’s too possessive. He wouldn’t try to make money off of you like that. Would he? Despite laughing off the thought, your phone suddenly appeared in your hand, thumbs working of their own accord to check any and every explicit website you could find using the tags ‘ghostface’ ‘masks’ ‘hidden camera’ ‘blindfold’ ‘gagged’ ‘knife’ and anything else you thought it might’ve been labeled under. Scroll after scroll you squinted your way through countless video thumbnails, all the big sites were clean as far as you could tell.

OnlyFans? Maybe. He’d make way more on a site like that than he would on a larger porn site. Right? Wouldn’t it be considered… niche content? So you searched there, preview and profile pictures of so many people popped up. Maybe it’s not as niche as you thought. The idea that others may be interested in something like that was slightly comforting and only a tad infuriating.

These people might not be your Ghost; but they shared his face. And, they had hundreds if not thousands of people watching them.

It shouldn’t bother you as badly as it does, but you can’t help it. Maybe his own possessiveness has started to rub off on you, because the thought of someone else watching a man in the same mask as Ghost… almost felt like cheating.

Realistically, he could be any of these men.

You could be looking at him right now along with whoever else is online and you’d never even know it unless you saw yourself pop up on the page. But then you’d have to subscribe to **every single one** of these profiles. You might waste your time scrolling through videos and never finding what you were looking for.

Because… realistically he probably isn’t one of these men.

“Enough.” You groaned, fisting your hair on both sides of your head, then pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Finally you got up and made popcorn, sitting yourself in front of the living room tv for a bit of a wind-down before bed. It would be hours before Anakin got home, X-Files was calling and you just had to answer. So you restarted it and settled in for a binge. The familiar theme washing over you in a nostalgic sort of way, late nights passing by on the projector of your memories.

Luke and you in his twin bed, comforter bundled around you as you sat huddled together, crosslegged in the soft glow of the tv and his small spaceship nightlight. Too old for ‘kid shows’ and too young for horror movies, so you found the next best thing: Goosebumps for grown ups.

His parents were fancy enough to have a DVR to record shows, allowing the two of you to rewatch your favorite episodes whenever you pleased. So long as his father didn’t record over them to catch the newest episode of American Idol.

Isn’t it odd how we so often return to the comfort of childhood in times of uncertainty? Clinging onto the old things that were stable even in the forever changing world you grew up in. Every night without fail, re-run after re-run of X-Files would play on channel 72. All night long.

Now you didn’t have to wait until 8:30pm. You could watch it whenever you wanted, or needed. The latter was true in this case. You want to believe. Just like Mulder. But, Scully is reasonable and you needed to be reasonable. An inkling isn’t proof, a feeling isn’t fact. Cold, hard evidence doesn’t lie. But your mind, your heart, your eyes and ears… are not as trustworthy as you might like to think.

You only got through two episodes before you stood up and sat your bowl of neglected popcorn aside.

“Skeptics are often the best detectives.” You mumbled to yourself, a very paraphrased quote from the show.

You’d come here to snoop once already and had found nothing. No evidence. But now you wondered if you may have been searching for the wrong things, in the wrong places.

“What would Scully do?” You thought.

You found yourself slipping into the role you once loved to play alongside Luke. You’d be the voice of reason to his fantasy world of the paranormal, when he’d come up with ‘cases’ for the two of you to solve. Only this time you would be playing both parts.

You’d started off toward Anakin’s bedroom when your phone buzzed, pausing just before passing the threshold into the space, you pulled your phone from your pocket and saw a text waiting to be read.

‘Do you miss me that bad?’

Ghost.

Unsure of whether to answer or not you freeze in place, staring down at the screen. He’d ignored you for what felt like eternity, now he was returning with a snarky comment about your internet searches. He can monitor your search history but he can’t say ‘hello’ for a week?

Your thumbs poised over the keyboard, a million jumbled words fighting for their chance to make an appearance in your quick witted, equally snarky, sarcastic-

‘Yes.’

‘Liar.’ The response came through the very second your phone showed that your message had delivered.

Your face heated up, how dare he call you a liar? After everything you would’ve thought he might know better. You chose not to entertain the comment, knowing it would only make Ghost think he’d successfully gotten under your skin. Even though he had, he wasn’t entitled to that information.

‘Your cameras are dying.’

‘I don’t need them anymore.’ The text finally appeared after several bouts of typing, erasing and retyping occurred on Ghost’s side of the conversation.

He doesn’t need them. At least he didn’t say he didn’t want them anymore, because that would imply that he didn’t want you anymore. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you hoped it meant he had something else planned, not simply that he had lost interest in watching your day to day activities.

It was a sobering concept; the idea that you may be losing his attention. Is it worth it to even try to find out? Will the answer just hurt you more than the not knowing? You suspect it might.

So you turned off your phone. No more googling, no more texting. Just searching. With X-Files to keep you company, you walked around the living room to carefully lift every item in the room. Each little trinket inspected and every backing to his picture frames removed, the couch cushions lifted, unzipped and felt up. Scooting every piece of moveable furniture away from the walls and pushing it carefully back into place. Anakin was peculiar about his things, if you misplaced something by even a centimeter, he would notice.

If you weren’t so angry at Ghost, you might’ve thanked him for the ‘take a reference picture’ before moving someone else’s things trick. It was no wonder you didn’t notice him being inside your house for so long. He really was good at what he did.

But you were angry. Angry at him, at yourself, at Anakin. But you were furious at the invisible wall that kept you from searching Anakin’s room. Every time you approached it, your mind thought up some excuse for why you weren’t finished looking elsewhere. There’s only so many logical hiding places and you were suddenly determined to find them all before moving open to the more… illogical ones.

Cereal boxes. Ice cube tray. Dishwasher and the dishwasher pac container. The fabric along the bottom of the couch. Behind the mounted tv. In the trash cans beneath the trash bag. The water tank of the coffee pot. His shoes.

You even re-checked the bathroom after remembering you never found out what was keeping that drawer from being fully opened. Turns out Anakin beat you to it and got it out of the way, so when you opened it, you removed the drawer completely to find that there was nothing there and never had been. If there’s nothing there, there must be nothing in his room either.

And suddenly, that invisible barrier dissolved.

“Oh you’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking.” Anakin laughed humorlessly, seeing his text deliver green. He tossed his phone onto the crate beside him, annoyedly pulling the cigarette from between his lips with pinched fingers and flicking the ash on the ground.

”What?” Trevor asked, pressing his back to the brick wall, enjoying a slow sip of whiskey.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Anakin grumbled, raking a hand through his hair.

“Oh come on now don’t give me that shit.” Trevor scoffed, scuffing his shoe against Anakin’s. “I’d like to think I know you well enough to know when you’re royally ticked off.”

”Trev. You don’t ever wanna see me royally ticked off.” He chuckled, deep and gravely from the back of his throat. “I’m just… irritated.”

”You’ve been barreling around the bar for the last week like a bull in a china shop.” Trevor said pointedly, taking a gulp of his whiskey. “I didn’t think anyone would ever beat April’s broken glass record but you’ve fuckin’ smashed it.” Trevor snickered at his own joke, clearing his throat anxiously when Anakin didn’t laugh along with him.

”Seriously man, I’ll help you out if I can. Just say the word.” Trevor shrugged, feeling an awkward silence that he hadn’t shared with Anakin in quite some time.

”This isn’t something you can help with.” Anakin sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket and rubbing his palms over his jeans, smacking his knees before standing up and tossing his cigarette butt into the designated coffee can.

”Girl trouble?” Trevor guessed putting both his hand palm up in front of him.

”When isn’t it girl trouble?” Anakin groaned, rubbing his face. “My girl, my mom, the fucking cat. Even the damn cat is being weird with me.”

“Well, what’d you do?” Trevor asked curiously, not trying to pry to hard.

”Oh you know.” Anakin shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Went on a murderous rampage, girlfriend caught me snorting some special K, didn’t give the cat a treat, told my mom off over the phone.”

”Shit, anything else?” Trevor laughed, standing up as well to follow Anakin inside.

”Beat up a middle aged man, mugged a gas station attendant, robbed said gas station, stole a motorcycle, spray painted a few buildings, busted up a change jar, fucked your mom.” Anakin listed off on his hand, turning around with a grin on his face after the last ‘transgression’ left his lips.

”I should’ve seen that one coming.” Trevor huffed shaking his head. “Tell your mother I said ‘nice tits’.”

”Oh fuck right the hell off.” Anakin snorted, shoulder checking Trevor into the wall as they re-entered the bar.

”Yessir,” Trevor tipped his imaginary hat and spun on his heel. “Next time i see you, I’ll be calling you son.”

”Just don’t ask me to call you daddy.” Anakin shook his head, faking a right and smacking his left cheek lightly before running off behind the bar.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:13am

Anakin left the bar after his shift that night, feeling a little bit lighter. His mind a little less foggy and a little more organized. He jogged up the steps to his apartment and almost walked in, his hand on the door knob in preparation to unlock it.

It was as if the other side of the hall was calling to him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. That same strong urge that had lured him into your life in the first place, he knew you were waiting for him, but it couldn’t hurt to make you wait just a tad longer, right?

Slowly he turned and switched keys, unlocking your door and stepping inside he flipped on the light switch and went about collecting the rest of the cameras he had so painstakingly set up all that time ago. Lining them up on the dresser in front of your bed just before taking all the little things he’d left, all the notes, and lining them up in chronological order from one edge of the dresser to the next, ending the sequence by taking off his centipede ring and placing the bullet he’d carved for you in the center of it.

He carefully plucked your hairpin from the jewelry box and held it for a moment in the palm of his hand, tracing over the delicately carved lines. He’d looked for so long, searched everywhere just to find it and you’d never worn it. He understood of course, he could understand the reasoning behind not wearing it. But keeping it tucked away in your jewelry box seemed like a waste of it’s beauty, a waste of what it represented for him. So, just like he stole it from that antique shop, he stole it back from you.

Anakin stood back as he slipped the hair pin into his pocket, looking down at his handiwork. It was satisfying to see it all laid out like that in front of him. Like a nice little history exhibit of your time together. It brought a small smile to his lips, a happy one, one that was real and genuine, proud.

He hadn’t planned this, he used to plan everything so carefully, so far in advance. He’d been running on instinct and the free feeling he got when he decided something on the spot for a while now. It felt nice to break from the mold he’d created for himself when it came to you, not so much when it involved murder. Anakin wasn’t a man who would admit to be scared about just any old thing. Scared of losing you? Absolutely he would admit to that. But scared of prison? No, he’s too tough for that.

Which is why he was blaming his tears on you and you alone. Despite his happy smile, he sniffed back salty droplets that graced his cheeks, unaware he was even crying until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the dresser.

He was well aware that he’d been sloppy. There were so many things that didn’t make sense at that crime scene and he was hoping that the police were stupid enough to believe it was all due to that poor kid’s hysteria. Anakin was smart enough to know that the police wouldn’t share any information that was valuable, if they had suspicions anyone else was involved. They’d wait and bide their time, gathering evidence and luring the suspect into a false sense of security.

He was paranoid, so, so, paranoid. Rightfully so.

None of the boys he’d left alive turned up that way, which in all reality made it a little easier for him. There’d be no witnesses and no one to point the finger at a real life Ghostface. Two of the boys had bled out, the other died from a stress induced seizure and choked on his own tongue. Anakin supposed that might be a reasonable reaction to being zip tied to two dead guys that had fallen over on top of you. He knew he should feel bad, he did, just not for what he knew he was supposed to.

He felt bad for himself.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:46am

You were on your hands and knees, using your phone flashlight to search under all the furniture in Anakin’s room. You even lifted the mattress, took out all the drawers in the dressers and nightstand, even checked the pockets of the clothes hanging in his closet. The suitcase at the top of his closet and the shoes at the bottom.

You gave up searching after you picked up a candle and turned it over, why in the world would you be checking a candle for anything suspicious? You were beginning to believe you were just horribly paranoid, rightfully so, you’d just aided and abetted and murdered not too long ago.

So you cozied up in Anakin’s bed and started watching the X-Files that you’d switched over into his room’s tv for background noise. Now Scully and Mulder had your full attention.

It was a good episode, a string of strange unsolved murders. Mulder had a theory that would connect these murders to ones that had happened several decades before. He was convinced they were committed by the same man despite the time passed between them. He even found matching finger prints to prove his theory, yet Scully was still unconvinced. That was until the culprit came after her, breaching her home’s defenses by squeezing through the air vents.

You jolted upright so quickly it made your brain feel as though it spun on an axis. With your phone in hand you went about the apartment, checking each air vent. It would be a perfect hiding place for anything really. You would’ve never even considered it had it not been for the X-Files. Your palms sweat with anxious anticipation, each one you checked meant you were one closer to finding, or not finding whatever it was the Anakin may or may not be hiding.

You saved the one in Anakin’s room for last, assuming if he were to have hidden anything it would probably be there. You were just about to shine your light through the slats of the vent when you heard the front door open, in a moment of panic you shot upright to your feet, your phone gripped tightly in your fingers. Your face the picture of guilt as Anakin rounded the corner, his face twisting from surprise to confusion.

”What’re you still doing up doll?” He asked, looking at his watch, “It’s almost four.”

”I couldn’t sleep.” You said quickly, realizing the phone flashlight was still on, you tapped the button the turn it off but your fingers were so sweaty you had to wipe them on your shirt before you could properly use the touchscreen.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, walking forward as he watched you struggle, “Looking for something?”

”No! Why- what makes you think that?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted in concern.

”Uh,” He pointed to the phone in your hand and watched as you tried and failed to feign a gasp of realization.

”Oh! Right, I could’ve sworn I heard a mouse in here, I was just about to look.” You said, gesturing to the air vent. Anakin took the phone from your hand and flicked the flashlight back on. Kneeling on the ground to look for you.

”Are you that afraid of mice?” He asked with a slight laugh, looking over his shoulder at your pink cheeks.

”No, not really.” You shook your head, “I- you just startled me when you came in I think.”

”Well I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to. I thought you’d be asleep.” He said, coming up off the ground and handling you your phone back. “If there was a mouse, he’s gone now.”

“Oh well that’s good then.” You sighed, nodding as you looked down at the vent again. He would’ve acted strangely if he had something down there… wouldn’t he have?

“Whatcha watching?” He asked, nodding toward the tv where a new episode had begun.

“Oh, it’s the X-Files.” You said with a slight smile, crawling back up into the bed. “You’ve never watched it?”

“Yeah I have, It’s been a long time though.” He said, leaning on the door frame and looking you over, taking his time as though he were looking for something. He was giving you a smile that seemed almost wistful, like he was sad about something.

“C’Mere babydoll. I don’t wanna get bar germs in the bed.” He pushed off the door frame with his foot, sauntering over to you, placing his hands on the side of the bed. Waiting patiently for you to come closer, his eyes seemingly soaking up every square inch of skin on your body. He smiled softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold your face lightly and gaze down at you before moving in for a slow and loving kiss.

When he pulled away, he scratched the top of your head with his large hands, raking his fingertips through your hair. Guiding your closer again by the back of your head so that he could place a kiss to your forehead and pat your cheek.

”I’m gonna get clean.” He said, walking to his closet and stripping himself bare, tossing his clothes in his laundry basket. He turned to wink at you, biting the tip of his tongue with a big grin.

It made you blush, seeing him standing there so confidently and so comfortable in front of you. But the thing that made you bite your lip was the way his cock twitched, growing harder right before your eyes just because he was naked in front of you. He could see the lust, the admiration for him and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t an ego boost. He’d also be lying if he denied how much it flattened his heart when you looked away, not shyly. Purposefully. Anakin hid his small frown well, looking down to the side and ruffling up his hair with a tight lipped expression as he turned two the dresser to get a clean pair of boxers.

”Oh my god!” You gasped loudly, the sheets and blankets rustling as you made your way over to Anakin from where you sat on the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin at your exclamation, turning around with wide eyes.

”What?” He asked looking around and down at himself in search of whatever had made you react so strongly.

”What the hell is this?” You asked, roughly grabbing him by his upper arm to spin him around and inspect his shoulder and back. He’d told you he had hurt himself, but he never let on like it was this bad. This was absolutely no pulled muscle.

“God this looks awful Ani!” You ran your fingers over the tender and multi-colored bruise on his right shoulder. “What happened?”

”Fuck.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the pointer finger and thumb of one hand. “It wasn’t a pulled muscle.”

”No shit? Really? I had no idea.” You said sarcastically, gesturing to the obviously painful bruise.

”Don’t.” He turned around, finger pointed at your face while his eyes stared down at you with darkened eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. He took a breath, closing his eyes again and when he opened them, a little bit of the light you’d grown accustomed to seeing shown through once more.

”I got in a fight.” He said simply, swallowing hard as his adam’s apple bobbed. “Just a scuffle at the bar, trying to break up an arguement. Just didn’t want to worry you princess.”

”I don’t appreciate being lied to over something so minuscule.” You scowled.

”You don’t? Oh, I had no idea.” He sneered, his voice sharp and clipped. “Sorry for trying to be mindful of you and your feelings. I didn’t think it would help our situation any, you know because you locked yourself away for a few days?”

You stepped back, the scowl fading slightly into something more sensitive. It was obvious you’d upset him, abundantly clear actually. The way he responded not only made you feel guilty for not considering the reasoning behind his lie, but also dredged up the guilt from the irony of your own words.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I should’ve reacted better, I was just- it worried me.” You admitted, walking over to pull him in for a comforting hug.

”It… It’s alright.” He sighed softly, nuzzling the top of your head to inhale your scent. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

”I understand.” You nodded, even though you didn’t really. He’d been acting so unpredictably as of late that it was starting to worry you in more ways than one.

“Do you?” He asked, the tone of his voice making it sound less like a question and more like a tease, though his eyes suggested it was serious.

”I think maybe you’re just really stressed or… or maybe something’s bothering you?” You ventured carefully not wanting to upset him again. “You’ve been acting different.”

”You haven’t spoken to my mom. Have you?” He asked, his eyebrow shooting up as he spoken.

”What?” You asked with a bit of a confused laugh. “No, I haven’t.”

He studied your face, searching for deception hidden beneath you confident denial and he was pleased to find none. He monitored your phone, he could hear you conversations, but you were aware of that and he was worried you might’ve found a way to bypass all his precautions.

”Okay.” He nodded. “Sweetheart, I’ve got- I need to… you know what? I think we should probably have this conversation after I put some pants on.” He said stepping back and giving you a smirk at the blush on your cheeks.

”R-right, I forgot.” You said, biting your bottom lip and allowing him to leave the room to shower. The second he closed the bathroom door you moved so quickly to the vent along the baseboard of the wall that you thought you might’ve given yourself rug burn on your knees when you dropped down to check it for yourself.

Empty.

Part Eighteen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @hemmoxloser

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[doumadono]

(EMERGENCY Request (because I don’t know if the other came through or if Tumblr ate my ask.)

Can I have some Izuku, Shouta, and Shigaraki comforting reader after she revealed that she had been sexually assaulted by a close family friend?..

(Because the above happened to me, and now the idea of being intimate with someone makes me cry and freak out and feel ill.)

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

Tomura Shigaraki

Shigaraki listens with a chilling stillness as you speak, his entire demeanor darkening with each word. His expression goes from steely focus to pure fury, hands clenching tight enough to make his knuckles whiten as you recount what happened.

He doesn’t try to comfort you right away; instead, his eyes narrow, filled with an intense, dark energy that you’ve rarely seen before. He lets you finish, then speaks in a low, almost dangerous tone: “Tell me who did it.” There’s no doubt in his voice, only absolute conviction.

Shigaraki doesn’t ask twice. He wants a name, wants to know every detail, not to wallow in your pain but to turn it into a target — one he intends to take down personally.

Once you’ve shared what you’re comfortable with, he reassures you in his own way, his voice softening, though his gaze remains fierce. “They’ll pay for this. No one does that to you. Not without consequence.”

Unlike most, Shigaraki doesn’t shy away from your pain. Instead, he encourages you to express every ounce of anger and bitterness, letting you know that you have every right to be furious, to feel however you need to feel. “Don’t hold back,” he says, his hand resting over yours, grounding but strong. “Let it out. Let it fuel you.”

His form of comfort is protective, almost ruthless. He speaks of revenge openly, as if it’s the only option worth considering. He’s fixated, promising you repeatedly, “I’ll make them feel everything they made you feel — and worse.”

When it comes to physical comfort, he’s careful. Shigaraki isn’t the most openly affectionate, but if you’re willing, he holds you close, his fingers grazing your shoulder, tracing light circles down your back. His presence is steadfast, a quiet strength, and the promise is clear: he’ll keep you safe, no matter the cost.

Once he has the name of the person who hurt you, he doesn’t rest. He goes out alone, no second thoughts or hesitation, tracking the perpetrator down with a dark resolve, finding them under cover of night.

It’s quick and merciless. He locates them, doesn’t give them a chance to speak or even see what’s coming. In a single, decisive movement, his fingers make contact, and within seconds, they’re reduced to nothing but ashes. A quiet, terrible satisfaction settles in his chest — he’s done what needed to be done. Justice, his own way.

That night, Shigaraki returned to the base of the League of Villains very late, and there was a shift in his energy that you felt the moment he walked into the room. His gaze was dark, almost unreadable, yet there was an eerie calm in the way he settled beside you. His fingers, usually fidgeting with nervous energy, were still, resting against his knee as if he’d finally found his focus, his purpose. He looked at you, eyes intense, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

Finally, he leaned in, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “It’s done,” he said, his hand resting on yours, his touch grounding. “They’re gone. They’ll never hurt you again.”

You could see the satisfaction in his expression, the way his eyes glinted with a dark triumph as he watched you, waiting for your reaction. He didn’t need thanks, didn’t expect it; he’d done this for you, because no one else had. Because he would destroy anything that dared to harm you. "Tomura...."

Tomura’s fingers traced over your knuckles, his gaze unwavering. “Shhh, it's okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, fierce and possessive. “And anyone who thinks of hurting you… well, they’ll end up the same.”

Shota Aizawa

Shota doesn’t say much initially, allowing silence to settle around you both so you don’t feel rushed to fill it. His presence is steady and dependable, and he radiates a calm, quiet strength.

His eyes are intense, focused on you in that careful, unblinking way he has when he’s deeply engaged. There’s no judgment, no pity - just a readiness to listen and understand.

Shota waits until you’re finished speaking, then offers a grounding observation: “You’re strong to have carried this alone. You didn’t deserve any of it, and it was never your fault.”

He lets you know that you have the right to feel whatever you need - anger, grief, even numbness. Shota doesn’t try to solve your pain; he respects that healing is complex and that he’s there to support, not fix.

Touch, he knows, is delicate. If he senses you’re uncomfortable with it, he respects that boundary completely. But he does offer simple gestures - a hand on your shoulder, a gentle brush of your hair - giving you the choice to lean into his warmth or keep your distance.

Aizawa is a man of action, so he makes sure you feel safe around him. He talks about boundaries, offering reassurance that he’ll take things at your pace. He’s honest but tender, letting you know he’ll be patient, however long it takes. And on the nights when you finally drift into peaceful sleep beside him, he quietly searches for every piece of information about the person who hurt you. They may think they got away clean, but they’re dead wrong.

When the words finally spill out, they feel jagged, raw, tearing through the silence like an open wound.

Aizawa doesn’t flinch; he absorbs each word, each broken pause, with an intensity that’s almost unnerving. His gaze is steady, dark eyes fixed on you, taking in every detail, but he doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he stays close, his silence a constant, a reassurance that he isn’t going anywhere, no matter how long it takes for you to finish.

Once the last word leaves your lips, you glance up at him, half-expecting him to pull away, to offer you some hollow phrase that makes him feel better but leaves you feeling even emptier. But Shota stays, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightening around his eyes, the only sign that your pain has struck something deep within him. Slowly, he reaches out, his hand resting on your shoulder, his touch feather-light, as if he’s afraid you’ll break under too much pressure. “You didn’t deserve any of it,” he says finally, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “This doesn’t define you. It’s something that happened to you, not something that’s a part of you.”

The silence stretches, but it’s a comfortable one, an invitation for you to say whatever you need, or to say nothing at all. He’s patient, letting you lean into him, his hand finding yours and holding it gently, giving you the control to pull away if it becomes too much.

When you finally let yourself press into his side, his arm wraps around you, steady, grounding. He doesn’t say much after that; he just sits with you, his hand slowly tracing soothing circles on your back. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels safe, like an anchor holding you steady in a sea of uncertainty. “Take all the time you need,” Shota murmurs, his voice low, his lips close to your ear. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you need space, I’ll give you that too. Just know that I’m here. For all of it.”

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku’s heart nearly breaks the moment you confide in him. He listens, fully attentive, and doesn’t interrupt - not even to ask questions. His eyes are soft but steady, and he nods as you talk, a subtle affirmation that he’s here with you, every painful step.

He doesn’t rush you to say more than you’re ready to. Izuku senses when you need a pause, his hand on yours, rubbing gentle circles on your knuckles to ground you.

He tells you, without hesitation, that it wasn’t your fault. Izuku’s voice is firm, sincere, as if he needs you to feel it in your bones. He keeps his words simple, gentle. “If it hurts to talk about this, we don’t have to. But I’m here, I’m here whenever you need me, no matter what.”

Izuku understands if physical touch feels overwhelming, so he asks permission before hugging you. “Can I… hold you? Only if you’re okay with it.”

He offers support rather than solutions, respecting that this healing is on your terms. He suggests getting some air together, or maybe some tea, but he doesn’t push anything. You can feel how deeply he cares without feeling pressured to act a certain way.

Izuku reassures you that whatever feelings come up - fear, sadness, anger - are okay, and he’s here for all of them. He promises he’ll protect you, but it’s not a hollow vow; it’s one he fully believes he can keep.

Izuku sits beside you, close but not encroaching. He waits, letting each word hang in the air as you reveal what happened, the details heavy between you, until finally, you fall silent. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes - anger, sadness - but it’s tempered by an overwhelming gentleness as he reaches for your hand, his touch featherlight.

“You didn’t deserve any of it,” he says, voice low but certain. “And it wasn’t your fault. No matter how it might feel.” His words sink in, the conviction in his voice wrapping around you, settling deep in the space where shame and doubt often linger. His gaze is steady, unwavering, as he adds, “This doesn’t change who you are, not to me. You’re still you, and nothing - no one - can take that away.”

You sob quietly.

There’s a pause, a heartbeat, and then he hesitates, eyes softening as he reaches hand out to wipe off your tear. “Can I hold you?” he asks gently, his hand still on yours, warm and ready but not pushing.

When you nod, he shifts, pulling you close into his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels protective, solid. The quiet thump of his heartbeat against your cheek is steady, grounding, and his fingers stroke your back in slow, soothing motions.

“You’re allowed to be hurt,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with emotion, “and you’re allowed to take your time, however long you need. But you don’t have to go through this alone.” He holds you a little tighter, his breath warm against your forehead as he whispers, “I’m here, and I’ll be here, always."

[shroomi1e]

❝ closer to me ❞

sampo + jing yuan + gepard + blade

summary: attractive ways they pull you closer / get your attention

cw: gender neutral, no phys description of reader, mostly fluff but blade's has a hint of spiciness

a/n: finals had me in a chokehold ya'll😭 also i'm in the middle of moving across the country so yeah that's been fun... safe to say i won't have much time for writing since i haven't had time for literally anything. have this in the meantime though

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sampo : by your belt loop

the belt loop is a classic, maybe even overdone, but it’s something that just screams “sampo”

it doesn’t matter whether you’re chatting with friends or alone with him in one of the dark alleys of belobog; sampo always wants you close to him. sometimes it’s to see your cheeks turn pink, and other times it’s to pull you away from danger.

especially when you’re up and about above the surface, where cars and trains criss-cross each other when the traffic is busy. if you’re standing a bit too close to the edge to the sidewalk while a car is passing by, his first instinct is to put a finger through your belt loop and pull you closer to him.

but other times it can be possessive. not the burning envy and jealousy that often leaves a bitter aftertaste, but the light and teasing possessiveness that sampo often displays. especially when you’re chatting with the others in belobog with your lover right behind you.

he watches your interactions fondly, but you’re acutely aware of the way his fingertips lightly run along the waistband of your pants, subtle enough for the others to not notice. he even leans forward just a few inches, his breath teasing the shell of your ear.

and his finger hooks through the belt loop, but he doesn’t do anything right away. he wants you to wonder when he’ll pull on it, to watch you stumble over your words as his finger plays with the small piece of fabric hanging off of your pants.

once the time is right, the cat pounces, and sampo tugs you backwards so that the back of your head gently bumps against his chest. he holds in a smug chuckle at the way you squeak, your body stiffening at the sudden gesture.

“ah, r-right, we needed to be somewhere. i-isn’t that right, sampo?”

sampo doesn’t give you an answer, opting to give you a smug smile laced with feigned innocence. you hurriedly wave goodbye to your friends and walk away, much to their confusion. even as you lightly slap his arm, all your lover can do is chuckle. after all, you do look quite cute with your arms crossed, lips in a pout and your cheeks pink.

“don’t do that, it’s embarrassing…”

he quickly hooks a finger into your belt loop again, this time the one on the side. the tug is slightly harder, not enough to surprise you too much, but enough to make you stumble into him. he catches you by putting an arm around your waist, his gloved fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. he leans down, his lips grazing your ear.

“but you love it, don’t you? don’t lie to poor old sampo here, you’re gonna hurt my feelings!”

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jing yuan : by your chair

jing yuan honestly thinks these meetings are a bore. perhaps even unnecessary. his chin rests on his palm, his eyelids drooping as they grow heavier and heavier. he hears words, but they only go in one ear and out the other. the only thing that’s keeping him awake is your occasional pinches to his thigh when he’s about to fall asleep.

and when he subtly glances towards you, all he sees is your stern expression, an eyebrow raised as a warning for him to stay awake. he’s promised to stay awake for today after missing multiple important meetings… but he can’t help it that he’s so bored!

he almost looks like a kicked puppy, sad that his owner won’t play with him. the least you could do is to entertain him, but alas, it seems you’re rather focused on the affairs of the xianzhou luofu. your eyes are fixed on the papers in front of you, your hands politely folded in your lap.

but jing yuan is determined. he’s promised to stay awake, so he will, but not without having his own fill of your attention. at first his hand starts on your knee. you give him a quick glance but don’t think too much of it.

his fingers drum against your knee, tugging on the fabric of your pants. when you shoot him a questioning glance, he gives you a small smile, silently asking for your attention. he’s hoping that maybe you’ll put your hand on his knee as well, maybe even hold his hand under the table. not to mention you’re sitting way too far away from him for his liking. but he also knows that you wouldn’t be shaken so easily.

upon receiving no reaction, his fingertips reach out for yours. jing yuan gives you puppy-dog eyes. c’mon, i’m so booored…

the way you narrow your eyes at him says it all. you’re the general here. stay focused while we’re on the job, will you? his pout deepens, a small sigh escaping his lips. is it so wrong to want your affection?

jing yuan’s had enough. his hand moves from your leg to the chair you’re sitting on, and as if you weighed nothing, he yanks your chair closer to his until you’re right next to each other. your shoulder bumps against his, your knees touching. the screech of your chair against the floor was loud enough for others to notice, much to your dismay… but your lover seems rather happy now that you’re sitting side-by-side.

you’re startled, to say the least. everyone in the room gives the two of you a quizzical look, but jing yuan thinks they should be used to it by now. the two of you are lovers, right? what’s wrong with him wanting you to sit a bit closer to him?

and with a victorious smile, he puts his arm over your shoulder and continues to listen to what his coworkers have to say. your wide eyes and parted lips don’t go unnoticed, but he could always attend to that later. (he still fell asleep btw)

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gepard : slight tugs on your fingertips

gepard often has a hard time voicing his needs. on the battlefield, he’s always firm and assertive, ensuring that the silvermane guards do their respective jobs while also staying safe. but whenever he’s around you, his voice catches in his throat and his words come out in jumbles. while he has no trouble leading his comrades into battle, gepard often finds it difficult to ask for something as simple as holding your hand.

maybe he’s going out on a walk with you on a rare day that he’s free, or perhaps he wants your attention while you’ve been chatting with a friend you ran into while out and about. gepard doesn’t have to courage to simply grab your hand and hold it, so he instead holds your fingertips in his hand, giving it slight tugs.

“geppie, you know you can always just hold my hand or hug me, right? there’s really no need to ask every single time.”

he swallows a lump in his throat, and his first instinct is to apologize. “i- er, sorry… i’m just not really sure how to ask.” gepard wasn’t lying though, he genuinely isn’t sure how to ask. does he just grab your hand? should he still ask out of courtesy? what if you don’t want to hold his hand?

his hands are much bigger than yours, and it almost seems like he’s scared of hurting you with how gently he tugs on your hand. but still, the gesture is noticeable enough for you to catch on, and you eventually learn to know what he wants just from that small tug on your fingers. when you respond by looking at him with curious eyes or by intertwining your fingers with his, gepard feels a sense of relief knowing that you understand.

it’s gotten to a point where your lover always tugs on your fingertips before asking for something. of course, gepard always follows it up by shyly whispering in your ear or stumbling over his words. but it’s a way to let you know he wants something from you, even the smallest things.

whether he wants to hold hands, a hug, a kiss, or even for you to just look at him, it always starts with that tiny gesture. he’ll do it while you’re in the kitchen cooking something for him before hugging you from behind. he’ll do it while you’re walking side-by-side as a silent way to ask to hold hands. and he’ll do it on late nights when he’s tired, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips in a silent request for a kiss.

he still wishes he could be a suave, cool lover that can smoothly ask for a kiss or maybe even just kiss you outright. but gepard is a gentleman through and through, and every kiss, hug, and held hands will only be followed by his gloved hands tugging on your fingers.

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blade : by your neck

the first time it happened, you were surprised. flabbergasted, even. the most conventional way to pull someone in for a kiss would be to either lean in close to them or hold onto their waist to pull them closer. but the last thing you expected was for blade’s fingers to gently wrap around your neck and pull you closer to him for a kiss.

his grip was soft, barely applying pressure to your neck. but it was still firm enough to lead you closer to him, close enough for your lips to meet his. and when the kiss broke, you stared at him with wide eyes. blade isn’t sure why you’re surprised, though. all he did was pull you in for a kiss, what seems to be the problem here?

even when hugging you, his hands don’t pull you in by your hips or waist; one hand is always on the back of your neck to bury your face into his chest. his bandaged fingers smooth over the nape of your neck, idly drawing patterns on your skin as he holds you close.

blade finds that his hands naturally want to touch your neck. he likes feeling the shallow thumping of your pulse against the pads of his fingers, wondering if his heart beat in the same rhythm as yours.

when he comes home from his duties, he’ll often find you sitting at your desk reading or attending to your hobbies. you can barely hear his feet pad against the floor as he approaches you from behind. you’re still not aware of his presence looming behind you, subtly looking over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. and before you know it, you feel a hand place itself on the base of your neck. you don’t fret though; you know exactly who it is from the feeling of the bandages wrapped around his hand.

“hi, blade,” you’d greet him gently. but your eyes remain fixed on your book. not him. that seems to be a problem.

“hm,” is the only reply you get. blade’s thumb rubs against the side of your neck affectionately, his fingers still gently wrapped around your neck. his hand moves further to the side of your neck so that his thumb can press against the underside of your chin. he tilts your head back, pushing your chin upwards so you can look at him while he’s standing behind your chair.

his hand moves up to hold your jaw, his thumb playing with your lower lip. you wait with a bated breath as if you know exactly what’s going to happen. and the moment your eyes flutter shut, blade leans down to meld your lips with his.

once the kiss is broken, he playfully drums his fingers against your neck. “mm, that’s better.”

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i was giggling and kicking my feet while writing blade's part ngl

[lil-binuu]

˖⁺‧₊𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

PART II ₊‧⁺˖

Resolving things with Elias

1290 words

part 1

buckle up for the ride!

“Hey.”

You turned around, a key in your hand as you closed up the cafe.

“Elias, hey.”

You hadn’t spoken to each other in a couple days. You understood that Elias needed to take a break after the argument. You both needed to.

You hadn’t reached out to him at all, you thought it would be better to let him take as much time as he needed without bothering him. Still, you hoped he knew how sorry you were.

“How was work?”

“Uh, Good… How were your lectures?”

You spoke slowly. Almost trying to process the conversation that was so different from your last. Almost trying to savour the conversation as it might be your last.

“Yeah, good. I- I wanted to talk to you. Wanna ride?” He gestured to the motorcycle behind him.

“Sure.”

There was something in you so relieved to see Elias. He seemed okay; that meant he hopefully was. If he’s willing to speak to you, does that mean he’s willing to move on?

The bike ride with Elias was the most comfort you had since the argument. But there was still a pit in your stomach as you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his back.

You wanted to hold him so tight but you knew that if you did, you might not be able to let go.

He stopped at a park. You had come here before to stargaze together. A moment so sweet that it made your tongue bitter at the thought of it never happening again.

Taking a seat at a bench, admiring the orange streaks across the sky.

“How have you been?” He asked earnestly.

“It’s.. “ You stopped yourself. You couldn’t lie to him. “It’s been.. tough.”

Elias nodded.

“Same here.”

He reached out a hand.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be anymore.”

His palm grazed the top of your hand. Threading his fingers to intertwine with yours.

You met his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I have serious feelings for you and I made a mistake by holding them back. But I don’t want to let one mistake screw everything else up.”

His eyes didn’t break away from yours for a second.

Elias continued, “You hurt me. Seeing you flirt with someone else, that hurt. I mean, you told me that I was being possessive-”

“I didn’t mean it.” You cut in.

“I know. And I also know that you didn’t do it to hurt me. You did it to get my attention. The only thing I want to know is, why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Why?

Why didn’t you talk to him? Why did you go out of your way to get close to someone just to make the person you like jealous? Knowing that it could hurt him?

To be honest, you didn’t even know.

“You know you can talk to me right? It’s important to have conversations about us, about committing to each other and about a future together.”

Wait… are you kidding me?

Was Elias really going to sit there and tell you it was your fault for not initiating a conversation when he didn’t either? He was the one who let you believe he wasn’t even serious about you and yet it’s your fault for not addressing it properly?

“You were doing the same. You were also avoiding those conversations with me. You made me think that you were just messing around and wasting my time.”

“Wasting your time? You think that being with me is a waste of time?”

“Elias, I’m not ‘with’ you. I’m just here. It’s been.. how many months of sleeping together? And yet we haven’t even moved past the ‘talking stage’.”

Elias was silent for a moment, breathing heavily. This was clearly not how he wanted the conversation to go. But you had to talk about things. You were sick of just burying them and pretending they didn’t matter.

“I.. I wanted to ask you to be my partner. Make things official…. But this isn’t how I wanted our relationship to start…”

“I’m sorry, Elias, I really am, but I can’t just forget these feelings and pretend I didn’t feel them just because you decided to man up and ask me to date you.”

“Man up? Y/n, I’ve always wanted to date you, I just wanted to make sure that what I was doing was right and that you wanted it as well.”

“And by doing that..” Your voice grew softer as the emotion began to fill your throat and well up in your eyes. “You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like- Like you were just waiting around to get rid of me because I wasn’t what you wanted in a partner or..or something..”

You looked away from Elias. Leaning back and looking out at the darkening sky.

Neither of you said anything, your confession hanging in the air and dampening the space between you.

His hand that once had retreated, came back to rest on yours.

“I’m sorry you felt that way.”

You looked back at him, tears burning your eyes.

“You mean ‘I’m sorry I made you feel that way’?”

Elias pulled his hand away from yours, becoming defensive.

“No, I didn’t make you feel that way, you felt that way by yourself-”

“Well I wouldn’t have felt that way if you made me feel like I was actually worth something in your life.”

“Oh like how you made me feel like I was controlling and toxic? That I was possessive, and jealous all while you were flirting with a stranger in my face!”

You both fell silent again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking..” You said softly.

“Yeah, and I don’t know what I was thinking by bringing you here.”

Elias got up, and walked around the bench towards his motorcycle.

“So you’re just gonna walk off like last time? Leaving things unresolved so that in a couple days you can show up and we can argue again?”

“Get on the bike. I’m taking you home.” Elias had lowered his voice. He was done arguing.

You got up, frustrated.

“And leave again? Where will you run off to? To sleep with your side-piece?”

Elias stopped, putting his helmet down, and stepping closer to you.

“I’m not the one who flirted with someone else.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t worried about you.”

You said in a mutter, not even sure if you wanted Elias to hear you.

It didn’t matter anyway, you didn’t get a response.

The bike ride was different than before. Earlier, you had wrapped your arms around his waist and hoped you two could work things out for the better. Now, you wrapped your arms around his waist and felt nothing but empty.

When Elias pulled up outside your apartment building, you went straight in, not saying a word to Elias.

“What are you doing?”

You asked as you noticed him on the stairs behind you.

“I’m making sure you get in alright.” He replied.

“I didn’t know you still cared.”

“I never said I didn’t care.”

“But you made me feel that way.”

Elias sighed heavily, a pang of emotion hitting him. It was the little arguments that hurt the most.

And the truth is, he knew you were right. He had been so absorbed in everything else that he put his relationship with you on fucking standby.

“Fine then.”

He turned around, walking back out the building. You made it clear you didn’t want him there. That was all he needed to leave.

He pulled his helmet back on and revved the engine.

He almost didn’t hear your scream.

note: i promise i really tried to make it fluffy and romantic and make them work it out but it’s just not in me guys >.<

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 25

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 9.2k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks

Masterlist

The taglist is now closed.

Trained in waking up early and pulling all-nighters because of filming, you were used to witnessing the sun rise. Usually, you didn’t pay it much attention. The sun rose every day and you had other more important things to do than watch it go through the same motions. You were rushing to leave, making coffee and answering texts on your phone or you were too tired to do anything other than go straight to bed and close the blinds.

You had forgotten how beautiful it was, how the quiet of the early morning glowed in soft orange. Only you and Seokjin were awake, snuggled up on the large white couch on the balcony on the main floor. Your feet were laying on his lap and his arm was wrapped around your waist.

You had woken up early, fading images of the red ballroom and empty eyes haunted your sleep as much as you tried to bury them during the day. Thankfully, Jimin hadn’t been there when you had woken up, drenched in sweat and grasping wildly at the sheets to remind yourself that you were at the Castle. That it had been more than a week since you had been in that ballroom.

It would go away. It had to. It was over. Nothing happened to you. You would get over it.

 You got up, stretched your sore muscles from all the walking the previous day and put on some music to take your mind off the long green dress and paddle numbers, and started your day. No one else was supposed to be awake so early in the morning but when you went to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, Seokjin was already there, mixing pancake batter with a large wooden spoon. 

Putting your arms around him, you had watched him work until he sent you away, claiming that you were distracting him. It wasn’t your fault that his neck looked in desperate need of kissing and that your mouth had trailed downwards subconsciously. Since you weren’t wanted in the kitchen, you went outside to the balcony to savor the sharp air before the sun appeared on the horizon.

Seokjin joined you soon with two cups of coffee. “It feels like a mug of hot coffee would be more appropriate, but the weather’s too hot,” you had joked.

He had made your favorite iced coffee in the way too-expensive coffee machine you had purchased when you first got the house. Another one of your impulsive purchases. But it was worth it. It made some of the best coffee you had ever tasted. The only coffee above that was made by a small coffee shop nestled in a quiet alleyway in Paris. The perfect amount of milk and sugar, not too sweet and not too bitter. 

You were both a little tired from your little trip to the lake. A sweet kind of pull in your chest, not easily noticeable. You had returned as the sky grew darker and had ordered takeout for dinner, which you enjoyed spread around the garden. Surprisingly, almost everything in the baskets had been devoured during your time at the lake. Alice had been reluctant to leave but you had promised her that she was welcome to visit you again soon. She had hugged each of you tightly—even Yoongi, who didn’t seem to mind at all—and promised that she would be back to play more.

“She’s a little hurricane,” Seokjin said. He was glowing with the sunrise stroking his face. “She reminds me of you a little. Was that what you were like when you were little?”

“I was never that cute,” you joked. Your aunt would argue but while Alice was a hurricane, sweeping up everyone in her way and winning them over, you had been a nightmare, difficult to handle, not listening to anyone, and independent to a fault. “Or that social. I would like to believe that I contributed a little to the shaping of her personality but honestly, her parents are both amazing. They raised her really well and she was already incredible to begin with. She will become a much better person than me.”

He looked down at your legs resting on his lap. “That will be hard. You are probably the best person I know.” He shrugged as if what he said didn’t matter, as if it didn’t make flowers bloom in your chest.

You caressed his cheek, prompting him to look at you. “That might be a little worrying but thank you. You are one of the best people I know too. Shhhh,” you quieted down his protests. “If you can say that about me, I can say that about you.”

“I haven’t done anything special. Nothing like you. You-”

“Stop that.” You laid two fingers on his lips and he obediently stilled them under your touch. “First, you don’t have to do anything special. Who defines special either way? Some of the kindest, most loyal, amazing people I know show these qualities in small ways, that doesn’t make them any less special. Second, who says you didn’t do anything special? Who was there for Jungkook when he distanced himself from everyone else? Who cooks for us every day and takes care of us? Who is always trying to cheer us up when someone is feeling down? Who-?”

“Enough, enough,” he interrupted you, shaking his head. His human ear and cheeks were stark red at all the praise. “I know I’m amazing, that’s enough.”

You laughed and captured his lips in a kiss. Warmth, more comforting than what the sun could provide, filled your insides as you tangled your fingers in his soft hair. He opened his lips for you and you slowly explored the inside of his mouth. You had always enjoyed kissing but nothing compared to the kisses you had shared with your hybrids the past few months.

Lazy mornings were rare for you. There was always one reason or another to be running around the house in a hurry to leave or lock yourself in your office. You were hostage to an endless need to always be productive. That’s what mornings were for. Maybe you had been completely wrong because this one was one of the best mornings you had ever experienced.

Seokjin heard the footsteps on the stairs before you did, turning his head around to watch Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon climb up. You called for them and Jungkook and Jimin ran to you, squeezing themselves between you. Namjoon followed laughing and sat down next to Seokjin, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung appeared soon and Seokjin left to go plate the breakfast and bring it to the balcony. You didn’t eat on the balcony often, mostly because of the low table that made it a little uncomfortable, but no one wanted to move. Jungkook and Namjoon went with Seokjin inside to help but when you moved to do the same, Jimin wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and wouldn’t let you go.

“No, you are staying with me!” he exclaimed and proceeded to bury his face in your belly, purring.

Hoseok looked at you in amusement and you shrugged your shoulders, used to Jimin’s antics by now. The three of them took one of the other two couches while the five of you remained squeezed in one. Yoongi looked adorably rumpled from sleep, messy hair and heavy eyes, the stark opposite of Hoseok, who was wide awake and energetic as usual. Taehyung wasn’t the statue he was the first few days but he remained perfectly kept and quiet.

You filled your plate with three pancakes and your favorite toppings and dug in. The conversation returned to your trip to the lake.

“When can we go again?” Jungkook asked, chewing his pancakes with passion.

You cut another piece of your pancakes. “You can go whenever you want, it isn’t that far from the house.”

He pouted. “I meant all of us together.”

“That’s… a little harder,” you said. “I’m back at work next week and I have a full schedule. You can go together though. John and Alice could join you even if I’m not there.”

Jungkook’s bottom lip stuck out even further. “It isn’t the same without you.”

“If there is a day I finish work early, I might join you.” You could barely drag your feet back home most days after work and the trek to the lake would feel like hell, but you would try for them.

Namjoon seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “You are too tired after work for that. After working for so many hours we can’t expect you to trek down to the lake. You come back after the sun has set or just as it’s setting, it would be exhausting for you to walk for half an hour down to the lake in the dark and then in an hour or so walk back again.”

You wanted to protest but you knew he was right. Although your work wasn’t physically demanding, you spent long hours on your feet, instructing the actors and the crew and checking in with different departments. By the time you were home even dragging your feet to the garden for dinner was a struggle.

You reached for Jungkook’s hand, rubbing your thumb in circles to soothe him. “We’ll figure something out, yeah? If I take a day off–When I take a day off,” you corrected yourself, “we can do something fun. We could go to the lake or we could do something else. Los Angeles is full of places to visit and activities to try.”

Jungkook seemed to think about it for a few seconds before perking up and asking if you could visit a gallery he had seen on the internet. You were quick to agree as Jimin joined as well, asking you about all the places he wanted to visit. You had told them before that they were free to go out without you anywhere they liked, you had printed their papers just in case so they could have them in case the Hybrid Services asked any questions, but they had yet to step further than the Castle grounds and the forest alone. John could also accompany them but no one had taken you up to your offer.

As you were finishing breakfast your phone started ringing. One of the producers of Six of Crows was calling.

“Sorry, I have to take this one,” you said, answering the call.

You ended up having to go down to your office to look up some files on your computer. As the premiere date approached, you would be getting more calls like this. Post-production was finished by now and the movie was nearly ready to be shown on the big screen but there were still a few tiny details that needed fine-tuning.

Ending the call, you checked your emails since you were already in front of your computer. You would probably go to the studios later in the day to speak with a few members of your team on the Raven Cycle project. You wouldn’t stay long but it meant that you had to schedule your day around it. Your break hadn’t ended yet you were already overwhelmed with work. Your to-do list stretched on and on, seemingly endless.

Your back and neck were getting stiff because of all the sitting and lounging around. You should start doing some exercises again. During your break, you had only been to the gym once and it was only two floors down. You should get back into the habit but you were great at finding excuses not to go. You were too busy, too tired, too preoccupied.

There was a knock on the door. You looked at the time at the bottom right corner of your computer screen and realized it was four hours later.

“Come in,” you called. You rolled your neck and heard the little pops. You desperately needed some exercise. And a massage. And an improved posture probably.

Hoseok opened the door with his elbow as he carried a tray inside your office. “I come bearing gifts,” he said with a wide heart-shaped smile. It was like the room instantly brightened. If the sun was personified, it would be Hoseok.

“What have you brought me?” you asked, making space on your desk for the tray. You had to look through some of your old files and they covered most of the surface. You stacked them into piles quickly, to be organized properly at a later time.

“Jin made fruit salad and we have some leftover muffins from yesterday. Jungkook made the juice, it’s banana and cherry!”

The fruit salad was a mix of mango, strawberries, watermelon, blackberries, peaches, and berries. A vanilla muffin was next to it and a tall glass of juice. “Everything looks delicious. Thank you.”

You moved to grab the fork and winced when you pulled on your stiff muscles. Hoseok’s smile faded. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” you were quick to say. “I’ve just been sitting in this chair a lot these past few days and my back is complaining. Really, that’s on me.”

“I…” He hesitated for a moment. “I could give you a massage if you’d like. I’m not a professional but I… I used to give massages to my past owner often. He was an idol so he danced and performed a lot and I had learned from masseurs how to do it. I could do that for you if you liked.”

“You don’t have to. It’s just a stiff back, it’ll go away when I stop sitting all day.”

A massage sounded like heaven at that moment but you could do without it. Giving massages could be tiring and Hoseok didn’t have to do that just because you had bad posture and had stopped going regularly to the gym. If you really needed it, you could pay a masseur to come to your house. It seemed silly so you never did, but you could.

“I want to,” he said eagerly, his tail standing at attention. “I can make you feel better, I promise. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

You searched his face for any sign that he didn’t actually want to do it but you found nothing. “Okay, then. I would love a massage right now.”

“Yay! I will do my best,” Hoseok promised. “Let’s attack those muscle knots! Gently of course.” You giggled as he came to stand behind you. He pretended to crack his fingers before settling them on your shoulders. You were wearing a shirt with spaghetti straps and his hands were warm on your bare skin, which buzzed in anticipation. “Lean forward a little. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

He dug his fingers on either side of your neck and you had to bite your lip to stop a very embarrassing sound from slipping out. It sent a current through your whole body like you went numb to everything except the feeling of his hands on you. He kneaded your muscles, progressively adding more pressure. You closed your eyes, your body relaxing, losing some of the tension.

“That feels good,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I told you.” You could hear the satisfied smile on his face even though you kept your eyes closed.

One by one, your strings unraveled and your body felt lighter, as if you could float away if he pulled his hands away. He worked on the knots on the back of your neck and around it before he moved on to your shoulders and shoulder blades. You had received massages before–you had visited spas with friends on several occasions–but this felt different. You forgot about work and all the things you had to do, all the million little things that were hanging over your head, and for a moment you let yourself relax.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The forest was still, bracketed by the almost black of the night. There were no lights that Yoongi could see coming from inside, even though you said there were multiple holiday homes around the lake. The Castle stood alone, like a real castle guarding the forest.

Hoseok was humming along to a pop song that was playing on his phone, it was at a low volume so his humming was almost as loud as the music. It was late into the night, everyone in the house having already retreated to their rooms. Yoongi didn’t care much about the song, it was generic at best. The vocals weren’t great and the beat was the same beat that every song used this summer with a little tweaking. But Hoseok liked it so he didn’t say anything.

The fox hybrid was sprawled on his bed, his eyes half closed as he moved his head to the music. His silk nightshirt had ridden up to expose a sliver of smooth tanned skin and Yoongi’s eyes kept being drawn to it.

“Anything interesting out there?” Hoseok asked. Yoongi shrugged. “You have been standing there for half an hour. Don’t look at me like that, you have.”

He raised his eyebrows, doubting that it had been that long, but moved away from the balcony door, sitting down on his bed. “It’s the same every night.”

“And you still look every night.” Hoseok turned off the music and stretched. His shirt rode up higher.

Yoongi looked down at his hands. “It’s calming. There is something about the trees and the lake, being away from the city. It’s quiet.”

His ears picked up the soft shuffling before a weight dipped into the bed next to him. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Has it really been only five months since we’ve been here? Less than that? I can’t imagine living in the city again, too much noise.”

Yoongi had lived his whole life in cities, he was used to their noise and the way it never went away. The sound of cars and motorbikes, people talking and shouting. It was never quiet. Not the way it was out here.

He wanted to tell Hoseok that he would never have to live in the city again but he couldn’t. On one hand, your job could lead you anywhere and Yoongi had a feeling that wherever you went, they would follow you, just like Virginia. On the other hand, although some part of him insisted that this was permanent, that this life they had built here wouldn’t be taken from them, he knew that the world wasn’t so kind. Sometimes, he stayed up at night thinking about it while Hoseok dreamed. He gazed at the forest to remind himself that they were still here, in this small paradise on earth, and then contemplated all the ways this could end. His mind wasn’t kind to him on those nights.

“Virginia was like this too,” Hoseok continued. “I miss it a little. The countryside was pretty and the house too. Almost like a fairytale. Do you think we’ll go back again?”

Hoseok’s hand was fidgeting on his thigh and Yoongi grabbed it to still it. “Maybe. She will have to film another season after this one. If this show is as successful as they say, there will be a few more seasons to come. They built sets and everything there.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Hoseok scooted closer to him and laid his head on his shoulder, their hands intertwined. “Do you think she will rent the same house? I want to go back there. It felt like home.”

Yoongi refrained from telling him that wherever he was, it felt like home. It was something someone more expressive than Yoongi would say, instead he said, “We can ask her. I don’t think she’ll mind. If it isn’t booked at the time, we could stay there again.”

“I’ll recruit Jiminie, she can’t say no to him,” he said, nuzzling closer to Yoongi’s neck, almost scenting him.

“She can’t say no to any of you.”

Hoseok hummed, his breath warming Yoongi’s skin and the scent of cinnamon tickling his lungs. “She wouldn’t say no to you either. If you ever asked her for anything.”

Yoongi didn’t know what to think about that. If he believed it. Yoongi had been trying to do better, trying to be a better person than he had been at the beginning. He would hate himself if he ever put you through what he had before. He would be making it up to you for his whole life. He wasn’t the same as the other hybrids, the same courtesy shouldn’t be extended to him.

Hoseok’s lips brushed his neck, light as a feather, and Yoongi shivered at the touch. Scenting each other wasn’t something new, they had been doing that since they escaped the ring. Before that, they would brush their wrists together through the bars of their cages, longing for the small comfort of each other’s scent. After Yoongi had disappeared, Hoseok had been touching and scenting him more as if he was afraid that he would slip through his fingers.

Some nights, Hoseok would crawl into his bed in the middle of the night and cling on to him. “Stay,” Hoseok would say. He didn’t tell him what his nightmares were about, he didn’t have to.

Yoongi vowed to himself to never leave him again. He would bite, scratch, and kick his way to him if he ever had to.

He had a lot to regret about that first month. He hadn’t only hurt you, he had hurt everyone else too. His own nightmares persisted, leaving him clutching the sheets, with his back to Hoseok, staying deadly still so he wouldn’t wake him up. So no one would know that those days still haunted him even though he wasn’t the one who had suffered.

In some of his dreams, the hybrid ring got to him before you did and punished him for escaping, before stabbing an injection in his neck and hauling him to the ring for one last fight. In others, it was Hoseok that they took and those were worse. They found him when he was looking for him and Yoongi could do nothing to stop them, voiceless with his feet rooted to the floor.

In some rare ones, he never made it out of the house. Namjoon threw him against the wall and held him there, looking more like a vengeful god than the real Namjoon. His sharp teeth gleamed viciously as he sunk them into Yoongi’s neck, breaking the skin and ripping out everything that was keeping him alive.

Hoseok pulled back, his eyes searching Yoongi’s face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thinking.” Of course, Hoseok would notice his thoughts spiraling. Yoongi had mastered hiding all emotions from his face but Hoseok could see right through any masks he crafted.

“You looked a little lost there for a moment,” he said, drawing closer to him again. “You can talk to me, you know.” He spoke almost jokingly but he couldn’t hide the tendrils of hurt in his voice. “I know you like to keep some things to yourself… But I��m here for you. I would never judge you, I swear.”

Yoongi was a coward. After his talk with Jimin, he had been planning to tell him everything but he kept putting it off. It was never the right moment, it could wait.

“I know,” Yoongi said quietly, squeezing Hoseok’s hand. “I want to tell you. I think you deserve that after everything.”

Hoseok frowned. “It isn’t about what I deserve. I just want to know so I can help. So I can understand you better. Nothing you say can ever change the way I see you. Nothing. You were there for me when I thought my life was over, that everything was over. You saved me, Yoongi. I would have died in there if it hadn’t been for you. I would trust you with my life. But sometimes, when you don’t tell me things—important things—it makes me feel like you don’t trust me at all.”

Yoongi’s heart gave a terrible bang. “That isn’t true. I trust you. I trust you more than anyone. I trust you more than I trust myself. It’s just… It’s hard to tell you when I want to forget.”

“I understand,” Hoseok said, his gaze falling on their joined hands on Yoongi’s lap. “But I don’t think you can forget either way.”

“You’re right, I can’t. And I never will.” It was too big, too cruel. For worse or for better, it had changed who he was to his core. He was who he was because of what had happened to him and Jimin. He had met both Jimin and Hoseok because of that monster. “But I want you to know now.”

So he told him everything. He detached himself from his words and numbed his feelings, because he was afraid that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He started from the beginning, from his first owner to the terrible end. He couldn’t look at him as he spoke, focusing on their connected hands. Hoseok’s scent soured until Yoongi could barely recognize it. But he had to power on.

When he was finished, Hoseok shot up, wrapping his arms around him impossibly hard and buried his face in Yoongi’s neck. There was wetness brushing against his throat and Yoongi only hugged him tighter.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok’s voice was breaking and Yoongi hated that he was the cause for it, even though it was better this way. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He brought his wrist to Hoseok’s neck, gently scenting him. They both needed it. “You saved me too. You saved me, Hobi.”

And sleep claimed them like that, wrapped up in each other with dried tears on their cheeks.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Taehyung lay still in his bed, not making a sound. Phantom pains spread over his body, squeezing and squeezing until nothing was left of him. His head was loud but the sounds were muffled as if he was submerged underwater.

The room was illuminated by the soft light from the lamp next to his bed. He left it on every night. It was the same pattern, his nightmares not allowing him to rest more than a few hours at a time. There were new ones now. Ones of the red ballroom, the people in the chairs turning into monsters and dragging their claws all over his skin. You stood among them in your green dress, watching as it happened, your face empty.

Taehyung opened his eyes. He could see the forest from his room. He had never been to a forest before coming to the Castle, had never even seen one. It was majestic, the dark greens and browns, the way the branches reached towards the sky. Upwards and upwards.

He closed his eyes again. His tears had long dried when sleep swept him away again.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Your heartbeat rattled your chest as if being chased by an invisible force with no escape. You swallowed down the bitterness in your mouth and willed the sharp images of your nightmare away. They were so clear, the red curtains and the shiny floors. The taste of the expensive champagne and the hors d’ oeuvre on your tongue. Long dresses swayed at your vision's edge, silk, velvet, and satin. Steady hands held guns aimed at you, they went off with a terrible scream. You woke up.

You were awake. You were in your room in the Castle. You were safe.

You tried to calm down your erratic breathing. Jimin was sleeping next to you and the last thing you wanted was to wake him up in the middle of the night and worry him. Clenching your teeth, you silently counted each breath. Were your hands shaking? They felt like they were shaking.

One, two, three.

Slower. Try slower.

Did your hands stop shaking? You gripped the fabric of your nightgown.

One, two–

A sleepy voice calling your name disturbed the murky waters of your mind. “Are you okay?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. It was over. You were in Los Angeles. You were fine. Nothing had happened to you, no one had questioned you. You had gotten out. You were fine.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked. Your voice sounded weak even to your ears.

You heard the sheets rustle as Jimin moved closer. “Can I hug you?”

In the darkness of the room, you couldn’t see him well, only the shape of his body. “You don’t have to ask.”

“You are shaking.”

Were you? So it wasn’t just your hands. Another deep breath. Force your muscles to relax like the pieces of a machine.

“I am okay now, don’t worry. Come here.” You opened your arms and Jimin crawled into them, hugging your waist and laying his head on your collarbones. “Go back to sleep, kitten.”

Jimin shook his head. “Not if you don’t. What happened?”

“Just a bad dream, it was nothing.” The lies tasted bitter on your tongue. Were they lies though? It should be nothing, it shouldn’t be haunting you like that. Nothing had happened to you, you reminded yourself as if you repeated it enough times maybe the nightmares would go away. “I just need a few minutes to forget it.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe that could be better than forgetting,” Jimin said.

But forgetting was the goal. Or at least getting rid of the nightmares that shouldn’t still be happening. It was over and you were okay. You were okay. There was no reason to worry Jimin, not when you weren’t the one who had suffered. You got dressed up, drank some champagne and made small talk. It wasn’t the end of the world.

“You don’t have to worry about this, it’ll go away on its own.” You run a hand up his back to comfort him. “My brain is just playing tricks on me.”

Jimin’s hand sought out your own and intertwined your fingers. He was quiet for a few moments before speaking, “Is this about the auction?”

You stilled. He couldn’t have known. You hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. And what right did you have to complain about it? You composed yourself. “How did you guess?”

“You have been… different since you came back. You have been lost in your head. I know you are tired and it’s hard with Taehyung now but you can talk to us if you want to. It must have been really scary.” He drew closer to you, gripping your hand tighter.

“I wasn’t alone. I had John there with me.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t scary,” he whispered. “We were scared for you. We thought– We trusted you but we were scared.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair and rubbed behind his cat ears which you knew would relax him. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. Taehyung is here now.”

Regardless of how many nightmares you had and the tightening in your chest whenever you saw the color of blood. Regardless of the constant fear of being discovered that would never go away. You could never regret what you had done. Not for a moment. Just thinking of Taehyung in that man’s hands evaporated any doubts you had about your decision.

Jimin nosed softly at your collarbones. “We love you. It’s okay to be scared, you can share it with us. You can share it with me.”

“I’m not scared,” you said. It didn’t matter that it sounded like you were lying to yourself. “It’s over. It’s been more than a week since it happened. I’m the last person who should be having nightmares over it.”

“Why are you saying that? It must have been terrifying.”

You took a deep breath, the red bleeding into the darkness. “It was easy to blend in. It was like so many of the parties and galas I have attended. I was the guest of honor, no one suspected anything. I wasn’t the one–”

You cut yourself off before you uttered the words but both of you knew. Silence fell between you. You wished you could fall asleep again but sleep was so far away.

“Do you feel guilty?” he asked quietly.

“For what?” You were confused. Why would you feel guilty? You had done your best, probably more than anyone in their right mind would do.

Jimin gave a small shrug, bringing your joined hands to your chest. “You just sounded like it. Like you felt guilty for having nightmares about it. You don’t have to be. You are here and you are okay but– But you could have not been.” There was fear in his voice and it hurt.

You held him closer and squeezed his hand. You were there now and you wouldn’t be going anywhere. His breath warmed your bare skin. You weren’t alone anymore, you had seven people to think about when you made decisions. You had a home and you would fight to get back to it every time.

“Let’s go to sleep, kitten. We’ll dream better together.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

After your short break, your return to work was uneventful. A few more days would have been nice but time was moving fast and there were a lot of things to do. On your first day back, before you had left the house Jimin and Jungkook got teary-eyed saying goodbye to you. Going back to work was hard for you too after being used to staying at home with them, but you would fall into your usual routine soon enough.

Your work was a big part of who you were, returning to the studios was like returning home in a way. The cast and the crew greeted you warmly with hugs and pats on the back. Will handed you a pack of papers and you made your way together to the reading room. You would be doing a few read-throughs to get the actors familiar with the characters again and work through a few knots in the script.

It was the same way it had been, waking up at the crack of dawn and returning when the sun was descending in the sky. The hybrids clung to you in any way they could while you were home. At breakfast and dinner, there was always someone touching you, Jimin sitting on your lap or Namjoon holding your hand or Jungkook hugging you from behind. They missed you and you missed them too but there was little you could do.

In the quiet of the night when most of the hybrids had retired, you asked Hoseok how Taehyung was adjusting. The answer was always the same. Hopeful but disappointing as well—guilt ate at you for feeling disappointed when you knew Taehyung was doing his best.

The story of the Raven Boys unraveled during the days and the nights. Your copy of the script was overflowing with red ink, underlined lines, and writing in the margins. It was shaping up to become everything you had envisioned and more. And you were happy. But you also missed spending more than a few hours at the Castle.

You could invite them to join you for filming and spend a little more time with them. However, you had a one-track mind while you were working and you couldn’t provide the attention they deserved. Often, you got too lost in your work. You could feel it now, clouding your mind and blending the days into a string of numbered scenes and takes.

It was a blessing that one week into filming, you finished early, just a couple of hours after lunch, and instead of staying and obsessing over the smallest details like you were prone to doing, you packed your backpack and returned home. John drove you back with instructions to relax and not think about work until the next morning. You didn’t mind listening to him.

“I’m home,” you shouted after opening the door. Due to their sensitive hearing any hybrid on the top two floors would hear the door opening, you liked to let them know it was you so they wouldn’t worry. You had wanted to surprise them so you hadn’t texted that you were coming back.

Jimin and Hoseok were the first ones to rush to the living room. Jimin fell into your arms with practiced ease and buried his face in your neck.

“Surprise,” you said, ruffling his blond hair.

He purred in contentment. Hoseok also joined the hug, his fluffy tail wrapping around your legs.

“Are you staying?” Jimin asked, his eyes shining with hope.

“I am. We finished early today so I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

Jimin cheered and held onto your hand, following you into the kitchen where you poured yourself a glass of homemade lemonade from the fridge. A book and a few notebooks were spread over the kitchen island and you took a closer look at them. You recognized the textbook as one you had bought a few years ago during your first visit to Seoul for the press tour of one of your Oscar-winning films. You had read through the first few pages on the plane back to LA and when you had arrived you had placed it on the shelf that housed all your language-learning books and never picked it up again.

“Are you learning Korean?” you asked Jimin, scanning the awkward handwritten Korean letters in the pages of the notebook.

Flustered, Jimin didn’t look at you as he replied, “Hoseok is helping me. I thought I could communicate better with Taehyung if I knew a bit of Korean but it’s really hard.”

“He’s doing really well though,” Hoseok interjected with pride. “He is getting good at reading Hangul and he knows a few basic phrases too. He is learning very quickly.”

Jimin shrugged, his cheeks getting adorably rosy. “I have a great teacher.”

Hoseok cooed at the younger hybrid while you flipped through the pages of the textbook. You recognized your handwriting on the first few, you had written down a few questions you had so you could look them up later, which didn’t happen. Now, the answers were written underneath your questions in blue ink. The next pages were marked in both Jimin’s and Hoseok’s handwriting, there were notes in the margins and between lines and little doodles of flowers and butterflies.

Footsteps climbing up the stairs prompted you to let go of the notebook. Jungkook came running through the kitchen door and threw himself at you, nuzzling into your neck. You planted your feet on the ground and caught him just in time before you both went flying back.

“You’re back,” he whispered. He was bouncing on his feet, his excitement contagious.

“We finished early so I packed everything up and rushed back,” you said. “Has it been that long since I was back at a normal hour?”

Jungkook nodded resolutely and you couldn’t help but giggle. The truth was that it was the first time you were finishing early since filming had started again. The first week back was the busiest since you had to review everything, redraw most of the plans, check in with every department, and generally when you weren’t actively filming you spent them running around the studios like a headless chicken.

You should get a day off as soon as you could. For a workaholic, you missed being at home with them too much.

Namjoon and Seokjin were the next ones to appear at the kitchen door. Jungkook still hadn’t let go of you so they were content to leave twin kisses on your cheeks while teasing the bunny hybrid.

“Is Yoongi with Taehyung?” you asked, noting the absence of the two hybrids.

“They are in the garden,” Namjoon said, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Yoongi has been lounging in the sunlight since we finished lunch.”

“He’s starting to gain some color, he looks less like a ghost these days,” Seokjin joked. “Sometimes I think he is more cat than Jimin is.”

You laughed with them before your attention was drawn back to the textbook. It was hard learning a new language, you knew that very well. It could take years to reach a decent level depending on your dedication and the language itself. You remembered Alice suggesting you should learn Korean to communicate better with Taehyung. Jimin was doing just that without anyone asking him to and by the handwriting on a good chunk of the textbook, he had been doing it for some time.

Namjoon also took an interest in the textbook but he already seemed to know that Jimin had been studying the language.

“I would like to learn to,” he said. “I didn’t have to chance to learn another language in the past and it would be beneficial if we could communicate with Taehyung in his mother tongue. Maybe it would get him to open up more.”

Seokjin nodded. “I think it’s a good idea. I would like to learn a bit of Korean too.”

“I could teach you a few things,” Hoseok offered. “But I’m not a teacher, I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. I can teach you a few words or phrases but”, he glanced at Jimin with a guilty look, “we are having some trouble with grammar.”

“That makes sense,” you reassured him. “It is very different speaking a language, especially when it’s your mother tongue, and teaching it to someone else. That’s why there are university courses for it. It’s a difficult job. But if you really want to learn Korean, I could find you a teacher who specializes in it. That way Hobi would have less on his plate as well.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Really? Can you do that?”

“Of course, I can,” you said. “I can find the best Korean teacher in Los Angeles and I can ask them to come here so you won’t have to go to the city. I’ll have to provide transportation of course. How does that sound?”

“Amazing,” Jimin cheered and hugged you again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

The least because you couldn’t do the same. You didn’t have the time or the energy to learn another language when most of your day was taken up by your work. During the days you were at the studios and at nights often you had to retire to your office to answer emails and revise scripts before going to sleep. The best you could manage would be to learn a few basic phrases but that wouldn’t be helping anyone.

The arrangements for the teacher were easy. You didn’t have to look long on the internet and after a few calls you had found the perfect candidate who was more than happy to make the trip to the Castle three times a week and stay for three hours to teach the hybrids. You added a very generous bonus for her trouble.

Before finalizing the contract, you talked with Hoseok about an idea you had.

“She could help Taehyung with his English as well. A couple of hours a week could help a lot,” you suggested.

Hoseok was on washing duty after dinner and Taehyung had gone to his room for the night so it was the perfect opportunity to talk to him about this.

“It’s a great idea, if he wants to. I do my best but… I don’t think I’m helping on this,” Hoseok said, scrubbing a plate with the sponge. Foam was everywhere.

You rubbed his arm soothingly. “You’re doing amazing. Much better than I could have hoped for. But I know it’s hard for you and I wish there was a way to help you. I’m sorry I can’t do much.”

Hoseok shrugged, bubbles rising above the dishes. “You are doing the best you can, given the situation. You have already done more than anyone would have expected of you.”

Laughter floated in from the living room. You smiled through your exhaustion.

“Ask Taehyung about the teacher, okay? And tell him it’s your idea, not mine. I don’t want him to accept because I am the one asking.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Jimin ran down the stairs, laughing wildly. Energy coursed through his veins and urgency pushed his legs to run faster and faster. He felt like a nymph in Land of the Gods, running through their trees, their hair flowing like an enchantment and laughing and laughing. He didn’t look at his pursuer, he knew who he was and it only filled him with delight.

The rooms blurred as he passed by, never losing his footing. He emerged in the garden and the sun kissed his skin, the fire inside him burning hotter in the heat. The green stretched around him and for a moment, he got the crazy desire to go into the forest and get lost there, underneath the shade of the tall trees. He wanted to dance and drink and eat juicy fruits between the trees like the fae in the stories you told them yesterday night.

Maybe one day.

Instead, he rushed to the stairs that led down to their room. The footsteps behind him were getting closer and he pushed himself to go faster, flying down the stairs.

There was nowhere else to go now and he paused in front of their bed. It was enough time for two hands to wrap around his waist and tackle him on the mattress. He resisted a little, just for show, before wrapping his own arms around broad shoulders and laughing some more. He felt like a child, in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

“You can’t escape from me,” Jungkook said, hovering above him.

“I didn’t try,” Jimin replied, running his hands over his shoulders and up the sides of his neck. “Bunnies are supposed to be fast, aren’t they? But you only caught me when I had nowhere else to go.”

Jungkook leaned into his touch. “I would have caught you anyway. You couldn’t run forever. Now you’re mine.”

He lowered himself until their bodies were merged together. He sniffed at Jimin’s neck, taking in his scent like he had done so many times, before rubbing his nose and his cheek over his scent gland. Jimin couldn’t stop the purrs that escaped him as his body melted. His hands tangled in Jungkook’s hair, who made an appreciative sound.

The scent of pears and gardenias was everywhere, it was deliciously overwhelming. He could almost taste the sweetness and tanginess of the pears on his tongue.

He tugged on Jungkook’s hair before he could lose his mind. “My turn.”

Jungkook arched his neck back to allow Jimin to scent him. He quickly found his scent gland and buried his face there. He closed his eyes and a garden bloomed behind his eyelids.

Jungkook’s scent was so sweet and it was mouth-watering combined with the pack’s scents. He could smell his own scent there and Namjoon’s scent of summer rain and pine trees was enveloping everything. The aroma of honey buns and sweet milk glazed over them like sugar and notes of cinnamon and sandalwood pushed through. If he looked for it, he could detect your scent, naturally fainter than hybrids’. Greedily, he searched for two more scents but he could only get the impression of dark chocolate. He might have imagined it.

“I’m happy,” Jmin whispered like it was a secret. There was the irrational fear that if he said it any louder, he would tempt fate to take it back.

“I’m happy too,” Jungkook said, laying his head on Jimin’s chest.

Jimin tangled his hands in his hair and massaged his scalp, he was rewarded with a pleased sigh. “It’s like everything has finally fallen into place. I’m not sad anymore. I didn’t realize how sad I was until I wasn’t. Even when I was happy, I was sad too. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to.” Jungkook caught his hand in his and brought it to his mouth, placing kisses on the back of it. Jimin’s heart fluttered with the wings of thousands of butterflies. “All that matters to me is that you aren’t anymore. I only want you to be happy. I know it isn’t possible to be happy all the time but I want us all to be happy. Together and happy.”

“Together and happy,” Jimin repeated quietly.

Every time he was was with Jungkook like that, his mind strayed. It went to all the possibilities, all the could-have-beens and the what-ifs. What would have happened if Jimin wasn’t a coward, if he hadn’t run away? If he had told you what had happened before, would he have been braver? Did Jungkook feel the same after everything that happened? Did he still want to kiss him?

His bunny was so beautiful, his soft dark brown ears that flopped against his hair, his cute nose and large eyes that held the galaxy inside them. Everything about him was beautiful and Jimin loved him so much he could burst. He wasn’t sure if it was right to love him like this, to want to kiss him and hold him like lovers did but he trusted you when you said that it was okay.

Lost in his thoughts, he tugged lightly on Jungkook’s hair, who let out a sound that lit a fire inside him. It was a moan, Jungkook had moaned.

His cheeks growing red, he looked at Jimin like a deer caught in headlines. “I’m sorry! I didn’t- I shouldn’t-”

“Jungkookie, it’s okay.”

“No, no. I’m sorry,” he continued quickly. “I don’t know why I did that. I’m-”

“Jungkook,” Jimin said more firmly. “It’s okay. Really. I didn’t mind. You… sounded good.”

“Good?” Jungkook asked confused. And his eyes, how could his eyes hold so many stars inside them?

Slowly, Jimin tugged at his hair again. “Yeah, good. I liked it.”

“Oh.”

They looked at each other and the world faded around them. There was only them, them and the heat brewing between them.

“Do you-” Jimin looked away. He couldn’t just ask him like that. But what else could he say? “I love you, I love you so much. I never want you to forget. Anything that may happen, I’ll still love you.”

“I love you too, you know I do. You are my Jiminie. I would do anything for you.” He bit his bottom lip and Jimin wished he was the one doing it instead. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just wanted you to know,” he said, cupping Jungkook’s face. His skin was the highest quality of silk and satin under his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so difficult, so… scarred.”

Jungkook’s hand covered his and his gaze was unyielding, it didn’t allow him to look away. “Never apologize for that. Never. You aren’t difficult, you are incredible. You are strong, stronger than I could ever hope to be. Your scars don’t define you. I met you with your scars and I love you with them all the same. I don’t care if I have to be a little more careful or if I have to hold you a little closer sometimes. Just being close to you is all I need.”

There was a stinging behind Jimin’s eyes. “My baby,” he said like a prayer. An invisible thread pulled him closer to Jungkook until only a breath separated them. “Can I kiss you?”

“Kiss me?”

Jimin hated the doubt and the fear in his voice, he grieved that he had been the one to put it there. “I want to, I promise. It’s okay, I talked with Y/N. I’ve been so stupid. I want to kiss you so much, baby.”

“Please. Please, kiss me,” he said, voice breaking.

Their lips came together softly. There was no rush, no harshness, only love and patience. He was warm, warmer than he had ever felt. He was safe in Jungkook’s arms, hidden away in the Castle, in their home. Sweetness coated his lips. He might not deserve this, might be too broken for this but he never wanted to let go.

Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Catharsis.

Jungkook pulled back in panicked haste. “Did I hurt you? Did-”

Jimin let his tears run their course down to his neck in favor of cupping Jungkook’s face. “You could never hurt me. They’re happy tears. I’m very happy.”

The tension in Jungkook’s face eased and Jimin pulled him closer again. As he kissed him, he tasted love and freedom. He tasted of healing.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The grand piano stood by the glass wall in the living room, polished until the black surface reflected the light like a mirror. It was a thing of beauty, a gem dipped in luxury to decorate a rich household. For Yoongi, it was so much more.

It was a few hours until you would be back home and the sun was setting behind the forest. The lights were off in the living room and it was painted in the red, gold and pink of the sunset. You would be back later than usual, the filming schedule was packed for the day and after that was done you would visit the headquarters of the production company. You had told them to eat dinner without you.

Yoongi’s fingers flew over the black and white keys. He closed his eyes and focused on the music. Each note was a bright light in the darkness behind his eyelids. It was easy to get lost in the music, in the feelings it evoked and in the pictures it weaved.

He heard it when Taehyung arrived. He didn’t speak, gave him space to go away if he wanted or simply listen in silence. The melody grew more tender.

Taehyung didn’t go away, he drew closer. He hesitated before sitting on the bench next to him, leaving a small space between them. The song blended into the next one and the next one until the familiar stiffness spread over Yoongi’s fingers and he stopped.

Outside, the reds and golds had turned into purples and deep blues. Yoongi would have to turn on the lights soon.

“Do you want to try?” Yoongi asked when the silence stretched and Taehyung didn’t seem to find the words he was looking for.

Taehyung looked at the piano in quiet wonder. “Can I?”

He was so young and it made Yoongi furious that some bastards had carved the innocence and joy out of him. He wanted to find the monsters who had done this to him and tear them apart limb by limb.

His long fingers hovered over the keys. “How?”

“Just do whatever feels right.”

Taehyung pressed the keys one by one at first, the faint lines of a smile appearing on his face at every new sound. Progressively he got braver, pressing keys together and creating disjointed melodies.

“Together?” Taehyung asked shyly.

Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

[obsessedwithceleste]

The Slytherin Boys

As Deadly Sins

Ft. Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott, and Mattheo Riddle

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Draco

Pride (noun) often a quality of extreme arrogance or dangerous overconfidence.

Pride was something that had been drilled into Draco from a young age

Take pride in your blood status

Take pride in your wealth

Take pride in the name Malfoy

And as an only child, Draco was treated as though he were a god among man

When Draco arrived at Hogwarts, his pride was perceived as arrogance by many, and as confidence by others

Not that he cared

He was above it all

In fact, Draco thrived on the attention, the whispers about him only feeding his ego

He had a constant need for validation, to prove that his pride was not misplaced, and to defend the things he was most proud of

Hogwarts was the first place Draco felt as though he was at risk of blending in

While he felt at home in Slytherin

(As if his parents hadn’t groomed him specifically to end up there)

He couldn’t help but begin to see clones of himself among the sea of green robes

While he enjoyed being part of a group for the first time in his life, he realized it also came with the threat of not being the best

Not being the center of attention

His legacy being lost within a sea of other students

Friends came with the risk of being overshadowed

And if there was one thing Draco knew, it’s that the Malfoy name would not be overshadowed

Because he was the best, and he’d be make sure everyone knew it

They were below him

Lorenzo

Envy (noun) a feeling of desire to possess what others have, often leading to resentment.

Envy was not a term most would associate with Lorenzo Berkshire

Many people were envious of him, sure

But what could someone who has it all

The looks, the Gringotts account, the status

What could they possibly be envious of?

Even Enzo himself didn’t really consider himself an envious person

Growing up he knew he had it better than most, not the perfect childhood by any means, but he knew it could’ve been much worse

It isn’t until reaching Hogwarts that the green tendrils of jealousy first began to seep in

It starts out slowly as he meets his first real group of friends

It doesn’t take long for him to be slotted into the role of the sweet one of the group

Though, given the group of boys he hangs around, it can be debated how much there is to be said about the title

Nevertheless, Enzo often hears the comments made by his classmates

Enzo is the nicest of the group, the most innocent, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, just a pretty boy

The weak link of the group

And compared to boys like Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo- ever stoic, unfeeling

He realizes his kindness had been perceived as weakness

And that’s where his jealousy stems from

His desire to be seen like his friends

Tough, intimidating, powerful

His friends are the textbook definitions of a Slytherin, allowed to be mean, to be apathetic, because that’s what people expect from a Slytherin

But not him

No, he’s the nice one

That’s it

He wants to be taken seriously

And while he would never say it to his friend’s faces, Enzo is constantly watching, listening, as the bitterness slowly grows

Theodore

Sloth (noun) a lack of any feeling towards yourself or others, often giving rise to apathy.

Theo learned from a very young age that the best defense mechanism one could have, was to simply not care

Don’t care that your father ignores you

Don’t care that your mother is too weak to get out of bed

Don’t care that you’re alone

Block it out

No one could disappoint you if you didn’t care, and more importantly you couldn’t hurt yourself

Expectations only set one up to fail

Feelings would get you hurt

Theo brought this mantra with him to Hogwarts

Stone cold, emotionless

It was something his friends came to expect from him

And something that Theo learned to embrace

Because when you removed emotions, consequences didn’t seem to matter all that much

Sure he cared about his friends

At least he thought he did

But when it came down to it he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care

To really form connections

Why would he?

Alliances were fine, some could call it friendship

But truly caring about people? That made you weak

That was asking to get hurt

Why put in the effort to open yourself up to disappointment?

Simply existing was fine in Theo’s book

Don’t care about others, don’t let others care too much about you

Simply exist

Mattheo

Wrath (noun) extreme anger.

Anger was all Mattheo had ever really known

Anger, rage, fury

Didn’t matter what you called it

All Mattheo knew was that it boiled inside of him

He’d never been the best at expressing himself

Bottling up his emotions until it felt as though he would suffocate under the weight of them all

But he knew how to express anger

Anger was fast, violent, easy

And he let it consume him

There wasn’t a week that went by where Mattheo’s knuckles weren’t bruised, bloodied, or both

His anger was his release

He used to let the rage simmer, slowly waiting until it all exploded out of him in a flurry

But now it seemed he was a ticking time bomb

Just waiting for something to set him off

He didn’t think of himself as a bad person

Maybe he was

But it was as if he couldn’t control it

The fury simply taking over until suddenly he was calm again

He knew it scared a lot of people

His anger instilled fear

And for some reason, he liked it

His rage gave him power

Maybe not the kind he would’ve once liked

But power nonetheless

I tried to be serious and angsty with varying degrees of success

[bokutosbabe]

hey! could you do jouno hcs please?

AHHHH ABSOLUTELY. ty for the ask!!

Jouno Saigiku x Reader Headcanons!

a/n— sadistic characters make my brain go brrrr

content— jouno calls reader ‘darling’, possessive bf jouno, gets kinda deep for no reason in the casual hcs, jouno is a meanie, mirror sex, jealous sex, temperature play, incorrect use of ice and wax, p in v, slight voyeurism(?), markings, and i think that’s it! lmk if i missed anything!!

synopsis— cute little headcanons with jouno in the sections of casual, relationship, and nsfw!!

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

casual headcanons

fear of heights. up high in the air is the one space where he can’t hear much besides the wind and smells everything that wafts his way; he just feels vulnerable while up high.

cooking master. when you have to deal with tecchou and his disgusting mixtures all day, you’d want to make yourself some homemade comfort food too

can play the piano like a GOD. it was one of his many passions before he lost his sight, and even afterwards he never stopped.

secretly loves being around the other hunting dogs. when he’s alone he can’t see or hear.

^^^he gets scared of being trapped inside his own mind due to this

he dreams of having a world where everyone can exist in peace with the hunting dogs protecting the city

was an only child

loves listening to teruko and tachiharas banter because he never got to experience something close to siblings fighting before

can speak at least two languages but no more than four

very much an early bird

amazing chess player, literally so strategic *cue mastermind by taylor swift*

likes bitter tastes more than awfully sweet tastes

loves puzzles, he just enjoys feeling around and using his intellectual skills and heightened senses to put them together

likes loud rock music more than what others assume he would like(he actually hates classical music. he finds it boring.)

runs hot like a damn oven

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

relationship headcanons

meanie!!!!

jouno is literally as if satan made a special person to just make your life as difficult as possible.

jouno loves you because of your mind

you’re just as charismatic as he is and he enjoys how you two can just communicate without words. him with your heart rate and breathing pattern and you with his facial and body movements 🫶🏼

even if he’s a meanie , jouno still enjoys coming home and cuddling with you

will he initiate it?

absolutely not.

until he was in a relationship with you, jouno never realized how much he enjoyed another persons touch

jouno will make your life with him a living hell though, make no mistake

like i said; he runs hot and makes it everyone’s problem

you two can simply be laying in bed like normal civilized people, but if you mention you’re hot? he’s grabbing your waist pulling you closer to your furnace of a boyfriend.

“ get off of me! ”

“ you don’t wanna cuddle with me, darling? ”

jouno isn’t someone who will talk about your relationship at work or with anyone he’s not comfortable with

so when he first tells tecchou about you? he shocks himself

he definitely accidentally told you he loved you first

“ yeah, yeah. love you too. ” he’d said after you called him annoying

or something like that

your meanie boyfriend just loves you so much🫶🏼

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

nsfw headcanons

like i said guys; jouno is M-E-A-N

man is a grade 1 tease

literally a power top!!

he loves just hearing your heartbeat pick up when he’s fucking you🫶🏼

and the sounds? man could bust just off of them.

like i said; he runs hot, so temperature play is one of his favorite things

he loves hearing your gasps when he pours hot wax on your body, always careful not to hurt you

he absolutely is obsessed with your whines when he runs ice around your tits, making your cute little nipples hard🫶🏼

you think you can make him jealous and he wouldn’t teach you a lesson? tough luck.

you could just be talking to tecchou or tachihara, but if he hears your heartbeat pick up or hear the slightest change in your tone? be ready to not walk for weeks

he’ll take you home and make sure you know who you belong to

MIRROR SEX🙏🙏

obviously he can’t see, but sometimes if you’re bad enough, he’ll make you describe what you look like to him– and if you stutter? he’ll slow down until you’re begging for him to hurry up and ruin you

he would never ever share you with anyone. you’re his and he’s yours

he’s definitely more of a receiver of head more than a giver, he just loves hearing your cute little moans while you’re choking on his cock🫶🏼

will make you play with yourself in front of him if you’ve been just a little too naughty

if he’s on an away mission he’ll call you and will jerk off to the sound of your voice

loves marking you with hickeys

your neck, thighs, and tummy covered every time after he fucks you.

jouno just needs everyone to know that he owns you❤️

he makes me giggle, sorry if these aren’t great i rushed them just a bit!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! thank you sm for this ask!

[callme-darling]

What if we give Vincent some angst, breaking up with him because all he does is work :((

sometimes, love isn’t enough

word count: 680

warnings: fem reader, angst (i LOVE angst hehe)

if there’s one thing you understood before getting serious with vincent, it was that his work hours and workload would require a significant amount of his time and attention. you understood that, and you rolled with it. for awhile, at least.

it wasn’t so bad in the beginning. sure, he’d be a little late coming home sometimes, the dinner you prepared having gone cold sitting on the stove. but dinner could be reheated, and he was always present when talking to you, so you let that slide.

but when the late nights in the office began to bleed into reservations planned out months ahead, you couldn’t deny the hurt. or his growing nonchalance to missing milestones; that was when the attitude you had managed to keep began to falter.

you stopped asking him when he expected to be home, knowing that whatever answer he gave you would likely run at least two hours later. for nearly a week you even stopped talking to him, just to see if he’d notice. he didn’t.

thus, your decision was made. you packed all of your clothes and most of your smaller possessions while he was at work. no rush, you’d joke to yourself, there’s plenty of time to leave someone who never felt your absence in the first place. despite your reservations on leaving, it still tasted bitter. your bottom lip quivered as you gingerly tucked the final picture frames in your suitcase.

most of your bags had already been packed in your car, and you were exhausted by the time you got the last one slotted into the backseat. it was dusk and you knew you had a long drive to your friends house.

a handwritten letter sat on the dining table, drafted as a final farewell and touch of love you weren’t sure would even be felt.

‘vincent,

forgive me, but this seemed better. i’d rather have you remember me as the coward who wrote my fears rather than how i ruined everything by saying them out loud.

i love you, i do. but i’m afraid i’ve made that love too important. because you’re going to leave me. we can’t deny it, you’re always going to leave. i could feel it already. i’ve never felt more alone than in a room with you. i’m afraid i’ll love you forever and we will never be in the same room again. i know you look at me, but do you still see me?

i think we both deserve a soft epilogue. no screaming, no tears, no chance for a hurtful exchange. so i’ll finish this with a simple goodbye. that would be better than saying something dangerous, like i love you.

y/n’

a few hours later, when you’re already halfway to the coast of bordeaux where your friend is waiting for you, your phone dings in the cupholder. ‘where are you?’ a few minutes pass before a picture of vincent’s smiling face illuminates the small screen as it vibrates. you let it ring until the screens goes black. a moment later a stream of messages chime. ‘please answer darling’ ‘where are you going?’ ‘answer the phone, please y/n’. then another call attempt. you ignore that one too.

your eyes began to sting as your throat constricts. you didn’t want to leave, let alone leave like this, but you knew yourself too well. if you had stayed, waited for him to come home, you knew you’d stay for good. at least, until it got bad again. and thus, by running away like some coward, you’re escaping a fatal cycle, you convinced yourself over and over again. it was the right move, he’ll move on soon enough, and i will too, the voice in your head reminded you.

what hurt the most, you supposed, was not the fact that you were unloved. vincent loved you, you were certain of that. but it still wasn’t enough. that is where your pain lives.

and for the remaining two hour drive to bordeaux, you wept quietly to yourself, knowing vincent was doing the same in the home you once shared.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Lucky Break Yandere Masterpost

It's finally done!

I will be updating/editing this as I go along, but here is the full list of yanderes in Lucky Break so far

Platonic Yanderes

Monkey D. Luffy

Type of yandere

Clingy - Luffy is attached at the hip to his whole crew, naturally that applies to Lucky. He needs to involve Lucky in everything he does and gets irritable if anything/anyone interferes with their quality time.

Protective - Again, applies to his whole crew. Lucky is his nakama and no one messes with his nakama. He would go to bat for her if someone so much as hip checked her, he absolutely won’t tolerate anyone trying to actually hurt her.

Description 

It doesn’t take much for Luffy to become attached. Between Lucky’s mysterious background and him feeling a little bad about hitting her head, he was considering her a friend before a full day could even pass. He is desperate to uncover the mystery of where she came from and who she was before they met. At least, he was for like a week, then it seemed like he just kinda moved on and forgot about it. His crew has to remind him about his initial claim to assist Lucky in regaining her memories, but he tends to be dismissive of the subject. Partially because he’s simply never been one to care that much about a person’s history, but also because he’s scared that Lucky is going to want to go back to wherever she came from. When him and Lucky eventually do have a heart to heart about her past and she tells him that she never wants to go back, he’s ecstatic. From that day forth he never thinks about it again, she is a permanent resident on his crew as far as he’s concerned.

Roronoa Zoro

Type of yandere

Protective - Their first meeting involved him trying to clean and patch up her head wound, and it influenced the rest of their relationship. No matter how strong she becomes, he will always see her as this poor, frail thing that needs to be protected.

Manipulative - This goes hand in hand with his protective tendencies. He makes little comments here and there about how dangerous everything is, makes her injuries out to be worse than they really are, and emphasizes how quickly things could go wrong for her if he- the Straw Hats weren’t there to protect her.

Description

At first, he was just caring for her because it was obvious that Luffy wasn’t equipped to do so, but all of the skin-to-skin contact he had with Lucky when he was taking care of her head wound lead to him being the first person to truly be affected by her amulet. From day one he wanted to be her safety net, she obviously needs him to protect her. To an extent, he understands that the more people she has to protect her the better, but he can’t help but feel a little bitter every time someone else saves her. Likewise, he isn’t particularly enthusiastic about Lucky being able to take care of herself. Sure, it’s technically a good thing, but it should be him. He’ll go so far as distracting her when she tries to train by either encouraging her to nap with him or getting her to drink enough that it simply wouldn’t be safe for her to be swinging her weapon around.

Nami

Type of yandere

Possessive - Lucky is one of the few people she can call a friend, and while she considers all of the Straw Hats her friends, it just feels different with Lucky. She’s not just a friend, she’s her friend, and she doesn’t want anyone taking Lucky away from her.

Clingy - Nami constantly wants to do things together with Lucky. From shopping trips where she can make her more in debt to quietly existing in the same room together while she works on sea charts.

Description

Nami doesn’t become a yandere for Lucky until after Arlong Park, but she gets hit hard when it finally happens. Her and Lucky become best friends overnight and the switch is startling to say the least. Nami went from keeping her at arms’ length to pushing their beds up against each other in their shared room and helping herself to Lucky’s belongings whenever she wants (Lucky is allowed to borrow her stuff too). Despite Lucky not objecting to Nami’s behavior, Nami still feels paranoid that she may one day want to leave. One of her many safeguards against this is to get her indebted as quickly as possible. They go on a little shopping spree at Loguetown, and it’s not until afterwards that Nami mentions her interest rate and how she expects to be paid back. Except here’s the thing: she doesn’t. She never wants Lucky to be able to repay her because the debt gives her a sense of control. The whole thing is played off as lighthearted so as to not scare Lucky, but it’s not. Nami is very serious about keeping Lucky by her side forever.

Usopp

Type of yandere

Manipulative - He really takes a page out of Zoro’s book and does his best to make Lucky too scared to want to so much as be out of their sight. While Lucky may shrug off a lot of his fear mongering about how scary the world is, he is able to get around this by saying that he spotted one of her other yanderes. That trick always works.

Clingy - After he gets past the initial intimidation he felt towards her, he gets real clingy real fast. He loves to be on the receiving end of attention in general, but attention from Lucky just hits different. He tries extra hard to make her laugh and be awed by his stories.

Description

The other Straw Hats tease him for ever being afraid of Lucky at one point, and yeah, he gets a little embarrassed about it, too. They go on to become such good friends that it’s hard to believe there was ever a time that they weren’t. With Lucky being one of the weaker members of the crew- and everyone being over protective of her- she tends to hang back with Usopp, giving them plenty of time to bond. He can pick up on a dip in her mood from the slightest hints and will force himself into her space to try and fix it. This can range from bursting into her room to tell her some jokes/stories, to dragging her into whatever game he’s playing with the others, to simply getting her to sit with him while he works on some contraption. He won’t take no for an answer. Seeing Lucky upset or hurt makes him feel extremely anxious, and he wants to be the one to fix it.

Sanji

Type of yandere

Obsessive - Sanji is prone to obsessing over any woman that walks his way, but while with others he tends to only fawn over them, he full on obsesses over Lucky. He needs to know all of her likes and dislikes, dietary preferences and restrictions, what gifts she likes best, everything.

Worshiper - Lucky is placed on a pedestal above the rest of the world in Sanji's eyes. She can do no wrong and someone implying otherwise would greatly upset him.

Protective - Like the obsessive point, he is naturally protective over all women, but it becomes extreme in Lucky’s case. He becomes irrationally upset if someone speaks to her in a tone he doesn’t like, someone trying to hurt her is an unforgivable crime. He takes immense joy in kicking her suitors to a pulp when the opportunity presents itself.

Clingy - This man needs her approval as much as he needs oxygen. Every word of praise out of her mouth lengthens his lifespan, he’s sure of it. He tends to hover around her so as to capitalize on every opportunity there is to get attention from her.

Description

From their first encounter, he was protective of Lucky. The massive head injury that was still in the process of healing had him fussing over her, this poor lady clearly needs help from him since her crewmates are failing to protect her. Sanji does flirt with Lucky, but it isn’t particularly serious, it’s just how he is. After he’s officially a part of the crew, he has a very obvious favoritism towards her. She’s the first person he checks on in a crisis, she’s constantly being given snacks and drinks, and he always sings her praise. Sanji is brutal towards anyone who threatens or shows too much interest, and if Lucky is hurt or uncomfortable he is unforgiving to the offender. Like Zoro, he wants to be Lucky’s knight in shining armor and gets huffy if her savior is someone else, though he takes it slightly better than Zoro.

Tony Tony Chopper

Type of yandere

Clingy - Chopper thinks that Lucky is very cool and follows her around like a duckling after first joining. Like Nami, he isn’t used to having friends and wants to spend as much time as possible with this one. He wants her attention on him and is prone to getting jealous if she fawns over someone else.

Description

While Chopper was apprehensive of Lucky at first thanks to her smelling “off” to him, he comes around to her quickly. She’s one of the saner Straw Hats, so her more mellow nature makes her easier to approach. He’ll run to her for protection every time Luffy chases after him. Which doesn’t work because he will just tackle both of them now. Chopper very much abuses his cute privilege once he’s on the crew to get more attention than he may have previously gotten. He’s about as desperate for her praise as Sanji is, and is always showing off whatever new medicine he makes. In a dangerous situation he prefers to just run away from it with Lucky in tow, but he will square up if he needs to. Overall a mild yandere. 

Nico Robin

Type of yandere

Obsessive - Robin did research on all of the Straw Hats prior to joining, and the complete lack of information she could find on Lucky piqued her interest immediately and led to her focusing on learning every little thing she could about her. This desire didn’t go away after Robin joined the crew, if anything the opportunity to ask Lucky questions directly added fire to the behavior. 

Protective - Thanks to how much Robin has suffered in her life, she is extremely wary of other people and tends to assume ill intent until proven otherwise. She assumes that everyone trying to get their hands on Lucky will hurt her if given the chance and is merciless in disposing of these threats.

Description

Robin has been stalking Lucky since Little Garden, following her closely in hopes of gleaning any information on her. She’s great at staying hidden, so Lucky never sees her or finds out about it. Robin is constantly asking questions and snooping through Lucky’s belongings in the beginning, but it dies down after Lucky reveals the truth to where she came from. She’s definitely curious about her world, but only mildly. The mystery finally being solved does nothing to end the obsession. Knowing Lucky’s past was part one, getting to know who Lucky is personally is the next level. Robin makes Sanji look like he doesn’t know shit about Lucky, she has a journal that is basically a Lucky Handbook (she could make BANK selling copies of it). During outings, Robin will try to sneak off with Lucky for some one on one time.

Franky

Type of yandere

Protective - Franky is like an overprotective older brother. Yeah, he’s an annoying handful most of the time, but he comes in clutch when needed. And when he probably didn’t need to. Franky is only looking out for Lucky’s best interest, it’s just debatable what exactly that means to him.

Delusional - There is no point trying to deny this man anything. He sees and hears only what he wants to, and makes excuses for what can’t be ignored.

Description 

Franky was trying to recruit Lucky into his family since their first encounter in Water 7. She’s so roughed up, yet she’s still running around the city to look for her friend? Brave! Inspiring! *guitar riff* He’ll help! Hey, why are you running away?! Despite the whole Usopp situation, Franky and Lucky learn to get along quickly. She can’t find it in her to stay mad about it with how fun and sincere his personality is. Franky will refer to himself as her big brother, and Lucky not caring enough to object only encourages him. He honestly sometimes forgets that they aren’t actually siblings and reels back in shock if someone points it out. With Lucky not being particularly strong, he goes out of his way to make her little self-defense gadgets. Nothing too powerful- that’s what he’s for- but good enough to buy her some time.

Nefertari Vivi

Type of yandere

Clingy - To say that Vivi is stressed out when she joins forces with the Straw Hats is an understatement. She is desperate to have some comfort and support and Lucky is very good at giving that. Vivi tends to gravitate towards her whenever she gets the chance and feels a pang of jealousy when she focuses on someone else.

Description

Vivi hasn't been able to act her own age in years, she's downright ashamed of herself if she ever behaves like a teenager should. Lucky sees her for who she really is. A teen with the weight of an entire nation on her shoulders and does her best to try and ease her mind. Vivi needs this so bad that the kindness makes her latch onto Lucky very quickly. She needs the comfort that her presence provides and seeks her approval.

Portgas D. Ace

Type of yandere

Clingy - When Ace decides to let someone in, he won’t let them leave. Sorry, not sorry, he’s with you for life now! He clings to Lucky especially because he can see a bit of himself in her, mainly the loneliness that seems to hang over her despite being allegedly an amnesiac. 

Protective - He protects his own, that applies to Lucky. It doesn’t take much provocation to get him to attack someone for bothering her.

Description

These two are thick as thieves damn near off the bat, they click instantly. Ace’s fondness only grows when they get separated from the rest of the group and have a chance to hang out one on one. He is one of the few people who questions her amnesia. Sure, he can bet she forgot some stuff after hitting her head that hard, but there are little tells she has that indicate to him that she may remember more than she lets on. He doesn’t pry because he of all people can understand wanting to get away from one’s past, but he has his suspicions. When he sees how cagey she gets at the mention of family, it all comes together for him. Her family must be awful! Good thing he has a solution! He is very persistent in getting her to join the Whitebeard Pirates, believing that it will be perfect for her. She’ll get to have a big happy family, including having him as her brother.

Rob Lucci

Type of yandere

Sadistic - He lives for the thrill of the hunt. The high that he gets from chasing down Lucky is unmatched, so he’ll let her go every time so that he can do it again and again.

Description

I hesitate to even call this relationship platonic because that implies there is some level of fondness. There isn’t. Lucci’s interest in Lucky begins and ends with hunting and terrorizing her. The amulet is not to blame for his obsession, he's just like this naturally.

Kalifa

Type of yandere

Delusional - Kalifa wants to believe that they’re the best of friends, and literally nothing can convince her otherwise. The mental gymnastics she does are off the charts.

Description

Kalifa has never had a real friend. She’s had coworkers at best, nothing more. Spending time with Lucky feels so refreshing, she’s so nice to her and doesn’t appear to care about what she can get out of Kalifa. They’re just talking like… friends? Is this what it’s like? She’s convinced that they’re best friends, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. Friends disagree sometimes, that’s all that her protests are. A mild disagreement that they will laugh about later. 

Romantic Yanderes

Buggy the Clown

Theme song - Never Ever Getting Rid of Me from Waitress 

Type of yandere

Delusional - He will die thinking that Lucky used to be a part of his crew before he made the biggest fumble in history and “scared her away”, and nothing that his actual crew says will convince him otherwise.

Possessive - Buggy is very materialistic. He wants things that are only his and that applies to Lucky. 

Description

The way that Lucky stood her ground and firmly told him what to do was an awakening for him. Despite him acting like he’s this scary, merciless man, he’s whipped for Lucky. On the off chance he tries to boss her around, all she has to do is give him a dirty look and he’s back pedaling at the speed of light. He genuinely believes that what she said about joining his crew the night before their confrontation was true, and he thinks the only reason she left is because she felt insulted by his doubt. There is a steady stream of gifts (stolen treasure) and flowers being sent her way as an apology for his egregious behavior.

Smoker

Theme song - Life Eternal by Ghost

Type of yandere

Obsessive - He can’t get her out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries to not dwell on her so much. Once he’s accepted it, he indulges himself by collecting every little piece of information he can find on her.

Manipulative - This guy knows what he’s doing. If he doesn’t play his cards perfectly, he could lose his chance to have Lucky be with him willingly. He will do or say whatever he needs to in order to keep Lucky in the dark.

Description

He’s well aware that his feelings towards Lucky are wrong and would disturb anyone who learned about it, so he’s careful to never let anyone see this side. After their first encounter in Loguetown, before he even knew she was a pirate, he found her to be somewhat endearing, but these mild feelings spiraled out of control as they continued to run into each other as he hunted down the Straw Hats. At first he was content with the glimpses he got of her when they crossed paths, but then he wanted to see her more so he started taking pictures when no one was looking. Then he started following her around undercover, which led to him swiping any personal items of hers he thought she wouldn’t notice missing. He’ll always need more.

Kaku

Theme songs - Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John 

This Is A Life by Son Lux, Mitski, and David Byrne

Type of yandere

Delusional - In his mind, Lucky is this poor, unfortunate victim of circumstance that needs to be saved. All of her resistance is interpreted as being the result of her not knowing what’s good for her.

Protective - Kaku would sacrifice himself to save Lucky with zero hesitation. Ideally, it won’t come to that, but he is prepared to do so. Fortunately for him, it hasn’t come to this yet so he settles for beating/killing anyone that threatens her well being.

Description

At first, Kaku felt pity for Lucky. He saw her as a battered captive of some pirates, and while he did offer to help her, he was willing to let her make her own choices when she insisted she was fine. As he spent more time with her, he found himself entertaining thoughts he hadn’t given much mind to in years. Visions of a normal life where he isn’t an assassin and can live happily with someone he loves. He tries to bury these feelings down because he knows it’s a bad idea, but his resolve crumbles when he sees Lucky at Enies Lobby. Why shouldn’t he have a life he actually enjoys? Why can’t he just quietly slip away with the love of his life so they can be together? He decides then and there to run away from everything with her. She’ll understand.

Paulie

Theme song - Call Me Little Sunshine by Ghost

Type of yandere

Protective - The first word that comes to mind when he meets Lucky is ‘frail’, and he never fully sees her another way. She needs someone to protect her from all of the dangerous men of the world, and he decides that will be him.

Possessive - He doesn’t like other people ogling Lucky. If he had it his way, he would be the only other person she ever saw.

Description

Due to Lucky being so injured when they arrived at Water 7, she was dressed pretty conservatively because she didn’t want people staring at her. Her being so covered up made Paulie act more civil than he usually would. Rather than accusing her of trying to seduce him, he just had a normal conversation with her while kinda fussing at her to take it easy with how banged up she was. It was pleasant, and he found her to be charming. But… if he found her charming then so would other people. Other people might have ill intentions for her, but he doesn’t. He just wants to keep her safe! And maybe a couple of other things that he’s in denial about, but that’s beside the point! 

Iceburg

Theme song - Curses by The Crane Wives

Type of yandere

Possessive - What started as a respect for her integrity rapidly grows out of hand. It’s hard to find people like that. He wants to keep her for himself.

Protective - He understands better than most how dangerous the world can be for someone who is being targeted by the World Government. After he sees her bounty poster he feels the need more than ever to keep her away from the public eye and with him.

Description

No one is more surprised about him becoming a yandere for Lucky than Lucky is. After getting into a pretty intense argument after his attempted assassination, she assumed he would hate her, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She had nothing to gain and everything to lose from defending Robin, but that didn’t stop her from yelling at him and he can admire that. He hadn’t been affected enough by the amulet to stop her from leaving, but he did make her an offer to be his new assistant. Once he catches wind of Paulie’s interest for her, he encourages it because distance has made the heart grow fonder and he needs to have her back in Water 7. He refuses to take on a new assistant because he's obsessed with having her in that position. He'll complain to her in a letter that he can't find anyone for the job and try to convince her to help him out "temporarily". As he's writing this, he throws a stack of fifty applications into his fireplace.

Eustass Kid

Theme song - Halo by Soil

Type of Yandere

Obsessive - Before they ever meet he is obsessed with who the owner of the backpack with all of the mysterious objects is. He is hellbent on finding her and stops at nothing to track her down once he sees her bounty poster that confirms she is alive. After they meet and the mystery is solved, the obsessive part dies down a lot and shifts into the next point.

Possessive - Lucky is his. He considers him finding her backpack as something of a sign. Lucky is going to be with him and he doesn’t care if she’s happy about it except he definitely does he's full of shit.

Description

When he finds a backpack with some strange technology in it that he can’t figure out, he becomes obsessed. Luckily for him, among the items was a wallet with an ID that he assumes must be of the person who owns this stuff. The elation he feels when he finally tracks her down is like a drug. Having her explain what the things he found were satisfies him a little bit, but not completely. He finds her to be interesting and wants to pick apart her mind and learn everything he can, so why should he let her leave? Because he said he would? Ha! He’s a pirate, it’s her dumb fault for trusting him! He’s determined to keep her on board the Victoria Punk, and he’s willing to hurt her if he thinks that will work. It’s not his first choice, and he wouldn’t be happy that it came to that, but he is willing to go that far and tells her as much. Somehow he is surprised that Lucky is afraid of him

Trafalgar Law (this is brief, I’m still ironing their relationship out)

Theme song - Darkness At The Heart Of My Love by Ghost

Type of Yandere

Protective - It’s a cruel, unforgiving world out there, and he doesn’t think Lucky is strong enough to survive it on her own. She should be grateful that he’s going out of his way to protect her.

Description

They initially bond because she is one of the sanest people among the Straw Hats, so if he has to deal with them he will gravitate towards her. The world is already dangerous enough, but seeing how unhinged her crewmates are stresses him out and makes him think she is one insane stunt away from her untimely demise. He’s good at masking his obsession towards her as simply being concern for her well being.

Bartolomeo

Theme song - IDOL by YOASOBI

Type of yandere

Obsessive - He doesn’t need Robin’s handbook on Lucky because he already made one himself. He knows everything and no one knows how he got most of that information.

Worshiper - This man worships the ground she walks on. She's a divine being that he is lucky to be able to occasionally breathe the same air as.

Protective - If Lucky is in danger when he’s around, she isn’t going to be anymore. He’s quick to use his devil fruit to keep her safe and won’t hesitate to eliminate anyone that was bothering her.

Description

It’s only natural that the #1 Straw Hat fanboy would get a little crush on at least one of them, and by little crush I mean full on obsession. Despite how blatant he is about it, Lucky doesn’t realize that he’s yandere for her because he’s like this towards ALL of the Straw Hats. He's just like that. They get along very well much to the chagrin of anyone else that’s interested in Lucky.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Theme song - RUNRUNRUN by Dutch Melrose

Type of yandere

Possessive - He doesn’t even fully see Lucky as a person, she’s a thing that he wants to own. That being said, she’ll be a well-maintained thing, but she shouldn’t expect to have any of the freedoms a person should have.

Description

Haki doesn’t work on Lucky since she is an anomaly that isn’t supposed to be there, and that’s what catches his attention. He’s intrigued and wants to know more. Then he finds out that she’s close with Law and that’s all the more reason to take her into his custody. He wants to keep her around for his own amusement and will do so by any means necessary, and he has no qualms about seriously injuring her to do that. Lucky's amulet has no effect on him, he's a natural yandere for her. This makes him extra dangerous since there was never any basis of love, just a possessive obsession.