#because i know before too long it will vanish

[beloveds-embrace]

AND ALSO POLY!141

joking around and calling them your brothers and they go deathly silent because what do you mean tou don’t see them romantically? doesn’t matter if they’re already involved with each other they want you to be just as involved too.

also this is toxic but threatening your various dates, stalking them and taking them out (not in the romantic way) so they have an excuse to hold you close. you get comforted, and they get to embrace your warmth #win-win

Friendzoned? Nah, it’s bro-zoned now 😭

The one good thing about grueling and long missions- were the post-missions.

Without fail, each time, you’d be invited to their house where Price would grill up something delicious and juicy on the barbecue, and everyone would be able to unwind. You enjoyed that time, spending it and relaxing with them.

The dynamic you all shared was easy, comfortable, and fun- at least for you.

You rolled your eyes and tossed a fry at Johnny, who caught it in his mouth with a proud grin and wagged his eyebrows, daring you to try again. “You’re like an annoying big brother, you know that?” you huffed at last, a matching grin on your face.

Johnny froze mid-chew, but you didn’t notice, too busy thinking. “Actually… all of you are like annoying big brothers, now that I think about it.”

You chuckles at your own thought, grabbing another fry from your plate and popping it into your mouth without once realizing the shift in the atmosphere. You didn’t catch the way Soap’s grin had vanished completely or how Price’s hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. Gaz’s usual easy smile was gone, replaced with a cold, unreadable expression, and Ghost… well, Ghost’s dark stare had become a touch more menacing.

The silence hung heavy, but you were blissfully unaware, waving your hand dismissively when no one responded. Your focus was on your phone, scrolling through your social medias. “What? You all went quiet on me.”

Soap cleared his throat, but it came out strained, his voice low. “Brother, huh?”

You hummed absently. “Yeah, you know- family. You guys are my family. Like brothers, watching each other’s backs and all that.”

Price exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair and running a hand over his beard. “Family.” He repeated, almost under his breath, his voice calm but tight.

Gaz tapped his fingers against the table once, then twice, before stopping abruptly. “Is that all we are to you?” he asked casually enough, though his tone carried an edge you didn’t catch.

“Of course,” you replied with a shrug, not bothering to look up from your food and phone. “I mean, it’d be weird to think of you any other way. You’re my team, my brothers-in-arms.”

You missed the way Ghost’s hands curled into fists on the table, his knuckles white, or the way Soap’s jaw clenched, demeanor replaced with something far darker. Price exchanged a look with Gaz, silent communication passing between them while you obliviously chewed on your steak, still oblivious to the storm brewing around you.

If you’d glanced up, even for a second, you might’ve noticed the way their gazes lingered on you- too intense, too sharp. But you didn’t. And they weren’t about to correct you.

Not yet, anyways.

The first time it happened, you didn’t connect the dots.

Your date, some charming guy you met at a café off base, canceled on you last minute, claiming he “didn’t feel safe” after someone left a threatening note on his car windshield. You shrugged it off as a weird coincidence- maybe it was the universe looking out for you, even. You didn’t want to be dragged into whatever that guy was stuck in.

The second time, a woman from the gym you’d been chatting with stopped replying to your texts entirely after she mentioned being followed home one night. You’d honestly tried to call and check on her, but she just… blocked you. Weird.

By the third time, when a guy you’d met on a dating app ghosted you entirely after his apartment was mysteriously broken into, you started to suspect something was up.

You mentioned it offhandedly to the team one evening, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know what’s going on, but every time I try to date someone, something weird happens. It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to find someone!”

Soap hummed, a little too casually, but you simply discarded that thought. “Maybe the universe knows what’s best for you, bonnie.”

Gaz leaned back in his chair, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Or maybe these people weren’t good enough for you anyway.”

“You’ve got us to look after you. Don’t need anyone else mucking things up.” Even Price added in his own two cents, making you pause.

You laughed, thinking they were joking, but Ghost’s silence was unsettling- actually, none of them were laughing. He just stared at you, his eyes glinting in a way that made your stomach twist. But that was normal for your L.T… even if it’s been quite a long while since he’s made you feel like that.

The fourth time, it wasn’t just a weird incident. It was a full-on assault.

You were on another date- though even you had to admit this one was just… not going well. He was too dismissive, too loud, and the first thing he’d said before you even sat down was that you’d split the bill, and then he made a comment about you eating too much.

You’d sent a simple text to the team groupchat, telling them you really weren’t enjoying this one, and they’d left you on read. Bastards.

But then you date had been walking you to your car when someone stepped out of the shadows- a big, familiar hulking figure in a balaclava. Your date didn’t even have time to react before they were on the ground, unconscious.

“Come on,” Simon said, gently but firmly clasping his hand around yours. You were too shocked to even say anything- what the fuck? “Let’s get you home.”

You didn’t argue. Your heart was pounding too hard, and Simon took advantage of that to guide you to his car.

“Simon-“

“No.”

And thus the silence continued.

When you got back to their house, the others were waiting for you. Price immediately pulled you into a hug before you could demand answers, his hands firm but gentle on your lower back. “You’re safe now.” He murmured, as if soothing an angry kitten lashing out at him from fear. Despite your confusion and the flurry of emotions swirling in your chest, the tension in your body began to melt anyways, always so trusting of your Captain.

Gaz’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a steaming cup of tea immediately once Price let go of you. His smile was kind, but his eyes seemed… off. Too sharp. “Drink this, yeah? It’ll help.” He said, his fingers lingering a second too long before retreating.

Before you could question the strange atmosphere, Soap tugged you down to sit beside him on the couch. His arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close as though you were on the verge of breaking. “You’ll be alright,” he murmured, tone light yet firm. “We’ve got you.”

Simon remained silent, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. His presence loomed heavy in the room, his gaze never straying from you. It wasn’t comforting exactly- more like being caught in the sights of a predator lying in wait. Is this what the enemy soldiers thought and felt? You pitied them- but more than that you pitied yourself.

Your hands tightened around the warm mug, your confusion bubbling up like a shaken-up fizzy drink. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” You glanced between them, searching for answers. “Simon knocked out my date! What if he presses charges? And what’s with all this- this hovering?”

“Hovering?” Soap echoed, his arm tightening ever so slightly. “We’re making sure you’re alright, bonnie. That’s all. You said your date wasn’t good, no?”

Price leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke calmly, like he was explaining something obvious to a stubborn recruit. “That man wasn’t worth your time. None of your dates have been. They can’t protect you- not the way we can.”

“What are you even talking about?” you demanded, finally pulling away from Soap’s hold. Yet the feeling of being a bleeding sheep surrounded by wolves didn’t abate. “You’ve been acting so weird lately- ever since I mentioned dating. If there’s something you’re not telling me, just spit it out!”

Gaz sighed, his tone carrying a note of exasperation as he leaned against the couch. “We’re trying to keep you safe, love. Every time you step out with someone, you’re putting yourself at risk. You don’t know these people like we do.”

Your stomach churned. “What do you mean-?”

Gaz chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it, and you did not laugh. “Do you think we’d let you go out with someone without knowing everything about them first? Their names, their jobs, their pasts…” His voice dropped, a edge bleeding into his words. “How to get rid of them.”

Your blood ran cold, and you stared between them. They were dead serious, you realized. “That’s… You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

No one answered.

Simon pushed off the wall, his massive frame closing the distance between you in just a few steps. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You were essentially boxed in from all sides. “We’re not joking. You don’t need anyone else. You’ve got us.”

“…This isn’t normal.” You whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to process what you were hearing. “This- I don’t-“

“It is normal,” Price’s voice was steady and calm, eyes dark. “For us. For the people who care about you most.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the implications of their words sank in. They weren’t just being overprotective or overbearing. They were sabotaging your dates, controlling who could get close to you, and now- God, had they hurt people? How many had they hurt? All those people- you-

Your hands trembled, though you braved on even if bravery was the last thing you felt. “You can’t just decide this for me. I’m not some possession you can keep to yourselves.”

“We’re not keeping you from anything you need,” Gaz spoke so softly, you could trick yourself into believing he was saying you could leave and this was all just a mean prank. “We’re protecting you from what you don’t.”

“You should be thanking us,” Proce sighed, pulling out a cigar to smoke. Yet his eyes did not leave you even once, not even for a single second. “We’re the reason you’ve been safe so far.”

Simon’s gloved hands rested on your knees, pinning you down to the couch. “We’ll take care of you,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. “Always.”

You wanted to argue, to push them away, but the realization- the full weight of what they had done hit you like a freight train. You stood abruptly, pushing past Simon and cutting through the tense silence in the room. Their eyes followed your every move, like predators watching prey.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you stammered, stepping back toward the door. “This isn’t normal. None of this is normal. You can’t just- control my life like this!”

“Sit down, love.” Price said, his voice calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

“No, no,” you shot back, shaking your head as you took another step toward the door. “I’m leaving. I need some space. This- this is insane.”

Gaz rose from his chair, moving to block your path to the exit. His expression was so deceptively soft, but his stance was firm, unyielding. “You’re not thinking clearly, love.” He said, low. “Just sit down. We’ll talk it through.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped, your voice rising with panic. “You’ve been stalking me- sabotaging my life! That’s not protection. That’s obsession!”

Soap stood then, and his expression made you flinch. He stepped closer, effectively boxing you in again as he joined Gaz. “We’re not letting you walk out that door.” He said simply, but his words were anything but.

You turned toward the only other way out, but Simon was already there, his massive frame looming in the doorway to the hall. He didn’t say a word, just stared, his presence alone enough to make your stomach twist.

Your breathing quickened as you turned back to Price, the only one still seated, though his gaze was sharp and calculating. “You can’t keep me here, Price,” you said, your voice trembling but still clinging to the traces of defiance. “You don’t have the right-“

“We do have the right,” Price interrupted, standing slowly. The sheer authority- the sheer finality in his voice made your knees weak. “Because we’re the only ones who care about you the way we do. The only ones who’ll keep you safe. Your team, remember, darling?”

“This isn’t safety,” you hissed, backing toward the wall. “This is prison.”

Price mouthed the word, then huffed a humorless laugh. “We’re not locking you up. But we will stop you from running into danger. Even if you don’t understand it now, you’ll thank us later.”

“You can’t just-“

“Enough,” Simon cut in, sharp and blunt, his voice cutting through your protests like a knife. “You’re not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”

Your back hit the wall, your escape routes blocked on all sides. Your chest heaved as you looked at each of them, searching for even a sliver of remorse. But all you saw was determination, faces set in stone…

Much like your fate.

[mameillieureennemie]

Hey i think it would be cool if you do another jinx x femreader ishas sister and something about isha walking in on a cute moment and getting grossed out maybe some angst😌 maybe some smut 😙😙 if u do that

hey love! sorry this took so long, but i hope you enjoy and thank you for the request :)

jinx x f!isha's sister!reader

there're hardly any moments you two can get alone. with the whole of piltover after you and the whole of zaun championing your girlfriend, it's been a very rough couple of weeks.

most of your time is spent hiding out, and during that time, you're entertaining isha as much as you can. whether that be through beetle brawling, drawing, or re-dying her hair so it doesn't lose its blue. it's anything you can do to keep her happy, to keep her away from the impending war that brews on outside.

but then a moment comes along where isha disappears. which isn't entirely odd because she's been known to vanish from time to time. you've grown used to it, after years of observing her movements, and calm jinx down when her look for isha grows a bit frantic.

"she's fine," you assure jinx, rubbing at her shoulder. "i wouldn't be this calm if i knew she wouldn't be."

"yeah, but," jinx says, running a shaky hand through her hair. "it's getting dangerous out there, and isha isn't us. she's young; she's practically a baby, and people are sick fucks with deranged brains and—"

you instantly draw jinx into your arms, tugging at her until her face is in the crook of your neck. you rub soothing circles against her back, softly cooing until jinx's muttering falls silent. then her arms are curling around your waist, holding you close, as if she's scared you'll disappear too.

"i know it's hard," you say gently. "to trust that things are okay. that the people you love are okay. but you can trust me and trust that i know what i'm talking about." you lean back so you can hold jinx's face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the angle of her cheekbones. "so trust me on this, okay? isha's fine, and she knows what to do if she runs into any trouble."

jinx seems unconvinced, but she slowly relaxes as she nuzzles into your touch. with a heavy sigh, she closes her eyes and says, "i've...never had to worry like this before. usually, it was others worrying about me. because i was the jinx, y'know? so it's odd...feeling this way."

you hum in response, still tracing patterns into her cheeks. "feeling what way?" you ask, a little curious and jinx opens her eyes with a shrug.

"responsible?" she tries, before shaking her head. "i don't know, i just—the idea of anything happening to you or isha rips me up inside. like i'd permanently lose my mind, go absolutely fucking crazy if something bad happened to you guys."

you hum again, this time with a hint of a chuckle. but her words have your heart racing because that's exactly how you feel. it also means that what jinx is experiencing is probably similar to your experience.

that she—

"you love us," you whisper, barely loud enough for jinx to hear. but she hears it, loud and clear, as she stares at you with eyes that momentarily look powder blue.

"i...do," she whispers, just as loud, and it's enough to push you. enough to have you pull her in so you can press a sweet kiss against her lips. a kiss she reciprocates eagerly, her arms still tight around your waist, placing you in a trap you hope to never escape.

just as she licks into your mouth with a soft moan, there's a noise that startles you both. you pull apart quickly, looking around and sighing when you see that it's isha.

whose nose is scrunched up in disgust, eyes clenched shut.

you can't help but laugh loudly as jinx snorts, refusing to let you go.

"some nerve you got," jinx scolds playfully. "you couldn't have come back in like twenty minutes?"

you shove jinx, just as playful, and say, "isha, you can open your eyes."

but isha shakes her head, intent of keeping her eyes safe.

but she's smiling now, and that's all that matters.

[meadowfics]

chasing a ghost

kang dae-ho x f!reader

you started to wait for dae-ho after leaving the games

warnings: angst, angst, angst, angst. no happy ending

this was not on my wip, but I just got an impulse to write this last second

you first crossed paths with dae-ho during the initial chaos of red light green light.

he was quiet but observant, his sharp eyes catching your movements as you tried to stay out of trouble.

you weren’t sure why, but something about him made you feel safer, even in that hellhole.

the partnership began as a mutual agreement to survive.

he protected you during the first night, keeping the others from approaching your corner of the room.

at first, you thought he did it because it was strategic, but the way he stood just a little closer to you than necessary told you otherwise.

you started noticing how he always kept you in his peripheral vision, his hand subtly moving toward you when you stumbled or hesitated.

it was as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.

during the nights, when the lights were dim, and the sound of breathing filled the room, he’d sit beside you, his voice a quiet reassurance that you weren’t alone.

he’d whisper stories of his time in the marines, his tone softer than you thought possible for someone who carried so much weight on his shoulders.

you began to fall for him in those moments.

it wasn’t just his strength that drew you in...it was the way he tried so hard to keep you safe, even when his own fear was evident in his eyes.

the way his voice softened when he said your name. the way his hand sometimes brushed against yours, hesitant but warm.

he fell for you, too.

you saw it in the way he stayed awake when you slept, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk.

in the way he’d share his food with you, even when it meant he’d go hungry.

in the way his rough, calloused hand would sometimes linger just a little too long when helping you up.

by the time you both made it to the final stages, there was an unspoken bond between you.

he didn’t have to say it out loud...you knew he cared for you just as deeply as you cared for him.

when it was all over, and the guards were taking you both away, you managed to whisper your address to him, your voice trembling.

he said he knew where your neighborhood was.

“come find me,” you said, your heart breaking at the thought of being separated from him.

he promised he would. his voice was steady, but you could see the pain in his eyes.

“i’ll come to you,” he said, his hand gripping yours for the last time before they pulled him away.

you waited for him. every day, you looked out your window, hoping to see him standing there.

you stayed in the same apartment, refusing to move, just in case he ever showed up.

as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, hope began to fade.

sometimes, you’d wander the city, searching for him.

you’d scan every face in the crowd, your heart leaping at the sight of anyone who remotely resembled him.

he was never there.

it was as if he had vanished.

three years passed, and you finally gave up.

the ache in your chest never really went away, but you told yourself it was time to move on from him, the squid games, and any past trauma you faced.

you packed your things and left that apartment, telling yourself it was the only way to stop the pain.

you will never know that dae-ho came looking for you the very next day.

he stood in front of the empty apartment, his heart sinking as he realized he was too late.

he had spent those years trying to piece himself back together, battling the demons from the games and his past.

he had finally worked up the courage to come to you, only to find you gone.

he sat on the floor of that empty apartment for hours, his head in his hands.

he thought of you, of the way you used to smile at him even in the darkest moments.

he wondered where you were, if you still thought of him.

you never knew how close he came to finding you, and he never stopped wondering if he’d lost the only person who ever truly understood him.

you were his light in the games, and now, you were the one thing he could never have.

I'm sorry </3

masterlist

[charliedaltonswife]

Thank you for being such a lovely writer! <3 This is a long request but how about a Henry Winter x reader fic where the reader sort of subtly tries to warn Henry to not idolize Julian so much because Julian doesn't care that much about him, he just likes to be looked up to, but Henry believes Julian isn't like that. And after Bunny's death, after Henry goes to Julian only to find he has left and moved away, Henry is distraught and goes to reader for an explanation since Julian has left him with none and she had figured out that would happen. And reader tries to explain to him that Henry is a giving person who helps others but demands the same devotion in return but people are selfish and usually won't reciprocate. But in the end, reader is also the same way as Henry and at least they have each other.

Hope this isn't too much. Thank you in advance!

Give and Take

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

thank you nonnie, i loved the request!

Summary: read the request

Warnings: none i believe

master list found here

The thing about Henry Winter, you’d long since realized, was that he didn’t just love the idea of perfection, he required it. He sought it the way others sought air, his life orbiting around the pursuit of symmetry, elegance, and control. It was in everything he touched, his books, his Greek, his posture when he spoke, even the way he poured his tea, slow and precise, as though to spill even a drop would be an affront to the universe.

And above all, he sought it in people. Julian, for instance.

Julian was everything Henry wanted to be. Polished, serene, a man who seemed to glide through the world without ever touching the ground. He had the air of someone invulnerable, untainted, truly divine. It didn’t matter that his charm was brittle, that his affections were doled out sparingly, as if he were a miser of admiration. Henry couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see it.

“Julian is not infallible,” you’d told him once, early in the fall semester. The words had come out quiet but steady, like a single note cutting through the dense hum of the library.

Henry didn’t look up. He was sitting across from you, hunched over an enormous book of Greek poetry, his sharp features half-draped in shadow. The dim light of the desk lamp cast a warm, golden glow over the worn wood of the table, catching on the sharp line of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. In that light, he looked almost unreal, like a figure carved from stone, a statue brought to life.

His pen continued its steady movement, underlining a passage with such precision it could have been drawn by a ruler. “I never said he was,” he replied, his voice clipped, his eyes fixed on the page.

“You act like it,” you countered, leaning back in your chair.

That made him pause. It was subtle, just the faintest hitch in his movement, but it was enough to let you know he’d heard you. He always heard you, even when he pretended not to.

Finally, he looked up, his pale, glacial eyes locking onto yours. There was something cutting in his gaze, something that made you feel as though he could see straight through to the core of you. “Maybe you don’t understand him,” he said, his tone even but edged with a quiet reproach.

“Maybe not,” you conceded, tilting your head as you studied him. “But I think I understand you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, the faintest flicker of something—curiosity, irritation—crossing his face before vanishing. “And what exactly do you think you understand?”

“You’re loyal,” you said, your voice soft but unyielding. “Devoted, even. When you care about someone, you give them everything. And that’s… rare. But Henry, not everyone deserves that from you. Not everyone is going to give it back.”

“Julian does,” he said firmly, the words landing between you like the final note of a symphony.

You tilted your head, letting the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “Are you sure?”

His expression didn’t change, but you saw it—the flicker of doubt, so brief it could have been a trick of the light. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that impenetrable certainty that was so uniquely Henry.

“I don’t need you to analyze my relationships,” he said, his tone like the sharp snap of winter wind against your skin.

You didn’t press him further. It wasn’t the kind of thing he’d accept, not then. But the thought lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind as the weeks turned into months.

- 

The common room of Francis’s apartment was dimly lit, the amber glow of the floor lamp barely cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke that hung in the air like a shroud. You sat curled up in one of the threadbare armchairs, a cup of coffee cradled in your hands, though it had gone cold long ago.

Francis sat opposite you, sprawled out on the sofa in a way that made him look boneless. His long legs stretched across the cushions, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other holding a half-empty glass of something dark and strong. He looked as he always did—like he belonged in some black-and-white photograph, all sharp cheekbones and careless elegance. But there was something brittle in his expression tonight, something that even the lazy curl of smoke rising from his cigarette couldn’t mask.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply, then exhaled in a long, slow stream of smoke. “Even for you.”

You shrugged, your gaze fixed on the swirling patterns in your coffee. “Just thinking.”

“God, don’t do that. It never ends well,” he said dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Despite yourself, you smiled, a small, fleeting thing. “And you’re unusually sober. Even for you.”

Francis raised an eyebrow, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “But don’t mistake this for sobriety. It’s more strategic pacing.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your coffee cup down on the low table between you. “Strategic, right. That’s what we’re calling it now.”

He watched you for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. Then, leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and tapped his cigarette against the edge of the ashtray. The movement was fluid, practiced, like everything Francis did. “Alright, out with it. What’s got you looking so… tragic?”

You hesitated, your fingers curling around the edge of your sleeve. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not the brooding type, not really. Leave that to Henry. Or Charles, for that matter.”

At the mention of Henry, your chest tightened, but you pushed the feeling aside. “It’s just been… a lot. Everything with Bunny, the group, the way things feel like they’re unraveling—”

“Darling,” Francis interrupted, his tone cutting but not unkind, “things unraveled a long time ago. We’re just standing in the wreckage, pretending it still looks like a tapestry.”

You blinked at him, startled by the stark truth of his words. Francis rarely ventured into sentimentality, but when he did, it was like being slapped with ice water.

“You don’t have to make it sound so… fatalistic,” you said, your voice quieter now.

He gave a humorless laugh, leaning back against the couch and letting his head fall against the cushion. “I’m not making it sound like anything. I’m just stating the obvious. Look at us. We’re a disaster waiting to happen. Or, more accurately, a disaster that’s already happened and is still somehow managing to make things worse.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “That’s comforting.”

“I’m not here to comfort you,” Francis said lightly, though there was an edge to his tone. “If you want comfort, go find someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do.”

You shot him a glare, but it lacked any real venom. “You’re a real joy to be around, you know that?”

He smirked, reaching for his glass and taking a slow sip. “I try.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sounds were the faint hum of the heater and the soft clink of ice in Francis’s glass. The weight of the conversation lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken.

Finally, he broke the quiet. “For what it’s worth, you’re not the only one who’s… struggling.”

You looked at him, surprised by the admission. Francis wasn’t exactly the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

“I mean, God knows we’re all walking around with more baggage than we know what to do with,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the cigarette in his hand. “I mean Henry acts all stoic and all, but… well you know him.”

The words were unexpected, and they settled over you like a balm, soothing but not erasing the ache.

“Yes, Francis,” you said softly.

He waved a hand dismissively, “Now, finish your tragic coffee and let’s talk about something less depressing. Like how terribly I plan to behave at tomorrow’s dinner.”

You laughed, the sound light and unforced for the first time in what felt like days. And for a moment, just a moment, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

-

It was well past midnight when the knocking came, sharp and urgent, cutting through the thick, muffled quiet of your dorm room.

You stirred awake, your heart pounding from the suddenness of it. Fumbling in the dark, your hand searched for the lamp, brushing clumsily against the stack of books on your nightstand before finally finding the switch. The warm light washed over the room, revealing the disarray of papers, books, and scattered cigarette butts that had become your constant companions.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the door, apprehension prickling at the back of your neck. When you opened it, the sight that greeted you made you freeze.

Henry.

His hair was a disheveled mess, strands falling into his eyes in a way that would have driven him mad under normal circumstances. His face, usually so composed, was pale and drawn, the dark circles under his eyes making him look almost gaunt. And his posture—always so upright, so deliberate, had crumbled, his shoulders slumped as though he were carrying the weight of the world on them.

“I went to see Julian,” he said, his voice raw and frayed at the edges.

You stepped aside without a word, letting him in. He moved past you like a ghost, his steps heavy and uneven, and sank onto the edge of your bed, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Closing the door, you turned to face him, your heart twisting painfully at the sight of him. He looked… lost.

“Yes, and?” you prompted, your voice cautious but steady.

“He’s gone,” Henry said, the words trembling as they left his lips. “His office is empty. His house, too. He’s gone.”

You inhaled sharply, the confirmation hitting you like a blow to the chest. You’d suspected it, of course. Julian had been withdrawing for weeks, his attention scattering like leaves in the wind. But hearing it, seeing the hollow look in Henry’s eyes, was something else entirely.

“I tried to warn you,” you said gently, sitting down beside him. Your movements were slow and deliberate, as if you were afraid he might shatter if you got too close too quickly. “Have you a lighter?”

Henry turned to you then, his gaze sharp and accusatory. “You knew?”

“I didn’t know,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “But I had a feeling. Henry, Julian… he’s not like you. He doesn’t give himself to people the way you do.”

Henry’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face working as he went into his pocket to hand me a lighter. “He cared about us. About me.”

“I’m sure he did,” you said softly, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on your nightstand. “But not the way you think.” You lit the cigarette, the faint orange glow illuminating the tension etched into his features. “Julian likes being admired. He likes being needed. But when things got messy, when it stopped being about him, he checked out.”

Henry laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the quiet. “And you didn’t think to tell me this earlier?”

“I tried,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t want to hear it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, pressing down on both of you like a physical weight.

“You give too much,” you said finally, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, almost mournful. “You expect people to give back the same way. But most people… they’re not like you, Henry. They take and take, and they leave you with nothing.”

He turned to you then, his pale eyes glassy but piercing. “Is that what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low and bitter. “That I’m some fool who doesn’t know better?”

“No,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “I think you’re extraordinary. And I think it’s tragic that the world doesn’t know what to do with someone like you.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours.

“So, you’re like me then?” he said, his voice quiet but certain.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I suppose.”

And for the first time that night, you saw it, he faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Not peace, not exactly. But something close.

And as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, you thought that maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

a/n: so i woke up to a lot of requests (I LOVE THEM ALL BTW, THIS IS NOT ME TELLING YOU TO STOP), but i just wanted to say thank you all, and being the very critical person I am, i hope to fucking god im not fucking up your ideas!!!

[chaifootsteps]

SolRook, Pavellan, one-sided Solavellan. Spoilers for act 3 of Veilguard.

***

Mahanon knew the man they call Rook long before he actually met him.

For the longest time, on the streets of Minrathous, he was known as ‘the Fox.’ No one could tell you his real name or what he looked like, although based on the way he slung blades and picked locks and got around rooftops, many speculated that he was a former Antivan Crow. After the Nessus incident in which someone got a glimpse of the face behind the mask, the distinct outline of a pointed ear, the prevailing theory was that he was a former slave.

In actuality, he’s a young man with a sharp, angular face and quick blue eyes. Turns out he’s Legatus Charon Mercar’s boy, raised half in secrecy and half with a silver spoon in his mouth, tutored in too-formal Elven that he’s always eager to break out when speaking to Mahanon. He takes his coffee bitter but milky, likes stuffed grape leaves, and hates fish. Despite the skill at jumping rooftops, he loathes heights.

And when he speaks about Solas – confesses, rather – Mahanon’s not at all surprised.

“I talk to him, sometimes. More than the others know. More than I care to admit.” Then, far too quickly to be entirely truthful… “Not like that, of course not. But just the same, it’s not just war table talk anymore. We’ll sit up swapping stories about companions, travelling, the way we think things ought to be. Music.”

He can’t quite meet Mahanon’s eyes when he says it. Mahanon sighs, leans in, drops his voice to a point of conspiratorial, gentle quiet.

“Did you know that when I first met Solas, I carried a torch for him in the worst way?” Oh, how he wishes he could commit the look on Rook’s face to a frame in that moment. It's fairly priceless. “Oh yes. He was charming, witty, kind. An elf at a time when I was ravenous for the company of one, though I suspect I would have felt the same if I’d been a dwarf or a Qunari. I would have boxed a High Dragon if he’d asked me to. I would have done anything for him.”

“Did he know?” A beat. “Does...does Magister Pavus know?”

“Turned me down very kindly. Dorian and I laugh about it now.” It’s true. Dorian’s never allowed him to live it down, and Mahanon supposes he wouldn't either if their positions were reversed. “I’ve never regretted the path life's put me on. Dorian’s the love of my life and always will be, but save for him, Solas is the most remarkable man I’ve ever known. Years ago, he told me that his plans to bring down the Veil would mean the end of the world, and if ever he’d told me even once that that had changed? That those casualties could be reduced, and that he was attempting to transfer the Evanuris to a stronger prison? I would have leap to his aid. Called upon every ounce of clout my name carries.”

Rook looks conflicted, like he’s not sure whether to be relieved or less relieved than ever. “I don’t know which possibility terrifies me more, to be honest with you...that I’m not his type or Maker help me, that I am.”

The former Inquisitor refills his drink. “I think that’s romance for you. Doesn't matter whether you’re carrying a torch for the fellow that lives down the street or the Dread Wolf himself.”

It's the sort of thing they could talk about all day, but for the time being, they leave it at that. They have their meal, argue about splitting the bill, Mahanon wins, and they go their separate ways. When word comes out that Solas has escaped the Fade and Rook has vanished mysteriously, that seems to mark the end of that affair. But Harding's gone, the dagger's gone, and something about blood magic, and Mahanon...Mahanon can't think about any of it too much.

Not so much because he worries so much about Rook – he bets Dorian apples to gold pieces that the young elf will make an appearance sooner or later, and reassures the occupants of the Lighthouse as much – but because the whole thing is so frightfully, unjustly sad. Because Mahanon remembers that frightened, tentative look in the young elf's eyes, the one Rook tried so hard to pretend wasn't a little hopeful, and really does wish it had ended differently.

Sure enough, Rook isn’t gone. He appears as suddenly as he left, and shows up on the burning streets of Minrathous looking every inch the Fox, calling out to the crowd to bring the light. When Mahanon meets him before that final ascent, the young man says nothing to allude to what he told Mahanon over supper that day. If there’s conflict, pain, betrayal, it never shows.

(It won’t be until much, much later that Mahanon will learn that he spoke to Solas, and that when he did, he sounded as damn near close to tears as his companions had ever heard him.)

But suddenly, Mahanon has even less time to pretend that any of it is his business. Suddenly, Dorian’s holding his face in his hands, tears shining in his eyes, imploring with him not to make the final climb up that horrible, blighted growth.

"You don't have to do this," he says as he has so many, many times over the past nine years. "

And Mahanon, just like he's done every time over those past nine years, memorizes his husband's beautiful face, the feel of his kiss, and replies...

"I love you, vhenan. I'll see you very soon."

And suddenly, he and Morrigan are standing beside a blighted throne at the top of the world, and Mahanon is attempting to talk down the man he never stopped loving, not really.

It doesn’t work, obviously. Mahanon never thought it would, in his heart of hearts. Knows better by now.

But somehow, miraculously, impossibly, what Rook’s been putting together all these months does.

The state that comes over Solas when Mythal’s ghostly figure approaches him is unlike anything Mahanon has ever seen from him before, and something he dearly, dearly hopes to never see again. Solas cringes from her pale touch, bends before her, and – though this may just be a trick of the light, a cruel twisting of shadow – Mahanon thinks he sees him hold out the lyrium dagger as though to offer it up to kill him. Hunched over, weeping, he looks less like a man freed from guilt than a beaten dog. It’s perverse, it's wrong, and Mahanon has never wanted to embrace him more.

“You are free to choose another way,” he says instead, kneeling beside him. Ar lasa mala revas. And with an exhale, Solas straightens, glances back at the newly severed leash, and makes the choice to run.

He places the lyrium dagger in Rook’s hands. In the shadows cast between their bodies, fingers cover one another, curling together. "I will go and seek atonement."

He turns to leave; Rook raises the dagger. For a moment, just a fleeting one, Mahanon fears he’s about to drive it into the Dread Wolf’s back. But instead, he hands it off to Morrigan, and says...

"But you don't have to go alone."

The lingering gaze Solas gives him is...many things, small and tentative and overlapping. Surprise, certainly. Deep, abiding, sadness. A peripheral ghost of what might be longing. But not the gentle, indulgent look he once gave Mahanon when he turned him away.

"You are needed elsewhere. I made these choices, I alone will bear their consequences. It is...my responsibility."

"Responsibility? Solas, you’re literally carrying the sky on your shoulders. You’ve been carrying this alone for long enough. You've been alone for long enough.”

“You are not the one who shattered the world. You have your own path, Rook. It is time to walk it."

“And if I don't care to walk it? If I've seen what's waiting along your path, and consider it worthwhile?"

Solas hesitates. “Rook...I understand what this is about. Make no mistake, I do understand. Suffice it to say, you need not pity me. Pity would be the cruelest note you and I could part ways on."

Rook chokes.

"Pity?" Dumbstruck, incredulous. Like he's unable to believe someone as sharp as Solas could have possibly gotten it so wrong. "You think...you...!"

An then, in one swift, smooth motion, Rook pulls the Dread Wolf in close, their lips meeting, blood and dirt and filth. Solas blinks just once...and then, to Mahanon’s surprise, kisses him back. Not just that, but keeps kissing him, the two holding on to one another like the possibility of losing this is a greater and more terrifying fear than whatever they've done to each other. Clinging, white-knuckled, in a way that a young Mahanon would have given anything, anything in the world, to be handed the key to.

"...Where I am going is terrible."

Rook chuckles, a helpless little mixture of frustration and relief and adoration that Mahanon could have written the book on.

"I'm from Minrathous. Wherever you’re going will be a holiday."

Solas, in spite of it all, almost smiles. Takes his time pulling away, his hands from Rook’s hands; does not stop Rook from turning to his companions, the young Dalish Warden and the elder Necromancer and the baby griffon, and hugging them each fiercely in turn, quietly saying something to them that’s swallowed up by the crackle of the Veil. Mahanon catches Solas’s bruised, bloodied eye and manages to keep it, what passes between them too broken to be laughter, but something that feels like a ghost of it nonetheless. Feels like trekking through the Hinterlands, like drinking from the same canteen of blood-warm water, smelling the clover and watching for bears with the wind and sun in their faces.

“Who would have thought?” he half teases, half wonders.

“Not I, Inquisitor. Not I.”

Mahanon has a thousand things he’d like to say to him in that moment, enough to fill a lifetime...would like to chew him out for stealing the last decade from him, to thank him for every moment, from the Temple of Sacred Ashes right up to this farewell, and with that taken care of, to fill in every gap and crevice in between. But in the end, all he says is...

“Dareth shiral, old friend. Be happy.”

Solas smiles, sincere and gentle, and that will do for the rest of Mahanon's life. Rook finishes his goodbyes and joins the Dread Wolf at his side, not a trace of trepidation or regret to be seen in those quick, clever eyes. Side by side they turn and walk away, until the light of the Fade envelopes them, and takes them where he cannot follow.

Perhaps he gazes after them too long, the tight way in which he swallows too telling, for Morrigan turns to him. “Ahh, Inquisitor...it seems that yet again, in that most curious of ways, we've all ended up precisely where we need to.

Mahanon allows his eyes to linger for just a moment longer on the place where Rook and Solas vanished to begin their new life together. Then, with a bittersweet smile, he says...

“May it always be so.”

And with that, he turns to head back down to the ground, where Dorian is waiting for him.

[yolobloggers]

Centuries

~Summary: Klaus Mikaelson, the immortal hybrid, faces a torment that not even centuries of power can silence. Haunted by the fear that his name will fade into obscurity, he seeks solace in his art—and in the presence of Y/N, a love long lost but never forgotten. But in a world where the past is always present, can they truly leave behind the legacy of their broken love—or is it destined to remain a shadow, lingering just out of reach?

~A/N: This ones for you, A Cat <3 (@justlostinautumn) Love you xx

*You may see many of my one-shots/imagines being inspired by songs, music inspires me. I don’t think I can ever put into words how much music has impacted my life.*

~Characters and Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader(F)

~Inspired by the song: Centuries by Fall Out Boys

Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold But you will remember me Remember me, for centuries And just one mistake Is all it will take We'll go down in history Remember me for centuries Hey-ya, a-hey, hey-ya Remember me for centuries

The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of chatter and smooth jazz drifting in from somewhere beyond, mingling with the flicker of shadows dancing against the walls. Klaus stood before his easel, his paintbrush hovering mid-air, poised but unmoving. The colors on the canvas, though unfinished, already brimmed with his signature intensity—a masterpiece of bold strokes and vivid hues, a testament to his eternal ambition. His jaw clenched, frustration etched into every line of his posture.

From the corner of the room, Y/N watched him, her book abandoned in her lap. Her gaze lingered on the way his brow furrowed, the slight tension in his shoulders betraying his inner turmoil. She traced the curve of his silhouette with her eyes, a quiet awe stirring in her chest at the raw passion he poured into his art—even in moments of doubt.

He hadn’t spoken in hours, his focus shifting between the painting and the storm brewing behind his eyes. Finally, he broke the silence.

Mummified my teenage dreams No, it's nothing wrong with me The kids are all wrong, the story's all off Heavy metal broke my heart Come on, come on, and let me in Bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints And this is for to match The darkness that you felt I never meant for you to fix yourself

“Do you think they’ll remember me?” he asked, his voice quiet but heavy, the weight of centuries laced within it.

Y/N tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Klaus Mikaelson, the immortal hybrid, ruler of empires, and breaker of hearts? I’d say you’re unforgettable.”

His laugh was sharp, humorless. He set the paintbrush down with a clatter and turned toward her. “Fear fades. Legends become footnotes. I’ve spent lifetimes ensuring my name is carved into the bones of history, but what if it’s not enough? What if, one day, I vanish without a trace?”

Y/N set the book aside and rose, her movements deliberate. The soft rustle of her dress echoed in the quiet room as she crossed to him. “That’s not why you’re afraid, Klaus,” she said, her voice soft yet firm. “You’ve been remembered for centuries, but you’ve never let anyone truly know you. Not the man behind the monster.”

Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold But you will remember me Remember me, for centuries And just one mistake Is all it will take We'll go down in history Remember me for centuries Hey-ya, a-hey, hey-ya Remember me for centuries

He froze, her words hitting deeper than he wanted to admit. She stepped closer, her presence a balm to his restless mind.

“Klaus,” she said, her tone gentler now, “I’ve seen sides of you the world never could. The way you looked after your siblings when no one else would. The man who painted to express the beauty he was too afraid to show. The one who... who once loved me enough to let me go.”

His eyes softened, the cold mask of indifference slipping. “And what good did it do me? You left, Y/N.”

“I left because you pushed me away,” she countered, her voice catching. “You were so consumed by the need to control, to dominate, that you couldn’t see you already had what you wanted. Me. Us.”

Silence hung between them, thick with memories of stolen kisses and whispered promises from a time long past. Klaus took a step toward her, his expression a mixture of regret and longing. “Do you think I wanted to lose you? That it didn’t destroy me?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as his hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His touch lingered, gentle yet possessive, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.

“You were my everything, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice trembling with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to feel. “But I didn’t know how to keep you. I didn’t know how to be the man you deserved.”

And I can't stop 'til the whole world knows my name 'Cause I was only born inside my dreams Until you die for me, as long as there's a light My shadow's over you 'Cause I-I am the opposite of amnesia And you're a cherry blossom You're about to bloom You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “You could have tried,” she whispered.

“I’m trying now, ” he said, his voice barely audible.

Her resolve wavered as she saw the truth in his eyes. Centuries of pain and guilt swirled within them, but so did something else: hope. Slowly, she closed the distance between them, her hand resting over his heart.

“You don’t have to prove anything to the world, Klaus,” she said. “You’ve already left your mark on me. Isn’t that enough?”

His breath hitched at her words, and before he could think to stop himself, he closed the remaining space between them. His lips captured hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw and desperate, filled with years of longing and regret.

Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold But you will remember me Remember me, for centuries And just one mistake Is all it will take We'll go down in history Remember me for centuries Hey-ya, a-hey, hey-ya Remember me for centuries We've been here forever And here's the frozen proof I could scream forever We are the poisoned youth

Y/N melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed closer. His hands slid down her back, pulling her flush against him, as though trying to imprint her into his very being. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if he were memorizing every taste, every sensation.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Klaus’ hands framed her face, his thumbs brushing against her flushed cheeks.

“You’ve always been unforgettable, Klaus,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky but full of affection. Her fingers trailed down his chest, resting just over his heart. “Maybe it’s time you let yourself believe it.”

And for the first time, he thought he could.

He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before whispering against her skin, “You’ve always been my eternity, Y/N.”

Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold But you will remember me Remember me, for centuries And just one mistake Is all it will take We'll go down in history Remember me for centuries Hey-ya, a-hey, hey-ya We'll go down in history Remember me for centuries!

As he pulled her into his arms, the weight of centuries seemed to fade away. For the first time, Klaus felt something beyond ambition or rage—a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, eternity wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

~Tags~

~The Vampire Diaries/SPN:

@akshi8278

@sparklesmolwarriorprincess

[hoshiros]

—✯ TRY IT, BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT

cw. 18+ mdni. all chars 20+, pro-player!rin, afab!reader, oral (f!receiving), praise, petnames, established relationship, inspired by that one leaked panel of rin because what the hell

When ITOSHI RIN wins a game, your face is always the first one he wants to see.

Oftentimes, he'll search for you in the crowd with your embarrassingly noisy neon poster boards cheering him on. Other times, you'll already be waiting for him at the gates with your arms opened wide for him to run into.

For the last four weeks, though, he’s had to suffer the agony of your absence.

Rin called you incessantly while in France, reminding you of how many days separated him from being in your arms. "Wait for me. I'll be home soon," he said. "And be good," he'd add on, almost cheekily.

His promises were always sincere and lethally calculated. He wanted you to need him so badly that you'd fall apart on his tongue in minutes. Then he'd do it again, and again, and again, until he was satisfied.

When he finally came home, you barely had time to breathe before his lips were crashing into yours. You wanted to ask him if his flight was alright, if he had dinner yet, but then he licked himself into your mouth and the entire thought vanished.

And now you're being devoured by a monster.

Rin's been between your legs for so long that you're dizzy, head airy and light as he fucks into you with his tongue.

"Stay still," he warns sharply, words muffled as he stuffs his face closer into your sopping cunt. His warning is followed with his hands circling around your thighs, palms flat against the skin and leaving seas of heat along it.

You whine pathetically when he presses your hips down into the mattress, forcing you to be still for him.

"Can't—" you choke, spine curling from the bed so far that your head tilts backward. "Slow down, Rin!"

"Slow down?" He murmurs roughly. Rin furrows his brows, like he genuinely can't comprehend your request. "Actin' like it's your first time," he mocks, finishing his sentence by wrapping his lips around your clit.

You squeal, hand shooting down to shove his head back. He almost laughs when your weak attempt only pushes the bangs out of his eyes, giving him an even better view of you.

Rin pulls back enough to click his tongue, amused by your squirming but equally frustrated at your protests. He draws away from you. You feel cold as he does, the space he occupied suddenly devoid of his warmth.

"M'sorry princess," he coos, trying to coax you into relaxing. Peppering light kisses up your thigh until he gets to the spot resting on his shoulder, Rin can feel every shiver as you recover. "Too rough?"

You take a moment to catch your breath, waves of overstimulation crashing in your stomach. Finally, your gaze slowly drifts down to him, roaming over his face.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight.

Sweat gleams across his forehead, stray strands of hair stuck to the skin as he also finds his breath. The entire bottom half of his face is so wet. You did that. You did.

"Hmm?" Rin hums, trying to get an answer. He looks so fucking cocky. So hungry. His tongue runs across his lips as if he can't stand not tasting you for even a second longer.

You shake your head, fingers still in his hair tugging lightly until he groans. "I can take it," you sniffle, guiding him back down closer to your heat.

"I know, baby. You're so good."

Rin dives back in as if he's starving for you, lathering your cunt in rough, long licks until you're shuddering. His hands travel down to the base of your thighs once again, pulling your body closer so that he can finish his meal.

You cry out softly, aching hole desperately trying to squeeze his tongue. He was the one who was so good to you. You dare to gaze at him again, just to admire his beautiful face.

Your breath hitches.

Rin has that same look on his face as he does on a football field—like a winner chasing a goal he knows he'll always get.

[pinknipszz]

heian era sukuna x reader →

(a/n: loosely inspired by that one jessica rabbit scene; this is also borderline uraume/reader bc theyre so cute ugh)

people don’t understand how you can love the king of curses. his figure was grotesque—beyond repulsive—with four heavy hands that could snap your limbs into two if he so pleased. they can’t get past the four eyes either, but you found them charming. how could you not when he looked at you so sweetly? 

“where is my husband?” you inquire for the nth time, your voice as sweet as molasses as you tug at the ends of uraume’s sleeves. the humble servant doesn’t answer immediately; they know not to, and you don’t mind. while you wait, you watch the passerines tease the fish in the pond from your spot on the engawa.

uraume dips their elegant fude into the shallow inkstone beside you. calligraphy and whatnot. “lord sukuna is tending to matters in the southern provinces,” they answer with the same amount of patience they had a few minutes ago, and an hour before, and another before that. they must be used to it now.

“do you think he misses me?” comes a light brush against their pale hand. uraume exhales through their nose at your question, but not from exasperation. never that. “yes,” they say with utmost sincerity, like it’s gospel truth, before painting one long, flourishing stroke. “very much so.”

content, you cease your ministrations and fall on your back, giggling at the way your hair splays beneath your head. “he loves me,” you coo and cup your sun-kissed cheeks. “my husband loves me, and i love him too.” you think the edge of their lips twitch up into the barest hint of a smile.

but it vanishes before you can get a proper glimpse. sighing, uraume gives you a knowing look from the corner of their eye as they dip their fude back into the inkstone. you turn to lay on your side and watch how it absorbs the ink. “the servants, though adequate, have been quite bothersome lately.”

they finish the kanji in several swift strokes. 麗. rei for beauty. uraume continues. “there’s ill speak of your relationship with lord sukuna.” you count the passerines, letting the unspoken question hang in the air. shall i do something about it? it’s uraume’s turn to wait patiently for an answer, an ultimatum.

but you don’t give one so easily, preoccupied with an image that resurfaces in your mind: a group of servants—fresh off the cut and eager-eyed—gossiping by the water well. you don’t think they saw you, unless they were stupider than you thought, but they were loud enough to hear.

uraume is watching you, properly now, as you blow a stray strand of hair from your face. when they lean in to gently tuck it behind your ear, persimmons and plums permeate your senses. “do not bother with them. they talk because they do not understand why i love him,” you decide with finality.

“and why do you love him?” there’s a hint of fondness in their voice, reserved for you.

you look up through your delicate lashes, smiling cheekily. “he makes me laugh.”

(masterlist) | (a/n: would yall hate me if I wrote uraume/reader's pls be honest)

[jaylalolz]

hi! can i request more jealous/possessive nicholas? perhaps with some making up?🥹

ty!!!

❛ 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

SUMMARY, Nicholas and his girlfriend get into a heated argument after he ignores her all night while out with friends, leading her to turn off her location and go out.

A/N, thanks for requesting!! hope u like it

WARNINGS, none

Nicholas knew he had messed up the second he walked through the door. His phone had been blowing up with unread messages, but he had ignored them—too caught up in the chaos of the night with his friends. She was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, glaring at him like she had been waiting for this confrontation all night.

“You couldn’t send one text?” she snapped as soon as he stepped inside, her voice sharp. “Not one?”

Nicholas sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I told you I was going out with the guys. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you disappeared! You didn’t answer my calls, didn’t respond to any of my texts. Do you know how that looks? Like you couldn’t care less.” Her eyes flashed with anger, and Nicholas could feel his own frustration rising.

“I was just out having a good time. Why are you blowing this up into something bigger than it is?”

“Because you don’t get it!” She stood up, her voice getting louder. “You always do this. You vanish with your friends and act like I don’t exist for the whole night. It’s like I’m not even on your radar when you’re with them.”

Nicholas clenched his fists, feeling cornered. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I just… didn’t think it was that big of a deal to be off my phone for a few hours.”

“A few hours? Nicholas, it was the entire night! I was worried about you!”

She turned away, grabbing her bag and phone from the counter. Nicholas could see her fingers tapping at her screen, and his stomach twisted when he realized what she was doing.

“Seriously?” he asked, watching as she turned off her location. “You’re pulling this again?”

“If you can’t bother to text me back, then you don’t get to know where I am,” she said coolly, her eyes daring him to say something. Without another word, she stormed out of the apartment, leaving him standing there, frustrated and angry.

Hours passed, and Nicholas was left stewing, replaying the argument over and over. She had every right to be pissed, but the way she just shut him out like that, like he didn’t matter… it made his blood boil. He picked up his phone to check if she’d cooled off yet, but instead, he saw it—a new Instagram story.

She was at the club. Smiling. Laughing. And there, standing next to her, was some guy.

Nicholas’s heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He knew where she was. He wasn’t about to sit there while some random guy made her laugh like nothing had happened.

When he got to the club, it didn’t take long to spot her. She was leaning against the bar, talking to the same guy from her story. Nicholas’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. She was doing this on purpose. She knew he’d see it, knew it would set him off.

Without a second thought, Nicholas pushed through the crowd, his eyes locked on her. He reached her in a few quick strides, his hand gripping her arm, pulling her away from the guy before either of them knew what was happening.

“Nick, what the hell?” she protested, but he didn’t stop. He dragged her through the crowd, ignoring her complaints until they were outside in the humid night air. He didn’t let go until they reached his car, opening the passenger door with more force than necessary.

“Get in,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

She hesitated, eyes flashing with defiance, but she got into the car, slamming the door behind her. Nicholas got in on the driver’s side, gripping the steering wheel to calm the storm inside him before turning to face her.

“You think that was funny?” he growled, his voice barely controlled. “Turning off your location and posting that story, letting me see you with him?”

She glared at him, her arms crossed. “Maybe now you know how it feels when you disappear on me for a whole night.”

“That’s what this is about? Payback?” His voice rose, his anger spilling over. “I was out with my friends, but you—what? You run off to the club, posting stories, talking to random guys just to piss me off?”

“I wasn’t trying to piss you off, Nicholas,” she shot back, her voice sharp. “But maybe I wanted you to notice. Maybe I wanted you to feel what I felt when you ignored me all night.”

“Well, congratulations. You got my attention,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes dark with frustration. “I don’t like seeing you with other guys.”

“Maybe if you actually paid attention to me, I wouldn’t have to find someone else to talk to.”

Nicholas’s temper flared, and without thinking, he reached out, pulling her closer, his grip firm but not rough. “You don’t need anyone else,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “I don’t want you talking to anyone but me.”

Her breath hitched, their faces inches apart now, the tension between them thick and charged. She tried to stay angry, but there was something about the way he was looking at her, the raw intensity in his eyes, that made her pulse quicken.

“You don’t get to ignore me and then act like you own me,” she said, her voice faltering slightly, though the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.

“I do own you,” Nicholas growled, his hand still gripping her waist. “You’re mine.”

For a moment, the air between them was heavy with everything they hadn’t said. The anger, the frustration, the possessiveness—it all tangled together in the space between their heated breaths.

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Nicholas’s lips crashed against hers, silencing whatever protest was about to leave her mouth. She resisted for half a second, but then she gave in, kissing him back with the same intensity, the same fire.

The kiss was rough, desperate, fueled by all the emotions they had been keeping bottled up. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other, they were both breathing hard, the anger between them replaced by something rawer, something deeper.

“I hate it when you shut me out,” Nicholas murmured, his voice softer now, though still laced with possessiveness. “I hate it when you go to someone else.”

“I only do it because I’m scared you don’t care,” she whispered, her fingers brushing his jaw, softer than before.

“I care,” he said firmly. “More than you know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension easing as they held each other. Eventually, she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t want anyone else but you,” she admitted softly.

Nicholas pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. “Good. Because you’re mine.”

They stayed like that for a while, their earlier argument forgotten, replaced by the certainty that, no matter how much they fought, they always found their way back to each other.

[benkeibear]

『 AITA: For accidentally sending nudes to my sons best friend? 』

☼ synopsis: Toji accidentally sends nudes to his sons best friend... but was it really an accident?

☼ character: Toji Fushiguro

☼ reader: female | AFAB

☼ wc: 2033

☼ cw: phone sex, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Toji in his 40s), masturbation, pet names: baby/doll/bunny, mentions of pussy eating and p in v

☼ notes: a sudden need for dilf Toji overcame my horny brain... I won't apologize 😭

[1 New Message, 3 Images Attached]

Your head piped up when your phone vibrated, your focus instantly vanished when you saw his name - Toji. Seeing his name on your phone was a rare sight, he only ever texted you when Megumi didn't show up at night or when you asked him to pick you up from god knows where because it was far too dangerous to walk home at a late hour. Hell, at this point you almost called him dad with how many times he showed up for you or the way he treats you like his own.

Curiously you opened the messages to see why on earth that man texted you at almost 1 am, but your phone dropped to the floor and your jaw almost joined the device. You pinched the bridge of your nose and picked the phone up again. This surely wasn't what you were thinking...right?

A shaky breath left your lips when you unlocked your phone again, only to be met with Toji Fushiguro's cock splayed all over the screen. It wasn't even tasteful, just your average dick in hand while jerking off picture. Unsure if you should even stare at it the way you did, you swiped left to be met with a similar picture, but it was the short video that followed that left you breathless. He sounded so frustrated, angrily moving his fist up and down his thick shaft, his foreskin slightly shifting over the tip each time. It was hypnotic and after the fifth time of watching the eight second long video, you had to close it, your pussy aching from neglect, but your brain told you not to indulge. You really shouldn't touch yourself to nudes of your best friend's dad, now should you? This surely was a mistake and it almost made you chuckle, the thought of Toji going on dates and probably scaring these poor women off with his attitude alone.

Biting your lip, you decided that it couldn't hurt to indulge, worst case, you could blame him for it - he's the older one, after all, and should know better. Your clothes were quickly discarded before you took a few tasteful nudes, which you immediately sent to him. They were really tasteful, nothing too revealing and most importantly, not showing your face.

[1 New Message, 1 Video Attached]

With a shaky breath, you opened the video, your other hand gently rolling one of your nipples before traveling down south while the video played on a low volume.

“That's my good girl,” his voice rasps into the microphone, praising you for indulging, but his voice almost gets drowned out by the view, his cock was painfully hard, veins visibly popping and his grip was tight as he worked on his lubed up cock. The view once again left you hypnotized, his big hands looked small when he held his cock and it left your pussy clenching around nothing as your thoughts ran wild. Would you even be able to take him? He surely would rip you clean into two pieces with how huge his cock is.

Your pussy was absolutely drenched by now, fingers gently circling your clit and occasionally dipping the tip of a finger inside of your entrance to tease yourself.

“Bet you want me to fuck you dumb on my cock. Make you forget your own fucking name, bunny,” he groaned, a low moan following after the pet name that had your clit throbbing. You wanted nothing more than to hear this moan directly next to your ear when he pushes your head into the pillows and fucks you until you're a babbling mess for him - for your best friend's dad.

“Fuck- I can only imagine what your little cunt would look like stretched around me right now… so fucking tight and messy.” His hips buck up to meet the thrusts of his hand and you can see his abs ripple beneath his skin. He was right. Your pussy is a mess right now.

“Show me that messy pussy I love so much, baby. Let me see,” he encourages you to send him more of you, which is where the video ends.

A shiver runs down your spine and your finger stills against your sweet spot, but you don't pull it out just yet, contemplating if you should go further than you already did.

Your needy cunt clenched around your finger, letting you know that you fucking need to see more of Toji, need to see him come undone in order to earn your own release. These thoughts won't let you think straight, so you angle your camera and hit record when you rub your little clit just before dipping two fingers into your messy cunt. The squelching noises are obscene when you start curling them against your sweet spot and at this point, you can't hold back mewls and small whimpers anymore, practically whining his name and begging for his cock like a bitch in heat. Just as you were about to release, you pulled your fingers out, edging yourself and sending the little video to Toji.

[Message: Sent]

[Message: Read]

In order to keep yourself dancing along the edge, you ran your fingers over your clit with feather light touches, just waiting for him to type or send more of your newest addiction - his cock.

Toji stroked his dick in time with the way you pump your fingers into your cunt, fast and needy, but when you start whining for him, he almost loses control, his balls suddenly feeling tight and his urge to release getting almost unbearable… until he catches a glimpse of your face. It was just a fraction of a second, but he would recognize your face everywhere.

His hand stilled right away, his orgasm ruined, but his cock twitched greedily.

“Fuck,” he cursed out and locked his phone before running his hand over his face. Without wasting another moment, he wiped the remnants of lube on his hand off on his discarded t-shirt and dialed your number.

When you finally picked up, it was just silent on both sides, neither of you sure what to say, so he puts on the big boy pants and speaks up first.

“That wasn't meant for you,” it sounded like he scolded you, as if you invaded his privacy when it was his fault to begin with.

“I should have paid better attention, sorry.” An actual apology followed seconds later and you could hear that his heart and mind racing equally as fast as yours, although he would never admit to it. He was met with silence once again.

“You shouldn't have sent me anything back. I would have deleted everything if you would have just…” He began to explain that he would have never asked this of you, trying his best to be a proper adult here, when in reality he has thought about bending your cute ass over the kitchen counter quite a few times.

Toji can't even deny it at this point. He likes his women a lot younger and you're no exception here, even though his son is your best friend, so what? There was a reason he stopped talking, though, a little whimper on your end caught him off guard.

“Are you fucking getting off to this?” He asked, but it sounded more accusatory, although you can hear his smirk, you know him well enough that you know that he's just trying to be that stern adult when in reality he likes to think with that big cock of his.

Get a grip. She is young enough to be your fucking daughter. Toji tried to hold himself back, but at this point it was like a tightly coiled spring, the more pressure applied, the more inevitable he would snap - so he chuckled.

His chuckle sounded almost mocking, but it turned you on even more. The fact that he could hear just how pathetic you were, how desperately you craved him to stretch you open on his cock and fuck you until you could neither sit nor walk comfortably for the next days to come. Two of your fingers slipped into your dripping pussy once again, a silent gasp escaping you at the light stretch.

“You thinkin’ of my fingers fucking you, bunny?” He mused out and you heard a lid click shut on his line, followed by a small hiss. The lube felt like fucking ice against his rock hard length, but he needed it, wanting to imagine your little cunt wrapped around him and not his shitty hands. You mewled in reply, but it wasn't good enough for him.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you thinkin’ of,” his voice sounded raw, the hunger for you dripped off of every word, and you could already feel your walls flutter. The sheer perversion and the taboo of this alone were enough to have you on edge, but the way he talked to you drove you to the brink of insanity.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered and your voice cracked in such an embarrassing way, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Toji could hear how needy you were for him - not knowing if you've ever been fucked properly or if your fingers were all that your cunt ever got stuffed with - he took pity on your whining self.

“Come for me, baby, let me hear you,” he encouraged you to finally cave in, to let the knot that has formed in your tummy snap. Heaven knows he was just as close with how desperate you were for him, whining his name so sweetly as you came around your little fingers. He could practically see it, your toes curling and your mouth hung open as you tried to close your thighs, fingers still curling by the sound and he wanted nothing more than to have you clench around his cock like that - you'd grip him like a vice and he would never let you go until you're dripping with his cum and -

“Fuck-” Toji’s chest rumbled with a groan as he painted his defined abs with small shots of ivory, a few drops running down his hand as he squeezed his sensitive tip a little harder than necessary just for it to sting with overstimulation.

There was silence between the two of you for a few minutes, heavy breathing slowly evening out and the haze of hormones wearing off, leaving you to think about what just happened between the both of you.

“Are you okay?” He eventually asked, actually worried that you might regret this.

“Hmm, yeah,” you whisper softly, and it felt like a whole entire mountain fell off his chest.

“Do you… regret it, doll?” He proceeded to ask you as he wiped the cum away with the discarded T-shirt before tossing it to the ground.

“Not really,” you giggle softly and shake your head. “I just regret that it wasn't actually your fingers,” you sound teasing with an edge of sincerity and it was a breath of fresh air to him. He never thought you would be this naughty.

“Naughty… Perhaps I can change that next time I drive you home,” he mused, letting you know that this won't ever happen in his home.

“Yeah… let's not tell Megs anything about that, okay?” You ask shy, the guilt was slowly eating you alive from keeping such a secret, but Megumi wouldn't like it much to know that you're fucking his dad. He would probably never speak to you again should he find out.

“That boy won't find it out from me anyway,” Toji reassured you, never telling his son anything about his love life to begin with - let alone about the women he ends up in bed with.

“But who knows. Perhaps I'll have you as a dessert one day. You just gotta be real quiet, he muses, the playfulness practically dripping from his voice and you rubbed your thighs together.

“Don't say that, Mr. Fushiguro. I might hold you to it,” you chuckle as your finger gently glides over your slick folds once again.

“Maybe you can tell me about all the things you intend to do to me.”...

Networks @pixelcafe-network @houseofsolisoccasum

[incognit0slut]

Beyond the limit

>> Part two: the breaking point

Spencer is hesitant when you ask him to be rough, but when he realizes how much you enjoy it, he wonders just how far he can push your limit.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) dom spence, guided/mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation (use of slut), orgasm control, hairpulling, choking, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay, squirting, rough sex, so many body fluids

a/n: 4k words for 4k followers! Thank you all so much, consider this as a token of my appreciation. This one is for you, I love you all ♡

Spencer considered himself as someone with a strong sense of self-control... until he found himself on top of you, right between your legs. How could he resist when your body felt so soft against his? When all his restraint seemed to vanish into thin air?

He had you pinned against the bed, his palms tracing your hips before moving to your breast. You moaned out his name as your nipples hardened against the thin material of your shirt—his shirt, to be exact. After all, it was how it all started.

The moment he was greeted by the view of your perfect ass when he came home from work, barely covered by his shirt you were wearing, something in him snapped. You looked so damn good, so damn tempting, practically begging to be touched.

It didn’t take long for him to discard his bag onto the floor before scooping you in his arms. You simply giggled, amused at his sudden urgency yet eagerly welcoming it as he led you into your shared bedroom.

Now he was right between your thighs, pressing his hard erection right against your panties. You could feel yourself getting wet by the friction and you found yourself parting your legs even further, grinding your hips along with his as his mouth continued to suck on the spot right below your ear.

Anytime you whimpered, he gripped you tighter, and your shaky hands clutched onto button-down shirt. There was something about him still dressed in his work clothes while you were nearly half-naked, his shirt bunched around your waist, leaving your lower half exposed. And you liked it. It made you feel vulnerable being pressed under him like this, sparking a strange desire to submit to him completely.

And now you craved more. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take the lead. But to your dismay, his movements suddenly slowed down, leaving you momentarily confused because you could feel the way he was holding back. His hands were trembling against your body as if he was consciously avoiding being rough.

You slid your hands up to his chest, lightly pushing him away and he quickly drew back. His brows furrowed as he gazed down at you. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Shaking your head, you reassured him. "No," you replied softly. "But... you don't have to hold yourself back for my sake, you know.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I mean, I know you're trying to be careful, but... I want you to take control, without holding back. I want... more.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. "You want me to... be rough?" he asked cautiously.

You nodded, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "I do."

"But I- I don't want to hurt you."

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. "I trust you, Spence. I trust us. And I want you to trust yourself too."

His expression softened under your touch. You took it as enough of a sign to push forward as your thumb swept back and forth across his jaw.

"If it's too much I'll tell you," you assured him.

He searched your eyes for a moment, uncertainty flickering within his gaze. "What if I hurt you?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You bit your lip, studying his face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll like it if you do," you confessed, your cheeks flushing slightly. "But we don't have to do anything crazy you're not comfortable with. We don't necessarily have to do something you don't want to."

Spencer swallowed hard, processing your words. "So what do you want then?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand slid up the length of his jaw until your fingers slipped into his hair. Very carefully you gripped a handful of his curly strands in your fist. "Do whatever you want, baby," you answered. "Mark my skin. Pull my hair. Talk me through it."

You noticed the way his lips twitched at your words and you smiled.

"Fuck me hard," you demanded boldly.

His breath hitched as he searched your eyes. He definitely wanted to do those things, too. When he finally relaxed into your touch, a rush of anticipation surged through you, your heart beating rapidly.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

You nodded, gripping his hair a bit harder, enjoying the way his breathing grew shallower. "Please," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

With a barely audible groan, Spencer gave in to your request, his resolve melting away as his lips crashed against yours. Your pulse sped up excitedly in your chest in response—this was exactly what you wanted. That pure, raw desire that was too strong for him to contain. When he finally pulled away, he was breathing even heavier now, his shoulders heaving with each audible inhale.

"If we're going to do this, we'll do it my way," he declared firmly. "You will listen to me, understood?"

You nodded, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down your spine at the commanding tone of his voice. "Yes," you replied breathlessly.

And just when you thought he was about to delve into another kiss, he surprised you by pulling away. He sat back, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you. "Sit up and lean back on the pillow," he commanded.

Your heart raced as you complied, eagerly following his lead.

"Take off the shirt... leave your panties on."

You followed, leaning forward, your fingers grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to his eyes. His predatory gaze was locked on your breasts, noticing the way your nipples hardened as the cold air brushed your skin. When you leaned back again, he dragged the tips of his fingers up your thighs, gripping your waist for a moment before another demand left his lips.

"Spread your pretty legs," his soothing voice told you, staring intently between your thighs. You did as you were told, parting your knees, your feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

"Now touch yourself." You gulped at his tone, sliding your fingers inside your panties. He suddenly called out your name in a warning, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks. "Over your panties, I'll tell you when to touch yourself directly."

You nodded, letting your fingers hover over the fabric of your panties. You let out a gasp when you felt how drenched you were before you found your clit. You were hyperaware of every movement you were making, you realized, and it turned you on way more than it should. You choked on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as felt the sensation growing along your body.

You suddenly felt a hand gripping your jaw and you quickly opened your eyes, greeted by him staring down at you. "Keep your eyes on me."

There was nothing else for you to do but to oblige. Your fingers continued to press down your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud desperately as he released his hold on your jaw before trailing down your chest, teasing your aching nipples. You whimpered and watched as his eyes traveled down your body.

Spencer hungrily took in the way your legs were spread apart before him, the way you were touching yourself so eagerly. Your fingers moved rapidly over your panties, the material now too drenched as it slipped between your folds every time you moved. Your pussy was barely covered and he could see your arousal dripping down your legs.

"Look at you," he mused, his hand traveling down your body, resting slightly at the inner part of your thigh. "You like putting on a little show, don't you?"

Your breaths came out in shallow, eager gasps, but when you attempted to increase your pace, he quickly shook his head. "Slower. We don't want to rush."

You complied, adjusting your movements to match his pace, and he rewarded you with a smile. "That's it. Nice and slow," he praised, his gaze locked on yours with intensity.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he began to undress, each deliberate movement teasingly slow. His tie came first, followed by his shirt which he discarded carelessly onto the floor. His pants followed suit, and when he was completely naked, your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his exposed body.

Your fingers on your own body slowed down as you took in the sight before you, the way he slowly gripped the base of his cock before squeezing it hard.

"Don't you stop, I didn't tell you to stop," he reminded you, his voice firm.

With a sharp inhale, you resumed your movements, the urgency returning as you focused on pleasuring yourself under his watchful gaze. Then as if to taunt you, he began pumping his length slow and steady as your eyes focused in on the motions.

"S-Spence," you whined, pushing your hips faster against your hand, trying to keep your rhythm in check though the sight of him pleasuring himself had you so weak in the moment. "I- I wanna take my panties off."

He gripped his cock tighter, working his fist quicker along the length as his breaths deepened. "Yeah? You wanna see how wet you are?"

His words sent a surge of warmth through your body, spreading from between your thighs to your cheeks as your fingers quickened in pace and your legs spread further for him to see. "Yes-yes- please," you begged.

"Such a desperate slut," he muttered. His crude words shouldn't have brought you pleasure, but they did, and your tight walls clenched around nothing. He noticed the effect it had on you and smiled. "You liked that, huh? You liked being called a slut?"

You gulped, your fingers moving faster. "Y-Yes."

He simply hummed in response, snaking his hands between you, finally slipping off your panties down your legs. His fingers then gripped the soft plush of your thigh, spreading you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massaged soothing shapes into your skin.

He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, taking in the mess between your legs. His gaze traveled your stomach, up to your perky breasts, before meeting your half-lidded eyes. He then slowly took your hand and your jaw slacked open when he abruptly sucked your fingers into his mouth.

His tongue felt hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dipped between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. A wave of heat traveled through you as he held your gaze, licking off your fingers one last time before guiding them back between your thighs.

"Keep going," he instructed, and you wasted no time in rubbing your clit feverishly. Your face twisted with pleasure, brow wrinkled, body tense, and each circle around your sensitive flesh brought you closer to the edge. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets underneath you and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds.

"Do you hear that? You're getting so loud. So wet," he gritted out. His eyes flickered up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. "You're close, aren't you?"

You looked over to him. The view of his hand gripping his cock drew you so close to the edge you were balancing on, all the while attempting to feign control to give him the show he requested.

"Y- Yes," you admitted breathlessly, your body trembling with need.

He hummed a reply, soothing your thigh with his other hand. "Be a good girl and beg for it."

A choked whine escaped your lips.

"P-Please, let me come," you pleaded, the desperation evident in your voice as you sought his permission to release the tension coiling in your stomach.

"Ask nicely," he said, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Can I what?"

"Can I... I-I come?" you stammered, your eyes fluttering close, fingers moving rapidly on your clit.

"Look at me. Ask again."

Your eyes flickered open, meeting his intense gaze. "Can I-I come?" you begged, the desperation in your voice echoing your urgent desire.

"I can't hear you."

A moan ripped out of you, your body shaking uncontrollably under his gaze. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold on. "P-Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. "Please let me come, I-I can't hold on much longer..."

"Louder," he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of your desire, and that was when everything snapped. It was no longer a plea; instead, you were babbling incoherent words, unable to contain the overwhelming need coursing through your body.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I can't—" you cried, your voice strained with the effort of holding back.

But it was too late. Your resolve shattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of your desire. With a tear falling down your cheek, you locked eyes with him desperately as your climax crashed over you, consuming you entirely in its wave of ecstasy. It crept up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaked before slamming right into you.

Something in him snapped. Spencer never imagined he would enjoy having this much control over your body, but in this moment, he did. It was twisted, and although a hint of remorse flickered within him, his desire overpowered any sense of guilt.

Even as your body trembled uncontrollably from the intensity of your orgasm, he acted on impulse, flipping you over to lie on your stomach. The shift in position only fueled his desire further, igniting a primal need to dominate and possess you completely.

A moment later his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack that drew a gasp out of you. He then crawled over you as his knees landed on either side of your thighs, the mattress bowing under his weight. Both of his hands dropped roughly down onto your ass, kneading the soft flesh.

You felt him lining his cock up with your entrance, your eyes closing in anticipation of him filling you. And then he plunged himself into you in one swift, sharp thrust which had your head dropping down into your pillow, burying your face in it as you tried to muffle the cry of pleasure that flew out of you.

He began pumping into you, his pace was slow at first, long strokes of drawing his cock out and back in earning quiet whimpers from you against the pillow. One of his hands released your hip before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling.

"Stop burying yourself," he grunted. "Let me hear those pretty sounds."

You let out a moan, body shaking with every thrust of his hips, the room spinning as he picked up his pace. You felt the slow withdrawal of his cock as his hips drew back from you, but you weren't prepared for the way he rammed himself swiftly forward into you seconds after while tightening his grip on your hair.

A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you at the feel of it. Encouraged, he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher. You moaned loudly in response, your hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

"That's my girl," he praised. "Just like that, let me hear how good my cock makes you feel."

Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his words, your mouth going slack. Spencer was as loud as you as he repeatedly buried his cock in you over and over again. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had your eyes rolling back behind closed lids, your mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

He then lowered onto his left forearm as his front molded over your back. The hard, solid feel of him behind you had you pressing back up into him, teeth gritting together as his cock buried itself somehow further inside of you. He released his grip on your hair, his hand swiftly moving to encircle your throat.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt the slight pressure of his grip, a surge of arousal coursing through you. His hand slid up further, encircling the bottom of your jaw as he carefully pulled your head backward, drawing it towards his shoulder until his mouth was beside your ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your breath hitched at his proximity, the heat of his body searing against your back as you struggled to form a coherent response. You could only manage a breathless nod in response.

"Let's see how far I can ruin you," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill through you despite the underlying threat in his words.

As his grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips, surrendering completely as he picked up his pace, his hips rocking more rapidly into you. You were panting hard, your head tilted back against his shoulder.

His lips pressed onto the sensitive spot just between your shoulder and your neck, sucking on the skin while he mercilessly fucked you, his sweat-slicked body still flush to the back of you as he continued his fast, relentless pace. You were vaguely aware of his ragged, drawn-out groan and you could tell he was close.

It was evident in the way he was starting to lose control, his grip tightening around your throat as his breath grew hot and heavy against you. He was on the brink of spiraling, and you welcomed it, giving yourself over completely to please him.

"T-That's it, baby," you moaned. "You fuck me so good."

It was enough to make him come undone. He released inside of you, panting and huffing as he gave into the bliss. His motions slowed but he continued spilling inside your drenched walls, sweat beading against his forehead, lips parted, and face flushed. You squeezed yourself around him just to hear him suck in a sharp breath, gulping and exhaling with his brow wrinkled before he pulled out.

But when you thought he was done with you, he flipped you onto your back again. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release. He ran his fingers over your outer lips, spreading you open to have a better view of the white liquid trickling down your ass. He was quick to collect it with his fingers, tracing it up your folds so he could messily rub it over your clit.

"S-Spence..."

Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, yet he didn't mind the mess he made between your legs. "You should see yourself," he muttered. "You're so pretty like this."

And then to your surprise, he positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance again. You gasped, prompting yourself on your elbows as you looked down between your legs, wondering how on earth he was still so hard. Then a moan left your lips as you watched him slowly sinking into you again.

"Look at how I'm stretching you," he murmured, pushing his hips further. Both of your eyes were locked on the way your pussy stretched so wide around his girth. His previous release slipped back inside you every time his cock disappeared into your wet cunt, white cream coating around his length.

He moaned when your walls clenched around him, his eyes flickering between your face and the way his cock was stretching you. Spencer should have stopped. You were both too tired and too sensitive to continue further. Even his body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop himself from thrusting forward as your walls swallowed his cock eagerly, practically begging for more.

The rational part of his brain urged him to pause, but the primal, carnal desire within him overrode any sense of restraint. Ignoring the way your body shook with exhaustion and the tension in his own muscles, he focused solely on the intense heat between your legs. So he continued to fuck you.

He was fucking you to the point where you couldn't even moan anymore, your voice caught in your throat with each thrust. He was fucking you so good there were tears in your eyes but you couldn't whimper or blink, you were just staring up at him, wordless and in awe, nails digging in his arms while your knees brushed up close to your shoulders.

He was fucking you roughly, dipping down every so often to press his lips to yours, the times he was not whispering encouragement, telling you how pretty you look, how wet you were, how much of a slut you were, and good you felt wrapped around him. And you could feel it, you could feel how good you were as your walls clamped down, sucking him in.

He thrust into you ruthlessly, consumed by a primal need to push you to your limits, to explore just how much you could take of him. Then when you felt that coil spreading along your limbs, you finally came without saying a word. But he didn't stop, continuing to fuck you into your next orgasm, and even when the sensation began to feel too overwhelming, he abused your clit with his thumb.

That was when everything blurred. The overwhelming pleasure finally consumed you entirely, rendering rational thought as a surge of liquid gushed out between your legs. He moaned in surprise at the sensation, his desire only fueled further by your response.

"Do that again," he begged, his voice husky with need as he continued to roll his hips into you. And you did, another wave of pleasure crashing over you as you drenched everything around you—his body, the sheets, every surface within reach. He moaned again, acutely aware of the mess you created.

Your grip on him slowly loosened and a pang of guilt hit him as he realized your body was already exhausted. Yet he couldn't resist the urge to use you once more. Your silence urged him to continue, thrusting into you relentlessly, your slicked-sweat skin sliding against his as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

He finally came with a grunt, his hips pumping into you with desperation, once, twice, before finally stilling. You cried out at the sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the quickening of his breath, the hard grip of his hand on your skin, the throbbing ache between your legs.

Your vision suddenly became a hazy blur, and you gasped for breath, struggling to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Despite your shaking form, Spencer managed to pull you into his embrace.

“I-I got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of emotions as the rush of dominance that had driven him moments ago was replaced by a wave of panic. He continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

You focused on controlling your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you sought to regain your composure. Gradually, the haze began to lift, and after a moment passed, you found yourself able to see clearly once again. Your eyes traveled to him, and with a tired and sleepy smile, you leaned into his touch.

Spencer released a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "We are never doing that again."

"What? Why?" you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"You scared me!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with both relief and exasperation. "What if you passed out? What if I had to take you to the hospital and—and explain that—"

"That I passed out because your dick was too good?"

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're impossible," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You grinned up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gesture. "But you love me anyway."

His smile softened as he gazed down at you. "I do."

"And I love you," you assured him. "Don't worry, I'm alright. And be honest with me, you seriously don't want to do that again? Wasn't that hot?"

His cheeks flushed slightly at your question, and he hesitated for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It was..." he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Intense," he finally admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "But maybe we should take it slow next time."

"Spencer, you were the one that kept going."

He gave you a sheepish smile. "I guess I got carried away a little," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone.

“A little?”

“Fine, more than a little,” he confessed. “But you didn't stop me either."

"That's because I was enjoying myself."

His embarrassment faded into amusement. "You're going to be the death of me one day, you know that?"

You grinned playfully at his remark. "Only if you're lucky," you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He studied you, taking in the warmth in your eyes and the happy but serene smile that graced your lips as a surge of affection washed over him. "Then I must be the luckiest man alive."

[comatosebunny09]

misunderstanding | sylus

summary: it was all because the shopkeep got a little handsy. a little too comfortable, purring his name like that. he shrugged her off; did you not see that part? genre(s): romance, angst warning(s): alcohol, drunk reader, self-esteem issues, insecurities, language, short and sweet notes: inspired by that one scene from fifty shades of grey.

Imagine calling Sylus while you’re drunk off your ass.

When you’ve thrown back one too many long islands, and while your friends are all inside, shacked up with their significant others and happy. You toddle outside for some fresh air and a break from your own head.

His voice breaks through the static, all heavy with sleep. But he answers so quickly because you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder. Been brief with your texts, ignoring his phone calls, and going out of your way to avoid running into him. He’s given you your space—minus Mephisto perched outside your window each night, watching you like a hawk.

“Hello?” Sylus husks, bed sheets rustling in the background as he maneuvers himself to sit up.

Somewhere far off, you feel bad for waking him. He already sleeps like shit. But you have liquid encouragement on your side, so you shove that guilt down, down, down in favor of poking the proverbial bear.

Your words are all blurred together, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you prop yourself up on a safety bollard, holding your phone to your ear with two hands.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“I—What?”

You swallow thick. Feel the world swirling and your body teetering, but you press on.

“Why don’t you like me, Sylus? Am I not your type? Is it ‘cause I’m not rich? Not skinny?”

He laughs, all incredulous on the other end. You imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in the stillness of his bedroom, disbelieving of the shit spilling from your mouth. And so early in the evening, too.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Me. I mean, am I annoying?  I kinda am. I talk a lot. But that lady—the one from before. That shopkeeper chick. She was really hot. Like, supermodel hot.”

Your name comes out in an exasperated sigh. “That’s what this is about?”

You confirmed his suspicions. Why you’ve been playing keep-away. Ever since you accompanied him a few weeks back to gather some intel from a verified source, you’ve been acting distant. All because the shopkeep got a little handsy. A little too comfortable, purring his name like that. He shrugged her off. Wordlessly put her in her place. Did you not see that part?

Sylus doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

“No, no, wait. Lemme finish. She seemed more your type. Like the kinda chick you’d be into, ya know? You two’d be like Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

He groans, and this time, you picture him hanging his head low. His long fingers splayed over his face in exhaustion.

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

“Mind your business,” you say around a hiccup.

And you’re catching yourself on the bollard, giggling stupidly at how pathetic you must look. Trying to catch your footing like a baby fawn.

“Only had one or two. Maybe three or six. I’m a big girl. A big, un-pretty girl, according to Mr. Sylus.”

A car honks in the distance. You barely stir from it, eyes shuttering as your head falls onto your arm roosted on the bollard.

“Where are you?” Sylus prods again.

There’s a little more urgency this time. A little more concern lurking beneath the tenor of his voice, and the sleep’s almost completely vanished from it.

“Out.”

You burn hot. Sway as the alcohol thickens in your veins. Something of a smile twitches your lips. For a second, you’re convinced he actually gives a shit about you.

“Sweetie, please. I don’t have the patience to entertain your mind games today. And stop putting words into my mouth. Not once have I ever referred to you as ‘un-pretty.’”

You snort. Stumble away from the bollard to lean against a brick wall. It’s cold and raw against your bare back. The world’s a pretty bokeh of light around. Maybe you did have a little too much to drink.

His voice drops an octave. Skates between sincerity and something dulcet; doting.

“You’re anything but. You’re gorgeous. Breathtaking. Incredibly resourceful and infuriatingly kind. You’re tough. And you don’t talk too much. In fact, I wish you would spend more time talking about yourself.”

Your lips crook with a smile. Your eyes begin to water. Your cheeks are warmer now, and you’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the words spuming so effortlessly from the other end of your phone.

You hear fabric rustling. Hear his mattress creaking and things being jostled about in the background. Drawers. Clothes. Shoes clicking against marbled tiles.

“Tell me where you are,” he asserts. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No, no, no!”

You wave your hand dismissively like he can see. You feel bad enough having dragged him down with you. Having dredged up your insecurities and projected them onto him like that. No reason to make him leave the sanctity of his bed to entertain your foolishness.

“It’s cool, Syl. I’ll catch a cab.”

“I’m not asking,” he clips in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

You swallow, suddenly feeling cold sobriety creep in. Metal jangles through the static. Keys. Car keys. A door shuts, followed by an engine stuttering and drawing a breath in. He taps a few buttons on his console. Releases a sigh.

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are. Don’t go running off with any strangers, alright, sweetheart?”

Something warm spills into your tummy. You slide down the wall onto your ass, holding your head in your hands with your phone propped to your ear using your shoulder.

“Sylus, really. You don’t have to do that. I’ll be good—”

“I want to,” he insists. Already peeling out of his driveway and zooming through the streets of the N109 Zone. “Stay on the line. Don’t hang up. I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

You sigh at your own stupidity. At your own pitifulness. Making him come play knight in shining armor like that. All because you couldn’t hold your liquor. Your tongue. Though, you can’t stifle the tiny ping of hope resounding in your head.

“Okay. I’ll wait. But can we get ice cream when you get here?”

He chuckles, the sound of it brassy yet comforting through the drunken slurry of your brain.

“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

masterlist

[neos127]

enhypen x gn!reader | vulnerable moments

enhypen showing vulnerability in your relationship genre. fluff, some angst, hcs + established relationship cw. none!

heeseung

your boyfriend nearly laughed in your face when you suggested to give him a bath. ‘i’m not 80’ he drawled, causing you to roll your eyes. heeseung had been complaining about his body being a bit sore so you wanted to help him feel a bit better.

“let me take care of you…you never do.” you pouted, pushing heeseung in the direction of the bathroom.

“is this just a plot to get me to take my clothes o-” you shut the door in his face, telling him to get undressed. you had already prepared the bath tub for him, knowing that even though he would probably protest at first, you would get him in there somehow.

once heeseung called you back in, you giggled at the sight of him surrounded by bubbles. he looked relaxed, despite fighting the idea before.

when you knelt down next to the tub, you began to run soap over his body. you stopped to massage his shoulders a bit and heeseung hummed with content.

“didn’t know i was at a spa today.” heeseung joked, causing you to pinch his side. he yelped and turned his body to face you, a shocked expression on his face.

“shush, hee.” you giggled, turning him back around to continue washing him. after you were done, you handed heeseung a towel and walked out of the bathroom to give him privacy. for the rest of the night, you decided to pamper him. even doing his skincare which heeseung appreciated very much. he relaxed into your touch, smiling up at you as you applied lotion to his face.

“i love you alot, you know?” heeseung spoke up before placing a light kiss on your hand. you smiled back at him.

“i love you too.”



jay

“why do you always act that way around him?” you sighed, facing your boyfriend who looked just as upset as you were. the two of you had come back to jay’s apartment after meeting up with some friends, one of them being a guy that jay didn’t like. he claimed that your friend actually had a crush on you, he may have been right but at the moment you were too upset to care.

“it doesn’t matter if he likes me or not, im dating you!” you exclaimed, tired of the argument that wasn’t going anywhere. jay was fuming, pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor.

“it does matter! what if you see how great he is after hanging out with him so much? what if you see how much better he could be for you than i am.” he replied, his voice cracking a bit. all anger you once had suddenly vanished and instead you felt sad. jay was jealous, sure, but only because he hadn’t felt secure in your relationship.

you wordlessly walk over to jay before wrapping your arms around him into a hug. he immediately reciprocates, not being able to stay mad at you for very long.

“sometimes i feel like i’m not good enough for you.” he mumbles, his grip still firm around your waist. you pull away slightly to look at his handsome face, smiling at him reassuringly.

“you’re more than enough. you’re everything to me, jay, please don’t ever forget that.”

jake

jake was sure he was in heaven, his head resting on your stomach as your fingers ran through his hair. jake let out a few low hums, his eye closed as he basked in the feeling of having you with him. the boy was fully relaxed and completely at your mercy, but he was comfortable. jake always felt comfortable around you, enough to even let you baby him a bit.

“you’re so tired, huh? had a long day?” you asked softly, your voice nearly a whisper but your tone was as if you were speaking to a small animal. jake knew his friends would have a a laugh if they saw him like that, responding to your words as if he weren’t a fully grown 21 year old.

“mhm.” he hummed in response, snuggling his head impossibly deeper into your hoodie, the one that smelled like your sweet perfume that he adored so much.

sunghoon

you walked into your boyfriend’s room, expecting him to be sleeping or playing a game on his computer. you didn’t expect to see him simply staring out his window, playing with his hands idly.

“sunghoon?” you broke the silence, causing your boyfriend to look at you with a sad expression. you immediately rushed over to him, sitting next to the boy on his bed.

“what happened?” you ask, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his eye. sunghoon takes a deep breath before explaining everything to you— how drained he was, how at times he felt as if he wasn’t good at what he did. he poured out his heart to you, telling you exactly how he felt. he suddenly became choked up, his eyes watering with unshed tears. and then, sunghoon began to cry.

you froze, not knowing how to react considering that you had never seen your boyfriend cry before. he tried to cover his face, but the way his shoulders shook and the sounds of soft cries filling the room showed that he was truly upset. the sight broke your heart and you immediately pulled sunghoon into your chest. he wrapped his arms around your waist, crying into your shirt.

“it’s okay, it’ll be okay.” you mumbled softly as you ran your hands through sunghoon’s hair to comfort him.

sunoo

towards the beginning of your relationship, sunoo had been very hesitant with affection. you two would hold hands and exchange soft kisses, but he hadn’t been one for cuddling and long hugs.

one day, to your surprise, sunoo decided that he wanted to be extra close to you. the two of you were resting on the couch watching a movie and you had decided to lay down. sunoo laid down behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist burying his face into your neck. you tensed at the sudden action, not expecting your boyfriend to cuddle you. sunoo thought you were uncomfortable and went to pull away.

“no! you can stay like that- i was just shocked that’s all.” you spoke up, placing his arms back around your waist.

“im sorry that i haven’t been as affectionate.” sunoo sighed, tightening his hold around your waist. you smiled and pushed yourself further into him, feeling warm and comforted in his embrace.

“don’t apologize, sun. i love you regardless.”

jungwon

jungwon appearing at the doorframe of your dark room did scare you a bit. he had just stood there quietly, similar to horror movie characters before they attack their victim.

“you okay?” you asked your boyfriend before sitting up from your bed and turning on the small bedside lamp. a frown was evident on jungwon’s face, his eyes glossy.

“not really.” he tried to crack a smile, which looked like more of a grimace. you extended your arms, a silent invitation for jungwon to join you. the boy slowly trudged over to your bed, plopping himself down on the mattress, half of his body ontop of yours.

jungwon explained everything to you, how he felt and how his mental health had been affected recently due to his stress. you listened attentively, letting him rant to you, even if some of his words became a jumbled mess. as soon as he was finished speaking, he slumped into your body, the weight of his bottled up feelings had finally been released.

you ran your hand across his back and held him close, feeling happy that he decided to open up to you. during your relationship so far you had never had such talks with jungwon. but it seemed as if you were turning over a new leaf.

riki

he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. you were so gorgeous, adorable, pretty— any similar word riki could think of. you looked up at your boyfriend, dropping the lego piece that you were holding in your hand. usually riki looked away when he caught you staring, but this time he met your gaze.

“what?” you asked sharply, not meaning for it to come out that way but you suddenly felt self conscious due to his eye contact. riki didn’t take your tone to heart, simply shrugging his shoulders.

“i love you.” he mumbled, still looking at you from across the set of legos you were both building. you paused, your stomach exploding with butterflies.

“i love you a lot and you mean everything to me. i know i probably don’t say it often, but i just wanted you to know. i hope to be by your side for a long time.” riki added on, suddenly becoming shy and looking away. you smiled before crawling over to riki and pulling him into a hug. the boy had never been so open with you before but you appreciated it greatly.

“i love you too, ki. i promise to be by your side for a very long time.” you replied, pulling back slightly and holding your pinky out. riki looked down at your hand and chuckled before linking his pinky with yours.

taglist — @boyfhee @junityy @aenify @iilwji @catzisb1og @greentulip @starantulas @jakesangel @heeblurs @pshbites

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT III

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: sorry for such a long break!! pls let me know what u think and again if you’d like to be added to the tag list send me a message or ask as I rarely check my notifs and go back to them. also sorry abt the cliffhanger uhmmmm also unedited ok bye

“You look like crap.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Mor scrunching up her face as she peers at you from her seat across your own at the dining table. It takes a second for her words to register and you throw a belated scowl her way.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, sitting up to continue swirling your spoon around your bowl of barely eaten oatmeal. Your appetite seems to have vanished over the past week, but you try and force a spoonful down your throat, nearly gagging.

Mor narrows her eyes at you and her lips press into a thin line of concern. “No, you seriously look like crap. You’re not eating lately and you were literally asleep at the table when I got here.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say, defensively. “I was resting my eyes.”

“You sound like Cassian after a three hour afternoon nap.”

“I’m just having a little trouble sleeping.” You set your spoon down and push the offending bowl away from you before slumping in your seat. You brush off her skeptical look with a wave of your hand. “I’m always like this after absorbing Fae magic.”

And over the last few days you’ve been absorbing a lot. All in an attempt to find out as much as you could about the Fae rebel group that had been attacking the borders of multiple Courts, in order to weaken them and make a point against you.

Well, you and your sisters. Not all of Prythian was accepting of Feyre for how she was Made, and even less so of you and Nesta and Elain. Instead, they viewed you as unnatural mutations and the whispers had only become worse after the War. It seemed that the lack of conflict looming over Prythian was unacceptable in their eyes.

With the help of your powers and Azriel’s shadows, you were closer than ever to finding them. Truthfully, the idea that there were Fae out there who hated you didn’t bother you so much in the sense of feeling like outcasts, but you couldn’t lie. They were starting to be a giant pain in your ass.

“You’re never like this,” Mor scoffs, gesturing to the bags under your eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks. As her voice raises, the pounding of your head gets more intense and you attempt to hold back a grimace. “Why is it affecting you so much this time?”

“It’s the type of magic I’m absorbing,” you practically whine, abandoning all pretences of being okay and allowing your shoulders to drop. “It’s so angry and harsh and impure, Mor! It’s literally making me sick because I have nowhere else to redirect it.”

At that moment Rhysand and Feyre walk in to join you at the table.

Rhysand, having overheard you, chimes in as he reaches for a plate of fruit. “Good news, our little Siphon,” he nudges you lightly, the nickname making you scrunch your nose up in mock annoyance. “We have enough information now to move forward using Az and Cass and resources from other Courts. The only thing we need you to do now is rest.”

Rhysand’s upbeat tone brings a weak smile to your face. You know that he’s being flippant to make you feel better, like he always does when you’re stressed or unwell and you’re nothing but appreciative as he whistles under his breath, nonchalantly piling some fruit onto a plate for you.

“You should have been resting days ago,” Feyre eyes you from beside Rhys with furrowed brows, taking in your tired form. “We told you yesterday would be too much.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll be fine for the meeting in Summer.”

Mor snorts and looks up at you, amused. When you raise an eyebrow, her smile drops into an incredulous expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I need to be there to discuss what I siphoned from that knife we found at the border of Dawn,” you say, holding up a hand and rushing out the rest of your words when Feyre opens her mouth to speak. “And Rhys promised me I would be there since it’ll be all the High Lords, Court informants and even soldiers. I couldn’t possibly not go.”

Feyre sighs, sensing that you’re not going to back down. She nods slowly, pointing at your plate. “Finish all of your breakfast and your lunch later on and then you can go.”

You let out a breath, feeling nauseous when Rhys slides your plate closer to you and simply shrugs when you glare at him. Traitor, you speak to him in your mind. He suddenly becomes very interested in a strawberry.

“Watch me,” you say confidently, waving your fork at Feyre who rolls her eyes at you and goes back to her own breakfast.

Summer court is your least favourite court at the best of times, though you’d never admit that to sweet and kind Tarquin, who’s arguably one of your favourite High Lords.

The beautiful, shimmering lagoons aren’t of interest to you as large bodies of water have always unsettled you. The warm breeze that everyone welcomes always reminds you of the times you had to suffer through sweltering heat when foraging for food with Feyre in your adolescence. You’ve always preferred a colder climate and appreciated a more muted daylight.

Considering your current health, the ripples in the water make you dizzy and the light salty breeze nearly brings your breakfast and lunch up.

You’re thankful for the sheer, thin material of the sage coloured dress that Nuala and Cerridwen chose for you because you suddenly feel a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Are we done sightseeing?” you ask weakly, desperate to be inside already.

Elain turns to you and winces. “You don’t look too good….”

“Aw, thank you, Elain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she tuts, coming over to fan your face with her hands. You swat them away, sputtering and try to catch Rhysand’s attention to move things along. He reluctantly agrees and gestures everyone to move along, too used to your aversion to Summer.

As you all enter the palace made of gleaming marble, you hang further back to avoid the watchful eyes of Feyre who seems to be waiting to send you right back home to rest.

The palace is beautiful and you push down your nausea to look around and take in the tall arched windows. The jewelled embellishments adorning the frames trail higher and higher and you crane your neck to see them.

This turns out to be a mistake when your vision starts to blur and another wave of nausea causes your steps to falter, the world tilting sharply.

A firm hand grips your elbow in an all too familiar fashion, steadying you before you’re sent flying to the ground. Another hand settles around your waist where the cutout of your dress exposes your now damp skin, glittering with sweat.

You look up and find Eris’ amber eyes locked onto your own.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his voice sharp with irritation, yet his hands remain steady in their position, holding you up. It’s the first word he’s uttered to you since your encounter a couple of weeks ago in the Spring Court where he’d left on frosty terms. You had seen him twice since then, but it was in the middle of meetings and siphoning sessions and he had barely spared you a single glance.

Your lips part but your senses are too overwhelmed to think of a response before he carries on, lightly shaking his head at you. “You overexert yourself all week and then travel here? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, pulling away from him, but his grip only tightens. You can’t help glancing around and noticing that the growing crowd of all the Court officials has separated you from the Inner Circle. You huff out a breath as you register his words. You knew Rhysand had to communicate with the other High Lords with updates, but you didn’t know that included your physical state. “Gods, High Lords are such gossips…”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scowling like you’ve dreadfully inconvenienced him by nearly collapsing. His gaze flickers over the pallor of your skin and the way you’ve started to shiver slightly. “You drained yourself dry this week. And for what? To impress Rhysand? To prove something to him?”

“Let go of me, Eris,” you attempt to snap at him, but even you can hear the lack of strength in your voice. His eyes soften slightly when you say his name without your usual bite. “I can’t have this same conversation with you when I’m like this.”

“You think I want to be the one always catching you from falling on your face? Trust me when I say I have things I would rather be doing,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

You grit your teeth at the reminder and heat flares in your cheeks, whether it’s from embarrassment, anger or the climate of Summer, you don’t know.

Before you can retort, Eris sighs and straightens you up, still not fully letting you go. Releasing the hand around your waist, he loops your arm in his own and makes you lean on him for support. To your utter surprise, he doesn’t say anything as he starts walking towards the meeting room where everyone else files in. Despite your frustration, you’re grateful for his strength.

The moment of blissful silence doesn’t last too long, however. As he begins to lead you to where your family is stood and clearly looking around frantically for you, Eris leans in to whisper in your ear. “You need to sit down at the table,” he orders quietly, High Lord behaviour on full display.

You’re about to argue that no one else is going to be sat and he immediately catches this, cutting you off. “Don’t be stubborn for once in your life,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear, making you shiver more than you already were. “Please?”

You quickly turn your head to meet his, shocked at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t realise how close this would bring your own face to his and words leave you. Thankfully, you’ve reached your family as you hear Cassian’s loud voice and it snaps you out of your little bubble.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “We were about to send a search and rescue team, thinking you’d finally collapsed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Eris asks, coldly.

Cassian merely rolls his eyes at Eris’ attitude and gestures at Azriel.

Feyre comes forward to take your other arm in hers and explains. “Azriel’s shadows informed us that you were with her, Eris.” She smiles warmly and sincerely at him and Rhysand nods at him in recognition of his actions. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Eris shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet. I foresee many falls in her near future that I’m sure I won’t be present for.”

Feyre’s mouth twitches, but she quickly smoothes her face into an expressionless one when you frown at her and she busies herself with disentangling you from Eris.

He takes a step back, dark and fiery hair catching the sunlight through the tall windows and glances at you once more, not breaking eye contact, yet his words are directed towards Feyre. “Just make sure she sits down. The Night Court doesn’t need a martyr,” he says drily, before walking away.

Your mouth goes dry at the double meaning in his words, but you can’t shake off the shock at seeing genuine concern in his eyes. You must have looked practically near death, but you appreciated it all the same and you don’t even realise your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away until Feyre sits you down next to Nesta.

Your older sister raises an eyebrow at you, always so intuitive and you swat weakly at her to look away from you. Cassian’s eyes flit back and forth between you two, confused.

Before he can say anything, the meeting commences and you feel a shift in the energy of the room, full to the brim of Court officials, emissaries, a few warriors and of course, the High Lords around the table.

Your turn to speak comes fairly quickly since the most information regarding the Rebels is from you and Azriel. As per Rhysand’s instructions, you don’t go into any details regarding your siphoning powers, instead just sharing the information you gained due to them. You try to ignore the way people are staring at your weak form, but you continue to speak with all the strength you can muster. Evidently, you’re doing a convincing job as people start to nod, satisfied and scribble things down.

When Azriel’s turn arrives, you zone out a little, already having heard everything a few times over. Your ears only perk up when everyone is discussing plans of action against the Rebels and a question is asked in your general direction.

“Who are we thinking is to be at the front lines of this hypothetical mission?” The question comes from one of the Spring Court advisors, Vaelith, an older Fae with silver hair gathered in one long braid down his back.

His gaze lingers on you for only a split second before moving onto Rhysand and you feel compelled to answer. “Myself and Azriel,” you blurt out, before you can think twice. “And others of course, but the two of us are the most familiar with-”

“We’re all aware of the Shadowsinger’s abilities,” Vaelith interrupts you, holding up a hand to stop you from talking. You hold back a scowl. “What makes you suitable to lead such a mission aside from your… familiarity with a selection of items left behind by these Rebels?”

“I’m more than able to-” you cut yourself off and swallow, gaining yourself a second to think of a way to defend yourself without giving away your powers, as per your High Lord’s request.

Careful, Y/N

Rhysand’s voice sounds clear as day in your head and you try not to wince at the volume considering the silence of the rest of the room. The other High Lords knew of your powers, but Rhysand had requested they keep it to themselves, even from their own Court officials. Whether or not Rhysand had used his Daemati abilities to ensure this, you didn’t want to know.

“I’m more than able to assist in a plan of action,” you continue firmly, voice hardening. “I’m not sure if you remember a certain War we just had, but you may wish to remind yourself who was at the front lines of that.”

A few laughs break the tense silence and some people start muttering, slowly raising the volume of the room. You almost don’t hear Vaelith’s next words. “You haven’t really answered my question.”

“Let’s use our senses, Vaelith,” a voice rings out from further down the table and you’re startled to realise that Eris is speaking up. The room finally quietens down and you sit up impossibly straight, surprised that Eris is about to defend you.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He only spares you a fleeting glance, but even from your seat you could see it’s full of amusement and mocking. The thing that surprises you is that the mocking is directed at you. “Look at her. Are you really questioning the abilities of a female who barely has the strength to sit up in her seat, let alone fight?”

Your stomach drops, a ball of humiliation unfurling in your chest as he continues to speak.

“I’d like to believe Rhysand has more sense than to send someone on the frontlines who would just be doing the rebels a favour,” Eris drawls, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, still avoiding your gaze.

Rhysand nods. “I can assure you I’ll only be sending my strongest soldiers, Vaelith,” he smirks, faintly, as though the implication he’d do anything to suggest otherwise is laughable. “Now may we discuss matters of actual importance? Tarquin, what have your soldiers been preparing?”

The tension dissolves almost immediately, but you’re still shellshocked, shaking with anger rather than weakness now. It’s as though you’ve been pumped with a burst of adrenaline and it doesn’t seem to be dampening.

After the conversation has shifted to a completely different subject, you shift from your seat as discretly as possible and mutter to Nesta that you need some air before standing up.

You look at the High Lord of Autumn before you walk away, but it only infuriates you more. Eris doesn’t look anywhere near you, but his jaw is clenched all the same, as though he can feel you glaring at him.

Mor catches your arm as you’re walking out and hisses in your ear. “You’re still not well,” she turns her body fully towards you. “Wait for me to come with you.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head and clenching your fists to keep them from trembling as you speak through gritted teeth. “I feel suddenly energised. I’ll only be outside.”

Mor gives you a once over and is clearly satisfied with the fact that you’re unlikely to collapse again as she nods and releases your arm, allowing you to rush through the crowd of people and push through the guards.

You walk briskly away from the doors of the meeting room and further down the empty hallway until you’re satisfied that no one will hear your heavy breathing.

You lean against a pillar, exhaling in and out to control your anger and keep the tears at bay. Gods, you feel so stupid. Of course, Eris is incapable of being a decent male to anyone, let alone to you. Damn him and his cruel smirk and damn Rhysand too for allowing it to happen.

Brushing away the tears that have managed to fall, you curse yourself for not just pushing him away and allowing yourself to collapse on the hard marble flooring. It was giving you whiplash the way he could be so full of concern one second and practically call you useless in front of a room full of officials the next.

The longer you stand against the marble pillar, the weaker you begin to feel and that burst of adrenaline you previously felt is no longer present. The anger that fuelled you mere seconds ago is now winding you and a rising sense of panic begins to consume you.

You decide to turn around to walk back so you’re closer to the doors of the meeting room in case you embarrassingly do collapse.

However, the second you take a step, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before strong arms clamp around you from behind and a cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You can’t even scream as the scent of something strong and chemical floods your senses, making your vision blur.

You thrash around in an attempt to use the little strength you have left to escape, but the arms only grip you harder and the world begins to spin. The last thing you feel is the cool marble floor as your knees give out and no one bothers to catch you as you hit the ground, darkness swallowing you whole.

tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant @deepestmentalityperson @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl @goldenmagnolias @whydohumansss @fandomtrash465 @mrsbarnes32557038 @aaprilshowers @scarsandallaz @-im-fantastic- @cat-or-kitten @annamariereads16 @adelina-127 @onlymexsarah @puddlesplasher17 @eyes-capone @hermaeuswhora

[phantasm-echo]

POV: you wake up in the middle of your own autopsy with force powers then immediately get brainwashed into falling to the dark side

I was reminded of the fact that I haven’t drawn inquisitor!fives’ autopsy scars in way too long so here I am, delivering a few too many Fives 💀

Anyway I know I don’t post much about the AU on here so props to anyone who knows what’s going on here even slightly, I’ve decided to nerf siren!echo (who WAS part of this AU yes I know quite random) but since him being turned into a siren kinda limits what I can do with him story wise he is now an AU of the AU.

That means the name I came up with for the au (dead mean walking/swimming or dmw(s) as I’ve been tagging it) is kinda irrelevant. I’ll just call this the inquisitor fives AU but if you have any AU name suggestions feel free to drop them.

Here are some of the major factors of the AU:

It gets worse before it gets better

(WARNING: there are quite a few heavy topics covered in the AU such as torture, dehumanisation and su*cidal thoughts, so pls read at your own discretion)

- fives wakes up in the middle of his own autopsy with force sensitivity, then gets brainwashed into falling to the Dark Side by Palpatine. As an Inquisitor, he does not remember anything about his life because those memories were blocked by Palpatine.

- Palpatine discovers that Fives is essentially immortal, and any injuries inflicted on him will heal no matter how bad.

- when echo gets rescued from skako minor, he is recalled to Kamino for experimentation, first of all so they can figure out what the Techno Union did to him, second of all to see how he survived his injuries. Nala se, who knows that fives came back to life, theorises that since he and echo were tube twins they share the “immortality”. He is kept on Kamino for VERY extensive experimentation where terrible things happen to him (cough vivisection cough lobotomy) and so never joins Clone Force 99 even if he did work with them on Anaxes.

- Fives in this time is sent out on many missions by Palpatine that involve him unaliving many people, and after the rise of the Empire he hunts a few Jedi.

- Fox, who throughout the war had experienced many blackout missions where he woke up afterwards covered in blood, is the last living Coruscant Guard commander. (Thorn dies, stone vanishes one day, Thire mistakes Vader for a Jedi and pays the price) Despite the best efforts of his son secretary Dogma (no way!?) Fox has very little will to live, is extremely depressed and borderline suicidal, he would like nothing more than to bite the dust, but still feels he has a duty to the very few remaining corries and so tries to keep it together (he is failing)

- one day Palpatine decides he doesn’t need Fox to do his bidding anymore since he has much better assets at his disposal (Fives), and decides it would be ironic to sic his pet clone inquisitor onto Fox. Fives still doesn’t remember anything, and only knows that Fox is responsible for the main scars on his body and believes fox is the reason he doesn’t remember most of his life, and so sets out to kill fox. They battle it out (ref to that one animation wip I posted) and fives is on the verge of killing fox (who didn’t really try to fight that much, like I said he would very much like to die and dying at the hand of the vod he “killed” seems fitting to him) when he gets a sudden vision of echo.

- all fives knows is echo is extremely important to him and must be rescued and that snaps him out of palpatine’s control. He knows he probably can’t rescue echo alone, and since fox has already been betrayed by the empire he decides “fuck it” and basically kidnaps fox and they run. They make a deal, that once echo has been found, Fives will put Fox out of his misery (fox feels that fives should be the only person to kill him, and only goes along with the plan because he refuses to let anyone else kill him)

- fox and fives proceed to go on an intergalactic road trip to “rescue echo” even though neither of them know how to do that. They become closer friends throughout, and fives slowly regains bits and pieces of the Before

- meanwhile during the destruction of Kamino, the bad batch stumble on echo and rescue him and he stays with them for a little bit before leaving with Rex

- meanwhile Dogma helps the rest of the remaining Corries desert, kills too many storm troopers, and tries to go after his buir fox and the bastard inquisitor who kidnapped him

This is the main stuff you need to know for the AU haha so if you’ve got new name suggestions I’m all ears ty!!

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.