#but it's such a front for the deep fear that eats away at her heart and soul.

[thcdoomed]

She thinks the worst of it is that she's never even allowed herself the chance to grieve. When her parents died of illness, there was time to process it, she went back to work almost immediately, but she allowed herself the grace to grieve, to break down and cry. But when Caius died, when every family and neighbor she had grown up with, when all the rest of her adventuring party, had been brutally and viciously killed, she had no chance to grieve. She had nothing but Jalen's kindness and a mission to avenge them. But not grief, not the time to properly grieve. She carried their names in her heart like a makeshift graveyard, their souls weighing down mighty shoulders enough that sometimes even her drawing arm trembles. And even if her turning didn't fully kick in until they were in these Shadow Cursed Lands, she had felt a wrongness in her since she woke that morning among the wreckage.

Only now did she have a name for it.

Everyone here carried something with them, they were all doomed in some awful way, weren't they? It couldn't have just been fate that they all converged. They had to become each others' strength. A shoulder to lean on when they could no longer stand. And while all of them had different struggles, there was overlap. Astarion and Gale both understood her hunger in their own ways, in a strange way, it is nice not to be alone in that, even if she wouldn't wish it on anyone.

They were all in this together.

"I know, I know, but please, I would never try to insult you on purpose. It's not in my nature." She barely even had an insult to throw at their enemies. Threats, sure, but not insults. She was no bard, she would save the witty insults for her funnier friends. Astarion and Karlach seemed quite good at it. Shadowheart as well. Her eyes wander the camp, maybe out of fear that they were talking about her, about her fall from grace. And yet none seem afraid of her, more worried than anything. And yet sharp as her senses now be, she can't quite focus on anything they're saying, a din of voices muddling together to an incomprehensible clutter of noise. "I have to. It's all I know, Gale. I've rarely rested on my laurels. Especially now, especially with so much at stake." But he's read her like some dusty old tome. He's right. She will work herself to the bone and then down to the marrow until she can go no deeper. Anything to get away from her own problems.

Maybe she's a coward when it comes to reflecting on herself. Dealing with everyone else's problems is easier, she can remove herself from her own problems until they are distant thoughts. And yet, every so often her problems force their way to the surface, the visages of death dancing behind her eyelids whenever she closed them, sinking their fangs into her throat and tearing until the entire thing is in shreds. One day, perhaps she will reveal the full extent of the story, beyond the horrific visions. All everyone knew of her previously was the quaint life she lived out in the countryside, learning to hunt alongside her father, a life truly lived off the land in a quiet village. Something so painfully normal and modest. Were a bard recalling their tales at the beginning, little mind would be paid to her story, she suspects. Never mind that her family were known for centuries to be some of the most renowned spider hunters in Faerun. But they all had something remarkable about them, after all. They were all survivors of something, bound together in their turmoil. "Good. I don't think I could bear to part with any of you any time soon." There is a dread in knowing that by the time this is over, she may not see most of them for some time, if ever again.

As Dronia eyes the heated bath, she removes her leather armor until she is in something far more suited for the warm bath, something far less likely to shrink under the heat. "One day, maybe I will. I haven't allowed myself a chance to grieve, no sooner did I reach the city was I thrown into all this, I've been so busy trying to make sure we survive that..." She draws in a deep breath, her voice shaking, "I didn't keep all my heart though. Part of it died that night. The man you saw... his name was Caius, he was my fiance. We were to be wed two weeks after that night. I would..." she doesn't finish the thought. She's here now, nothing would ever bring him back, her mind flits back to Mayrina and how when they got the wand and she asked her to bring Connor back, she excused herself. It was too much, the first crack showing. She snaps herself back to the present. "You're too kind to me, Gale." The scents of the oils and soaps manage to override the blood that still clung so stubbornly to her face. "Do I smell lavender in there?"

He knows how to keep a secret. As well, too, Gale's felt that blistering urgency to veil his scars. Few would grant them their kindness, and few would lend them their words, and fewer still, cruelly few, would temper their ruin when their hearts half-trembling would near their break. This renders it theirs, their blistering horrors like some burdensome tomb. Yet, Gale knows her conviction, that quavering desire to nurse pain alone, for none, he has thought, should blister in his name. None here alive should heft this coffin. He's a danger, a monster lurking ugly in his bones, and none who draws breath would deserve its teeth and clawing. None should be a pallbearer, not for his hurts.

But then, don't they deserve it, a passing glimmer of sympathy? He knows what it's like, her presence felt as he charms the water with a quaint heating spell. It isn't sustainable, truly, to clamor on stubbornly with a box for the dead. His knees are trembling and his muscles yowl, and soon enough, his spirit would surrender like the turning of the seasons. They aren't made to suffer, but they surely seem resigned to.

...even if their souls so crave connection.

 (Bury it, they tell themselves. Ensure that it's the concern of nobody else.)

"A valiant effort, certainly, but lest you forget, you're in the company of one Gale of Waterdeep. You'd have to do a great deal better than that to pull a fast one on me. I could believe that attempt an insult...but I'll take it in stride." How generous. Distantly, the rest of the party has begun to prepare themselves for slumber. Karlach's chattering could be heard, and mingled in there, Astarion is muttering, something blasé, dramatic, but utterly casual. There's worry on Wyll's part, and a staple pragmaticism on their darling Sharran, but as far as Gale's concerned, the whole of their party sounds relatively normal--a bit stunned, perhaps, but nothing so egregious. Lae'zel says something, and Gale picks up a vial as she does so. He catches Dronia in the glass, rotating it a touch to catch her face, and despite the blood and her glowing, gleaming eyes, she, stood there, seems so small. "With as much flattery as I can muster, you work yourself not unlike a rothé. You could set out and accomplish everything that would ever need doing, and by the end of it, you'll go scouring for more with which to lose yourself in. No rest for the wicked, so goes the saying. Or in your case, anyway, for those not quite."

Like an escape, perhaps. Ah. He wonders if that's partly what it's become to her. The harder she works, perhaps the farther from reality she can place herself. She hardly wants sleep, deigns to rest when he himself would buckle to his knees, and now knowing what she is, he can't honestly blame her. Imagine: the nightmares she must see. And the memory of turning. He hasn't her story in much the same manner that she hasn't his own, but between them both, something great and integral feels to shift. Like? Another chapter in their friendship. A bond of greater profundity. "Much happens in a month. Far be it from me to assume the desires of our wayward party, but I wager we're in no rush to be lost to you either." Right. They're all rather stuck. Survival, even doomed as he so feels, is what brings them together, cording them up tighter than he knows. Gale's gentle, facing Dronia as the heated water wafts behind him. It's glistening, cajoling her into its comforting depths. He invites her to take it, his smile layered and patient. "It's humbling, losing all that which was so difficult in the obtaining. Few prospects are more daunting than to stand there so profoundly bare. All the same, it's with certainty that I declare myself all the more approving of the image before me. I'm inclined to agree. You have kept your heart regardless of your story. One day soon, I should like you to see yourself in the way that I would. You have glimpsed beyond my hungers, and you would accept me regardless." He breathes, orb pulsing a twinge beneath his skin. "It gives me no small amount of joy to show you the same. We all need someone. Now. I do believe it's time for you take a well deserved respite. You've your choice among my soaps and oils. It's a luxury I reserve for an exclusive few."

[br0kenangel]

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

You enter slowly, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. Aegon is there, kneeling, his figure hunched and broken, the chains around his neck rattling faintly as he stirs at the sound of your approach. He knows what's coming.

His eyes, bloodshot and hollow, flicker up to meet yours, and you can see the terror that fills him-terror of you, of what you might say or do next. The moment your gaze meets his, he flinches, instinctively shrinking back as far as the chains will allow, his body trembling. He's crying softly, those pitiful whimpers that have become so familiar to you, the ones that used to give you a thrill but now only deepen the madness swirling inside your head.

You kneel in front of him, a bowl of food in your hand, and for a moment, the room is silent, save for his ragged breaths. Slowly, you take a spoonful of the warm gruel and hold it to his lips. He stares at it, trembling, reluctant, and you sigh softly, like a mother disappointed in her child.

"Eat," you whisper, your voice eerily soft, almost tender. "You need your strength."

He hesitates, but when your eyes narrow, he obediently opens his mouth, letting you feed him like a helpless babe. His lips tremble around the spoon, and you watch with a cold kind of satisfaction as he swallows, his throat working painfully to get the food down. When a bit of it dribbles from the corner of his mouth, you're quick to wipe it away, your touch soft and delicate, like a caress.

"Good boy,' you coo, your voice syrupy sweet. "There we go. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

But he doesn't respond. He only flinches again when you raise another spoonful to his mouth. His tears are falling freely now, silent and pathetic, rolling down his pale, gaunt cheeks. You feed him slowly, each bite a drawn-out torture for him, as his body shakes and his eyes dart around in fear. He is nothing now. And that pleases you, but it also disgusts you.

"Do you know" you begin, your voice low, almost conversational, as though you're speaking to an old friend, "I wanted to kill you, even when you were just a boy."

He freezes at that, his eyes widening, the spoon halfway to his lips. The fear that ripples through him is palpable, and it thrills you in a way that makes your heart pound, but also fills you with a deep, aching hatred.

"Yes," you continue, slowly wiping a tear from his cheek, your fingers lingering on his skin. "You were always in the way, always there, like a shadow that tainted everything I loved. Even as a child, you were nothing but a stain on this world."

His breath hitches, and you can see the agony in his eyes. He wants to speak, wants to beg, but he's too scared. Good. You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "When my daughter was born dead, I blamed you. Because of you, my sweet little girl never drew breath. Because of you, she never had a chance."

You feel him tremble, feel the shudder that runs through his frail body as the tears come harder now. He's sobbing quietly, brokenly, his head bowed as if he could somehow escape the weight of your words. But you don't stop.

"And Luke..." you hiss, your voice turning sharper, colder. "My sweet, precious Luke. He's dead because of you. His body was torn apart, his blood spilled, because you couldn't stay in your place. Because you had to take what wasn't yours."

Aegon lets out a strangled sob, his whole body shaking now, but you grip his chin, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes wild, crazed, as you hold him there, making sure he sees the hate burning in your gaze.

"Jace died because of you too," you spit, your voice trembling with rage. "Every time I think of his broken body, every time I see his face in my dreams, I know it's your fault. You killed him, Aegon."

He tries to look away, tries to shrink back, but you don't let him. You grab his face harder, your nails digging into his skin as you force him to face the truth, to face your hatred.

"And Daemon... my beloved Daemon. The love of my life. He's dead because of you!" Your voice rises, a scream of agony, of rage, as the memories of your losses crush you. Tears well in your own eyes now, but they're not like his. They're not born of fear or weakness. They're tears of fury, of a madness so deep you can't even distinguish it from your sanity anymore.

"I should gouge your eyes out,' you snarl, your grip tightening on his face. "I should cut out your tongue, break your bones, skin you alive, and make you suffer for everything you've taken from me."

Aegon sobs harder, his tears mixing with yours now as the room is filled with the sounds of his misery. His body shakes under your grip, and for a moment, you revel in it一the power, the control, the satisfaction of knowing you could destroy him completely, that you could end him with a single flick of your wrist.

But you don't. You can't. Not yet.

"No..." you murmur, your tone shifting, softening. Your hands release his face, and you gently stroke his hair, wiping away his tears with a tenderness that feels wrong, sickening. "No, I can't hurt you, Aegon. I want to, gods know I want to, but l can't."

He looks up at you, confused, desperate, as though hoping for some mercy in your twisted words. You smile at him, a broken, hollow smile, and run your fingers through his hair.

"You're all l have left," you whisper, your voice cracking with something too raw to name. "You're the only one who's still here. Everyone else is dead. Everyone I loved... everyone I hated.. they're all gone."

Aegon whimpers beneath you, and you stroke his cheek, shushing him softly, like a mother comforting a crying child.

"You keep me sane," you murmur, your voice distant, hollow. "You keep me from falling apart completely. Without you, I'd have no one. And as much as I despise you... as much as I hate you for everything you've done, I can't lose you too."

His sobs quiet, his tears still flowing, but there's a strange, twisted peace in your words. He knows now that there's no escape, no end to this nightmare. He is yours, and you are his, bound together by the madness that has consumed you both.

"You're mine, Aegon," you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear. "And l'm yours. We're all that's left. All we'll ever have."

He closes his eyes, his body limp in your hands, broken and resigned. You hold him close, your arms wrapping around him like a lover, like a mother, as you cradle him in your embrace.

And as the room falls silent once more, you know that this is all that remains- this dark, twisted bond that ties you together, a bitter reminder of all that was lost. But it's enough. For now, it's enough.

Part 1

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[doritochoi]

Office punishment| C.S

pairing: fem!reader x boss!choi san

genre: pure smut, 18+

warnings: explicit sexual content, public sex, rough sex, oral sex, eating cum, dominant language + much more

The day starts in total panic. Your phone's alarm had been ringing for a long time, but you only now manage to open your eyes. In a quick leap, you get out of bed and head for the bathroom. Your mind wanders to the important meeting at 8 o'clock and the inevitable reaction of your boss, Choi San.

Choi San, the young billionaire, was a true magnet for all the women in town, including you. But even though you've always admitted that you find him charming, you've tried to keep a professional distance. His piercing eyes and protruding jaw often appeared in your thoughts, but you tried not to let these fantasies affect your work. You quickly put on the first outfit you can get your hands on: a shirt and a skirt, both slightly wrinkled. "I don't have time to iron anymore," you say to yourself, glancing desperately at the clock. You rush to grab a coffee, but in your haste you spill some on the kitchen counter, but you don't have time to clean up right now. You call a taxi and wait impatiently in front of the block, kneading your fingers. “I hope I make it in time, I hope he's not too upset,” you think as the taxi finally arrives. You quickly get in and tell the driver the address of the company, begging him to hurry. On the way, you check your phone and see that you have some unread messages. One is from your friend, thanking you for coming to her party last night. The others are from your colleagues, who inform you that Choi San has already arrived at the office and does not seem in a good mood.

Arriving at the company, you took a deep breath, trying to regain your confidence. You entered the doors of the building with your head held high, even though you knew you were late. All the employees were looking at you with curiosity mixed with a hint of reproach. As you walked down the hall, you wondered why everyone was acting strange. It was clear there was more than just you being late. You made your way to the office to talk with Jongho, Choi San's efficient and always knowledgeable secretary. You leaned into him slightly, trying to look calm. "Jongho, do you know what's going on? Why is everyone so tense?" you asked him, trying to keep your voice calm. Jongho looked at you with a serious expression, stopping from typing on the computer. "It's about the morning meeting," he said quietly. "It didn't go well and Mr. Choi very upset. - "The meeting? I'm late, but… I didn't think it would be this bad..," you said, feeling your stomach tighten. "Yes, you're late, but that's not the only problem. Mistakes were made in the presentation and the customers were not happy at all. Mr. Choi was counting on you to correct some mistakes, and the fact that you weren't there made it worse, Jongho explained, looking into your eyes. "I didn't know it was so important..."

You walked away from Jongho with fear mixed with determination. You knew San could take drastic measures – either fire you or do something even worse. But you were determined to take responsibility and apologize. You entered the elevator and pressed the button for the floor where San's office was, feeling the tension rise with each floor the elevator went up. When you arrived at his door, you smelled the sweet and inviting smell of vanilla, his signature scent that always reminded you of his charming presence. You felt your hands sweat and your heart began to pound in your chest. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Come in," he says, his voice deep and commanding. You take a deep breath and push open the door, your eyes immediately drawn to his handsome face. He's dressed in a suit, looking every inch the successful businessman, with an aura of authority that fills the room. "You're late," he says, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if he's peering into your very soul. You can feel your body trembling as you muster the courage to apologize, your voice shaking. "I'm sorry, I'll make sure it won't happen again," you say, your eyes fixed on the ground, too ashamed to meet his piercing stare. "Look at me when you speak," he commands, his voice softening but still carrying an edge of authority. You raise your eyes to meet his, and you can feel your body responding to his gaze. His eyes, dark and captivating, hold a mixture of disappointment and something else that makes your heart race. He stands up from behind his desk, slowly making his way towards you. The scent of his cologne, a tantalizing blend of vanilla and sandalwood, becomes more pronounced, wrapping around you like an invisible embrace. You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing. "You know how important this meeting was," he continues, his voice low and almost gentle now, but with a hint of flirtation that sends shivers down your spine. As he speaks, his hands come to rest on your small waist, his touch both comforting and electrifying. He gently caresses your sides before his fingers move to adjust your skirt, smoothing it out. He glances down and notices the wrinkles, a playful smirk appearing on his lips. "You really should take better care of your appearance," he says, his tone teasing as his eyes meet yours again. "A wrinkled skirt doesn't quite match the professional image we're aiming for, don't you think?". The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating. San's eyes remained locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. You could feel the heat rising between the two of you, the air charged with an electric current that made your skin tingle. His hands, still resting on your waist, gripped you a little tighter as he leaned in closer. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating that made your knees weak. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, "You know, I've been very patient with you." Your pulse quickened at the low, seductive tone of his voice. "I-I'm sorry," you stammered, trying to maintain your composure, but it was getting harder by the second with him standing so close. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and dangerous, filled with something that sent shivers down your spine. "Sorry isn't enough," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You need to prove to me that you understand the gravity of your mistakes."

Before you could respond, he moved suddenly, pinning you against the wall with a force that took your breath away. His leg slid between yours, his knee pressing against your core in a way that made you gasp. The hard length of his arousal was unmistakable as it brushed against you through the fabric of his pants, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. "Do you think this is a joke to me?" he asked, his tone dripping with dominance as he looked down at you, his lips curling into a smirk. His hands slid down to the hem of your skirt, and with one swift movement, he hiked it up, exposing your thighs to the cool air of the office. You could barely think, barely breathe as his fingers trailed over your skin, teasingly light as they made their way to the curve of your ass. He cupped it, squeezing just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I think you need a little reminder of who's in control here." Your body responded to his touch with a mind of its own, your hips pushing forward instinctively as his knee pressed harder against you. The pressure was maddening, driving you to the edge of sanity. You felt his fingers trail down the curve of your ass, his hand slipping beneath the fabric of your panties. The rough, teasing graze of his fingertips against your sensitive skin made you shudder. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured against your neck, his voice thick with lust as he began to caress you more firmly. You couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on you tighten in response. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your parted lips. The satisfaction in his expression was clear as he watched your reaction. Slowly, deliberately, he began to unbuckle his belt, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a thrill of anticipation through you. Your hands, trembling slightly, moved to help him, undoing the buckle and sliding the belt free. You glanced up at him, your breath catching as you saw the hunger in his eyes. You pulled down his zipper, feeling the heat radiating from his body as you exposed him fully. His erection was already glistening with precum, and your mouth watered at the sight. You knelt in front of him, your hands wrapping around his length as you looked up at him, seeing the way his eyes darkened with desire. He watched you intently as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the saltiness of his arousal. The groan that escaped his lips was deep and primal, and it spurred you on, your movements becoming more confident, more eager. You felt him throb in your mouth, and his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as you moved up and down his length, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him deeper. His breathing became ragged, and you could feel the tension in his body as he fought to maintain control. But it wasn't long before you felt the first pulse, his release spilling into your mouth as he groaned your name. You swallowed, savoring the taste of him, but a bit of it dribbled from the corner of your lips.

He wasn't done with you yet. In a swift motion, he pulled you to your feet, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he kissed you hard, his lips claiming yours. You could taste the remnants of his release on your lips as he kissed you, the intensity of it making your head spin. San moved with purpose, carrying you to his desk and bending you over it, your skirt still hiked up around your waist. His hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your wetness with ease. He teased you for a moment, rubbing slow circles that made you moan softly, your body arching in response. "You're soaked," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I bet you've been thinking about this for a long time, haven't you?" You couldn't find the words to respond, too lost in the sensation of his fingers playing with you, teasing you mercilessly. He pulled his hand away suddenly, and you whimpered at the loss, but the sound turned into a gasp as you felt him position himself at your entrance. He didn't hesitate, driving into you with a force that made you cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support. The fullness of him inside you was overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he began to move, his thrusts hard and deep. The pleasure was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with sensation as he took you, his pace relentless. You could hear the sounds of your bodies colliding, the slickness of your arousal, the heavy breathing and moans that filled the room. The thought of your coworkers hearing you, knowing exactly what was happening behind the closed doors of his office, only heightened the intensity. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to a climax that you coudn't hold back. San's hand round its way between your legs again, his fingers rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body trembling as you cried out, the pleasure too intense to contain. He followed you over moments later, his body tensing as he buried himself deep inside you, his release filling you as he groaned your name, the sound of it echoing in your ears as you both collapsed onto the desk, exhausted and satisfied. The room was filled with the scent of sex and the lingering sweetness of his cologne. You lay there, your body still trembling, your mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened. San's hand trailed lazily up your back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “Don’t think you’ve escaped so easily", he murmured, his voice soft and teasing. "But I think we can discuss your punishment later." You couldn’t help but smile, despite the lingering soreness in your body. You knew you were in for a lot more than just a warning, and the thought of it sent a delicious thrill through you. As you gathered yourself, smoothing down your skirt and trying to regain some semblance of professionalism, San stepped back, watching you with that same smirk on his lips. He looked every bit the dominant, powerful man you had fantasized about, and now that fantasy had become your reality. And as you walked out of his office, your legs still shaking slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder just how far he would take this game of dominance and submission. One thing was certain: the office was about to become a much more interesting place.

[unsuredreamer]

Savior

Bridget Hearts 🩷 x fem reader

it's so shit I'm so sorry, but i feel like every idea just flees out of my head atm 🥲

"I will destroy you!" Uliana roared, preparing herself to run after Bridget. Eating too many flamingo feathers had its side effects, and it was about time she found out that when someone says 'don't do it' you simply listen.

It enraged you. She was so stupid, yet everyone feared her. How so? You'd never understand why they didn't stand up to her. What would she do? Run after you? It was all she was capable of, after all.

You needed to put a stop to her dumb frantics, so you stepped up with your dagger, holding it close to her neck.

"Oooo, we dont wanna do that, do we?" You grinned, basically threatening her with death. It was exciting, thrilling. Being just a step away from getting rid of someone, having that power over them. Being in a possession of their life thread, having the scissors steady in your hand. It was amusing to you. The goosebump on your skin shows from the rush you felt deep inside.

The dagger you held so close it was pinning her skin, making a slight dent. Her breath on hold. "I suggest you step away from our princess of hearts or you'll make an excellent sushi tonight, darling." You mirrored her peers' shocked expressions. None of them daring to step up to you. You were feared amongst them, being slightly older than the rest of the students, and kind of crazy too. It had its advantages having your twisted history behind.

"Marinated octopus. How does it sound?" Or would you like something last season? Shrimp pasta?" You smiled ominously, pricking the sharp end deeper in her neck, almost making it bleed. You could sense the blade cutting her first skin, making her immediately stumble back.

"You- You're mad!" She managed to yell out, holding her fresh wound before she took her turn, walking away, or should you say, basically running away. Your graceful dagger flew after her pinning itself right beside her head, trimming her friends hair in the process.

"Might be, just a little bit" you giggled, making the blade return to you with a swift wave of your hand. Turning yourself to the other group, you fixed your button-up shirt. Red and Chloe standing in awe at how well mannered you seemed even though you almost committed murder right in front of their eyes. Red thanking you internally for saving her mother. "But aren't we all?" You grinned, your cheshire cat-like smile making everyone around you blush. You were charming, to say the least, although it was not thanks to your name. "Look at that," you pouted, pointing at the shattered plate in front of you. "She wasted such good cupcakes. What a shame"

"Don't worry, Y/n, i think I have enough for everyone!" Bridget smiled brightly. "Thank you for your savior service" She bowed jokingly, giving you one of her famous smiles in return.

"And look at you cupcake, How could anyone not like you?" You waved your hands in the air, making her broken belongings whole again. Holding it our for her. "This plate was too pretty to be broken. Dont let yourself be broken, beautiful, " you winked before dissappearing into thin air. Red and Chloe blinking a couple of times to check if they saw right.

"Woah, who was that? Hot, sexy and amusing?" Red spoke up, getting a glare in return from both Bridget and Chloe. "I'm just saing" the girl threw her arms in the air in a defensive manner.

"That was Y/n. We don't really know much about her" Bridget dreamily explained, holding her beautifully decorated plate close to her chest.

"Only that she's done some horrible stuff. And she's kinda insane" Ella blabbered, rolling the cupcake trolley.

"It was for good!. And she's right, we're all mad here" Bridget butt in, snapping herself out of her daydreams.

" If you can call cutting someone's lim-"

"Ella, they don't have to know that" bridget laughed nervously, taking another plate from her trolley "She's not that bad how they make her out to be-here you go-" The pink haired princess walked around giving out more of her delicious cupcakes. "She is actually so nice-"

"She commits crime at least 3 times a week, and her go-to 'entertaining' hobby is watching people stumble and fall over this tree root" Ella butt in pointing at the object.

"But, she paints me pink roses and brings me many different ingredients for my sweets. Isn't that nice?" Bridget hummed, making red and chloe look at themselves

"Do you think what i think?" Red whispered to her fellow 'friend', the other just nodding her head.

-

"You know, I think you should ask Bridget out for castlecoming" Red blurted out while walking after/stalking you around the school.

"Yeah? Why is that so?" You giggled, holding a book about baking. You were currently at the library, just trying to make your way to the comfy corner made specifically for residents of the library. Unfortunately, you couldn't use it if you weren't reading a book of some sort. Hence why you took ahold of whatever, with intentions of taking a nap in the place.

"Well, you seem to be liking her, aaaand she seems to be liking you too" You laughed, you loved being in these kinds of situations.

"Well loves, what made you think I like this princess?" You looked up from your book, you let's be real, were not paying attention to. The question made them rethink everything.

"You-She-em" Chloe tried, but nothing made sense

"I guess she's alright" You grinned at their troubled expressions.

Princess of hearts was more than alright. She was everything and nothing at the same time. She was the air you breathed and the hard ground you walked on. She is like the ocean breeze early in the morning, the sunbeams lightly musking your face and the cold water splashing your body. She lit up the whole room with her bright eyes and cute smile. Like a walk through a rainy forest, she made you content and calm. Her delicate and soft features fairly contrast to your strong ones. It made you only more drawn to her.

"Wouldn't you want to take her out?"

"You're very persistent. interesting" you hummed "And why would I do that, Red my love?" You flew up from your comfortable place, spinning around doing flips. Red grimacing at the nickname, Chloe glaring at you "Chill Charming" The snort you let out made chloe burst out one of her own "I will take your mommy to the dance Red. Don't want her turning out evil, do we?"

"How do you-?"

"Well, I might have or have not overheard you twoooo, talking maybee" You flew circling them both, extra dragging your words making them annoyed "Aboouut an evil Queen who likes to behead people, whom also happened to be your mom and she sentenced your mom to death" You grinned spitting it all out in one breath "Crazy little woman"

"So now you know"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Are you deaf darling?" She was ready to jump you but got stopped by Chloe, thankfully. "I'm going, my children. I have to make a proposal for your mom now, do i?"

"Only my mom not hers!"

"Of course!" You laughed, dissappearing in the frame.

-

"Hello Bridget" You whispered into her ear appearing behind her. Your lips musking her skin. she stopped breathing for a hot second, staring intensively at her notebook. A beautiful yours heart shaped necklace with lots of cards and sweets drawn on the page. Her slender manicured fingers held onto a pencil, touching up some lines. "That is amazingly jaw-dropping." You kept on whispering

"Thank you" She whispered out herself, turning her head to the side. Her lips almost touching yours in the process. Her big brown eyes dropping down to your lips, then back up to your own enchanting ones.

"You know if you want to kiss me, you just have to ask" You leaned closer, bumping your noses together, giving her your biggest grin possible.

"What if i do?" Her sudden confidence made you stumble a bit back, but her quick grip on your collar dragged you in closer "...want to kiss you" she breathed out into your lips. you felt every bone in your body snap.

"Then we might just have to do that" You looked down on her lips, almost closing the blank space between you two if it weren't for the sudden yank of your shirt from the back.

"Please don't do that here" Red grimaced, secretly smirking when she saw you on the ground.

"Party pooper!" You floated up placing yourself between two girls. "Ohh, such a sunshine!" You threw your arm around Ella, the girl too stiff to shrug it off.

"Whatever"

"Sooooo, Ella tell me how's it going with little prince Charming" You grinned against her cheek, she blushed hard at the mention of him

"Did he ask you to the castle coming yet?" Bridget asked excitedly, almost pushing you off the bench.

"He did, but I'm not going. i think i made my point clear-"

"Oh c'monnnn. At least he asked you" Bridget pouted "I wish someone would ask me" the girl dragged, looking down on her drawing, popping her head on her palm. Red looked at you, raising her eyebrows.

"Cupcake" with just a single word everyone was looking at you, not a bit of your confidence faltering away. With a wave of your hand a pink rose appeared, well developed with only a single thorn and two leafs. "Could I take you to castle coming?" you asked in all seriousness, presenting her the rose. Her eyes widened at your gesture.

"Well, there weren't any roses for me, surely," Ella grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at the other girls.

"So what do you say, princess?" She threw her arms around your neck, engulfing you in a tight hug.

"Hell yes! I'd love it, actually. " She smiled widely, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You felt the blood rushing in you. You loved the feeling of her lips on you, her touch. She was so soft, like a pillow. So delicate. It made you want more.

You never thought about the princess of hearts that way. Actuallyy you did, once or twice. But before that, she was always just there. Just someone you'd defend before Uliana and her crew. Someone who did cool card tricks and someone who was so easily prank-able. But you wouldn't dare. She was good-hearted, almost perfect. No one was that pure, and still, here she was, pure as the driven snow. A pretty girl there was no denying. You've never imagined what her touch would feel like if it lingered on you a bit more than a few seconds. Or if she's keeping any secrets, she had to, right?

-

"You know Bridget, you look absolutely gorgeous" You smiled, not sarcastically, a true genuine smile you haven't done for years. It made her blush for the millionth time this evening.

Your hands were resting on her small waist, hers on your shoulders, making her fingers intertwine on your neck. Slowly swaying your bodies together in the rythm of the music. Not your thing completely, but her presence changed it entirely. It was probably the last song of the night, leaving only a few couples in the ballroom. But you both had such great fun you wouldn't wish on heavens to go home right now. Just being here with her was the right place, and you felt it deep inside.

"Thank you" Was all she made out "Thank you for taking me here" She laid her head on your chest, placing you both even closer.

"No worries. I could do it a million times if it meant getting to spend time with you. My heart" you swayed both of you slowly, the song never ending.

"I loved tonight, I'm glad im here with you. I hope we'll be able to spend more time together" She looked up at you, her big brown eyes staring closely and longingly. Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You placed your hand in her hair, grabbing the back of her head.

"Of course we will. I'm making sure of that" Her eyes lit up, brightening the whole room for you. You were absolutely in awe, speechless. She had never looked better. The dim lights only making her singular features pop more. No one will ever look better than her.. At least you won't be looking at them. You've got your only one star, your moon. She was not yours, but she will be. "Can I kiss you?" The sudden question did not startle her in fact she did not mutter a word. A single nod with a smile was all that it took.

You will be her savior forevermore

[quarterlifekitty]

Thinking abt fairy tale twists

cw: conspiracy to commit murder, a lil bit of graphic imagery

König as the huntsman of your tale. Known throughout the kingdom for his brutal efficiency, he is feared by all and a pit of loneliness eats at the bottoms of his lungs as it grows in his stomach. He will not deny– the queen, your mother, wordlessly offered him more than a sum of gold. Her nails grazed his arm, just close enough for the tips of her fingers to blaze along his skin. He felt the skin burn and tingle as if raised by scars. She was keen to his true desires, and at the time he was more than happy to be preyed upon.

Ironic for that to be a huntsman’s wish.

You’d been hidden from the world for a very long time. Not seen or heard by anyone but the queen and some select castle staff for over a decade. Even in the walls of your own home, you are veiled– covered like grass after a frost.

And you are no fool. You know why you’ve been let out of the grounds, told to gather spring flowers just past the edge of the forest. But the queen’s word is law, and you can only hope the end will be swift. The loneliness in you is like gnashing gears, chewing through nerves until all of your sensations have frayed and distorted. Even without knowing your face, his emptiness feels magnetized to yours. The hand that grips the serrated blade begins to shake imperceptibly.

You lift the veil so you can see the sky unburdened for the last time. It is in that moment that he thinks to himself– it’s difficult to tell the difference between the heart of a pig and that of a girl.

“Kleines mädchen,” König calls, almost flinching as you gasp, turning to find the source of the words. “You are in danger. The Queen, she… she wishes you dead. But I cannot bring myself—“ he lets out a deep breath, trying to regain some modicum of composure in your presence. There was a reason your stepmother envied you as she did. You had a beauty that men would conquer kingdoms for.

“Come with me,” the huntsman entreats, “I can keep you safe. I won’t let her find you. Please…” he steps forward, nearly stunned when you do not step back. For so long all he has known was distance maintained.

The world had turned from him and you had been turned from the world. He can so clearly picture your bodies fitting together in a way that seems only possible in paintings. Two broken things forming a single whole.

“You… you promise not to harm me?” There’s a crack in your voice, quieted from disuse. “I have nothing to offer you,” you remind him. Almost as if she wants for him to go through with his work.

“You do not turn away from me. That’s more than anyone has given me in quite some time.” Another step forward, with you standing rooted in place, eyes not wandering from his form.

“You’ll be in danger if she even suspects that I still live.” The words warm him from the inside.

“You’re very sweet, mädchen. To be worried for ein alter jäger… I could not see you harmed. Not even at the cost of my own life.” This time it’s you that steps forward, directly in front of him now. You reach for the hem of his hood.

“A face for a face. That’s my one condition.” Your voice gathers in his ears as he strains to memorize each note, like an animal trying to remember the sweet taste of morning dew on grass.

“You may not like what you see.”

“Any face can be beautiful if it holds affection, huntsman.”

Yes. A pig’s heart will do.

[pedge-page]

does tommy ever feel the wrath of joel’s pregnant wife or does she reserve that specifically for joel? I feel like tommy would get on her nerves a little bit 😂

I was waiting for someone to ask this! Tbh I think preggo wife saves her wrath for Joel simply because shes comfortable with him and can relax and let her guard down. With Tommy alone....

Tommy Dealing with Preggo Wife

Warnings: just language and Joel and Wife being insecure in their own (slightly toxic) ways

- - - -

You were super pregnant at this point. A couple weeks away from making Joel a doting husband to a doting father, and he was probably more on edge than you were. Your anxious little poor husband Joel, freaking out that he needed to take a weekend trip away, and the only person he can rely to watch over you--

"I don't need to be fucking baby sat--!"

-- his sweet, helpless, innocent little pregnant wife, is unfortunately, Tommy.

"Ok listen very carefully," Joel starts, now having Tommy's full attention like he's about to ask him to do his first heart transplant. "She doesn't go anywhere unless you decide. She eats what you put in front of her, and you don't take her shit. She's gonna be bitchy and whiny and crying. She needs to rest. Rub her shoulder, put her feet up, whatever. But you gotta tough through and just make sure she understands that you're in charge. And what you say, goes. Got it?"

He knows Joel is relying on him to take care of his most precious belonging...who also is the devil. "Ok...ok. I mean it's like a... like watching a toddler, right?" Tommy asks, unsure about the whole thing.

"Yeah... a pregnant one that weighs more than ya and swears and probably will slap you a lot."

Joel smacks Tommy's shoulder lovingly with an encouraging smile.

Tommy feels even more hesitant. but he knows that he just needs to channel his inner Joel this weekend: stern, unmoving, and commanding, and he'll do just fine navigating you.

Joel hugs you real tight and kisses your forehead, inhaling your hair deeply as if to etch it into his brain. "I love you, baby, I'm gonna miss you so--"

"Later fucker." you pat his bum and wave him off as you waddle away in his large T shirt towards the freezer drawer, pulling out a Ben and Jerry's fudge pint with wet lips and a grin.

Tommy shrugs and helps Joel out to the truck with his bag. he waves goodbye as his brother backs out the driveway, shouting "YOU'RE IN CHARGE!"

I'm in charge, I'm in charge, he chants to himself, taking a deep breath before entering your house again.

"Alright!" he claps his hands together awkwardly but with a tone leadership. "We are going to stay in bed today,"

"Mall," you grump though a big scoop of ice cream.

"W-what?"

"M'goin ta mall. Yur takin mee," you nod towards him casually, gulping another spoon.

"uhh-h." Tommy looks around anxiously. Was this part of the test? He should put his foot down, yeah, Joel said you go no where unless Tommy explicitly said so. "N-no."

you swallow. "'Scuse me?"

"N-no? I mean... no! I said, we are putting you in bed, and what i say, go--"

"Thomas Miller," you say, and an eerie sense of fear swallows Tommy, sending shivers all over his body. Despite the 90 degree forecast, its like someone just tossed his insides into a freezer, and you were locking him in.

"Y-yes...maam," he whispers, feeling small.

"We can either do this... the hard way," you tilt your head with a sinister gaze towards him, as if referencing that bit of "Joel" he's trying to channel inside. "Or, we can do this... my way." The way you smile at the end is somehow even more threatening than the chilled tone you're having with him.

It was like when he and Joel broke his grandma's vase, and rather than yelling at them, she had the exact same terrifyingly threatening voice, and it made Tommy sleep with one eye open for a week.

"What will it be, Thomas."

He remembers to breathe shakily through his nose, licking his parched lower lip.

He doesn't want to be known as the guy who got beat up by his pregnant sister in law.

-

"Do you want a pretzel?" you ask kindly.

"Ah... no--no that's okay--"

"I'm getting you one, honey, just say Thank you."

"Okay. T-thank you."

Tommy bites into the cinnamon sugar one with the extra glaze you had ordered, and he had never felt such sweet heaven.

"Joel used to yell at me for my sweet tooth," he admits as the two of you stuff your faces and waltz slowly down the mall halls.

"Me too!" you bump his shoulder heartily.

Tommy lets out a relaxed sigh. From the moment he agreed to do whatever it was you wanted, the weekend had been fantastic. Turns out, you're not only super fun to blast kareoke to the worst songs in the car, but also all full of warmth, laughter, and even more suprisingly, extremely generous at offering to spoil him rotten like a mother with her favorite child.

"What can I make you for dinner?"

"Wha--no I'm supposed to cook for you--"

"Tommy stop please. I want to make you something. You have to be stuck with me all day walking like a slow penguin. I want to do something for you. You deserve it. "

You hadn't noticed Tommy pausing along your walk, watching you in awe as you waddled about, gently caressing your tummy absentmindedly as you window shopped.

This was the demon that Joel complained about every hour of the day???

And even more concerning was: how did someone like JOEL manage to score a girl like YOU???

You were so peaceful, generous, kind, loving, all smiles and willing to take care of him.

Was he doing everything right or everything wrong?

The two of you return home, with Tommy hauling more gifts that you had bought him. He really wasn't able to protest, with you somehow disappearing from sight conveniently, to his horror that he somehow lost you like a puppy in the park, and then finding you suddenly swiping your card at a register.

He should feel bad, truly, but you were just in such a good mood, he didn't want to seem ungrateful. And he also.... really liked all of it.

"Oh these are so fuckin nice!" He cheers, pulling out the new sneakers you had just bought in it's wrapping paper. "Mine are--"

"Old and ratty, yes I know that's why I bought them. Sick of your nasty shoes trailing my house--"

"S-sorry--"

"Bought you some fuzzy slippers too so you can switch out when you come in."

"Im not really a slippers guy..."

"You are now."

You ended up making a quick spaghetti, slapping him away every time he tried to hover in the kitchen. "I wanna stand! good exercise!" you nod with a smile.

And it seemed like you meant it. Despite babyzilla cooking and ready to burst out, you were light on your feet in the kitchen. Like a ballerina dancing and swaying, you hummed to a tune in your head as you tasted the sauce on the spatula. You were in the zone, in your world. and it was genuinely... beautiful. He understood it now, when people say pregnant women glow. the entire time, Joel always said you did, but he only ever saw how tired the pregnancy made the both of you.

Was... Joel the problem?

After a hearty dinner, Tommy washed up the dishes. You said your goodnights and headed to your master bedroom, tucked in, and lights off just as Tommy gathered his pillows down the hall in the guest bedroom.

He sighs, laying on his belly and inhaling the fresh linen before closing his eyes.

Not more than a few moments pass before he hears some sniffles down the hall. Then again, a cough and whine.

He sits up and heads down to your room, the door cracked and dark. he flips the light switch on to see you sitting upright in your bed, rubbing your eyes.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

"M'good!" you give him two thumbs up. "Night!"

He nods and flips the switch off again, turning away. he doesn't make it two steps before he hears your unmistakable crying.

He turns the lights back on to see you wiping fat tears from your cheeks, sobbing into your shirt--Joel's shirt.

"Hey...what's wrong? Are you okay? ya in pain? What can I--"

You pull your face up, lips trembling and all tear soaken. He sees your clutching one of Joel's jackets in your hands, wrapped tightly like you don't want it to leave you. A completely emotional mess as you huff and puff.

He puts the pieces together. "Ya miss Joel, don't you--"

"I MISS HIMMMMMM!!!!!!!!" you wail, erupting into a long cry into the air with slunked shoulders and larger tears strolling down from the creases of your closed eyes.

He tightens his lips awkwardly, not wanting to let out a chuckles. Turns out big scary pregnant "later fucker" wife really did love that dumbass. Its also probably the first time he sees bags under your eyes, like you were hiding your exhaustion. When Joel is around, you almost never looked tired. Just pouty and groutchy like a spoiled senior cat.

Maybe Joel wasnt the problem, but the solution. He knew how to take care of you, knew what you needed when you needed it, knew when to put his foot down, and even when hed watch you two bicker and bitch, joel knew exactly how to get you in bed wrapped around him like gumby. Every. Single. Night.

He rubs your arm soothingly.

"Why"-hiccup--"did he"--sniffle--"leave me!"

"He aint leave ya, just had some work."

"HE HATES ME!!!!!!!!!"

He shakes his head, knowing you're inconsolable. rather than trying to reason, he brings you to his shoulder so you can cry your heart out on him as he hugs you. "There there," he hums, swaying you two side to side.

like a crying toddler indeed.

"M'sorry," you whimper, rubbing your eyes with your balled fists. "Wakin' you up, me crying like this. I can't--I can't help it some times..." your voice waivers, face warm in embarrassment that you're burdening Tommy so much.

"Don't sweat it. You did a lot today. Can I get you anything to cheer you up?" he suggests, expecting a trip down to the freezer for a nice tub of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cr--

"Can you get the jar of pickles?"

That...is fine too.

He brings up the largest jar of dill pickles he's ever seen in his life, sets them in your lap. He pops open the sturdy lid for your eager fingers to pull a long dill out and slink it into your lips. the satisfying crunch echoes in the room as you munch.

You start crying again. "I Fucking HATE Pickles!" you groan angrily before taking another generous crunch with a confusingly delightful hum. "Like--I hate it, but they're good?"

He chuckles, taking a piece. He pauses, eying you fearfully as if he made a wrong move not asking your permissions to take one of your hated yet coveted pickles. You nod, and the two of you crunch down on the peculiar snack.

"It's probably from the baby..."

"Fuckin' weirdo." you pat the rounded hump of your tummy and swallow the rest of your slice. Though, the way you stroke along the skin so delicately with a little smirk, he knows you're already in love with your "fuckin weirdo" baby more than anyone could love anything in this world.

Tommy never really thought about the word "uncle" until this moment, and the first emotion he has to associate it with, is excitement.

"Mkay. I'm done now." You hold the jar out to him so he can close it. "Thank you, Tommy," you say sweetly with the gentlest, sleepiest smile. "I really appreciate it."

THIS IS THE ANGEL JOEL HAS THE NERVES TO COMPLAIN ABOUT????

He swears, if Joel comes back and calls him up later saying how insufferable you are, he may just have to size up and smack his big brother.

Tommy pats your head, tucks you in again and turns of the lights.

-

The next day you make Tommy take you to breakfast and get him as many pancakes and French toast he can stuff his face with. A spoiled little brother indeed, and as he swallows another lump of the best breakfast eggs he's ever had, he wonders how sweet life would have been with a big sister like you spoiling him every day instead of Joel making him do chores and shit.

Its not until Joel is meeting the two of you at a lunch spot that Tommy remembers exactly what Joel always groans about.

"Hi baby!" He grins, rushing to give you a big hug for the first time in two days.

And despite your crying for him last night, you only retort with "sup fucker" casually and near bored, as if you weren't sniffing his jacket and Wagging your imaginary tail in disguise.

Joel purses his lips sarcastically, knowing you mean well, and Tommy laughs. You two definitely understood each other way better than he thought.

"Im gonna wash my hands, you two get a table," Joel says, and disappears down the back entrance.

Your waitress greets you just as Tommy is helping you slide down into the booth, big baby belly and all.

"Just three waters, please,"

"And a pepsi! Lots of ice. Two pepsis actually. And bread. And maybe like uh milkshake to start off?--"

The waitress glances at Tommy with a raised brow, wondering if you're genuine or not. He shrugs and nods, noting "she's pretty far along if ya can tell."

"My older sister was the same way. I'll get that in. You two...sorry I shouldn't say it but you two make a cute couple--" she says kindly.

Unfortunately, its exactly at the same Joel returns and hears that last bit, directed towards you and Tommy.

She walks away just as you catch Joels bewildered expression, conveniently with Tommy's hand on your bump and another around your lower back (supporting you into the booth of course but JOEL doesn't see it that way with this new context).

You and Tommy open your mouths to dismiss the claim and misunderstanding, but ever defensive Joel just shoves Tommy aside, slides into your booth next to you and slams your hand into his lap, his bear paws enclosed around yours. Tommy quietly slides into the opposite end, met with Joels flaring nostrils and billowing steam coming out of them.

The younger Miller realizes that slapping some sense into Joel and "sizing him up" was a total pipe dream. He'd be lucky to live long enough to an uncle at this point.

You gotta defend your poor brother in law. "The waitress just saw--"

"Cute couple, huh," he seethe with gritted teeth his entire seething focus at Tommy rather than paying any mind to you.

"Joel stop, Tommy was REALLY great to me this weekend--"

"Oh I BET he was," he grunts, turning towards you with a scowl. "S'that why he got new shoes on?" Joel damn well knows Tommy didn't just pony up and buy new shit for himself this weekend, given he refuses to buy himself anything new for years past it's expiration.

Tommy knows he's never allowed to baby sit you alone again at this rate.

"She was crying last night saying how much she missed ya," Tommy blurts.

You kick his shin under the table, not wanting to let Joel know what a pathetic groveling mess--

"Wait really!?" he nuzzles closer to your, as if all the anger in his body dissipated at the notion his poor little wife was calling out for her hubby.

Tommy chuckles and nods. "We shared some pickles in bed, ain't that right?"

You slap your face just as Joel rears his once again flaring red face towards Tommy. "You did WHAT in WHERE????"

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[redvexillum]

I feel like the way I portray Alastor is all in the spectrum of Yandare. So, I tried my best to write...yandare Alastor in a way it makes sense for my head canon of him. I want to give a quick shout out to my friend @peach-flavored-flambe ! I thought the best way to welcome her is dedicating this unhinged Alastor story to her!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, dead dove: do not eat, dub con, obsessive!alastor, p in v, gentle sex, gaslighting, entrapment, breeding kink, psychological, dark, mental torment, unhealthy relationship, orgasm denial, power dynamic, unhinged!alastor, reader is not okay, implied cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, depression, reader is delulu, alastor is delulu, extreme co-dependency, extreme denial, yandare!alastor

🙏 please mind your mental health before you read 🙏

The thought curled through you like poison, clinging to every corner of your mind: you wanted to die.  

It was a siren song, cruel and haunting, a whisper that slithered deep into the crumbling fortress of your mind, eroding the defences you’d built to keep it out. Your hands shook as exhaustion seeped into every crack; bones weary from a battle that felt endless. It wasn’t just tiredness – it was a soul-deep weight, a leaden heaviness that hollowed you out.  

In the background, soft jazz played from the kitchen, each note swirling with a warmth that felt so alien in the cold void within you. Sunlight poured through the window, a golden river that washed over everything it touched, indifferent to the shadows lurking within.  

You noticed the knife on the counter – a sharp gleam that seemed to pulse with a dangerous allure, its polished blade catching the light with a slick, almost wet shine. It seemed to call out to you, offering a quick, dreamless eternity.  

But even as your gaze lingered, your heart resisted, tethered stubbornly to someone who’d become both your prison and sanctuary. 

Alastor.  

A man you never should have crossed paths with. A man you should never have fallen for.  

You sighed, holding the knife as you turned back to the chunk of meat. Its once bright crimson flesh changing to a dull, dead brown. The raw smell was overwhelming, thick and nearly spoiled in the oppressive Louisiana heat. Alastor left you with some tasks today, after you had begged him to give you something to do as you wait for his return. Your task was to package the meat, clean up the kitchen, polish the floor while you waited for his return.  

The smell of raw meat brought images to flicker through your mind: men and women, faces frozen in terror as Alastor dragged them down to the cellar. A shiver ran down your spine, and a small whimper escaped, a whisper of fear against the tears that threatened to fall. You tore your gaze away from the knife and forced yourself to look outside. The bayou stretched out beyond the window, a bleak expanse of gnarly trees and dark water – silent, desolate, and as inescapable as him.  

You took a steadying breath, mentally reciting the day’s tasks like a prayer to keep you grounded. Finish the meat, scrub the blood stains, bleach the floor, and when the last crimson smear was gone, he’d return. By then, you’d be ready, composed. With a sniff, you shoved your feelings back, burying them under the monotony of chores.  

Finally, when every trace of red erased from the floor, you heard the front door click open. The sound echoed, a rhythmic click-click-click, each lock sliding free, the metal grating sharply against the silence. Your heart skipped as the door creaked, and there he stood – Alastor, haloed in the setting sun. His smile was gentle, but his eyes gleamed as he opened his arms.  

“My love,” he murmured, setting down his bag and slipping off his coat with an air of practised ease.  

You scrambled to your feet, the memory still fresh from the last time you hadn’t been there to greet him. He had panicked, refusing to leave your side for days. He held you then, whispering sweet words of devotion, his arms an unyielding cage, each word sinking deeper until it was all you knew. You didn’t know if he knew the truth – that every word bound you closer even as you longed to escape.  

Fear wrapped around you, yet somewhere deep within, in a place even you struggled to reach, you needed him. The years of isolation had stripped you bare, leaving only the two of you locked in this strange dance.  

Five years – five years of him as your only constant, your only company in this void. That had to be love. It was the only way to make sense of why you stayed, why you remained bound to him by something more powerful than chains.  

It had to be love.  

“Alastor,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, legs shaking from hours of kneeling on the hard floor, scrubbing away every crimson stain. You took a step forward, the chilling clink of metal grazing the wood beneath your feet with each uneven, hesitant step. The floorboards seemed to pulse below you, each creak an echo of your own heartbeat, until finally, you stopped, frozen four steps away from the exit.  

He chuckled – a warm, resonant sound that should have been comforting but only heightened the chill trickling down your spine. With graceful steps, Alastor closed the distance between you, his arms circling around your shoulders. His chin rested gently against your head, the weight of him grounding you in place, his presence washing over you like a tide you couldn’t escape.  

“I missed you,” you mumbled against his chest, nuzzling into his embrace. The heat of him, the solid reassurance of his touch, brought you back to yourself, to the one undeniable truth of your existence: you were here, alive, because he held you tethered. “Did you have a good day at work, my love?” you murmured, soft and tentative.  

His hand slid over the back of your head; fingers gentle as he stroked you. He breathed in deeply, a wistful sigh slipping from his lips. “My love, you never left my thoughts for a single moment.” His voice was soft, warm, and his arms tightened around you, so tightly that for a second, you felt as though the air was slipping away.  

Finally, he parted, just enough for you to breathe again, his fingers grazing along the warm curve of your cheek. “Let’s get you out of that, hmm?” His voice was gentle, and his whisky-brown eyes glittered with a kindness that made your chest ache.  

A swell of relief surged in you, and you threw your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alastor, thank you!” Laughter bubbled out of you, bright and involuntary, stretching your lips into a smile that felt foreign, almost unbelievable after everything.  

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength both exhilarating and terrifying as he carried you toward the couch. Each step sent the faintest clinking of metal into the air, a reminder of the bond that held you captive.  

As he set you down and took a step back, you could feel his gaze moving over you, slow and deliberate, like he could peel back each layer with a single look. You flushed under his scrutiny, your shoulders curling inward, a strange blend of shame and need warring within you. Despite your clothes, under his gaze you felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could read every thought you’d ever dared to keep from him.  

“Cher,” he murmured, his hand drifting over the outside of your calf, fingers tracing a path until they reached your ankle.  

You heard the fabric rustling, and then – there it was, glinting between his fingers: a silver key. Your eyes focused on the key, and your heart skipped, hope blooming like wildflowers in a barren field. The promise of freedom lay in that tiny object, so close and yet, a lifetime away. You watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he took your ankle in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your bare foot. It was a reminder of the first time he’d ordered you to go without socks when you first escaped from this manacle.  

He slid the key into the lock, and with a single twist, the manacle opened with the same familiar click that marked his return home every day. The cool metal fell away, clattering weakly to the floor. A rush of air hit the skin beneath, and you winced as blood surged back into your ankle, a dull ache flooding back into limbs so long constrained.  

The shackles lay there, lifeless on the floor, the physical proof of your captivity now nothing more than a scrap of metal, stripped of its power. And yet, as you looked up at him, his eyes shining with something both possessive and achingly tender, you realized you could never truly cast off the chains that bound you to him.  

Not as long as you believe you loved him.  

“Oh, my poor cher,” Alastor murmured, his voice thick with a twisted blend of regret and possessive tenderness as his eyes traced the dark bruises wrapping around your ankle. His lips brushed softly over the tender skin, lingering in a gentle, reverent kiss before his forehead rested against your leg.  

With his eyes closed, he sighed, pressing warmth into you. “It pains me,” he whispered, “to see even the slightest mark of discomfort on you.” His lips began a slow journey, grazing from your ankle upward along the sensitive skin of your inner calf, each kiss stealing a shiver from you. “But you understand, don’t you, cher? It’s a necessity.” 

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, their intense gaze sending a shudder through you. His position – kneeling between your legs – made it impossible to think straight. Despite being in a servile pose, he was still the master of your heart.  

“Yes...I understand,” you managed, your voice raspy and barely audible. His lips continued their climb, each kiss leaving a cool, tingling path against your skin. “But I’ve been good, Alastor.” Your breath hitched as his head came to rest in your lap, his fingers tracing languid circles along your thigh.  

He chuckled softly, low and indulgent. “You have been,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “Perhaps if you continue to behave...I might let you roam freely around the house when I’m not here.” He looked up, giving you a small, playful smile that made your heart stutter.  

The thought of moving freely, without the heavy, omnipresent clink of the chain dragging behind you, sent a thrill through your veins. You clenched your hands into fists, desperate to keep your excitement contained.  

“I can be good,” you whispered, fingers drifting to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you stroked his head. “I can be good for you, Alastor...” 

A groan escaped him, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into your touch, savouring the sensation like a man starving. Emboldened, you took a breath, letting words slip out – words you’d held back for so long, daring to hope he might grant them.  

“Maybe...” you hesitated, voice barely a murmur. “Maybe sometimes in the distant future, I could go into t-town with you?” Your fingers froze in his hair as his body tensed, muscles stiffening under your touch. You held your breath, dread and hope tangling within you, afraid you’d crossed some unseen line. Alastor’s overprotective streak was ironclad – whenever he sensed a threat, real or imagined, his vigilance would lock you down even more tightly than before.  

A heartbeat passed before he spoke. “Perhaps...” He rose to his feet slowly, drawing you up with him, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Perhaps one day, cher.” His hands slid under your legs, lifting you from the couch, his grip firm and desirous. “But for now...” he trailed off, leaving the sentence open, thick with suggestion as he carried you up the stairs.  

The scent of him, rich and intoxicating, filled your senses, mingling with the sharp, metallic undertone of old blood. Recently, he had brought up the idea of family, his eyes lighting with a dark kind of joy when he saw your loneliness. The house felt hollow most days, empty but for him, and he’d suggested a child - a little soul to fill the silent rooms.  

At first, the notion had left you reeling, uncertain, but the longer you were left alone with only your thoughts, the more the idea began to take root. Its appeal started to bloom uncontrollably like weeds in your mind.  

Now, Alastor and you spent every waking moment together in his bed, until your wishes took fruit.  

He lowered you onto the bed with an almost reverent tenderness, as though each touch was sacred, each look a silent promise. He shed his clothes slowly, his eyes never leaving you as his skin emerged, bare and raw. By the time he climbed onto bed, leaning over you, his desire was unmistakable – his cock hardening just from watching you laid out beneath him.  

He hovered for a moment, his face close to yours, and his gaze softened as his hand brushed along your cheek. “Cher,” he murmured, a plea woven into his tone, his voice low and thick. His fingers traced down the side of your face as though memorizing you by touch alone. “Will you let me...feel you tonight?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, slow and lingering, each word like a promise. “For the rest of the night?” His hips lowered, pressing himself against your thigh, his warmth branding you.  

Heat flared through you, your body’s response instant and shameless. Every part of you remembered him – his hands, his mouth, the way he claimed you until the world slipped away. Your body answered before your mind could, a warmth pooling low in your stomach as he lifted the hem of your dress, slowly baring your skin. You sat up, letting the fabric fall away, and his eyes flickered, his gaze dropping to your bare breasts. Your only cover now a thin piece of cloth hiding the most intimate part of you.  

Alastor’s grin widened, his gaze roving from the pebbled peaks of your nipples down to the damp fabric between your thighs. His hands traced down, catching the waistband and tugging it free. His touch lingered over each inch of exposed skin as he pulled it over your thighs, past the bruises on your ankle, until you lay just as bare before him.  

Your legs fell open, your slick folds glistening in invitation, your body traitorous in its eagerness. Alastor’s eyes darkened, his fingers tightening around his cock as he gripped himself, slow strokes stoking his own arousal as he stared, captivated by your wetness. 

“The thought of you carrying my child, cher...it drives me mad.” His voice was a rough whisper, his breaths shallow as he stroked himself harder, faster, his eyes on your throbbing core. “It drives me to the edge,” he murmured, his grin feral as he leaned closer, his gaze smouldering with dark intent. “Drives me to the point of bloodlust,” his adam’s apple bobbed up then down, his grin trembling as it couldn’t stretch further lest it tore through his cheeks.  

You swallowed, your pulse quickening at the edge of his words, at the memory of the shadows he kept hidden – the bloodstained cellar, the bodies you helped him to clean. Whether you were here or not, you knew he would continue to kill, as relentless and ruthless as ever.  

"Ah, cher,” he sighed, settling his body over yours, his hard length pressing flush against your entrance, teasing you with his warmth. “Cher, cher, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low chuckle as he brushed his fingers through your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. “Why do you have to be so lovely?” His nose skimmed your hairline, nuzzling his way to your temple, where he pressed a slow, heated kiss. “Why do you tempt me like this?” 

“You’re all I think about, dream about,” he murmured, his voice honey-sweet as he pressed his mouth against your skin, each word a whisper trailing down your cheek, your neck, and finally, open-mouthed and lingering on the curve of your breast. “So much so, cher, that I sometimes imagine killing you.” His tone was soft, unsettlingly jovial as though he’d confessed a secret desire, his hands tracing delicate patterns over your skin.  

Your heart pounded, memories flashing across your mind like dark, haunted snapshots – the cellar door muffling desperate cries, the hollow silence that followed. The scent of blood hung thick in those memories, the darkness swallowing up the faces that haunted you. Your hands trembled, a pulse of fear mingling with something deeper, something you could barely acknowledge.  

“But I won’t,” he murmured against your skin, pulling you from the spiral of those memories. He lifted his hand to catch a tear that had slipped from your eye, his thumb brushing it away softly. He gazed at the glistening drop before licking it from his fingertip, his eyes darkened as he held you captive in his gaze. “I would never hurt you, cher. Have I ever hurt you?” His voice was quiet, coaxing yet intense, his question leaving no room for escape.  

His eyes burned into yours, searching, unwavering. “Tell me, cher,” he pressed, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with a demand that made your pulse stutter. “Do you see me as a bad man?”  

There were moments when Alastor felt so delicate, so gentle that he might as well have been made of glass, every touch featherlight. But there were others, moments like this, when he shifted – his possessive grip, his words, his gaze – all dark and consuming. When he asked these questions, you felt like a bird trapped in his cage, heart fluttering as you tried to find the right words.  

Your lips quivered, unable to form a reply, the silence thick as more tears slipped down your cheeks. Alastor’s gaze softened just slightly, and he gathered you close, arms wrapping around you as he rocked you, as if you were a fragile, precious thing in his hold. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips against your hair, “I love you, cher. I love you, I love you,” he repeated, his voice lilting like a lullaby.  

Your mind fractured, the edge of your memories sharp, each fragment glinting in the dark recesses of your mind. You reached out within yourself, searching, groping for the piece of you that had loved him first – the man you’d met one hazy night at the speakeasy, the man who seemed to light up the room just by existing.  

Slowly, you let your hands drift to his back, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his skin. Your eyes closed, more tears slipping free as you tried to remember the feeling of joy, of laughter that you’d felt with him. Your lips brushed against his shoulder, a tentative sign of trust as he sighed, his body relaxing under your touch.  

You dug deeper, sifting through memories of that laughter, of your first dance, your first kiss – all those quiet, gentle confessions that had once coloured his eyes in soft brows. You found yourself on your knees, clutching at those fragments with desperate hands, determined to recall the moments when his touch had felt safe, cherished.  

“Shh,” Alastor’s mouth hovered over yours, his lips ghosting against yours, a barely there whisper of warmth. “It’s alright, cher. I have you.” He guided himself against you, pressing gently, his cock slipping slowly into your wet, pulsing heat. His mouth melded to yours as his tongue traced along the seam of your lips, savouring each taste as his low moans mingled with your soft gasps.  

A hum escaped him, rich and satisfied, as he sank into you, his body pressed to yours, filling you with a quiet intensity that left you breathless. The salted trails on your cheeks lingered as your lips curved into a slow smile, your legs parting, welcoming him deeper, your heart opening despite everything, the echoes of his whispers filling the night.  

“Good girl,” Alastor groaned, his hips pushing forward, stretching you around the hard, unyielding thickness of him. “Oh, cher, you’re perfect for me,” he murmured, his words a deep, reverent moan as he sank in deeper, inch by inch, until he was completely enveloped. His hands settled possessively on your hip, his eyes devouring the sight of you.  

“I’m going to fill you with my seed all night, love,” he purred, rolling his hips with a languid, maddening rhythm. “After all, your body is begging me to take you – wouldn't you say?” His voice rose with playful amusement, the bed creaking beneath you as if echoing his delight.  

“Yes,” you gasped, breathless, the sensation of him making you tremble. “Please,” you whispered, your nails pressing into his shoulders, urging him closer. Alastor drew his hips back slowly, agonizingly, until only the tip of him remained, only to push back in, the pace deliberate, every inch of him dragging against you with intent. Each movement seemed to ignite a new flame within you, stretching your pleasure, drawing it out until it was almost unbearable.  

“Look how good you are for me,” he whispered against your flushed cheek, his lips tracing his words into your skin. “Look how perfect you are,” he breathed, sinking deeper as he tightened his arms around you, locking you into his rhythm. “No one will understand you the way I do. You were destined to be mine.” His voice was rich, warm, but tinged with darkness that was both thrilling and terrifying.  

“Al-Alastor,” you whimpered, each thrust stoking the tension building inside, reaching deeper, pulling you into a spiral of desire and delirium. His moans, his heated words, his relentless pace – all of it washed over you like a fevered dream. Each breath, each sigh and whispered praise tangled together in a symphony of need.  

The creaking of the bed became louder, and with a sudden surge, he lifted himself, teeth gritted, and drove into you harder. His hips snapped against yours; his pace relentless.  

“Cher...cher...” he growled, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he focused on you, his gaze hungry. “That’s right, cher,” he chuckled breathlessly, each laugh broken by the sound of his hips smacking against your own. “Oh, you’d make a perfect mother,” he panted, his words nearly incoherent as he picked up his pace. The final thrust left you both gasping, his grip on you tightening as he finally reached his own release, filling you with powerful, pulsing bursts of warmth.  

You moaned in frustration, your pleasure still simmering, unsatisfied, leaving your skin taut with need. You tried to move, but Alastor held you firmly, pressing himself deep inside, his body still wrapped around yours.  

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face as he slowly softened within you, the warm rush of his seed starting to trickle down. When he finally withdrew, his fingers slipped to your entrance, pressing lightly to try and keep every last drop inside, as if marking you as his.  

Lying on his side beside you, he gazed at you, his expression gentle as he took in your flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, still needy with unfulfilled desire. A smile tugged at his lips when you also turned to your side to face him. His eyes drifted down, and you knew he was watching his own essence escape, sluggishly slipping down and pooling on your inner thighs. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.  

“Don’t worry, cher,” he said quietly, his voice low and calming. “I’ll take care of you, again and again, tonight.” He withdrew his fingers, now slicked with his and your arousal. “Until your body takes my seed, we’ll keep trying,” he promised, his gaze flickering down between you both before meeting yours with a playful, boyish grin.  

With a breath that finally began to steady, you raised a hand to his face, touching his cheek tenderly. He turned to press a gentle kiss to your palm, a quiet moment of warmth shared in the aftermath.  

In moments like these, in the field of fractured memories, you saw one shard glinting brighter than the rest, pulling you toward it. It was a piece of you – something essential, something more truthful and dangerous than anything else. It shimmered with dark clarity, cutting through the shadows of doubt and lingering despair. 

You drifted past the memories that still haunted you, not quite registering the images that flooded your mind. Alastor’s eyes, once warm, turning nearly black with fury the night you tried to leave, his grip like iron as he vowed you’d belong to him. You passed by the moment he chained you to the cellar walls, his victims mere echoes in the darkness, his voice soothingly venomous, telling you that no one else could ever understand you as he did.  

Each scar those memories left on your soul was still fresh, a raw edge in the depths of your mind, fragments of yourself that would never heal.  

But in this one shard – this singular piece of undeniable truth – you saw something more. It was in these quiet, raw moments after he’d loved you, held you close, his breath mingling with yours. It was here, next to him in the aftermath, that you could almost believe he was the only soul in this world who would ever love you with such consuming fervour.  

You dragged your body closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, as his arms immediately circled protectively around you. His eyes softened as you leaned closer, drawing him into a gentle kiss. Your lips grazing his in a tender, slow exchange that felt achingly real. His fingers traced up and down your back, as if branding his name on your skin.  

In this quiet, lonely world, he was your guiding light, a burning soul who consumed all but left you somehow whole. You wanted to hold on to him, to keep him by your side. You feared whatever darkness lurked beyond Alastor, the fear of the unknown paled in comparison to the thought of leaving the one person who had vowed to love every fractured, scarred piece of you.  

He needed you, just as much as you needed him.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[stvolanis]

TOO SWEET

PAIRINGS: the vampire Louis De Pointe Du Lac x Fem! Mortal! OC

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of blood, blood consumption, alcohol consumption, mentions of killing, mention of Lestat, no Claudia, reader is perceived as innocent, age gap, OC being turned into a vampire, inaccurate timeline probably, YES I USED LINES FROM THE SONG DONT HATE ON MY GRIND.

NSFW WARNINGS: light choking, biting, sir kink, manhandling, blood, fingering, making out, p in v, creampie, praise, overstimulation, power play, slight corruption kink? Idk

The year was 1925, 15 years after Louis had been turned into a godforsaken vampire, doomed to the harsh life of an unwilling immortality of lies and betrayal.

The dark gift was taking, the worst of its flaws and punishments being that every night you woke and walked amongst the living. The bitter feeling of no longer being mortal, and forgetting what it was once like to be a regular human amongst the crowd, rather than a predator picking out its prey in the sea of flesh.

Day after day, party after party, body after body—to be short, it was a routine. A boring one, at that.

He noticed her dress first, long and drug behind her. Baby pink in color, with periwinkle and a flamingo pink shade of flowers adorning the fabric. Diamonds glistened under the light of the expensive chandelier, and her white gloved hands reached for a deep red champagne—the vibrancy he imagined her blood would be.

A long white feather sprouted out from her mass of curls, a dark chocolate with an odd singular strip of white rooted at the front of her hair, framing her face. Where her white strand of hair was rooted almost melted down onto her face, a pale patch of skin on her forehead stood out.

Her face was decorated in moles, almost perfectly hand placed by God herself. Lips plump, parted as his enhanced hearing heard every soft breath that passed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she scanned the room, oblivious to the bright eyes staring at her.

She was out of place. He knew that she knew she didn’t belong in a place like this, but that only lead to the question of why she was here, in a room of people money and sex hungry. The complete opposite of her.

Her voice echoed in his head, and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. ‘I wonder if there’s cake. This drink is awful.’ How sweet. In a room of smoke and drunken men, she’s worried about eating cake.

The dark angel lurked against the walls of the extravagant room, looking at the beauty in every angle possible. A lamb. His lamb. So pure, unbeknownst to the evils around each corner she turned. ‘What is your name, girl?’ He spoke, using his mind as communication.

He visibly saw her freeze. Like her heart stopped beating in her body—not yet. Her heart would not yet stop beating. “What?” She replied, aloud, desperately looking around the room to match the voice to a face—till her eyes stopped on him.

Their eyes connected. Heat rose through her in a fiery roar, curiosity and conflict dancing in her eyes with the smallest hint of fear. Fear was normal. Humans lived off of fear, it’s was the reason for everything if you peeled away enough layers.

‘You’ve found me’ Louis smiled. She felt her heart begin to beat again. Her hands balled into fists against her dress, a wad of fabric curled into a ball. ‘How are you doing this?’ She asked, eye contact between the two never once being broken.

‘Come.’ Was all he replied. He left the large room full of lousy people, around the corridors, and out through the back. He was met with a dark alley, a rather clean one—still boxes scattered around, though. Humans we’re filthy. Like toddlers who didn’t know how to clean up after themselves.

She followed behind him till they were standing mere feet apart from each other outside in the privacy of the night. “Who are you?” She finally spoke after a long moment of silence.

“I am whatever you perceive me as. Most call me the devil.” He chuckled. The first few years after his changing, he took offense to it. Hated being called it. Pondered if he really was the Devil. He knows he isn’t now. Farthest from it.

“You’re too handsome to be considered such” she smiled, two dimples. She was genuine, not a hint of lie detected in her speech. “I ain’t got nothin’ on you.” He replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously—nervously? How peculiar.

Louis felt like a schoolboy all over again. Giddy at the compliment she gave, flush rising to his cheeks faintly over her eyes pondering over his existence. “What is your name?” She asked, her head tilted ever so slightly.

“Louis De Pointe Du Lac.” He said, pridefully. She thought for a moment—“my daddy used to go to that place you own, I’m not sure what it’s called?—” she said, urging him to finish her thought. “The Azalea. My money maker.” A charming smile graced his face.

“Maybe I should go sometime.” She said, a cheeky smile playing at her lips. Louis let out a breath of air as he softly shook his head. “Nah, that’s not the place for you, baby”

“Yeah? then what is the place for me, Mr. du Lac?” She whispered, glancing down at the bottom of her dresses as she nervously fiddled with her fingers behind her back. His hand found her chin, lifting her head to do their eyes could once again meet.

“Bright as the morning, aren’t you?” He whispered back. His voice was laced with desire, yet he was holding himself back. Louis was in fear, for the first time in a long time. He was fearful to taint the aura of innocence the damsel carried around with her. He didn’t want to have to be the one to burst her bubble. But somewhere inside of him did.

“What are you, Mr. du Lac?” She said, her tone more serious than before as her eyes swirled with curiosity. But after all, it was curiosity that killed the cat. “I’m a vampire.” He replied calmy, like it was an every day occurrence. She giggled.

“Oh yeah, then where are your fangs?” She teased. Louis quirked a brow, taken aback for a moment. His mouth opened large enough for her to watch as his fangs protruded—white, and sharp. She brought her finger to the tip of his tooth, pricking her finger.

Crimson spilled from her small wound, and her scent clouded his mind. He couldn’t have her like this—not yet. It wasn’t her time still. Louis couldn’t help himself as he gently grabbed her wrist, holding it in place as his tongue met with the pad of her finger, sufficiently licking up any traces of blood.

“Fuck—you taste like pineapple.” He mumbled, placing a soft kiss against her wound before forcing himself to pull away, again, in fear of harming her. “My name is Thérèse.” She let out a shaky breath. He knew it wasn’t from fear, but rather arousal.

His hand reached for her waist, pulling her close to his body. Her chest was flush against his, and her cleavage was on display. She looked like an angel, sent down just for him. He knew he didn’t deserve her, shouldn’t have even been able to be in her presence—yet the way she felt against him felt so right, and that feeling wasn’t something he could deny or dismiss.

Their noses brushed against each other, and their lips were mere centimeters apart. One move and they would be touching. “Thérèse.” He said. Her name sounded like velvet on his tongue, and she longed for him to say it for centuries to come. To hear him call out for her. To her.

Their lips crashed together, the kiss desperate. The metallic taste of her blood lingered on his tongue, yet it only made her all the more eager to have him. Their tongues danced together, a fight for dominance that Thérèse easily gave up. He explored her mouth, and she allowed him.

This would be the first of many things she would allow him to do. She allowed him to hold her hand delicately as he guided her through the busy roads of their town. He had a certain way about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Enchanting, almost. Alluring, maybe. Possibly a word non-existing.

His hand was cold to the touch, which Thèrése found odd, yet she had not comment to give. She was aware he was not quite human, but she wasn’t ready to accept what he was yet. Just a few moments, maybe days longer, she’d like to live in a carefree bliss. He respected and supported her unvocalized wish.

“How long have you lived here, Louis?” He sighed, glancing around at the town he’d known all his immortal life. “Forever.” He replied. “The white people are ignorant. Greedy liars, most of them. They feed off of the red district, and all the people in it.” He said.

“I made the Azalea to counteract them. Get the white mans money.” He finished. She hummed in acknowledgment.

Thèrése was Hispanic, and immigrant from overseas. A land conquered by natives with the white people invading like the Huns invaded Rome. It was tragic, being forced to move far away from all she’d known since she was 17. She was now at the ripe age of 22 years old, standing at 5’5 without shoes on.

“Was it hard?” Louis asked, glancing over at her. She quirked a brow in confusion. “Was what hard?” She asked. Louis looked up at the sky. It was dark. The way it had been for years. Darkness was now the only thing he’d ever be able to see. “Leaving your home. To travel such great lengths.”

She decided not to ponder on how he knew, in fear of messing up the content atmosphere they had created. “Yes. I left many family members and friends behind. But, I endured. For my family, I endured.” She responded, almost as if robotically.

“I was going to be forced to marry a white man named Humbert had I not left. The life I saw before me was not what I had planned, but I am grateful for the freedom I have now grown accustomed to.” She responded. She looked up at the sky with him.

“They’re beautiful.” She started. “I wish to see space. To feel the heat of the stars.” She whispered, pausing her walking with Louis next to her, close enough to have their shoulders bumping. “The stars get exhausting when you look at them long enough.” He whispered back.

“I think I could spend a lifetime looking at them.” She said, a smile gracing her lips. She looked beautiful like this, and Louis wished to remember this exact scene before him for the rest of his life. “Be careful what you wish for, Thèrése.” He responded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his clean slacks.

They walked throughout the night, hand in hand. The moonlight created highlights that emphasized their alluring features, and for the first time in a long time, Louis was in love. And for the first time ever, Thèrése was too.

They stopped at a gated entrance, and beyond it, was Louis home he hadn’t showed anyone who lived to tell. Thèrése would be the first mortal he brought to his home without killing, and she would be the last as he opened the gate, allowing her to go in first.

A small hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her throughout the house she had entered after walking through an outside area of the house. “You live here? By yourself?” She asked him, glancing over her shoulder as her eyes wandered over the antiques of the house.

“Yeah, I live by myself now.” He said, shrugging off his expensive jacket and hanging it on a rack. Thèrése felt an unfamiliar heat spread throughout her body as she watched him loosen the cuffs of his sleeves and collar of his shirt. “Now?” She asked.

“Had a roommate. We didn’t work out. He was a cunt.” He said, walking to a table and picking up a wine glass, pouring some for himself. “I know you don’t like wine. I’m afraid I have nothing else to drink, but if you would like some then tell me.” He said, taking a sip.

Thèrése watched the way he swallowed it, visibly seeing it travel down his throat. Her eyes zeroed in on the droplet the fell from his lips—and her head was suddenly spinning with thoughts of him consuming her blood.

It must’ve been the wine she had drunken before she arrived. That’s gotta be it, right? Why else would she be having such vile thoughts?

He didn’t give her time to linger on the thought much longer as he began to unbotton his shirt, ever so slowly walking closer to her. Almost like he was hunting her—but he wasn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to hunt such a pure being.

Thèrése fiddled with the rings on her gentle fingers, watching, unsure of what to do as his shirt was swiftly removed, displaying his body. Slim, yet fit. She longed to trace over every piece of him, to memorize Louis inch by inch so she wouldn’t forget this very night.

His hands reached out to her. One placed delicately on the base of her neck, and the other, roughly pulling her body to his by her waist. Her breath got caught in her throat, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from glancing down at his lips.

“Louis…” She said breathlessly. He could feel her heat radiating off of her, especially from where his hands were touching her body. He could smell the slick between her thighs he knew were meaty under her dress. “Need this off of you.” He said, tugging at her dress.

“You gon’ let me take it off you, mama?” He asked, gently as he searched her eyes for an answer. “Please.” She said, almost desperately, making her face flush in embarrassment. Louis laughed at her eagerness.

He removed her dress from her body, following with her gloves. She covered her breasts with her hands shyly, laced panties still on. Her dress was pulled at her feet and Louis removed her hands from covering herself.

Thèrèses’ nipples hardened under the rather cold air of his odd home. Louis hands cupped them, inspecting them with such admiration. “So pretty. So fuckin’ pretty.” He said, kissing a mole above her areola, down to where her perk nipple was.

He suckled it harshly into his mouth, massaging the other with his free hand. Thèrése whimpered at his assault on her nipple, watching as he switched to the other one. His tongue reached out to kitten lick her nipple as he held eye contact with her.

Thèréses’ thighs squeezed together as the burn between her thighs grew uncomfortably. “You gonna let me have you?” He asked, trailing one of his hands down to her panties. He kissed along her neck, all the way up, till he was at her mouth again.

“Yes, Louis.” She mumbled. Louis clicked his tongue. “Try again.” He urged. He pushed her panties to the side, slowly sliding in one of his slender fingers. Years of pleasurable experience revealing itself as he worked at her cunt.

“Y-Yes, sir. Oh—Oh god.” She whimpered out as she felt another finger prod at her entrance. Two of his fingers slammed into her sopping hole at an alarming rate. Thèrése felt herself grow weak in the knees, and Louis knew as he held her up. “Shh.” He whispered, his breath fanning her ear.

He slipped out his fingers and slightly bent down just enough to reach her bottom as he slightly tapped it. “Jump” he said. Thèrése jumped, wrapping her legs around Louis slender waist, and her arms around his shoulders as she buried her face into his neck, leaving small opened mouth kisses.

“So needy, aren’t you? You all needy for me?” He asked, even though he confidently knew what the answer was. Thèrése nodded her head against him, afraid her voice would betray her if she spoke and said anything.

He threw her onto the couch—not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to make her bounce slightly on the cushion. He wanted to see her bounce on him. The imagine of her on top of him trying her hardest to ride him while her breasts moved with each of her bounces made his cock twitch.

Thèrése was more overwhelmed than she had been her whole life. No one had ever seen her this bare as he took her panties off. She was ashamed to be letting him to these things to her, but she was more ashamed at the fact she grew aroused from it. Aroused from the power difference between them.

She might not have known to what extent his strength lied, but she knew he was strong. Strong enough to probably lift her with just a finger. The idea that he could bend her and use her to his liking sent a shiver down her spine of want. She needed him in every way she could have him.

Louis spread her legs apart, revealing her aching, wet cunt that looked almost painfully in need to be taken care of. Two of his fingers found their way back inside of her, working at her gummy walls as she whined and whimpered under him.

“Shh, I know. I know.” He whispered, his fingers growing more erratic. “Want you—in me, please.” She said desperately, a hand cupping his face. He was breathtaking. His thumb skillfully rubbed her clit at a slow pace, almost as if he was trying to sooth whatever pain Thèrése might’ve been feeling.

“Gonna make you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He said, pulling out his fingers. He unbuttoned his slacks and pulled them down along with his undergarments just enough to reveal his cock. Thèrése couldn’t help but just stare at it in a mix of emotions of fear, arousal, and excitement.

Fear from how intimidating it looked; long and uncut with a patch of curly hair at the top. Thèrése felt nasty as she realized just how badly she wanted to lick his happy trail. Arousal from his mushroom tip that was pulsing with desire, and pre cum leaking from his tip. Excitement bubbled as Thèrése thought about the events that were mere seconds from unfolding in front of her.

He slapped his meaty cock onto her pussy tauntingly, a wet, heavy sound, loud and prominent. She clenched around nothing, but slowly felt his tip enter her. It was a painful stretch as he slid himself in, inch by inch, trying his hardest not to hurt her.

Louis restrained himself as she clenched around him tightly. He knew this was the closest to heaven he’d ever get, with the angel under him at his mercy. His to do with whatever he pleased and saw fit. His in every aspect of her mortal, and soon immortal, being. Soul tied and bound to the earth together for eternity was the way he wanted to spend his days with her.

“Oh my God—oh fuck—” she gasped out, mouth hung slightly agape. Pain shot through her first, eyes watering as evidence, but was soon followed after with an immense pleasure she never knew she could feel. “Not God, Thèrése—Me.” He huffed as he gripped her thighs, throwing them over his shoulder.

Louis began to move his hips against her, slowly at first—then, in the blink of an eye, he snapped. The self restraint he forced himself to have was gone, and a seemingly sweet and charming man was replaced by a domineering beast.

At an inhumane pace, his cock hammered into her. His hands dug into her thighs in a tight grip—a grip so tight, his sharp nails broke skin. The scent of her blood filled his senses, and he went feral. His lips found her neck as he leaned down, leaving desperate kisses to subside the pain he was soon going to inflict on her porcelain throat.

“Louis—wait—” she pleaded, but made no movement to stop him. The pleasure was overwhelming as she arched her back into him, grasping onto his skin—still cold to the touch. Why was he so cold? She felt something sharp pierce the side of her throat, but oddly enough, the pain was overruled by the way he fucked her.

Thèrése wouldn’t be living much longer. “You’re to sweet for me.” He groaned, licking at the wound on her neck he had created. He watched blood ooze out of her, enjoying the crimson that decorated her neck. The familiar taste of pineapple was nothing if not addicting.

Thèrése felt weak, her body unable to hold itself up any longer as she grew light headed. The room began to spin, and Thèrése now knew she was no longer seeing things as his fangs poked two more holes near her wrist. Blood poured out of her and into his mouth.

Was this the way she would die? At the hands of the most charming man she’d ever met? The vampire who sealed her fate stopped sucking, slit his own wrist, and brought it to Thèréses’ mouth.

He fucked her harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. Her moans got caught on his wrist as his blood trickled down her throat. Thèrèse, pupils dilated and on a high, felt her end near as she clutched his wrist to her mouth like she would never be able to drink the forbidden liquid ever again.

Louis snatched his wrist back from her mouth quickly before she made herself sick. He knew she would want more blood, so he instead flipped Thèrése onto all fours, arching her ass into the air. Thèrèse cried and begged for Louis wrist—his cold blood back in her mouth.

“Shhh, shut up. You’ve had enough. Don’t be greedy, baby.” He scolded, grabbing her by the back of her hair and shoving her face into the cushion. “P-Please—Louis, M’gonna c-cum. Need you.” She begged as she pushed her ass back onto him, meeting his hard thrusts.

Her words began to slur together as his brutal pace never faltered. The grip he had on her waist was bruising, but Thèrése couldn’t even feel it. Her body felt as though it was on fire from head to toe, and the unbearable heat and pressure of her cunt was all too much for the young fledgling.

“You said you wanted to see the stars forever, right?” He asked, his breath grazing the shell of her ear. He didn’t sound like he did earlier—calm and alluring. He sounded gruff and disheveled—and every word he spoke almost came out in a growl.

He felt his balls tighten, and ever muscle in his body tensed. “Gonna stuff this pretty ass cunt. You ready, darlin’?” He said, his southern drawl laced with every word. “Y-yesss.” She groaned out through clenched teeth as his hand found her clit.

He played with her clit like he had been doing this for years, expertly. An overbearing wave of pressure was what made Thèrése snap as juices poured out of her. Louis never once slowed down, and his fingers continued to help her ride her high.

Louis didn’t stop, still chasing his end. Thèrése mindlessly took everything he gave her as her pussy grew sore and overstimulated from the relentless of the top of his cock hitting her cervix. “Can’t—I can’t, sir—“ she choked out, her words sounding almost as if her mind was in a distant place.

“Take it, Thèrése.” He urged as he bit down onto his lip, trying his hardest to resist sinking his fangs into her again. Thèrése listened, and the only sounds that escaped her drying lips were moans and whimpers of pleasure. Only Louis would ever be able to see her this way—this desperate and in need for him.

“Good girl. Just like that.” He said, stuffing her pussy full of his cum. His head was thrown back in bliss as he fucked his seed into her, deeper and deeper as his high subsided into a dull aching feeling. “Did so well, baby.” He said, his voice shaky.

He slid himself out of her, and watched as his cum spilled from her used hole, and onto his expensive foreign furniture. Thèrése laid there, legs sore and head still spinning, now in a painful manner as Louis scooped her up into his arms bridal style.

“S-so you’re really a vampire, huh?” She asked through a long and drug out yawn. He chuckled as he gazed down at her small frame in his arms. “Yes, and come tomorrow night, you will be too.” He replied, walking up the stairs of his old home.

“I’m scared, Louis.” She whispered, blinking slowly. Thèrése grew tired, her eyes heavy with sleep. “You won’t be for long.” He said reassuringly. “You have me now. Forever.” He muttered as he pushed open a door.

A singular coffin was placed in the center, right in front of a fire place. Thèrèse was laid in the coffin by Louis, and she watched as he left the room to grab a warmed wash cloth. She was in love. She died in love. And now, for the rest of her dead life, she will continue to live in love with the man who swooned her in the alley.

Vampires say the worst thing to experience from immortal life is a simple thing; loneliness. A feeling Louis knew all too well, and how would never feel again. Thèrése wasn’t Lestat. She wasn’t cold, and manipulative. Calculated in every wrong doing. No, Thèrése was kind and gentle. Thoughtful with every word she spoke and every action she took.

Never again would Louis ever have to worry about being alone.

guys this took me like 3 weeks to write I’m obsessed with this show rn. I worked so hard on this so istg if it flops I’ll be so sad 😭🙏

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[chimielie]

girlfriend

summary: Iwaizumi x F!Reader. you might be his girlfriend—but she's his girl.

word count: 2.4k

cw: hurt/comfort. a lot of reader insecurity. fear/mention of emotional cheating but there is none

a/n: this actually fills @akimind's request for my 500 follower event one million years ago but the formatting is tooo hard so. here it is!!! iwaizumi + angst + college au + "that's not what i said." LOVE YOU SORRY HOPE IT HURTS AND IS ALSO ENJOYABLE. <<<<3333333

You didn't mean to fall in love with your boyfriend.

You hadn't gone into this expecting Hajime to become your boyfriend at all, actually. You liked him. Liked how easy it was to be with him. How warm he was when you let your touch linger on him and pretended it was more than a flirty friendship. You hadn't ever predicted it would become so, because Hajime was hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

They'd traveled over oceans to be together, coming to Irvine from the same prefecture in Japan. They had still been together when you met him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her waist. Your first thought was "oh, he's beautiful." Your second thought was "they look like they're made for each other." You shoved the first thought deep inside a secret crevice of your brain and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself with a bright smile.

The strain of new adulthood got to them, though, or so you assumed: you were never privy to the gory details of the breakup. They remained friendly, in the same friend group, and it just always seemed obvious to you that they would someday reconcile. It wasn't until two years after their break that you were able to start showing regular, platonic affection to Hajime without feeling like an attempted homewrecker.

It was just before graduation, having dragged him away for a late-night bite to eat so neither of you would starve to death studying for finals, when everything flipped on its head. Your plan to energize the both of you had backfired; you were yawning every other sentence and came close to laying your head on the table before Hajime put his palm down in front of your face.

"Come sit next to me," he'd said, so you maneuvered around into his side of the booth and been promptly pulled into his side. You had looked up at him, murmuring a sleepy question that was more wordless noise than actual English, and that was it. Something you didn't understand softened his gaze, and then he tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips over yours.

It was a perfect first kiss.

In the weeks following it, you had bounced violently between insisting to yourself that he hadn't meant for you to read too far into the kiss and your natural instinct to go after what your heart wanted. And the more he proved that it wasn't a one-off anomaly, that he could kiss you right out of drought into a superbloom, the more you were convinced. Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart.

When Hajime asked you to be official, wildflower bouquet in hand, the lights of the now-empty graduation pavilion shining down on the both of you, you said yes, your whole heart and none of your brain in the matter.

As you entered your apartment hand-in-hand with him, greeting all the friends who had gathered there to celebrate the end of undergraduate school, you remembered that the key modifier in "Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart" was knowingly. He seemed happy enough announcing the development to everyone else, and then she had walked in, carrying a bottle of wine that almost slipped from her grasp when she saw your proximity. He had dropped your hand—just for a second, but it had happened, and then picked it back up like his sentence hadn't died in his mouth at the sight of her.

He'd always gotten a little defensive when people mentioned their relationship, his features shutting down into a blank, tight expression. Though they obviously weren't as close as they had been for most of their lives, they were still both part of your friend group, and he always seemed to laugh just a little harder at her jokes, kept eye contact a little longer, got embarrassed more easily around her. You didn't want to be jealous or insecure or possessive, but it just felt more increasingly obvious that you were a rebound, a cheap, temporary dupe meant to fill in until Hajime realized and returned to the love of his life.

It was hard to be angry at him, though, because you knew with every fiber of your bleeding heart that he wouldn't do this to you on purpose. You knew he thought he cared for you, that he thought he had moved on. He did a good job almost every day coming very close to persuading you of it, enough to keep you from breaking up with him and leaving him behind, but never quite erasing your insecurities for more than a few weeks at a time.

One of the first mornings you woke up in his bed, well rested and sore in all the right places, he was missing. You got up, mourning the softness of his sheets and the scent of him on the pillowcases, and slipped into one of his shirts before leaving his room to explore.

He was cooking, shirtless in the kitchen, and if that wasn't one of the yummiest things you had seen in your life.

"Good morning," you said, leaning against his counter.

"Very," he returned, flipping an egg in the pan. "Looking like that. I think—I mean, it seems like that shirt always gets chosen to be the boyfriend shirt." He had narrowly avoided saying her name, but you had heard it threatening to tumble out of his mouth. You bit back a response, but your smile still dropped, and he spent the next hour making allusive, sorry overtures without either of you actually acknowledging the slip.

You never wore that shirt again. He gave you another one, you accepted it, and life moved on.

Except you had somehow become mired in the past with a relationship that was long over, and without university or a job to distract you—you were starting at the end of September, which felt aeons away—it was eating you alive, especially as Hajime left for a preliminary return trip to Japan.

"Did you hear how Mattsun and Makki greeted him when he landed?" You sit in the car on the way to the airport, packed in with Hajime's ex, successfully hyping yourself up to see him again until she addressed the group.

"Oh, yeah," you laugh. "So funny." You haven't had a conversation with Hajime that had more depth than "how are u? miss u" for the trip's duration. She's your friend, too, though you've never been close, but there's something unbearable about admitting it to her now, when you're so unsure of your relationship's current status. It has to mean something that he was keeping her updated and active in his life, didn't it?

You find solace in knowing that you don't blame her at all. If you could find an ounce of resentment for her in your heart, you would probably have left Hajime by now—isn't that the mark of a truly evil plot-pushing girlfriend?

You cry when you see him again.

"Happy tears," you assure him, and hide your face in his shoulder.

Later, alone in his apartment, you bite your lip when Hajime asks if you want to sleep over.

"Okay, babe, I don't want to pressure you," he says, and you can feel yourself tensing up as he speaks. "But I feel like you've been—off all day. Is everything okay?"

You blanch and focus on the cowlick on the right side of his head, the one that's endeared him so much to you, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. Too much is bubbling up in your throat, your brain thrown into overdrive, and he's staring at you with so much worry in his eyes it's just not right to leave him hanging:

"No."

Hajime makes a noise you don't understand, low in his throat. "Is it because I didn't call enough while I was gone? Because I can explain that, I promise."

"No," you rush to explain. "I don't—it wasn't you, exactly. I've just—ever since we started dating—I think you still love her."

You're picking at your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were small, and he takes your hands in his, smooths his thumbs over the torn cuticles.

"I don't," he says, finally, neutrally, though his face hasn't formed into the cold mask you're used to seeing when she's brought up. "Ever since we started dating?"

"Before," you admit. "I always thought you would get back together. You just seemed so made for each other."

"But we weren't," a little pucker between his eyebrows forms. "So—what did you think when we started dating?"

"When you first kissed me," you say, "I thought maybe it was a one-off. That you wanted something casual. And then it got more serious, and I thought maybe I could just suppress my insecurities until they went away, and I mean, I really thought you liked me."

"I do," his voice grows more agitated, his lips thinning out.

"Yeah, but..." You trail off. "You would do things that made me think, oh, he's just the perfect guy, they just looked so amazing because I was jealous, and then every so often I'd see you interact with her and it wasn't like how we are at all. I know the insecurity is my own fault, that's not on you, but I feel like it's holding both of us back."

"What do you mean holding us back? You don't think you make me happy?" He snaps, and you wince.

"Not like you are with her! Every time she comes in the room you get this look on your face, like you're speechless. Like-like the songs, Haji, I just..."

He lets go of your hands, crosses his arms.

"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, Haji, I know you'd never cheat. That's why I fell in love with you! You're a good guy, but I don't want you to wake up one day and break both our hearts because she's meant to be your girl and I'm just your fucking girlfriend." Your eyes sting, your chest heaving by the end of the sentence.

"You love me?" He's quieter now, giving you a little more space to breathe.

"What? That's not what I said."

"Yes, it is," he says, a little smile growing at the corners of his mouth, as though he can't control it. "You love me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're focusing on that," you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's true, I just don't get it."

"Because you make me happier than she ever did," he promises, crowding you up against the counter and motioning for you to jump up to sit on top of it after you can go no further. "I'm weird when she's around because she's my ex, sure, but not because I still want her. It... ended badly. It's a miracle we didn't pull the entire friend group into it, and I never wanted to make her look bad to them, so I'm always trying really hard to look, uh, normal around her. We're on better terms now, but I haven't wanted her in years, honey."

"She knew about what you were doing when I didn't," you mumble, feeling small in the stormy release of emotions. "And she knows so much about you I don't in general."

"We grew up together," Hajime reminds you. "It would have been one of the guys. I know I didn't tell her anything. You can check my call history, my texts."

You shake your head. "I believe you."

"Really?" He arches a brow, and you laugh and push gently at his shoulder.

"Yes, really."

"You know how long I had a crush on you before I did anything about it? I thought you weren't interested, and then you finally started being even more affectionate with me than you were with our other friends, and I took the chance."

"Rookie numbers," you preen under his gaze. "I liked you... pretty much as soon as I met you. But I suppressed it 'cause I didn't want to be a homewrecker."

"You're sweet," he chuckles. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about there. I'm never gonna wake up and not be grateful to see you drooling on my bed."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looks at you fondly, swiping his thumbs under your lower lashes. "You love me, though."

"Oh," your lips part. "And the not calling in Japan?"

He scrunches his nose. "I was trying not to spoil anything. I wanted to, uh, discuss it with you first, but you should know my friends and family are all waiting to embarrass me if I have to turn everything around now."

"Okay? I'll consider your dignity, but I make no promises," you tease. He drops his head to your shoulder for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you wind a hand into his hair, petting him until he straightens.

"So, you know how I have that paid internship opportunity back home?" You nod, not wanting to be reminded. You'll do it for him, but... long distance sucks. "I went to their office and turned it down. I want to go through with my doctorate."

"Oh, that's huge!" You gasp. "That's incredible, I'm so happy for you!"

"So the part that has to do with you is, um," he says, "you're planning to stay here, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "my next step is like a twenty minute commute, thankfully."

"I want to finish my schooling in the States," he tells you, "and then after that, I want to go wherever you go."

"Hajime," you start, but he puts a shaking hand on your knee, and that shuts you up.

"I love you," he says seriously. "It's like I said, okay? You make me happier than anyone else. I know you're the one for me, if you'll have me. If not, I get—"

You grab his face and smash your lips into his, and if that doesn't get the message across? You don't know what will.

[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts. Part 1

Warnings- Cheating, abusive husband, possessiveness. ---------------------------------------------------

“One way or another, I'm gonna find ya I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya”

Your heart pounded against your chest like a relentless drum, echoing through the walls and drowning out the sound of your pacing footsteps. Your legs ached from the endless motion, muscles screaming for a reprieve, yet your mind remained fixated on the front door, awaiting a sign, a sound, anything that would signal Steve's return home.

Steve Rogers successful business man, he can own anything with his good looks and money, but can't have your heart anymore. Broken and shredded to pieces.

The clock on your nightstand ticked incessantly, the harsh sound a cruel reminder of the passing time. The night seemed to stretch, each second dripping by like molasses. You glanced at the alarm clock again, the digital numbers glaring back at you, mocking your impatience. 3:24 AM.

Steve's love for Peggy had always lingered, a specter in the shadows of your relationship. Whenever his gaze would turn distant, you could sense the ghostly hold Peggy exerted over his heart. Memories of her whispers in his ear, the touch of her fingertips on his skin, haunted your imagination.

In college, Peggy had never spared a glance in Steve's direction, her sights set firmly on charming wealthy students. But once Steve's star began to rise and his net worth skyrocketed, Peggy suddenly found herself drawn to his path.

Her interest piqued not by his character or achievements, but by his newfound financial status. The irony wasn't lost on you. Peggy's change of heart spoke volumes about her true motives and the fickle nature of her affections.

Her name slipped from Steve's lips effortlessly, like a gentle caress he couldn't resist. You longed to be the only love that filled his heart, but the ghost of Peggy Carter cast a long shadow over your relationship.

His excuses were varied and numerous. Crucial meetings, and the ever elusive ‘work-related emergencies.’ He would tell you with a straight face that he had to stay late at work, while he secretly met Peggy in hidden corners of the city, away from prying eyes and suspicions.

Your gut instincts told you something wasn't right, that his absences were not entirely innocent. But love kept your doubts at bay, and you tried to push away the nagging feeling that something was amiss. You trusted Steve, desperately wanting to believe in the strength of your relationship.

Whenever he returned home late, a faint but unmistakable scent of Peggy's perfume clung to Steve's skin. You tried to ignore it, pretending it was nothing more than a coincidence, but the sharp pang of pain pierced through your heart.

You noticed the faint nail marks on his back, faint reminders of passionate embraces he had with Peggy in secret. His disheveled state was a clear sign, of the physical connection he shared with her, and your fears grew stronger with each evidence you discovered.

Your love for Steve drove you to make sacrifices, to prove your devotion and commitment beyond measure. Leaving your job was a painful decision, a surrender of your own independence and identity, hoping it would strengthen the bond between you and Steve.

It was a desperate attempt to win his undivided attention and affection, a last resort to make him see the depth of your love and loyalty, even going as far to eating only food he likes.

Your heart ached with longing, the desire to start a family with Steve burning deep within you. You proposed the idea to him, hoping for a positive response. But to your disappointment, Steve's response was distant and vague.

Peggy's manipulative nature had always bothered you. She had a way of exploiting Steve's good nature, taking advantage of his unwavering loyalty.

Despite your concerns, Steve remained oblivious to her true intentions, viewing her through rose-colored glasses. He could only see the best in her, disregarding the evidence of her selfishness and deceit. You tried to open his eyes, but Steve’s unwavering trust in Peggy left you feeling helpless and frustrated.

Slowly but surely, Steve's attempts at hiding the marks and the scent of Peggy's perfume began to weaken. He became careless, no longer making an effort to cover up the evidence of his infidelity.

His disheveled state and the lingering scent of Peggy's perfume seemed to mock your sacrifices and love. The lack of effort in concealing his lies only fueled your suspicions and deepened the ache of mistrust. It was a cruel reflection of his growing indifference and waning devotion to you.

As the front door creaked open, your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. With a forced air of nonchalance, you lay perfectly still in bed, feigning sleep. Your breath hitched in your throat as the weight of your husband's presence filled the room.

You could hear the soft padding of Steve's feet against the carpeted floor. With each passing second, the tension in the air grew thicker, the knot in your stomach tightening painfully. Finally, the weight of the mattress shifted as Steve settled beside you, his body a mere breath away.

The silence between you both was suffocating, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing. You fought the urge to flinch, as his hand brushed against your shoulder, a brief touch filled with a mixture of affection and guilt. But you remained firm, determined to maintain the façade of sleep, even as your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Steve's voice whispered through the darkness, a faint attempt to gauge your awareness. “Baby doll?” he called softly, the word carried on a gentle exhale. His touch, a gentle poke meant to test your response. You remained motionless, feigning deep sleep through clenched teeth, praying that your act would hold.

Time seemed to stretch, the minutes lingering as Steve waited for a sign of awakening. You held your breath, willing yourself to maintain the illusion of slumber, while your heart thumped loudly against your chest. Steve's hand remained gently resting on your shoulder.

Despite your feigned slumber, your mind was vividly aware of Steve's movements. He reached for his phone, his fingers moving quickly over the screen as he typed a message to Peggy. Once his communication was complete, he placed the device back on the nightstand and shifted his body closer to yours. His arm draped over you, a possessive gesture, as if asserting his power over both you and Peggy in his secret deception.

As Steve's arm encircled you, you fought against the natural instinct to recoil from his touch. Your body stiffened instinctively, tensing beneath the weight of his embrace, but you managed to conceal your discomfort. Pretending to remain blissfully unaware, you kept your eyes tightly shut, determined not to let any crack in your performance. It took every ounce of your willpower to maintain the illusion of deep sleep and contentment, even as your inner turmoil threatened to shatter the facade.

The following day, you woke up early, fueled by a mixture of determination and heartache. With a feigned smile and a practiced lie, you told Steve that you had errands to run that would keep you preoccupied until late in the evening. His eyes betrayed a flicker of relief, believing your words without question, allowing you to leave the house unnoticed.

Sitting across the table, Matt Murdock, your best friend, appeared calm and composed. His eyes, sightless yet perceptive, remained unfocused as he tilted his head slightly to focus on your voice. Despite his blindness, Matt's exceptional senses had sharpened over time.

Matt wanted to tell you something about your aunt's will. She had passed away few weeks ago. Your husband did not accompany you, to her funeral, because he was balls deep busy with Peggy. 

“Y/n thanks for meeting on such a short notice” “No problem Matt.” “How are you?”   “Good... doing nice.” “It's Steve isn't it?” “Wait, what?” “Y/n, I know he is an ass and don't you dare lie to me!” God Matt's senses were impeccable. “Well… Peggy is back.” you answer truthfully.

“Divorce him!” He just says it so casually, you look at him with your mouth open, trying to say something but closing it again. “Are you serious?” you ask him bewildered.  “Yes! Dump his cheap ass, remember Andy Barber our friend? He is back in Boston, he will help you with the divorce.”

He even hands you Andy’s contact number and you just stare at him with disbelief, sure you wanted to leave Steve, but you were waiting for the final nail in the coffin.

“Matt I'll think about it, can we please drop this topic?” “Fine, but please consider my advice.” “Okay…”

“The reason I called you here is because, your aunt left her house and café for you. You are the sole owner now, of her house and her café 'Snowflakes'“  “Wow that woman was adamant I look after her café, she really did left it for me.” Your aunt always believed in you and she was sure, you would handle her café with ease.

“She was also adamant about Steve…” Matt smirks. “Matty!” You plead.

“Fine. The place is run by Happy, his wife May, she cooks and bakes. Peter May's nephew and his girlfriend MJ, work there part time.”

Looking through the records, you are impressed by them, and excited about the new opportunity. But for now they don't need you. Not because they don't want you, but because of your husband. Steve won’t allow you.

Later that day, returning home earlier than expected, you were ambushed by a sight that shattered your fragile composure. There, in your own bedroom, Steve and Peggy lay intertwined on the bed, their bodies moving together in rhythmic ecstasy. The sound of their moans filled the air, a symphony of passion that pierced deep into your wounded soul.

The sight of Steve's betrayal, coupled with the pain of seeing him engaged in such intimate acts with Peggy, hit you like a tsunami. Your heart shattered into countless pieces, each one stabbing relentlessly, until you feared there was nothing left but a hollow shell.

Your legs threatened to buckle beneath the weight of your emotional turmoil, but somehow you managed to remain standing, silently witnessing the spectacle before you.

Blinded by grief and consumed by raw despair, you found yourself fleeing from your own home, desperate to escape the suffocating presence of betrayal. You stumbled towards the nearest park, your vision blurred by tears, your sobs echoing through the empty streets.

The park, once a place for carefree strolls, now became a sanctuary to release the floodgates of your anguish. You collapsed onto a bench, tears streaming down your face, as the pain of Steve's infidelity overflowed from within.

This was the final nail in the coffin and now you had made your mind.

Steve texted you asking when you will be back.

After an hour of raw vulnerability in the park, you found the strength to compose yourself.

“Y/n?” you ignore Steve calling you, going straight to your room, you open two suitcases and start to pack.

“Doll?” Steve stops in his tracks seeing you pack your stuff. 

“Congratulation Steve, you are free to do, whatever you want with your bitch!” You clap your hands and Steve gives a fake hurt expression. “Doll what are you talking about?”

“It is over Steve!” You give him a tight smile. “Baby doll, what are you talking about?” Steve has the audacity to act dumb.

“Save the trouble ok? I know you have been with her long enough, to finally have her on our bed! I saw you with Peggy, so stop the bullshit, it is over!” 

“You are still my wife!” Steve reminds you, as if you done something wrong.

“Wait!” Steve's possessive grip on your shoulders sent a chill down your spine, and the anger simmering beneath his tense words alarmed you. Fear crept into your heart, mingling with the pain of betrayal. In that moment, you feared the depth of Steve's possessive tendencies and the lengths he might go, to keep you captive in his web of control.

“You are not going anywhere baby doll, you are my wife and forever will be. Just because you are jealous, I won't let you go!” “You can't stop me!” “Y/n!” he screams, making his grip tighter on you, “You are going to stay with me like a loyal wife, whether you like it or not. You are not going to go understand?” He shakes you and barks every single word.

He shoves you on the bed, throwing the suitcases on the wall and locks the bedroom door.

“You are not going to leave me! you are mine and mine only!” “Steve open the door!” you keep on slamming, but it is of no use. “I'll be back by tomorrow, till then deal with your mood swings and accept the fact, you belong to your loyal husband!” with the that he slams the door and leaves.

You cry and cry not knowing what to do. Exhaustion and fear threatened to consume you, but with a final burst of resolve, you remember you have your phone with you and you dial the number of the only person, who can help you. Lloyd Hansen

Just on the third ring he picks up, no matter how busy he is he will always be there for you.

“Hey Sugar what's up?” “Ll..l..Lloyd…” “Sugar, I'm on my way!” “Please hurry up…” “Don't you worry.”

Part 2

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[kuamiru]

There was a private ask to write about a platonic yandere Zhongli with twin children, where the reader has a female perspective.

I hope you all like it and consider forgiving my long absence :)

It's almost 6k words! What a read!

—————————

The Tale of the Rocks, the Sun and the Moon

Having power means you also have enemies who desire it. An evil god set his sights on Rex Lapis' extension of power, and the Geo Lord weeps.

Warnings: Death and child death, blood, eating somebody alive. Beware that the start is pretty dark.

It was strangely quiet. Morax was accustomed to having the wind blowing against his face, the earth trembling due to every step he gave, even having the skies raining down on him after a particularly difficult battle. He always took the latter as a form of repent, as if nature was trying to wash away his sins and bury them down in the ground.

But the skies were clear, and the only thing looking down on him was the blazing sun. The true storm raged inside his heart, his blood imitating the tears from the sky as he found himself unable to cry.

“We fear there are no survivors, my lord.”

If he acknowledged the words of his adeptus, he didn’t show it. His eyes were fixated on the desolate landscape before him, feeling the sorrow in his chest consuming him more and more each time he discerned a new body below the fire and destruction.

“What about—”

“We found the remains, should you wish to see her.”

“Show me.”

The adeptus nodded. She started walking away, carefully traversing a path previously cleared of death and debris. It didn’t take long before they were standing in front of a particular corpse; it had been laid carefully against the broken wall of what was left of a house, now burned down to the ground. There was another adeptus already there, fixing the body so it wouldn’t be such an horrific sight for anybody present.

Morax didn’t say a word. He stood still for a few seconds, simply watching the distressing scene before approaching and kneeling before the remains, reaching out to cup the cold cheek in his warm hand.

The two adepti remained silent while he mourned. They shared a look between them, and the woman left to help recover whatever bodies they could find.

“There’s only one of them here,” he said after a moment, looking at his surroundings looking for something. “Where are they?”

“That’s…”

It was obvious from the pair’s faces that they were debating internally on how to approach the topic.

“Back with the evil god that razed the village.”

A wounded adeptus approached the scene, using the broken wall to support his body and try to approach his master as much as he could.

“You fought here,” Morax noted, looking him up and down. “Tell me what happened. Now.”

“It was that evil god’s doing, my lord. It took us all by surprise, we had no time to react,” he answered. “He didn’t just burn this village; he knew this is where you concealed your children. They… he was after them.”

His heart felt heavy, his chest started to hurt. The reality of the situation was finally dawning down on him. He didn’t even realize that he had walked all the way to the adeptus, looking down on him with a dangerous look in his eyes.

“He… ate them. Oh, Celestia, we couldn’t do anything but watch as he swallowed them. That god wished to gather power to defeat you and steal your new place as the Lord of Geo. We— we couldn’t save—”

The boy finally broke down, letting his own body fall as wept at the memories of the early fight. Rex Lapis simply watched him, feeling the deep, boiling rage in his veins threatening to take over him. His hand ached, desperately urging him to summon his polearm and destroy anything that was still standing just to quell his anger.

His family, his children, his two beautiful treasures… He wasn’t able to protect them; it was his fault this happened, he didn’t foresee this attack, his adepti didn’t have enough power to win. Useless, useless, useless.

The ground started to tremble. Faint, almost unnoticeable. The men that were with him quickly became alerted, and the crying adeptus tried to compose himself as fast as he could.

“We have him sealed, still alive.”

The pair wanted to breathe a sigh of relief when the earth finally quieted down. Morax’s eyes returned once again to his subordinate, and he didn’t have to say anything to get his message across:

Take me to him.

.

“The great Rex Lapis, the new and almighty Lord of Geo, standing before me. To what do I owe such honor?”

Oh, how he wished he could smite that god out of existence. To make him swallow that smug smile by dismembering his body piece by piece and be witness to how his wretched soul dragged itself right into hell.

And it destroyed him knowing that he wasn’t able to do so.

“Silence, you fiend! You have no right to speak to our lord like that.”

The god only scoffed, amused by the situation.

“Did you come here to finish me off, Morax? To take revenge on me for killing your spawn?” He taunted. “Or perhaps, would you like for me to tell you how those two screamed and cried, desperately calling for their dear father to save them?”

The sound of a polearm hitting the rock wall filled the room. The small cut on the god’s cheek only let a drop of blood escape, before retracting and slowly closing itself. Just as if nothing had wounded him at all.

Morax’s heart sank even deeper at this. He knew where those powers came from, didn’t he? A fleeting memory came to him in an instant: a wound, two small children crying, and a woman consoling them. He slowly retreated his arm back to his side, not bothering to summon the weapon back. He didn’t have the strength to do it.

The creature laughed maniacally. It was elated to see the powerless figure of the Lord below him, feeling as if he had won before the fight even started. “You’re weak, dragon. Maybe these powers aren’t enough to slaughter you, but I have taken something from you. Something you will never be able to take back.”

.

“So? What happens next?”

“It’s obvious! Morax defeats the evil god and avenges his children, right?!”

The woman closed the book with a smile, finally looking up to see her children tucked in each one’s bed. “Well, what do you wish for it to happen next?”

“Rex Lapis kills the god! And, and- he finds out his children aren’t dead! And they all live happily ever after, fighting all the evil gods that come after them!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at her son’s words.

“You two have such a wild imagination sometimes.”

“But how does it really end?” Both the woman and the young boy turned to look at you, who had a hopeful look on your face. “Does it really have a happy ending?”

"Well, you'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out. Right now it's time to sleep." She put the book away before giving each kid a kiss on their forehead. "Have a good night, my treasures."

It only took a few seconds for her to turn of the light and close the door, disappearing into the hallway of the house. Both siblings remained in silence for a moment, before one of them shifted uncomfortably.

"Are you feeling okay, 妹妹?" Came the words of your brother, turning to face you. "Are you cold?"

"No, I just can't sleep. I'm thinking about that evil god… What if he breaks free? And attacks our village?! He'll hurt mom and dad!"

He got up from his bed, careful not to make any noise that could alert your parents, and slowly walked up to your bed, getting inside the sheets with you.

"It's just a story! That god probably doesn't even exist, and I doubt that Rex Lapis has had any children in the past." As expected of your older brother, such mature thoughts! He took great pride in the fact that he was able to comfort you.

"Really? So it's not real?"

He took your tiny hands between his. "Yeah! Plus, there's no one Rex Lapis can't defeat. He's our Geo Lord, after all."

You couldn't help but chuckle. Your brother was always right.

None of you said anything after that. The light of the moon illuminated the room through the window, barely letting you see each other's faces. It felt safe, knowing that your brother was there to guard you.

It was always safe.

.

"Here, try this sweetheart."

A red-colored drink was put in front of your face, hanging there barely a second before you grabbed it with both hands.

"It's strawberry, your favorite."

You smiled at your father, hugging him by the waist as a 'thank you'. He only chuckled and ruffled your hair, which in turn made you groan and quickly separate from him so he wouldn't mess it even more.

Your brother was busy clinging to your mother, who was in turn busy paying for the drinks your family had. The market was filled with all sort of people walking along, stopping by the various stands and buying all sort of things that you were sure no one would ever need. These were times of peace, your parents always reminded you two. As the war between gods finally came to an end, every creature was eager to go outside and celebrate, even if that celebration just meant going to the market and enjoy the afternoon with your family.

Without the ever-present danger of a stray attack of a divinity striking you for being in the wrong place at wrong time, it wasn't such a wonder everyone was feeling pretty happy.

"It's a statue of Morax!"

"What a marvelous piece of work!"

Your father had to grab your free hand when people started to pass by you in a rush, eager to reach the center of the street, just behind you both. Your eyes followed the multitude and lingered on, finding the statue they were fawning about. The sculptor was startled by the sudden noise of people gathering around her, momentarily separating her chisel from the stone before any irreparable damage could be done. She breathed a sigh of relief and brushed her forehead, failing to notice the bucket full of utensils at her side and inevitably pushing it down the stairs she was sitting on.

The metal resonated a few times before hitting the ground, spreading every instrument on the floor. The few onlookers that were close enough were quick to get out of the way, simply watching the artist groan in frustration at the thought of going down and retrieving all her stuff.

You were quick to leave your father's side, the sound of his voice calling out for you being drowned by the gasps and exclamations of surprise from the crowd around the square. You left your drink on the ground, opting to collect all the scattered items in your small hands. The woman shouted a big "thank you" from where she sat, waving her arm so you could notice her. You waved back, although you could barely move your right hand without letting every utensil fall from your arms. She used a rope to lower down a hook, stopping when it reached your waist so you could reach it without any inconvenience.

Just as you were just about to make haste to reach the rope, a metallic sound caught you attention. You looked back, finding a small hammer on the ground. It must've fallen from your hands. You looked at it for a couple of seconds, debating whether you should try to pick it up or just come back to retrieve it after sending back the bucket, with the possibility to have everything fall if you tried to grab it. Just as you were deciding to come back for it, a pair of black shoes stood next to the hammer, a gloved hand picket the small item up before handing it to you.

"I believe this is for the lady up there?" A deep, masculine voice asked. You looked up to find a pair of gold, glowing eyes.

"Thank you, mister!"

You did a small bow before quickly making your way to the statue of the Lord of Geo, using the rope and hook to hang the bucket with all the utensils inside. It wasn't long before the sculptor pulled the rope and retrieved her materials, waving once more just to show how grateful she was. This time you waved back accordingly, bidding farewell to the lady up there.

When you turned around to go back to your father, you only found strange faces walking along. Even looking all around the square proved to be in vain, as none of the men there looked remotely similar to him. Starting to feel nervous, you took a step forward and retracted almost immediately. There was a red puddle on the ground and an empty cup just a few centimeters away from it. This must've been your drink, you thought, and somebody must've kicked it accidentally from leaving it on the ground. Oh this was bad, your mom would surely scold you for being so careless! But, you had to find you dad first-

Your little eyes started scanning every inch of the plaza, feeling more and more anxious every time you failed to notice a familiar face.

It was then when you suddenly found one.

"Are you okay, little one?"

It was the man from before, you realized. He stood in front of you once more, slightly bending so you could see each other eye to eye. He must've seen you panicked and came to your rescue.

You noticed it the first time, but it really felt like the eyes of that man did glow. Such a nice golden color he had. It briefly reminded you of the landscape surrounding your village, the countless afternoons you spent with your brother playing around while the mountains watching over you from afar. It brought a feeling of peace along with it.

You wondered how long you were looking at them, for when you came back to yourself, he had his head tilted with amusement.

"I- I can't find my dad", you confessed, looking down in shame.

Oh, how he didn't like the loss of visual contact. A dangerous glint flashed before his eyes, quick enough to disappear just as you were raising your head again.

"I see," he said, smiling gently. "What does he look like? That way I can help you look for him."

It should be okay to tell him, right? Your mother always told you not to talk or go with strangers, but this one was trying to help you get back to your family's side. He had such gentle eyes, he surely couldn't be a bad guy.

The man nodded his head as you described your father's appearance. Though he maintained an amicable expression, you didn't fail to notice that his smile suddenly became strained. It was almost like he was feeling more disappointed as you rambled on.

"I say we look for him. He must be very close still." He extended his hand for you to take, and you didn't think twice. As you were just about to grab it, a voice calling your name made you stop. You turned to see the little figure of your brother calling your name and running straight to you, and the man closed his fist tightly.

"Where were you? Papa was worried when you left his side, mama scolded him a lot!" Your brother fussed, taking your hand in his as he started to make you follow him.

"Ah, wait!" The man at your side let his panic show for a moment, grabbing you both and making you stop in your tracks. He had his left hand on your shoulder, and his right one in your brother's arm, just above your linked hands.

The pair looked at him quizzically, but he refused to take his eyes off you both. You though they were glowing before, but now they were shining. They went back and forth between you two, and it was starting to get uncomfortable to be held by this stranger.

The hands grabbing you started to tremble.

The moment your sibling made up his mind to ask the man what did he want with you, the voice of your mother startled you. She came up running, your dad following her just behind. "I told you both to not get separated from us! Something could've happened!"

In an instant you both were set free. The man took a step backwards, as if he was suddenly shook awake from the trance he subconsciously put himself in. Looking back at him for barely a second you found him glaring intently at your mother. He seemed to assess her, looking up and down her appearance as if looking for something specific. Alas, he didn't find it, for his mood soured even more.

"Mister was going to help me find you, dad!" You exclaimed with excitement.

Your father turned to look at him, "Is that true? Well, thank you sir..."

"Mo- Zhongli. My name's Zhongli."

Neither of your parents realized that he was going to say another name. You and your brother looked at each other. At least he caught it too.

"Say goodbye to mister Zhongli children." Your mom ordered, patting your backs. "And remember to thank him."

You looked into his eyes once again and a chill ran through your whole body. His cold gaze was fixated into your mom's touch for barely a second before turning to you two. When he caught your gaze his mood changed so suddenly that it left you wandering if you imagined the previous hostility. He now smiled warmly and offered a shy wave of his hand. His expression was one of pure bliss at your acknowledgement of him.

"Goodbye mister Zhongli. Thank you." You shyly waved at him, hiding behind your mother due to the sudden weird feeling you were getting from him.

"Bye-bye. Thanks." Your brother imitated your action and ran to grab your father's hand.

The hand of your mother rested on your head, giving you a slight ruffle. You all started walking away from the market heading for home. Purely by curiosity both your brother and you looked behind you and had to quickly advert your eyes with a shiver running down your spines.

That man, Zhongli, was still looking at you two.

And the look he had was one of pure madness.

.

The curtain in the bedroom did nothing to stop the moonlight from barely illuminating the room. It was still pretty dark, the dim light only served to highlight the outline of the furniture, the walls and, most importantly, the two small figures resting in one bed.

The sight of the two kids hugging each other while sleeping made his heart ache with longing. It brought forth a deep sadness that was hurting his chest. He was staring right at them and he still couldn't believe he was seeing them.

Morax reached with his left hand and moved a wild strand of hair off your brother's face; all the while with the other he cupped your cheek and ran his thumb alongside with nothing but delicacy and love.

Oh, how he had missed them. His children.

It had to be fate, right? There was no other explanation for this.

He thanked Celestia time and time again, repeating it like a silent prayer. It must've been thanks to the kingdom in the sky that his children were allowed to reincarnate, albeit human but another life nonetheless. His mind wandered briefly to the memory of his long lost family, and especially to his late lover. How disappointed he was to find that neither your father nor your mother held her spirit. But it was okay, he told himself. There was still time. If his kids were given another chance at life then that meant he would see her again someday.

Until that happened he would make sure to properly protect you this time.

Your lazily opened your eyes. Even half asleep, you still had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You quickly scanned your room, finding nothing out of the ordinary and certainly no human, ghost or spirit watching you while you were sleeping. Your brother gave a soft groan and turned around, continuing his dream.

You must've imagined it then.

Your hand reached out to touch your cheek. For some reason it felt warm.

.

"Remember not to wander too far, okay kids?"

"Yes 妈!"

The two siblings ran along the busy street, chasing each other and laughing all the while. A group of kids passed by playing among themselves too. Your brother took notice of them and immediately approached what seemed to be the leader, asking for you both to join their game of tag. None of the children had any problem with it, they even seemed happy to have a few more people to play with. Giving a hand gesture to your parents indicating that you would be with them, the both of you started to follow the other kids.

A couple of hours passed. In the middle of the fun the game changed a few times, ultimately deciding to play a few rounds of hide and seek before having to return to their homes. It was your turn to hide. You took your brother's hand and made him follow you, going inside an alleyway to sit behind a few wooden crates. You giggled at each other, thinking that this was the perfect hiding spot. You were sure the girl counting wouldn't be able to find you-

"Found you!" A voice above startled you both.

Your brother stood up with a jump. You turned around, confused as to why it wasn't that girl's voice what you heard.

Gold filled your vision.

You were staring again at the gleaming eyes of the same man that helped you yesterday.

"It's... you again." You muttered. He brightened up at the thought of you recognizing him.

"Go away! We're playing hide and seek! You're going to give away our hiding spot!"

Even though your brother rudely tried to shoo him he remained in his place, a gentle smile resting on his face.

"Are you playing, then? Can I join?

Your brother and you stared at each other.

"We'd have to ask the others... I don't think adults are allowed to join."

He seemed to ponder over this.

"Don't mind the other kids. Let's play just the three of us."

Even though your brother was about to refuse something made him stop right in his tracks. You followed his line of vision and found yourself entranced by the dim glow of Zhongli's eyes. Suddenly they felt very familiar. It was exactly like those times that by cleaning your room you ended up finding a toy you really treasured but didn't know you had lost at one point. A sense of longing and love, the sensation of reuniting with something you believed was lost to time.

Overwhelmed by this strange feeling, you ended up giving in to his demand. "I... I- Sure..."

It was clear that at your side your brother was feeling the same way, for he didn't refuse a second time.

Two gloved hands extended in front of you. You hesitated momentarily, thinking that this wasn't a really good idea. The sudden memory of the first meeting with Zhongli flashed through your mind.

"I think that-"

"Yeah, let's go."

Your brother was quick to take one of the hands, letting the man pull him closer to him like your father would do.

They both turned to look at you. "Are you coming, 妹妹?"

If your brother thought that it was fine then it should be, right? You nodded slowly and decided to also take Zhongli's hand.

.

"兒子! 女儿! Where are you?"

Zhongli stopped walking. The distressed voice of your mortal mother managed to miraculously sour his whole mood. He was having such a good time with his children, how dare that woman interrupt him!

Your sleeping figure in his arms started to wake up at the familiar sound sound of her shouting. You looked above his shoulder, waking up even more once you recognized her figure wandering along the street. "妈!" You called for her.

Your brother, who was walking alongside Zhongli and being guided by his hand, also turned to look at her. He rubbed the sleepiness off his eyes and waved to get her attention.

"Kids! There you are!"

It took all of Morax's willpower not to turn and smite her right there and then. He wanted nothing more than to take his children away, hide them where no one could find them ever again. It was bad luck that he was found by that woman as he was planning to leave the city; Morax believed that he wasn't such a violent god, now that the war was over. His displays of power were limited to deities and other mystical beings, never a human was a victim to his wrath. It would reflect badly on him if he decided to eliminate this human in front of his children. It could frighten them, make them scared of his power.

The last thing he wanted was the two of you fearing him.

"Thank you for looking after them!" She exclaimed, running up to him and taking you from his arms onto hers. Rage flashed through his eyes. He stilled his right hand that ached for the blood of the person that dares take his kid from him. Be calm, he told himself. He needed to be calm.

"It was no problem, madam." He forced a smile at her. "It was getting late and I found them wandering again, I just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to them until we found you."

She seemed to believe that he was helping you again just like yesterday. This would do. The boy let go of his hand and ran up to his mother, hugging her from the waist. His fist clenched tightly.

"We played all day, mom!" Your brother said with enthusiasm.

She gave a soft laugh. "Is that why you two are falling asleep standing?"

Morax faked a laugh. She turned to him.

"I have no words of gratitude. I was getting really worried when I saw that they weren't coming home once their curfew arrived!"

Such an irresponsible mother. If it were him he wouldn't take his eyes off his kids. He would make sure to stay besides them all day, forever...

"It's my pleasure to help." He gave a small bow. "They're lovely kids."

"Why, thank you!" She smiled brightly at his kind words. Your brother tugged her cheongsam to get her attention. She immediately got the massage and bowed to Morax. "It was a pleasure, mister Zhongli. Thank you again for your help."

She turned around and started walking heading for her home. Morax didn't bother to responder her goodbye. He only looked at her fading figure, one child in her arms and the other walking besides her.

It was okay.

He has waited all this time for them. He could wait a little more before bringing his children home.

.

A week had passed since then.

Your parents made sure to keep you both close to them or at least, somewhere they could keep an eye on you. During all this time you didn't encounter Zhongli, at least not directly. There were moments where you would spot his golden eyes in the middle of the crowd, or see his figure leaning against the wall, completely in silence with his gaze fixed on your brother or yourself. It would be for merely a few seconds; as soon as your mother or father got close to you he would disappear.

Those strange sightings plus the uncomfortable sensation of being watched all the time were starting to make you pretty nervous. It didn't feel like you two were actually in danger, but the hazard was still there nonetheless. It made you anxious not know where the danger actually was.

You eventually stopped going outside to play, preferring to stay and home with the company of your parents. They didn't complain, of course not, but you knew they were worried by the sudden change of attitude. Could have something happened?

Clouds covered the entire sky. It wasn't raining yet, but it was obvious that it would rain pretty soon.

You looked at the sky trough your bedroom's window, letting out a sigh.

"Feeling sad, 妹妹?" Your brother asked from the door before approaching you and standing at your side.

"Well, we weren't planning on going outside and play anyways. Maybe we could just read something?"

"We've been reading all week! Let's do some other thing. What about drawing?"

You pondered over that.

"Sure! Let's grab some paper from dad's study and-"

Your next words died in your throat. The ground started to shake violently, making your whole house vibrate with it. Stuff started to fall all around you, and parts of the ceiling crumbled before crashing to the floor.

"It's an earthquake!" You shouted, hugging your brother instantly.

"We have to get out!"

Nodding at his words, you quickly ran out of the bedroom. You clashed with your father while crossing the door, undoubtedly he was rushing in to help you. He grabbed you both from your arms and ran out of the house, your mother following just behind you.

Outside it was pure chaos. Not only buildings were crumbling on themselves, there were two dragons fighting as high as the clouds were. The adepti tried to guide the crowd as well as they could, signaling where to evacuate to escape from all the destruction.

You tried to hold onto your father's hand, but the swarm of panicked people didn't stop crashing against you, eventually weakening his hold and forcing him to release you with a horrified gasp. You both heard him call your names and try to reach you but the people didn't stop pushing you away from him.

You two just hoped you would be able to escape to reunite with your parents once you were safe.

.

Oh, how good it felt to quell his thirst of blood.

He looked at the inert body of the other god, watching as the blood flowed from where his polearm was thrusted in his back. This wouldn't kill him, no, but how good it still felt to try.

He briefly looked up to the mountains, glazing over the enormous hole the tallest had. He always knew that that evil god would break free from his seal, that all this time feigning sleep were only for the sole purpose of gaining his strength back.

But Morax had an advantage. The god had power that didn't belong to him, thus every time he tried to use it he would become unstable, open to attacks. It was a hard battle that's true, but it didn't matter to the Geo Lord. He would take him down as many times as it was needed.

He would protect his children this time. This and all the upcoming ones.

With one look around, all his adepti started working right away. A group of them focused on restraining the fallen god before he awakened, while the other, the physically stronger, helped the humans trapped below the rubble and destruction that was left behind.

Morax turned on his heels and started walking away. None of the presents said anything to him. Their master was emanating an ominous aura, a warning for them to stay away from him and just focus on their task ahead.

The streets that were once full of life now served as a cemetery for all the corpses laying everywhere. A few of them were barely clinging onto life, crying out due to their wounds or the fallen debris that imprisoned them against the floor.

But Morax didn't have time to waste with them. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. If he concentrated enough, the earth beneath him would answer his demands. He felt each pulsation like a beating heart; the earth was always carrying life, and if he tuned with it he could feel any being connected to it. Be it plants, animals or humans.

Two particular beats made his body tingle and suddenly Morax could breathe again. They were alive. They were safe. He protected them this time.

As soon as he mentally followed their life force located away from the city he was ready to go to them, but the sudden tug of the fabric of his torn hanfu made him look down.

A delicate hand was trying to get his attention; the woman trapped below a cart was weakly tugging his clothes, and he couldn't help but smile with nothing but insanity.

That was your mother right there, bleeding profusely from the head. The body of her husband laid barely a meter away from her. He didn't need to check his pulse or try to hear his breathing to know that that man was already dead.

This couldn't be better.

"Mis... Zhong... help..." She only managed to say, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

He crouched in front of her, tilting his head as he assessed her wound.

"Poor thing. You would surely die if left alone in such condition."

His smile surely didn't convey the fake empathy from his words. A chill went down from the woman's spine, who just by looking at his eyes immediately knew that she wouldn't be getting out of there alive.

"You... them..."

"Ah, yes, them." He shrugged nonchalantly. "You don't have to worry about them. You can go in peace knowing that my children will be in safe hands, right where they belong."

He stood up as she started to trash around to try to break free. He only walked a few steps before a thud behind him made him look for a second. Her wound finally caught up to her and fell unconscious. How happy he was; he didn't even have to get his hands dirty to get rid of the false parents of his children. They were just... sad casualties of war.

He walked on.

.

A faraway temple was serving as a refuge for all the people running away from the city.

Alongside your brother, the two of you remained in a secluded group with all the other lost children, one of the locals comforting you and assuring all the kids that they were doing everything in their power to find their relatives. Your brother gripped your hand tightly, and you rested your head against his shoulder, numbly watching ahead for any sign of your mother or father.

You were expecting the gentle smile of your mom or the soft eyes of your father, but what instead stood before you two was gold.

Morax saluted the woman in charge of the group, and from where you were sitting you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying. She let out a relieved sigh and let him enter, following him with her gaze as he approached you two. He crouched to look at you in the eyes and extended his hand.

"Let's go home, my dears."

You both hesitated. It should be okay, you thought shyly. Mister Zhongli wouldn't do anything to hurt neither of you.

You looked at each other before accepting the hand that was offered. Morax let a small laugh. He helped you stand up before giving a nod to the woman as a thanks, exiting the temple shortly after.

With each step you moved farther and farther away from your village. You glanced at it as it smaller and smaller, feeling like this would be the last time you would look at your home.

[ekathaenyra]

Imagine tommy being werewolf and finding y/n somewhere in the woods injured and bringing them back home to help them heal instead of eating them like tommy usually does or something along those lines

English isn't my native language, some sentences are translate with google, i'm sorry if there's mistake

It's my day off so I'm just writing all day!

Thomas Hewitt x fem!reader

A cold wind blew through the trees, making Y/N shiver. Leaves crunched beneath his feet, and every step echoed in the oppressive silence of the forest. Night had long since fallen, and the darkness made every branch sinister, every bush suspicious. Lost, exhausted, Y/N tried to find his way back, but it was clear that he had ventured too far. The moon shone, full and bright, above the treetops, bathing everything in a silvery light.

But suddenly, a noise. A branch cracking, there, just behind. He turned abruptly, his heart pounding, searching in the shadows for the origin of this noise. His eyes scanned the darkness, but he saw nothing distinct. Yet he felt that he was no longer alone.And then, a growl. A deep, threatening sound, which made his whole body shudder. Y/N stepped back, tripped over a root, and fell flat on his face in the mud. In the darkness, he saw two glowing eyes staring at him like headlights in the night.

The silhouette of a massive creature slowly took shape, muscles rolling beneath thick black fur.

It was a werewolf.

His limbs shook with terror, every fiber of his being screaming to flee, but the pain of his fall prevented him from moving properly. A violent tear in his calf tore a cry of pain from him, and he watched helplessly as the creature approached. Its fangs flashed in the moonlight, and the monster leaned over him, sniffing his scent.Y/N closed her eyes, waiting for the fatal blow. But, against all odds, the werewolf did not attack him. Instead, the creature stood still for a moment, as if hesitant, then let out a growl, less aggressive this time. The beast seemed... intrigued? Or perhaps even worried?Y/N opened her eyes, surprised not to have felt any tearing pain. The creature, immense, was still staring at him, but it did not move.

Then, slowly, she leaned down and grabbed Y/N with surprising gentleness. Unable to resist or even understand what was happening, Y/N felt her strength abandon her as the werewolf lifted her like a featherweight.In a painful half-sleep, Y/N felt the creature move with him in its arms, its large paws treading the ground without a sound, as if it knew the way through this dark forest perfectly. The trees seemed to parade around them, and the moonlight cast strange shadows on the beast's face, accentuating its size and wild air even more.

After what seemed like an eternity, Y/N felt the air become heavier, as if the forest had thickened around them. Then, they arrived in front of an old wooden house, hidden behind the trees. It seemed abandoned, yet the werewolf's steps were calm and assured.

The door opened with an ominous creak, and the interior was dimly lit by a few flickering candles.The werewolf gently placed Y/N on an old dusty couch, then stepped back slightly, still watching her with his piercing eyes. Y/N, still in shock, didn't dare move, for fear of awakening the creature's savagery.

But something unexpected happened. In front of him, the beast began to transform. Its muscles contracted, its fur retracted, and slowly, it took on a human form. In a few moments, it was no longer the terrifying werewolf, but an imposing man, with a marked face and intense eyes.

Thomas approached again, silently, and began to examine Y/N's injured leg. His gestures were surprisingly gentle, almost cautious. He frowned at the wound, an expression of concentration and determination in his eyes. Y/N, still in pain, nevertheless felt a strange comfort in feeling the presence of this man who was so frightening. After a while, Thomas slipped away and came back with a basin of warm water and strips of cloth. He began to clean Y/N's wound with unexpected delicacy. Y/N's eyes didn't leave his face, trying to understand what could possibly motivate this usually brutal man to help her like this, him, a complete stranger.

"Why... why are you doing this?" Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Thomas didn't answer. He continued his work in silence.A heavy silence settled. Y/N didn't know what to say, and Thomas continued to bandage her injured leg. Thomas' gestures were methodical, as if he had already treated wounds before, but the intense look he sometimes gave Y/N betrayed a certain embarrassment. A glimmer of something that Y/N couldn't quite define.After a few minutes, Y/N felt the pain diminish. The bandages were tight but not uncomfortable. Thomas straightened up, his hands covered in dried blood, but he didn’t seem to be aware of it.

His eyes were lost in space for a moment, before he returned to the corner of the room, taking an old dusty blanket that he delicately placed on Y/N.Y/N, exhausted and numb with pain, let himself fall against the back of the sofa. Despite everything, a question lingered in his mind. Why was this man, this monster, acting like this? He closed his eyes, letting himself be lulled by the warmth of the fireplace that Thomas had lit in silence.

When she woke up a few hours later, the room was still plunged into semi-darkness. Thomas’ massive silhouette stood out against the glow of the fire. He was watching, sitting nearby, his eyes fixed on Y/N. He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Thank you,” Y/N murmured, still slightly groggy.

Thomas simply nodded. He seemed oddly vulnerable in that posture, despite his imposing build. As if something in his heart had pushed him to act differently that night.

[natailiatulls07]

In Maurgrite series could you do Charles and the grid reaction to her coming back home sad cause she was getting picked on and he tried to hide it but they know something wrong as she wasn’t her usual sunshine self

Marguerite; The father daughter dance

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Charlotte Sine x platonic!reader

Summary - When Y/n's school is doing a father daughter dance she chooses not to tell Charles and skip it but of course that doesn't work out to plan

Warning - Loss of a father, feeling guilty, mourning a father

A/n - Charles and Y/n aren’t blood related but consider each other brother and sister. I know Alex was with Charles in the first part but I'm trying to stick to irl relationships and events so Charlotte is here today!

Marguerite

-

2021

When Charles was told that his godfather had passed away, his mind immediately went to Y/n. How would she cope with this? How would she feel about seeing her friends with their fathers?

But there was one thing the driver forgot about; the father daughter dance. It was a one time event, every daughter would get when they're in year ten. Yet Charles forgot.

It wasn't like Y/n didn't remind him, no she kept it a secret. Not wanting to go because her dad was gone. So when she got the letter from school, what did she do with it?

Well she just threw into the bin outside of the school gates.

Unfornuately when Y/n had her friend round to do homework together, her friend accidentally let it slip right in front of Charles.

"Wait are you coming the dance?" The question was totally innocent, y/f/n thought that maybe Charles would take the place of Jules and take Y/n.

They were in the open plan living space, y/n and her friend in the living room and Charles in the kitchen with Charlotte. So of course he heard them. "Wait what dance?" Charles' voice echoed through the large room.

Y/n's face went pale. She had been caught and would have to explain herself to Charles. "O-oh uh nothing!" Trying to dismiss the question, even though she knew it wouldn't be dismissed that easily.

The older two moved from the kitchen to sit on the plush couch next to the two teens. "Well it's not nothing is it though?" Charlotte replied, also urging Y/n to answer the question.

But instead of Y/n, y/f/n once again spilled the beans. "It's the father daughter dance, I thought Y/n would told you..." She trailed off, finally coming to her senses and realising. "Oh, I should go...bye Y/n, thank you for the snacks Mr Leclerc"

She was quick to collect her stuff and leaving, y/f/n had just thrown Y/n under bus and left faster than the McLaren pitstop. "So...there's a father daughter dance..." Charles and Charlotte had eyes of sympathy, upset that they made her feel like she couldn't go. "Why didn't you tell us?"

There was hesitation, how was she meant to answer a question like this. "Didn't think I could go..." Y/n took a deep breath, finding the carpet more entertaining. "Because papa is not really...you know..." This was the type of conversation Y/n wasn't fond of.

It wasn't a conversation Charles loved all that best either. He absolutely hated how his Marguerite felt she couldn't talk to him about this stuff. "When...When is it?" He had idea and good one.

"Tomorrow..."

Charles was quick to nod his head.

-

"Alex, can you distract Y/n tomorrow please" Everyone had gone to bed, Charlotte and Charles in bed togther and Y/n asleep in her own bed. He needed Y/n to be distracted so he could set up the surprise.

Charlotte smiled softly, cuddling closer to Charles. "Yeah of course, is this about the dance?" She knew the answer, she knew how guilty Charles felt about the dance.

Playing with the womens long brunette hair, Charles just nodded. He didn't have the heart to speak, fearing he'd break down.

-

So the next day whilst eating breakfast, Charlotte suggested to Y/n that they do a pamper day. Get their nails done, hair done and just go on a massive shopping spree. During said shopping spree, Charlotte had managed to convince her to get a nice formal dress, the dress she would wear to the dance.

"Hey, you should get this!" Take the dress off the rack, it was totally Y/n's style. "You never know what kind of event Charlie will want to take you to in the future, have it as back up" That was all that Y/n needed to be convinced to get the dress

Charlotte had successfully done what Charles asked of her. Unknow to Y/n, Charles had called up the school and asked if he could attend the dance in place of his late godfather.

They were very understanding and guilty they hadn't thought it through any earlier, but immediately agreed and ensured Charles that they wouldn't single him and Y/n out.

-

Arriving back at the apartment, it was surprisingly quiet. Charlotte and Y/n walked into the kitchen living space and there was an envelope laid next to a bouquet of African Daisies. On the envelope in fancy handwriting, wrote her name and in brackets, Marguerite.

Y/n (Marguerite)

With eyebrows frowned, Y/n turned to Charlotte. "Wait what's this?" Charlotte, who was pouring herself a glass of water just smirked, motioning for Y/n to opening it.

Riping the envelope open, she pulled out the letter and started to read it out loud.

Dear Marguerite, Get ready to put on your dancing shoes and join me for a night of laughter, joy, and unforgettable moments at our father daughter dance! It's going to be a night to remember, and I wouldn't want to share it with anyone else but you. Date: Tonight Time: 8pm Location: School You are cordially invited to be my dance partner for an evening filled with music, twirls, and sibling love. It's a chance for us to create memories that will last a lifetime and celebrate the awesome bond we share as older brother and younger sister. I understand that papa is no longer with us but I don't to subject you to miss these core memories, I have called ahead and we are more than allowed to attend together. Let me step up and honour Jules with you tonight. So, dust off that fancy dress, and let's make this night magical. Get ready to hit the dance floor and show everyone how we rock the dance moves together. Please let me know as soon as possible because I wouldn't want to dance the night away with anyone but my favorite sister. Can't wait to see you there, all dolled up and ready to dance! With love, Your Charlie

As if on cue, Charles came walking out of his office with a big smile on his face. "So what do you say?" He held out his arm, and she ran straight into them. Everyone was tearing up; Y/n, Charlotte and Charles.

He felt her nodding excitedly, her face in the crook of his neck. "Yes! thank you so much Charlie!" Y/n was over the moon, so grateful that Charles got this opportunity for her to actually happen.

"Marguerite, please don't think you can' experience these things..." Pulling out of the hug, Charles held her face in his hands and looked her in the eyes. "Papa would of wanted you to get those experience even though he is not here anymore"

Y/n nodding slowly, that guilt and grief slightly melting away.

Charlotte made her way over to the two, placing her hands on the younger girls shoulders and leaning down. "Come on Marguerite, we have to get you ready and you..." The two girls turned to the driver stood beaming in front of them. "You need to sort yourself out, like the hair?" The sound of laughing echos through the apartment as Charlotte and Y/n make their way to go get ready.

-

It's around seven thirty when Charlotte finally curls the last piece of hair and Y/n slides into her heels. They both look in the mirror, and Charlotte smiles softly. "You look like a princess..."

It's not often Y/n dresses up, she really doesn't attend many formal events with Charles. Esperically after Jules' death, Charles hated how the press exploited the girl so he limited their chances.

"Are you nearly ready?" The monégasque shouted from what it sounded like to be the hallway. Quickly checking her hair and makeup, Y/n nodded to Charlotte who was first to leave the bedroom and meet Charles in the hallway.

Y/n stepped out of her bedroom behind Charlotte and noticed how Charles had put on a classic black suit. Once the driver saw his little sister, his eyes were watering again.

He placed his hand over his heart. "My god I won't last on your wedding day..." Rolling her eyes, Y/n thought he was being dramatic. "You are stunning Marguerite..."

Looking up at the clock on the wall, Y/n didn't want to ruin her makeup. "Stop, I don't want to ruin my makeup" The hallway erupted with laughter before Charles nodded, chuckling slightly.

"Come on then, lets go dance the night away..."

-

[shanspitcoca]

BOWERS GANG HC

Summary You date the Bowers gang, but now they love for you is being shown to anyone who wants to get a sense of how the relationship with them works. What the cameras didn't film and what Stephen King didn't write.

Warning It was not revised, in each situation their tragic end was avoided (like going to Henry's house and being killed), english is not my first language.

Henry Bowers

You and Henry met at school. He wasn't used to being nice to people, but you were sent by the principal to help Henry with his studies. At first, it was really hard. He was rude, hated you, and embarrassed you in front of others. Until his hate turned to love, you didn't give up on him and you didn't hate him. Your sweet eyes made him see the light in the darkness, and he was confident that you could become his.

And it wasn't very difficult, because he protected you and took care of you, he invited you to go out with him and the boys and you became part of him, which made you open your heart. And with that came the rumors; "she's fucking them all!" "gang bitch!" "doesn't she have any shame?", but the truth was that you didn't care anymore and that improved for Henry too, he loved you enough to be nice to people when you asked him to.

Henry shut up everyone who was spreading rumors about you and made sure things between you were careful, he saw you as a sweet deer and didn't want to dirty your soul even though everyone already thought you were filthy.

But he hadn't even changed 50%, not at all! He took out the fights you had on your friends and sometimes his hatred was so great that he would even beat up poor street children, and that scared you. He felt absurdly jealous of everything and everyone, of his father who would praise you when he saw you "she's a good girl, keep her." of your friends when they tried to talk to you "why did Marsh the bitch called you?" and of his friends "is she going with us?". He couldn't hide it anymore and felt like he had to keep her away from everyone.

But of course she would use her persuasive skills to her advantage. “You can’t isolate me from the world!” “I’ll kill myself if you do that” were enough for Henry to change his plans, and it worked. That afternoon Henry was coming home, he had gone out with the guys and was walking down the streets, heading towards the farm. Henry had gotten off two blocks before your house and you saw him passing by as you were sitting on the porch eating ice cream, he had bloody bruises on his face and his clothes were dirty.

“who did it to you?” - she shouted from her porch

He made a few turns toward her, he climbed the small stairs to the porch and she stood, opening the door and leading him into the living room. They sat together and she touched his hand as they both remained silent. Henry would talk if he wanted to.

Henry wasn't the kind of person who usually talked about his feelings, but that day he even cried. Jealousy, anguish and fear surrounded him and he would be beaten again when he got home. But you said it only once and clearly and directly. Henry didn't like to talk much, especially when something hurt him, he would tell you with his eyes and sometimes with his touches.

“if you hurt them again i won’t be your girlfriend anymore.”

She then broke the silence, while he still looked down but at that moment something touched his heart and he laid his head on her chest, and she automatically held him.

His eyes moved away from the floor and went to your face, with confusion reflected in his blue irises. That day he promised not to fight without reason and not to be humiliated by children. You gave him a sweet and passionate kiss, which he obviously reciprocated and the simplicity of his love made you love him more and more.

Deep down you were the only proof of kindness that existed in his world.

Patrick Hockstetter

With Patrick Hockstetter, things are different. You were neighbors and became close when you were 8 years old when your mother started babysitting Patrick when his parents were at church. He hated going to church because he had to left the comfort of his home.

Patrick started hanging out with the Bowers gang which at the time was made up of Henry, Victor, Belch, Peter, Jard and Moose, but Henry didn't really like Moose and so he was quickly kicked out of the gang, until Jard moved out of town and Peter left the gang because he loved Marcia.

He started to feel desire for you when you guys still kids, well, you were messy and strange children and sooner or later it would end up happening, a little kiss. Patrick then grew in love with you but of course he would never admit it. He often went on “dates” with other girls and to be blunt he also took them to bed very easily. Sometimes you asked him to read some books, which he never did. He didn't have time for that bullshit, he skipped classes to be with the gang and spent the rest of the day with them, the little time he had he spent with the girls he wanted.

Patrick never actually admitted to liking you because he wasn't sure if it was reciprocal, he also never let Henry invite you to a ride around Derry with the gang because he knew what Henry's intentions were. Patrick felt obligated to take care of you and was preparing to tell you the truth "Im into you” he hoped to say it quickly and matter-of-factly, if you said "Im into you too" he would kiss you but if denied him he would say "do you think I was serious? dumbass"

That midday you went to the barrens, it was disgusting but you liked it there because it was quiet and you could read your books without worrying. But before you completed your arrival you saw Patrick standing looking around, "Is he looking for someone?"

“I'm not in that direction, silly” - you softly shouted and he turned back glancing at you and smirking

Now he had given up on what he had to do and sat down next to you on a rock not too close to the water but not too far either. You were wearing a white dress and brown boots that matched his and until that moment he had remained quiet. He was gathering his courage and suddenly moved, sitting next to her.

“i think im into you, doll” - it didn't go as planned, he sounded passionate and his intention was to sound cocky.

But you didn't answer, for the first time you didn't answer him. You sat next to each other and you laid your head on his arm, opening your book to the marked page. He was almost blushing, totally regretful even though your presence had done him well he was waiting for your answer.

“no amount of fire could challenge the fairytale he had stored up in his heart.” - she smiled and glared him when she finished - “Gatsby.”

“doubt tho that the stars are fire doubt thou that sun doth move doubt truth to be a liar: but never doubt i love.” - he looked down at the ground, kicking a few pebbles as his boots and hers brushed against each other - “Hamlet.”

she chuckles - “you read it...” - he didn't look at her but he could feel her sweet smile on him as she touched his hand and they both intertwined their fingers

“I read every single book you asked for…” - he then plucked up the courage to look at her and in a few seconds they kissed, it was a lascivious kiss but so genuine that they couldn’t help

Victor Criss

You and Victor met in seventh grade, he had been hanging out with Bowers ever since and you had math class together. You treated each other like arch enemies, you were smart but he was smarter than you, you got A's and he got A+'s, you applied to be the student council leader and he was the one who won just for being who he was and he gave up the position because he didn't really want anything to do with it.

But both of you were chosen by the math teacher to present the math competition, which you didn't like because you wanted to have participated in the competition but he loved it because he hated being seen as the nerdy bully. That day, something sparkled in his eyes and you noticed it, the way he looked at you while you performed and the way he loved every second of that time with you, you laughing at his jokes and covering for him when he got nervous and couldn't finish his sentence. Was it passion?

After that day, you started sitting closer together in class and you did all the pair work together. For the first time, the gang didn't make fun of him for being into a girl, they supported him.

Victor is an only child and his parents love him very much. He used to be a rebellious son and sometimes a little ungrateful, but after you appeared in his life and he introduced you to his parents, everything changed. You matched clothes, smoked together, studied together and had simple but full dates of conversations, smiles, stares, kisses and touches. He loves you more than anything and you know it, he doesn't usually kiss you in front of other people but whenever he does you get goosebumps, in a good way of course.

You were feeling lonely that morning and decided to go to Victor's house. You walked a few blocks since he didn't live that far away. When you got to his house, you rang the bell. "Damn, I'm going!" in an angry shout. He hated it when people didn't have patience. He opened the door and declared you with a smile, you had a bag in your hand with some cigarettes and board games. He blushed when he saw you and apologized for shouting.

“are you going somewhere?” - you entered in the house, closing the door and sitting on the sofa and you asked when saw him wearing his black boots, which he usually only did when he was going out.

“i was going to Henry's house” - he was untying his laces and throwing his boots into a corner of the room - “but be here with you is better”

They went upstairs and as they passed through the hallway and entered his room she threw her bag on the table. They threw themselves on the bed and she took off her shoes before getting under the covers and they lay there for a few minutes caressing each other until the phone rang.

He stood up and walked to the hallway to answer the phone. You didn't hear him very well but you ignored him and just focused on observing every detail of Victor's room. The green wall, the posters, the messy study table, the closet with the door open and shoes that prevented it from closing, the TV with the video game controls on top and the books on the nightstand. He then came back, sitting on the bed and looking at you.

It was Henry, he was angry because I didn't go to his house - he lay down again, squeezing himself between her arms - he doesn't understand...

With Victor everything was calmer and after a few minutes of him smelling your neck, leaning on your shoulder and you stroking his hair, you fell asleep. There was no talking for hours and arguing or much less wasting words, you dozed deeply without thinking about what awaited Belch for having agreed to go to Henry's house.

Reginald Huggins

Oh, but Belch are so sweet. He loves you more than anything and it all started at Greta Bowie's party. He had gone with the gang but was on the couch, bored, talking to Victor while Patrick and Henry bothered some girls. You and Belch had already had an interaction, it was when you were walking down the street coming back from the bakery and saw Belch standing leaning against the famous blue 1977 Pontiac in front of the supermarket, probably waiting for the gang to return.

You introduced yourself to him and started chattering, which he hated at first. “I wish I had a car but my parents don’t have enough money.” “I like Chevrolets.” He wanted to roll his eyes and leave you talking to yourself, but for a minute he decided to be nice and it was the best choice of his life.

At the party you sat next to him on the couch, smiling at him and he automatically smiled back without paying any more attention to what Victor was saying.

“i think gossiping is her only talent, because this party sucks!” - you shouted loud enough for him to hear since the music was drowning out everyone's voices

That was your biggest step, you and he started dating for good and that would lead to a future marriage. He loves every bit of you and your personality and would give you the world if you asked. You shared many things in common, including extracurricular classes, which made your love only grow stronger with every second you both spent together.

You had never gotten along with boys before Belch and meeting him completely changed the course of your life. Belch is an only child and lives with his mother and his mother raised him very well. Despite being one of Derry's typical bullies and rough with other girls, he treated you like a princess. His mother and you were the only women he treated well and the only who called him "Reggie" and he loved every letter when you called him that.

His friends always made a mess of his car and he never really cared about it, “Okay, they made a mess, I’ll clean it when I have time” but with you everything changed. Before he invited you for the first ride on the road he cleaned the entire car, inside and out. And then he did this every day until his friends stopped making a mess, he keeps pictures of the two of you in the glove compartment.

Belch could have gone to Henry's house like Henry asked, to shoot some bottles but Belch said no for the first time. Now you're in the blue Trans Am, although his friends had a higher priority when it came to rides, when you were there the car was entirely yours. He let you drive and was careful behind the wheel when you were in the passenger seat, but that didn't last long. Belch likes to speed up, and make you scream and your hair swing aimlessly out the window.

And that was what was happening now. There were no words for that moment, you were feeling the breeze of the wind on your face while the sun said goodbye to the humans causing a beautiful painting in the sky and a unique light on the earth. The bushes around the road screamed the peace that you both loved to feel when you were together.

“id ride to the moon in this car with you, honey” - she tried to get her hair out of her face as the wind blew harder and harder, which failed and made her burst out laughing

“I'll take you to every single place you want to go” - he says a little loudly as the breeze and road noises almost made them sound inaudible

[appleblueberry-pie]

I like your stories about Gojo as a housewife, I wanted to see if I could request one where she waits for you happily with the food she lovingly prepared for her wedding anniversary, but it seems that you forget and that same day you urgently ask for a divorce because You're tired of him being so jealous and clingy to you.

You haven't picked up your phone the whole day. He should've known this day would come. Because for a while now, you've been drifting away from him. Taking longer to respond to his messages, taking longer to come back home, taking longer to reciprocate his advances for any sort of affection, and taking longer to love him back in general. He doesn't remember the last time he kissed your lips. You began turning your face the last second he goes in for one, only letting him press his awaiting lips to your cold cheek.

He always makes you dinner before you come home. But even though his stomach was twisting and turning in anxiety at neglecting you, even in the slightest, he felt like if he didn't make dinner tonight, you wouldn't even care. That's how much you've been detaching yourself. He wants his favorite girl back. He wants his wife. His one and only. But here he is sitting in the kitchen by himself again.

And when you finally came back and opened that front door, the usual feeling of his spirits being lifted was replaced with sadness and fear. Your face stoic. He just wants to walk up to you, but you were so unapproachable in that moment. He didn't know how to interact. You made him feel this way.

When you begrudgingly joined him at the dining table, he watched you come in for a half-assed hug before you peck him on the cheek and go to the fridge for something to eat. Dinner was right there. Plates on the table, but you didn't even glance at it. ".........Honey?" He calls out softly. "Hm?" You call out, neck deep into the fridge.

Gojo looks over at the food before looking over at you again. Still looking in the fridge. Ignoring his efforts once more. He was getting tired of it. "I made you dinner." You take out a coke from the fridge before cracking it open, kicking the fridge door closed. "Uh-huh." Gojo watched you guzzle down half of the can before leaving the other half unattended.

Gojo can feel his bottom lip tremble. You finally look over at him for the second time that day and purse your lips at his face. He looks so stressed, but.....you wished you could find it in you to care. His eyes were wide, veins popping up on his face, he was squeezing his own shirt like a life-line. It was sad to see. And pathetic. "Do you even fucking care??" You sigh and turn away from him, unbuttoning your work shirt slightly. "I don't want to have this conversation with you right now." Gojo somehow ends up in front of you and grabs your arms rather softly, yet the look in his eyes were scared and desperate.

"You never want to! Every time I try to initiate an important conversation, or- or even just a regular night talk with you, you just walk away or go to sleep. It's like you're trying to run away from me or something-" Gojo steps back when you pull your arms out of his own and begin raising your voice. "Because I am!! I am so tired of being with you, Satoru." "What??"

You begin to shake your head slowly in regret when his face begins to shift through all kinds of emotions. Silence echoed throughout the cold home and it just made you nervous. You didn't want to say it to him like that. And especially not on your anniversary. You fucked up with the timing, but it was true. And it seemed like you couldn't stop your own mouth from babbling the truth. "I just....your so suffocating. I'm shitty for saying this to you right now, but it's been like this for me for a while now....I just don't think I'm cut out for a relationship right now. I don't know." Gojo kept feeling his heart rip itself the more he tried to breathe. It was so unbearably painful and fast, he couldn't keep up with his own emotions. He was sweating and shaking, but all he could focus on was you and your voice. Despite this possible break-up, the daggers in his heart, his mind and heart was still serenaded with your voice. He couldn't get over you.

"I'm just so tired every time I come home and all I want to do is relax-" "That's what I'm here for, Y/n. I'm here-" "Alone. I just want to be alone and on my own. You're always down my throat asking me questions constantly and i just can't find it in me to....to give you what you need." "No, no, no, no, no, don't say that. You give me everything I need. You're all that I need."

He was so close to you, wrapping his arms around you, faces so close, but not close enough for him. Definitely too close for you. You shake your head. "I need to be on my own. I-...I can't do this, Satoru." You looked so guilty in the face. "I...."

You took yourself out of his arms slowly, and Gojo felt like throwing up at the look on your face. "I want to....divorce."

[fanged-fanfics]

can u do a spicynoodles x reader where reader gets possessed by lbd???? 👀

❤️🔥 Lost to the Ice — Spicynoodles x GN reader (HCs) 🍜💛

Genres: Angst || he/they pronouns for MK, he/they/she pronouns for Red Son, they/them pronouns for reader || Warnings: Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort

.˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🔥🍜୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹

- Red Son feels beyond terrible. They immediately blame themself for it. His father was the one that freed the Lady Bone Demon, so he immediately feels completely responsible for what happened to you

- They shut down for a while. They're not cooperative with MK, she's not talking like she usually would, he barely has enough energy to ignite a spark in his hands. All the guilt and the fear from seeing you be taken as a vessel in Lady Bone Demon's plan eats away at him nonstop

- There's a deep sense of heartbreak that tears at him too. Just knowing that he could've prevented all of this from happening, that you especially could've remained safe, not a moment of it doesn't cause her soul-crushing heartbreak. She feels like she failed you

- There's fear at the same time. Seeing you, with those wide lifeless eyes and the chill surrounding the air you stood in... it absolutely terrified them. Fear that you were gone, that you were hurt, just the very idea of you hurting made them feel a chill in their veins. Above all else, they had the fear that he had just ruined the one thing in his life he thought he could save

- When she breaks out of her sluggishness, she's pissed. Beyond pissed. She's absolutely livid towards Lady Bone Demon. She demands the Monkey Crew to let her be at the forefront of the fight, to get revenge on the demon that caused this. Every time Lady Bone Demon throws you into the line of fire, it stabs a cold sense of panic into Red Son's heart, immediately followed up by burning rage

- MK, on the other hand, is much more open about his emotions when he sees what happened to you. He doesn't want to break down in front of his friends, but he absolutely panics immediately and gets to the verge of it

- They blame themself too. They're the hero, the Monkey Kid. They should be fixing everything, making sure everyone's safe, and that especially includes you! They feel like an absolute failure for letting this happen, constantly replaying that moment they helped Bai He in their head as regret gnaws at their every sense

- Even talking to the Monkey Crew doesn't help. No matter how many times they try to reassure him that everything's okay, he doesn't feel any better. Not even Pigsy or Mei can bring their spirits up

- They think about you constantly. They remember every moment with you, and he feels another wave of anguish when remembering your smile being replaced with such a stoic, unfeeling expression. He can't get his mind off of it for a second

- When MK goes back into battle, he's determined. They know they need to save you, it's their job to make sure the world is safe. He gets scared every time you're used as a pawn against them, shouting to his friends to be careful with you. But he knows what he has to do, and the first thing on his mind is making sure you're going to come out of this okay

- Red Son and MK comfort one another the best while you're possessed. They both feel like they've lost someone they love, and both feel like they're to blame for it. MK helps Red Son be a bit active while they're less responsive, and Red Son gives the best reassurance to MK

- MK's motivation to help you is what helps make Red Son feel like he has to focus on how he feels later and save you first. She takes the lead MK gives, using their heroic optimism like a liferaft to keep grounded until you're back to them. MK sees Red Son's anger as a sign that he isn't alone, and that there's hope of getting you back

- Though they split up for the final fight, they're both focused on you. Red Son plans to turn anyone who hurts you during the fight into a pile of ash, and MK keeps his mind on the fact that you'll be okay soon. He just wants you to be okay. Both desperately need you to be back with them, to have life in those eyes again and to look at them like you know who they are. They need you back. They need you. Just hold on a little longer