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nekomamiiz · 1 day

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third time's a charm

kuroo x fem!reader

wc: 4k

warnings: 18+, post time-skip!kuroo, husband!kuroo, various pet names in place of y/n, domestic vibes, mentions of ovulation and pregnancy, masturbation (f), some spit, oral (f receiving), lots of teasing, soft dom kuroo, some nipple play, heavy breeding, impreg, multiple orgasms/creampies... it gets really wet, hot and messy, cockwarming, my extremely poor writing skills!

a/n: weeeee i'm out of hiatus.. sort of... this is just a lil something i was messing with before my break. finally after 2 years i finished it lol. anyway,, this is pure smut like barely any plot besides kuroo putting a baby in you and extremly self-indulgent but i hope yall enjoy it!! big thank you to @retrofang for beta reading some of this bad boy and the entire server for putting up with me heheh! likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. thank you for reading <3 kiss kiss

banner and dividers by @/cafekitsune

After months of carefully calculating, tracking, and monitoring your cycle, the time has finally arrived.

Ovulation week.

You quickly text your husband when you receive the notification on your app. The little chime went off before you left the house for work. It must really be perfect timing, and he immediately replied.

Tetsurou <3 — I’m on my way back home. Don’t leave yet and call out for today.

— Actually, go ahead and put in your vacation request now. I’ll be there soon.

Your reply was a simple heart emoji. You’d get yourself relaxed and ready while you wait for him.

There wasn’t much to do. You had already showered this morning and made the bed before ‘leaving’ for work. As soon as Kuroo sent that text, you put your comfortable house clothes on and lit a few candles around the bedroom. The only thing left to do now is prepare yourself.

So, that’s what you did.

About half an hour later, Tetsurou walks through the front door of your home. He slips his shoes off, then his coat and that’s when he hears it—a soft and needy whimper of his name.

As he pushes through your bedroom door, his eyes find your body already glowing with a sheen of sweat and so beautifully spread out on the edge of the bed. He licks his lips at the sound of your cute little moans and the slight squelch of your pussy.

It all sounds so wet.

You have two fingers inside yourself, stretching and stroking the walls of your perfect cunt, offering Kuroo the perfect view. His breath hitches at the sound of your moans becoming louder now that your eyes are solely on him, and his mere presence is enough to make your body shiver with desperation.

“Tetsurou,” you whine his name as your fingers pick up their pace in stimulating your sensitive pussy. Now leaking with a desire to have him buried inside you.

Kuroo’s eyes trail down your body. He watches closely at how your chest heaves, how you twist your wrist so your fingers can reach the right spot inside, and how you whimper when you can barely get there. You’re putting on a show just for him, and he eats up every second of it.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you,” he quietly groans at the lewd sight presented to him.

He’s already palming himself through his slacks, using his other hand to remove the buttons of his shirt. He’s not in any rush, simply relishing the sight of you building yourself up to release, but you both know it’s not enough. The way you writhe and squirm on your shared bed has his body temperature rising, and he can see your want for him dripping out and onto the sheets below you, making such a pretty mess that he can’t wait to clean up.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl,” he says as he steps out and away from his pants, kicking his boxers to the side. “Were you getting yourself ready for me?” he asks with a slight pout on his lips.

You nod your head as one of your hands quickly finds its way to your breasts, kneading at the sensitive skin and pinching your nipples between your fingers. Another whine escapes you at the added stimulation; add the sight of Kuroo fully undressed in front of you, spitting into his hand and stroking his cock—your mind quickly spirals.

Kuroo settles on his knees at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as he stares down at all the slick collected between your thighs. He wastes no time leaning down in front of your aching pussy, and he smirks at the way you continue to desperately fuck yourself with your tiny little fingers.

“Gonna let me taste,” he asks softly, looking up at you through the valley of your breasts.

Your face is sweaty, and that faraway look in your pretty eyes is making itself more noticeable. Kuroo knows you're about to cum, and it's a face he loves to see.

With another simple nod of your head and a quiet ‘yes,’ Tetsurou gets to work.

He spreads your legs further apart and tosses them over his shoulders, tugging softly on your hips so you can be closer to him. His actions rip an excited squeal from your mouth, followed by your sweet giggles.

You continue playing with your pussy, only tracing soft circles on your clit. Kuroo smiles at all the wetness collected on your fingers and takes hold of your wrist to remove your hand. He licks his lips before popping your glistening fingers in his mouth, sucking down all of your sweet juices and humming at the taste of you.

“Taste so fucking sweet for me, baby,” he coos while kissing your wet fingertips.

He’s looking at you with eyes so full of love as he continues worshiping your body, kissing your hips and inner thighs. He groans when he sees more slick dripping out of you, biting down on your thigh and devouring the sight of your perfect cunt clenching around nothing.

He needs to be inside you right now, but he also can’t help teasing you with his tongue for a bit longer. He licks a long, heavy stripe up your sensitive folds, groaning at the taste of you and how your entire body shudders beneath him. In this position, you’re at his mercy, his hands only holding your hips in place while you scratch and squeeze at his forearms from the intense pleasure he’s giving you with his mouth.

Kuroo chuckles against you, finding it so cute how you buck your hips in search of him. He’s already nibbling on your clit the way you like. What more could you possibly want?

“What’s wrong pretty girl?” he asks, placing a soft, wet kiss on your clit. “Not enough for you?”

You whine at his question. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it and the need in your voice.

“Want you inside me, Tetsu,” your words come out as a needy whisper, mewling in ecstasy as his fingers trace little circles on your thighs.

Tetsurou hums in satisfaction before he dives back into your aching center. He teases your entrance with his tongue, poking the wet muscle in and out while he presses down on your clit with his thumb. He can feel the way you shake under him, your thighs quivering when he adds more pressure to your bundle of nerves. So close.

His gaze trails upwards, admiring every dip and curve of your body until he lands on your beautiful face. He finds your eyes already focused on his every movement, your brows pinched in an expression of pure pleasure, and your mouth parted in a silent moan.

You trap his head between your thighs, back arching off of the bed as your body vibrates from your first release. He greedily slurps down whatever you have to offer, moaning and growling into your sensitive pussy, allowing your orgasm to rip through your body in soothing waves.

The look in your eyes is slightly distant—Kuroo thinks—and he still hasn’t bred you the way he wants. He’s not unfamiliar with your increased sensitivity during this time, but it’s far too early for you to be this stimulated.

“I’m not even finished with you yet, beautiful, and you’re already lookin’ so fucked out,” he teases, voice sweet yet equally rough.

He crawls up the bed, pressing kiss after hot kiss on your skin as he makes his way face to face with you, large arms cradling either side of your head. His cock is ready and burning hot as it bobs against your lower lips, causing you to hiss at the slight overstimulation. You feel a few beads of precum fall and drip onto you as he captures your lips in a near-violent kiss. His intent seeps into your mouth, and he silently declares what he’s always promised.

“You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when you have my babies growing inside you,” he says, low and slightly out of breath.

The statement shocks you somewhat at his use of plurals, and you return to reality instantly. “One baby at a time,” you pout playfully, kissing him again.

He pulls away and smiles so wide that it shows in his eyes, “I know. You know what I mean, I just want a big family with you.” He leans back down, placing soft kisses on the side of your neck, laughing through his nose as you smack his bottom.

Your shared laughter fills the bedroom, the world outside these four walls completely nonexistent as you share sloppy kisses for what feels like hours. However, Tetsurou plans to claim you as if it were the first time all over again, and he wastes no time doing so.

A warm hand snakes its way down the side of your body, tracing your curves with such care that he almost can’t handle the thought of being too rough with you. He is going to worship you today and ensure every ounce of his love shows in every move he makes and every kiss he leaves on your skin. He reaches between you—using two thick fingers to swipe through your folds—gathering enough slick to lube up his already weeping cock.

He pumps his fist once and then twice before pressing the tip of his dick onto your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure at such little contact. Using his hand to gently rub his cockhead in figure eights around your pussy, he continues to tease your folds until finally deciding he’s gathered enough of your wetness to press into you—something he has been waiting all day to do.

With as much time as he spent between your thighs, he is surprised at how tight you always are for him, and you can’t help but whine at the intrusion. His cock is so warm and feels so heavy; you might come undone from this alone.

Kuroo starts to pump only a third of his length in and out of your quivering hole. Trying so hard to hold back all of his primal urges and working on building you back up again slowly, moaning in your ear as he relishes in the warmth the two of you share. Finally bottoming out inside you, he feels you convulse beneath him. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangled in his mess of hair as you tug slightly at the roots.

“My fucking god, you feel amazing,” he says, clenching his jaw as if he hasn’t made love to you countless times, as if he hasn’t felt the heaven that resides between your thighs for years before this moment. Testsurou raises his head, looking at you, swiping a thumb across your cheek. “Tell me what you want, my love,” he demands, kissing you and resting his forehead against yours.

He thrusts, slow and soft, and you spread your legs wider, thinking it would invite him to go faster, but he denies you.

“I want all your cum inside, Tetsurou. Need you to put a baby inside of me,” you mumble breathlessly against his lips, grinding your hips to try and pick up the pace of his teasingly slow thrusts. “Please, baby,” you beg.

“Is that all, pretty girl?” he asks, pulling out of you almost entirely and thrusting back in—quick and rough. You moan his name as the lewdest sound of skin against skin echoes throughout the room. One. Two. Three sharp thrusts followed by your sweet cries of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ and it’s then that he begins to fuck you with absolute purpose.

Your hands have a mind of their own as they travel the expanse of his back, through his hair and back down again, nails leaving red trails on his skin while your thighs slide up and down the side of his body from the rhythm of his thrusts.

His chest brushes against yours just right, stimulating your nipples and causing you to moan his name. He knows you so well and responds by leaning down, capturing your breast in his mouth as he opens wide and sucks hard, his teeth teasing your peaked nipple as he pulls away. He lingers momentarily, alternating between swirling his tongue and using his teeth to stimulate you.

With a wet kiss, he pulls away, wrapping his arms around you and leaning back on his haunches as he holds you close. Your chests heave, and your skin slightly sticks together, the slickest part being where the two of you are connected, and he shudders at how quick you are to wrap your legs around his waist.

“I can’t wait to make you a father,” you say, your eyes locking on his as you mewl from how he fills you in this position. The tip of his cock is surely hitting your cervix, and the familiar throb you feel while he pokes and prods inside has you grinding in circles against him, desperate to meet his thrusts. “You’re going to be an amazing father to our children, Tetsurou,” you whimper as your eyes meet his.

He groans at your admission, his brows knitting together as he bites his lip in response. Both of his hands find their way to either side of your hips, gripping your skin and lifting you to speed up the pace. Your lips meet in a messy clash, your teeth scrape his tongue teasingly and he begins to unravel just in time with you.

“I love you so much, angel, and I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he declares, moaning breathlessly and going up in pitch with each word. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps out, his lips meeting yours again while his hands dig and squeeze into your skin.

A few more thrusts and lifts of your hips, and you can feel how close he is. His arms are beginning to tire, but he still hasn’t had enough of you.

“I can feel you about to cum, Tetsurou. Please give it to me,” you sigh against his lips, locking eyes as you feel him begin to spill his hot load inside.

“Fuck! You feel so good, baby,” he says as he lays you back down. “I’m still not finished with you yet, my love.”

This time, he grabs one of the many pillows at the head of the bed, and you instantly know what he has in mind. You instinctively lift your hips, and he gives your ass a soft squeeze before you back settle down, perfectly propped for him to reach deep inside and plant his seed.

Once you’re both comfortable with the position, he gets back to work, grabbing you by the meat of your thighs and spreading you open. He shivers when he sees a dribble of cum slipping out and down the crack of your ass—this is unacceptable.

Golden eyes find yours as his fingers swipe up the mess he made. “Can’t waste a single drop,” he says, sucking his lip between his teeth, fucking his cum slowly back into you with his fingers.

Wet squelches ring through your ears as you focus on his hand pumping in and out of you—the other gripped tight around the base of his cock, edging himself. The rough callouses on his fingers stimulate your gummy walls so well, and he knows what he’s doing to you.

“Enough with your teasing, Tetsurou,” you huff out in short breaths, reaching down to take hold of his wrist. “Because I’m not finished with you either, my love,” your smirk mirrors his own. Guiding his hand out and up towards your lips, you suck on his wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your combined juices—a little salty but so fucking sweet.

Laughter once again fills the large room as he moves to hover over you, licking your lips and having a taste for himself.

“Always so eager,” he chuckles, moving to kiss your neck, sucking softly.

Rolling his hips back and forth, he slides his length between your folds, tip catching at your entrance two or three times. He still gives you nothing—not yet—because telling him not to tease you only makes him want to do it more.

As if sensing your annoyance, he gives in, guiding his cock to your entrance once again; he settles back on his knees, pressing inside of you inch by inch. Those skilled hands of his begin sliding up and down your thighs, deciding on gripping your ankles and resting them comfortably on his shoulders.

The meat of your thighs lay flush against his chest; you can feel the heat radiating off of him along with the sweat that coats his defined abdomen. His large arms wrap around your legs, pulling you flush against him, and you revel in the feeling of his cock finally reaching that deep place inside.

Kuroo stays there for a moment—perfectly still—kissing your calves, taking a bite here and there. You stare at him in complete awe as he begins to thrust in and out, tip prodding at your cervix each time. His eyes pinch shut, cheek resting against your calf as he loses himself in the feel of your warm walls squeezing him tight.

“Feels good,” you whisper, offering him a sweet smile before biting your lip and tossing your head back onto the plush mattress. You reach out to him, silently asking to hold his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Using your hands as leverage, he speeds up his thrusts, setting a brutal pace as he pulls you in closer and closer, mumbling words of praise through pleasured groans. His cock throbs inside of you, nearing another release, and his balls feel heavy as they slap against your ass with every sharp thrust.

“Gonna cum again,” he grits out, hips faltering in their rhythm just as he spills his load inside of you for the second time. He chants your name while mumbling ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ a few times, grinding into you to ensure his cum stays buried just as deep as he is.

Releasing your hands, he runs his over the skin of your thighs, rubbing and scratching in soft circles. He takes your legs and folds you in half, your ass lifting off the pillow just slightly as he leans into you. His kisses are sloppy and wet, and he grips your thighs like a lifeline as he begins to jackhammer his cock into you.

Wet squelching becomes the only sound you can register, drowning out his mumbled words of praise. You admire how beautiful he looks, lost in pleasure, eyes raking up and down your body, both of you glistening with sweat.

He slowly builds you up to another orgasm, your body shaking the closer you get, and your pussy clenches around his cock in a vice grip. You can’t get enough of him, from the way his hands grip your skin so gently, the wild strands of black hair sticking to his forehead, down to the teasing words he showers you with throughout.

You cum, your body trembling as Kuroo tries to keep you still, his nails surely leaving crescent marks on your thighs. He rises—no longer crowding over you—chest heaving and dripping in sweat. His amber eyes appear darker than ever as he continues to pound into you, overstimulating your pussy beyond what you can handle.

“Don’t stop, Tetsurou,” you beg, wrapping your hands around your legs, spreading yourself so he can focus on his current task. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer to meet every sharp thrust.

“Third time’s a charm, right baby,” he teases, unable to help himself. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he chokes out, face contorting because he knows you did that on purpose, but he laughs anyway.

His cock throbs inside of you, eyes zeroed in on that thick creamy ring coating the base of him, and the sight makes him groan—sucking in his bottom lip. There’s so much cum dripping out of you with every thrust in and out, and he fucking loves it.

“Keep going, baby,” you encourage him, nodding your head when you feel his hips falter in their movement. “Give me everything. I want it all, Tetsurou,” your words come out in broken cries, relishing the sight of him coming undone.

A few more thrusts and his cum fills you— so warm and thick—thicker than the previous ones. There’s no doubt in either of your minds that this will take; he just has to stay inside a little longer.

Releasing your grip on your legs, you finally relax, setting your feet back comfortably on the mattress. Kuroo continues to rock his hips slowly, pushing his cum further inside of you, his mind elsewhere as he flits his gaze between your face and your pussy.

“You look so pretty with my cum inside you, princess,” he nearly giggles, satisfied with his work and the euphoric look in your eyes. “Think we can keep this up for the rest of the week?” he asks, breathless, offering you that same sideways grin you fell in love with years ago.

This makes you toss your head back, mirroring his laughter and clenching around him with every exhale. You reach your arms out, and he leans back over you, placing several kisses on your chest and neck—his nose brushes against your cheek, waiting for your response.

“Let’s get some rest first. You look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration,” you say, amused at his shift in demeanor.

His arms wrap around your frame, rolling you over so you now lay on top of him, fingers tracing invisible words on your back. He is still inside you, keeping his seed nice and warm, not allowing a single drop to escape.

“I made sure to have plenty of water today, and you know I can go for hours when the moment calls for it,” he delivers his statement with one shallow thrust, just enough to rub against that spongy spot inside.

Too overstimulated to try for another round, you place your palms on his chest, resting your chin on the back of your hands as you admire his features. He plants a few pecks on your forehead before he moves a hand to caress the side of your face, thumb swiping gently on your cheek. His eyes bore into yours as you lay there for a minute or two, taking each other in.

“You think that was enough?” you ask, nuzzling your cheek deeper into his palm to place a kiss on his wrist.

“If that wasn’t enough,” he looks down, gesturing at the mess of cum between you. “I’ll make sure it will be by the end of the week,” he says reassuringly, leaning in to claim your lips in a kiss.

After today and the amount of cum dripping out onto the mattress, you do not doubt his ability to put a baby in you.

The rest of the week continues the very same, and if you thought you’d already made love on every surface of your home before, then you’re wrong. Kuroo finds new places to take you that you never thought imaginable, and his stamina has become endless in his mission to get you pregnant.

➣

About a month and a half later, you find yourselves hovering over the bathroom sink, waiting for the plastic sticks you arranged in a row to reveal their results. It’s only been a few days since your period was supposed to arrive, but you can’t help being excited at the possibility.

Minutes pass, and the first stick displays two pink lines, the second and the third following right behind with the same result—you both lean in closer. Tetsurou’s eyes quickly shift between the instructions, the test, and your face. He takes in your expression—shock and absolute joy— and pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you slightly off the ground as happy tears fall from your eyes.

He kisses your face, setting you back down to leave another on your lips. You hum against him in complete bliss, satisfied with the results of your love.

Tetsurou pulls away, sporting the cheekiest grin that nearly stretches from ear to ear.

“Told you I’d make sure it was enough.”

don't forget to like + reblog and let me know what you think ! love yall <3

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu smut #banners and dividers by cafekitsune #nekomamiiz.fics

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spidey-webz · 2 days

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the sweetest sin | bucky barnes — coming soon

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

wc: tba

content warnings: 18+ only, smut, pure filth, reader and bucky have a shared backstory, public sex (kinda), unprotected p in v (more to be added)

summary: bucky goes undercover at a charity event to get closer to you. you’re his mission. but that dress you’re wearing is a little too tempting…

This is what I’ve been working on since the Thunderbolts trailer dropped and i can’t wait for all of you to read it 🫶🏻

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes headcanons #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic

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allmoshnobrain · 1 day

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𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dean winchester x hunter!reader | word count: 1,7k | requests are open! send yours here

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.” “This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.” “I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

✦ on this fic: dean winchester x reader, fem!reader but this part is pretty neutral, angst, s3 spn plot

✦ a/n: this is my first time writing a reader insert for the supernatural universe. this is super angsty, and other parts to this au may come in the future so feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any suggestions! hope u enjoy the read 🖤

Word travels fast in a hunter’s world.

In a job where information is everything, sharing what you know wasn’t just helpful, but also expected. So, when the Devil’s Gate opened and demons started pouring out everywhere, it didn’t take long before you heard about it. It didn’t come as a surprise when you heard Sam and Dean Winchester had been there when it happened, right in the middle of it. You knew the boys; you knew they had a knack for getting mixed up in every kind of mess that popped up, ever.

What did surprise you, though, was Dean showing up on your doorstep less than a month later.

You knew something was off the second you saw him. First, because he was alone, and honestly, you couldn’t remember ever seeing him without Sam around. But mostly, it was the look in his eyes. As soon as you opened the door, he smiled at you, but his eyes didn’t follow — there was a storm brewing in his green irises, one even he didn’t seem to notice.

“Dean,” you said, frowning as he stood in your doorway. “How did you…”

“Bobby told me,” he cut you off, like it was no big deal, not even waiting for you to finish asking how the hell did he know where you lived. Of course, Bobby had. You sighed — would’ve been nice if Bobby gave you a heads-up, but whatever. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, but… what’s going on?” you asked, stepping aside to let him into your little cabin. It wasn’t much — pretty small, tucked away from the town, and didn’t look like anything special from the outside. Inside, though, was another story. Your eyes flicked up to the devil’s trap right above the door, and you felt a wave of relief when Dean walked right under it. Okay, not possessed. That’s a start.

“Can’t I just pay a visit to an old friend?” he asked, and you raised an eyebrow. Sure, you’d crossed paths with Dean more than a few times — occupational hazard of being a hunter — but something about this felt off. It wasn’t like him to just show up without a reason, especially with everything that had gone down in the past few weeks.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” you pressed, not letting him off the hook. His smile faltered, quickly replaced by that familiar annoyed look he got when he didn’t want to talk about whatever was actually on his mind.

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you never just drop by for no reason. Where’s Sam?”

“Not here,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “Look, I’m fine. Everything's fine. Bobby just figured you’d wanna know what went down with the Colt and yellow-eyes…”

“I’ve got a phone,” you cut in, crossing your arms.

Dean sighed, his usual swagger faltering for a second as he cleared his throat, almost like he was nervous. “And… maybe he also thought I could use some time away from hunting, just for a bit, you know? With someone I… I liked being around.”

He couldn’t even look at you when he said it, a slight blush creeping up his neck. It wasn’t the Dean you were used to seeing, and that made your heart skip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

You blinked in surprise. Dean, shy? Around you, of all people? That was rare. You’d seen him flirt before — hell, he was good at it and he knew it. This wasn’t the Dean you were used to, but then again, he wasn’t exactly acting like his usual self today.

“You’re not a shapeshifter, are you?” you asked, slowly. He huffed.

“No, I’m not.”

“Mind if I check?” You grabbed the knife you always kept strapped to your thigh. Dean just shrugged, holding his hand out. You took it, his skin warm under your fingers, and pressed the iron blade against it until it drew blood. No reaction, a small twitch in his arm muscles the only sign he’d felt anything.

“See?” he said, his voice a little rough. “Not a shapeshifter, not a demon, just good ol’ me.”

Alright then. As weird as it was, it looked like Dean Winchester had really shown up at your place just to… hang out? You glanced up at him, wiping your knife off on your jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Come on, let me patch you up.”

“So,” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as you finished wrapping the bandage around his hand. “What’ve you been up to? Working any cases?”

“Why do you wanna know? Weren’t you supposed to be taking a break from hunting for a few days?” you shot back, and he chuckled. You glanced up at him. “You know I don’t hunt as much as you guys. I mostly just keep an eye on this area. But it’s been pretty quiet lately.”

“Yeah, well, you take care of yourself, alright? Lots of demons running around lately,” he said. “If you ever need backup, just call me.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly. “I haven’t been up to much other than keeping an eye on things. Honestly, I was worried about you guys. Heard you were at the Devil’s Gate when everything went down.”

“We were trying to stop it,” Dean said, and you nodded.

“I figured as much. But…” You hesitated. “That’s not exactly what everyone’s saying.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning a bit as he flexed his hand, checking how well he could move it with your bandages. “Who’s everyone?”

“The other hunters,” you said. “They’re saying Sam… and you… you guys made the whole thing happen.”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“And did you believe that bullshit?”

“I didn’t! Just… Please be careful out there, alright? Not all hunters are as friendly right now.” He looked at you for a moment, then let out a sigh and nodded. You hesitated. “Do you, uh, wanna hit up a bar or something? I mean, I’m not exactly living the most exciting life out here…”

“You got a TV and some beers?” he asked, catching you off guard. You blinked a few times before nodding. “Sweet. That’s all I need today. We could watch a movie or something, maybe order in.”

“I can cook,” you chimed in. “I’ve got a wood-burning oven outside... we could make homemade pizza.”

The way he looked at you, it was like you’d just revealed you had the keys to Heaven itself.

You finally figured out what was up much later in the night, while you and Dean were sprawled out in your queen bed.

At first, he had tried to be a gentleman and insisted on crashing on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it — the bed was more than big enough for both of you. No point in him getting a stiff neck just because he wanted to play nice. Sure, you were practical, but you also just wanted him to be comfortable. You could sense something was off with him, even if he kept saying he was fine.

So there you were, cozy and ready to sleep, lights out and moonlight streaming through the curtains, lying on your side and facing the wall as you listened to his deep breathing. You were almost drifting off yourself when he said it.

“I made a deal.”

You opened your eyes right away, twisting in bed to find his face just inches from yours. Your heart raced at the vulnerability in his gaze — the angst he’d tried to keep hidden was now clear as day. It made your heart sink and your breath hitch a little.

“What?” you asked, concern creeping into your voice. Dean closed his eyes for a second, letting out a small sigh.

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.”

“This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

You didn’t answer, just buried your face in your hands, struggling to catch your breath as tears started to well up in your eyes. The reaction shocked you — why did you care about him so much? How could you be terrified of losing him when you were just… what? Occasional hunting partners? Friends?

But he was right there with you, wasn’t he?

Was this why he had come to you?

“I wanted to tell you myself,” he said softly, as if he could read your mind. “I… I wanted to see you. One last time, at least.”

One last time. His words bounced around in your head, and you lowered your hands to face him, confusion scrunching your brow. That didn’t make sense. Demons usually gave you ten years after a deal, so why…?

“Dean,” you said slowly. “How long… how long did they give you?”

“A year,” he whispered, so quietly you almost missed it. “They gave me a year.”

“No,” you said, covering your mouth with one hand as the sobs started to spill out. “Oh, no, Dean, no, no, no…”

He pulled you close, wrapping you tight against his chest as you cried, your arms instinctively clinging to him. Incoherent words tumbled out — trying to apologize for crying, for feeling like a hole had been carved out of your chest. It didn’t feel right — you weren’t the one who was supposed to be feeling this way.

Because you weren’t the one dying.

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms that night. As your sobs faded into tired breaths and your eyes finally closed, Dean felt a sharp ache in his chest while watching your swollen eyes and damp cheeks.

He couldn’t deal with the whirlwind of feelings churning inside him right now. He couldn’t face the regret, the fear, not even that nameless feeling he had for you — because he was too scared to name it, to even acknowledge it was real. All he knew was that he had lied; Bobby hadn’t sent him to you. Things weren’t fine, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He had come to you of his own choice.

Because when his world was crumbling, he knew you were the only one who could help him pick up the pieces.

Even when everything felt hopeless.

Even when he felt completely lost.

#ada writes fanfiction #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #spn x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fic

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leftshoeuntied · 2 days

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Quick lil Konig drabble that I wrote in like 10 min because unfortunately I do love that big weird Austrian man and I want more fluff for him haha

no warnings just a weirdo trying to be nice :)

Imagine you’re leaving work one day and it’s just absolutely pouring rain outside. Sadly you forgot your umbrella today but you do have your raincoat on and the hood pulled up as you scurry over to the bus shelter trying to avoid puddle, but when you step into the shelter you just see this big man sitting on the bench in the corner all alone with a medical mask on and his jacket hood pulled up. You’ve already had a bad day at work and you’re trying to decide your fate, if it’s worth it to stay in this bus shelter alone with this big man or just wait outside in the rain for the bus.

Survival instincts kick in and you decide it’s better to just wait outside the shelter for the bus, even if it means getting pelted with the heavy rain, at least you have your raincoat and you know the bus should be showing up sometime relatively soon. You tip your head forward trying to keep the rain off your face, tapping the toes of your shoes in the puddles around you, trying to pass the time without your phone, not wanting it to get ruined in the rain. Between the sounds of the storm and the noise of the cars passing you miss the creak of the door of the shelter opening up and don’t notice anything off until the rain seems to just stop falling around you.

You look up confused at the lack of rain hitting and see the big masked man from the bus shelter holding an umbrella over you, not even covering himself with it.

“Oh no! It’s okay you don’t have to share your umbrella, I promise I’m okay” you quickly sputter out, but he just gives you a look. “No really I promise, please, it’s your umbrella, use it!” You say trying to step out from underneath his umbrella.

“Nein” he says gruffly, taking a small step towards you, sticking his arm to hold the umbrella over you again, but does not invade your personal space.

“oh…uh okay thank you” you say, smiling softly up at him. Silence falls over the two of you, and you can’t help the twist of guilt in your stomach, appreciating the man using his umbrella to cover you from the rain, but also knowing that he is standing just outside of his own umbrella getting hit with the heavy rain. “There should be enough room for us to at least share” you add giving him the small smile again and stepping closer to the man so you two are arm and arm, and he follows suit, adjusting the umbrella height to cover the both of you.

There, you two silently for your bus to show, content in sharing the protected space from the rain. Grateful that the big masked man in the bus shelter was willing to look out for you and share his umbrella with you.

#könig x reader #könig fluff #könig #konig x reader #konig cod #konig fluff

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wannabehockeygf · 2 days

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hurt my feelings - elias petersson

part of the think later fic series

"She wears your number, but I got what you like, She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind, I should've known better, You should've known better than me."

*** request: "I was wondering if you would be able to do an Elias Pettersson one? If not that’s fine, but if you do I would LOVE hurt my feelings with elias where he is in an open relationship and sleeping with the main character, but she’s in love with him yadayadayada. If you could do angst with a happy ending that would be great. Thank youuuu" summary: a more-than-stupid hookup has you feeling more than you thought it would. word count: 6k pairing: elias petersson x fem!reader warnings: nothing really, post-sex stuff? notes: - hi requester ty for waiting for so long for this. it's been in the making. - first petey fic! - not really proof read. - also the fact tate wrote this about a hockey player... cole sillinger u will always have fumbled. ***

Elias lifts his hips, pulling up a pair of sweatpants you’ve never seen in any picture of him, or anywhere else but when he’s with you. Which, admittedly, means you’re either in his car, at your dingy studio in Coal Harbour, or some other obscure spot for a quick fuck, just for him to leave right after.

You don’t want to feel this way. But the heart wants what it wants, and you want him.

Problem is, you can’t have him.

You watch him adjust his sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his hips, and feel the familiar ache in your chest, one you desperately try to ignore. His skin gleams under the dim light of the car’s dashboard, and the air inside is still thick with the heat of what you’ve just done, your clothes scattered near the passenger seat. But the warmth between you faded as soon as he reached for those pants.

The reality of it all starts to settle in, creeping up on you as you sit there, still trying to catch your breath. Your body’s exhausted, but your mind? It’s racing, swirling with all the things you don’t want to admit, not to yourself, and definitely not to him.

Elias, with his perfect nonchalance, runs a hand over the top of his head, his eyes scanning the fogged-up windows. His fingers drum against the steering wheel like it’s just another night, just another routine. And that’s what you hate the most—that it’s all so easy for him. He always makes it feel like it means nothing. Meanwhile, your heart is screaming at you to stop pretending it doesn’t.

“You want me to take you home?” His voice breaks the silence, casual, like he hadn’t just been inside you, like the intimate moments you share have no lasting weight.

You glance at him, a knot tightening in your stomach. The suggestion feels so transactional, like a one-way ticket out of his life until the next time he feels like doing this again. And you hate that you want the next time so badly.

“No,” you mutter, though your voice betrays you, shaky and unsure.

His brow lifts, a flicker of surprise, though he quickly masks it with that cool indifference. “No? You wanna stay here, or what?”

You hate how his tone makes it seem like you’re the one being unreasonable. You shift, pulling the hem of your shirt down to cover yourself, fighting the creeping embarrassment that always comes in these moments. “I just—” you hesitate, searching for words that won’t make you sound pathetic, needy. “I’m not some, like… some pit stop for you to get off and leave, Elias.”

He turns to you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly, the laid-back air around him thickening into something heavier. “What are you talking about? You knew what this was.”

Of course, you knew. You told yourself that over and over again, every time you ended up tangled in his sheets or here in his car. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Yeah, I did,” you snap, the words sharper than you intended. “But I didn’t think it’d feel like this.”

“Like what?” His voice is calm, too calm, like he can’t understand why you’re spiraling.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bitterness rising. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, right? That was the whole point. “Like I’m some backup plan until you’re bored again.” The confession hangs in the air between you, thick and unwelcome.

He exhales slowly, turning his gaze away, staring through the windshield into nothing. For a moment, it seems like he might say something to comfort you, to give you some semblance of reassurance. But instead, all you get is a quiet, “I never promised you anything.”

And there it is—his honesty, cutting deeper than you’d expected. You should respect him for it, for being upfront, but all it does is twist the knife in your chest. “I know you didn’t,” you whisper, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “But it still sucks.”

The car falls silent again, save for the hum of the engine, and for a moment, you wish you could just crawl out of your own skin and leave the feelings behind. Maybe then you wouldn’t care about how Elias is already emotionally checked out, like this was just another night, another body. Your body, for now, but never your heart. That wasn’t part of the deal. Yet here you are, feelings clawing their way to the surface no matter how hard you try to shove them down.

“Look, if you don’t wanna do this anymore, just say it.” His voice cuts through the silence, casual as ever, but this time it has a slight edge to it. Like you’re the one being unreasonable for having, god forbid, feelings. “I told you from the start, I’m not looking for anything serious.” He shifts in his seat, pulling his hoodie down over his chest like he’s already ready to move on with his night. “I thought you were cool with that.”

You feel the words hit like a punch to the gut, the weight of them sitting heavy in your stomach. Cool with that? You’re supposed to be cool with feeling like nothing more than a convenience? Like your body is something he can dip into whenever he feels like it and then discard just as quickly? You swallow hard, trying to push back the anger that’s rising, though your hands are already trembling in your lap.

“Yeah, well,” you start, your voice barely steady as you speak, “I thought I was too.” You pause, searching for the right words, but they won’t come. How can you explain something you don’t even fully understand? “But it doesn’t mean I want to feel like… like this.”

Elias shifts again, turning toward you, his brow furrowing in confusion. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel, the casual rhythm so at odds with the tension building in the air between you. “Like what? You’re acting like I’m doing something wrong.” His tone is laced with mild frustration, as if he genuinely can’t grasp why you’re spiraling. And maybe that’s what makes it worse—the fact that he doesn’t get it.

You look away, staring at the streaks of condensation on the window as your vision blurs with unshed tears. “Like I’m just a body to you,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Like you only want me when it’s convenient.” The vulnerability in your words makes your skin crawl, and you hate how pathetic you feel, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Elias lets out a long sigh, rubbing his hand over his face like you’re exhausting him. “I’m not trying to make you feel like shit,” he says, his tone softening, but the detachment is still there. “I told you from the beginning, I’m not gonna settle down. This is just… fun. You knew that.”

You know he’s trying to be reasonable, but it doesn’t matter. The words feel like salt in a wound, deepening the hurt that you’re so desperate to hide. Fun. That’s all it is to him. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not asking you to settle down with me, Elias. I’m not fucking delusional,” you say, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “But I’m not some fucking plaything either.”

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. “Jesus, you’re blowing this way out of proportion,” he says, his voice sharper now. “It’s not that deep. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

The dismissiveness in his tone makes your blood boil. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck as the anger takes hold. “Not that deep?” You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?” You turn to face him, your eyes burning as you meet his gaze. “I’m not asking you for some fairytale relationship, but fuck, Elias, I deserve more than being your afterthought.”

He stares at you, expression hardening as your words hit. His jaw clenches slightly, the tension visible in the way his hands grip the steering wheel. “Again, you knew what this was,” he repeats, his voice low, controlled. “If you’re catching feelings, that’s on you. I didn’t ask for that.”

The coldness of his words stings, each one hitting like a slap. And you hate it—the fact that he’s right, that you’re the one who let your heart get involved in something that was never meant to go beyond the physical. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You don’t think I know that?” you shoot back, your voice shaking with anger. “I didn’t ask for it either. I didn’t want this. But it’s happening, and it fucking sucks.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re being ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “We agreed this was just sex. Nothing more.”

Ridiculous. The word echoes in your mind, bouncing around like a cruel reminder of how you’ve let yourself get here, feeling something for someone who can’t even give you an ounce of what you need. Your hands tremble, and you quickly shove them under your thighs, trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart in front of him.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m ridiculous then,” you spit, the bitterness in your voice seeping into every word. You feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let him see just how much this is hurting you. “But I’m done with this. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Elias looks at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite read—anger? Frustration? Indifference? You can’t tell anymore. “Whatever. I’m taking you home.” ***

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow across the room. Your phone rests beside you, silent, no new notifications lighting up the screen. You've been staring at it for what feels like hours, waiting for something—anything—to distract you from the gnawing emptiness settling in your chest. But, of course, nothing comes.

With a frustrated sigh, you grab your phone, thumb hovering over Instagram, knowing full well what you're about to do to yourself. You shouldn't, you know that, but the temptation is too strong. Against your better judgment, you open the app and type her name into the search bar. Her profile pops up almost immediately. There she is—her.

Elias’ girlfriend.

You click on her latest post, a snapshot of her at Rogers Arena, grinning ear to ear, wearing his jersey like it’s a crown, her hands raised above her head in mock celebration. #CanucksWin, the caption reads, followed by a string of blue and green heart emojis. She looks so… happy, like she belongs there, like she’s the one who has his heart, his attention. And maybe she is.

Your chest tightens as you scroll through her feed. Picture after picture of her and Elias at games, on vacations, laughing together, looking every bit the perfect couple. There’s one of them at the beach—Elias, shirtless and grinning, his arm slung casually over her shoulders, while she looks up at him like he’s the only person in the world. That smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners... You know that smile. You've seen it before, but not like this. Not in a way that made you feel like you’d been given something special, something real.

No, with you, it’s different. It’s fleeting, temporary. You’re just a body to him, a release when he needs it. Nothing more.

You hate it. Hate how she looks so comfortable in his world, while you're stuck on the outside, desperately clawing at the edges, trying to convince yourself that you don’t want what she has. But you do. God, you do.

You toss your phone onto the bed, resisting the urge to scream. The jealousy burns in your throat, hot and bitter, swirling with a cocktail of self-loathing and frustration. You shouldn’t care. This wasn’t supposed to matter. But here you are, scrolling through his girlfriend’s Instagram, tearing yourself apart because she has what you can’t.

The thought of her being with him—touching him, laughing with him, wearing the #40 like it was hers—makes your skin crawl. And the worst part? You can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t stop thinking about her. About how she gets to have the part of him you’ll never touch. His heart. The part that matters.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers are already moving, dialing Elias’ number. It rings once, twice, and then you hear his voice on the other end, casual, indifferent.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, like he’s not surprised at all to hear from you.

Your heart thuds against your ribs, the jealousy bubbling up into your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the faint sound of music in the background, a soft murmur of voices. “Yeah, kind of. I’m with—” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know who he’s with. The words are already twisting in your chest, like a knife being driven deeper with every syllable.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to… meet up,” you say, trying to sound casual, like you’re not affected by the fact that he’s with her right now. “You know, for a quick one.”

Elias lets out a soft chuckle, the sound grating against your nerves. “I can’t tonight,” he says, his voice smooth, unbothered. “I’m with my girl.”

The way he says it—my girl—makes your stomach churn. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as the anger simmers just beneath the surface. “Right,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness seeps into your voice anyway. “Of course.”

You can practically hear his smirk through the phone. “Another time,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like this is just a game to him, and you’re a piece he can move around whenever it suits him.

“Yeah,” you force out, teeth gritting. “Sure. Another time.”

You hang up before he can say anything else, before you can hear the sound of her laugh in the background, or worse—imagine them together. The thought is enough to make your skin prickle with jealousy, the heat rising in your chest, suffocating you.

Before you know it, you're grabbing your keys, slipping on your shoes, and heading out the door. You don’t even bother to think twice. You aren’t the type to back down, not when you want something. And right now, you want Elias. You want to prove to him, to yourself, that whatever he has with her doesn’t compare to what he has with you.

By the time you arrive at his ritzy apartment in Yaletown, your heart is pounding in your chest, nerves and adrenaline mixing together in a volatile cocktail. You stare at the building for a long moment, the reality of what you’re about to do settling in. You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be here. But the jealousy is too strong, too consuming, and all you can think about is how badly you need to see him. Need him to see you.

So, you go up the elevator. Up to whatever floor you know he’s on, the one where you can see all of Vancouver in its expensive glory, and you knock.

You stand in front of his door, knuckles still tingling from the knock, heart thundering in your chest. The hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound your own shallow breaths as you wait for him to open the door. And when it finally swings open, there he is—Elias, standing in front of you, shirtless, skin gleaming like he’s been lounging around, maybe with her. The sight of him, so casual, so at ease, only makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low but sharp, like he wasn’t expecting you, didn’t want you there. Behind him, you can hear the faint sound of a television, laughter that isn’t his. Her laugh.

Before you can respond, her voice floats from inside the apartment. “Eli? Who is it?”

Your heart clenches painfully, her voice piercing through the air like nails on a chalkboard. She sounds so… comfortable, like she belongs there. Like this is her place, her life, and you’re just an intruder.

Elias’ eyes flick to you, something unreadable passing over his face. He turns slightly, leaning into the doorframe as if shielding you from her view. “It’s nobody, älskling,” he calls back, his voice steady, but the dismissal hits you like a punch to the gut. Nobody. “Give me a minute.”

Your throat tightens as he steps into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The distance between you is small, but it feels like a chasm. He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for you. He just stands there, watching you with that same indifferent look, like you’re something to be dealt with, not someone he wants to see.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is low, but the edge is unmistakable. It stings. But not as much as the jealousy burning inside you, clawing its way up your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep it together, trying not to let him see how close you are to breaking.

“I needed to see you,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth of it tastes bitter on your tongue. You hate yourself for it, for how desperate you sound. For how desperate you are.

Elias sighs, rubbing his hand along his jaw, the muscles in his arm flexing as he does. You hate how your eyes follow the movement, how even now, when your heart is shattering, you still can’t stop wanting him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, glancing back at the door like he’s afraid she might overhear. “You know I’m with her tonight.”

That word—her—sends another wave of anger crashing through you, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. “Yeah, I know you’re with her. I saw the Instagram posts. I saw everything.” Your voice cracks on the last word, betraying just how deep the jealousy runs, how much it hurts to see him with someone else, someone who isn’t you.

He frowns, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw her at the game, wearing your jersey, looking so damn happy, like she has everything,” you spit, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. “Like she has you. And she does, doesn’t she?”

Elias’ face hardens, his jaw clenching as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s because she’s my girlfriend,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice making your stomach twist. “And you’re… not.” The words hit you like a slap in the face, knocking the air from your lungs. "You’re not." Two little words, but they’re enough to unravel the fragile composure you’ve been clinging to. Your entire body goes rigid as the weight of his indifference sinks in. It’s like being plunged into ice water—shocking, numbing, suffocating. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. What can you say? That you know you aren’t his girlfriend? That you know you don’t belong in his world, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise? That every second of this—of him—feels like borrowed time?

Your chest tightens, jealousy wrapping around your throat like a noose, squeezing until you can barely breathe. You try to swallow it down, to keep the rising panic at bay, but it’s too much. It’s all too much. The sight of him standing there, so cold, so unreachable, while just behind that door, she laughs, probably stretched out on his couch, wearing his jersey, living the life you want. The life you can never have.

Your hands tremble at your sides, and you press them into your thighs, trying to steady yourself. But your knees feel weak, like they might give out beneath you at any second. You hate this. You hate the jealousy coursing through your veins like poison, making you feel small, insignificant, pathetic. You hate how he can do this to you, how easily he can reduce you to this—a broken, jealous mess, standing in his hallway, trying not to fall apart.

“I… I don’t care,” you choke out, though the words taste like a lie. They hang between you, brittle and fragile, crumbling the second they leave your lips. Of course, you care. You care too much. That’s the problem. The jealousy claws at your chest, each breath shallow and ragged as you try to keep the dam from bursting. But it’s too late. The cracks are already there, spidering through your resolve, threatening to split wide open.

Elias just stares at you, his brow furrowed, like he doesn’t quite understand why you’re standing there in front of him, unraveling at the seams. He uncrosses his arms, his posture softening ever so slightly, but his face remains guarded. His silence only makes the jealousy gnaw harder at your insides, like it’s eating you alive from the inside out.

“Why are you with her?” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat. You hate how vulnerable you sound, hate the way your voice cracks, betraying just how much you’re hurting. But you can’t stop yourself. The words tumble out, desperate and raw, needing to understand. Needing him to say something that makes sense. “Why are you with her when… when you don’t even care about her the way you—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. You can’t say it. You can’t admit it.

Elias’ gaze flicks to the floor, his expression shifting, something like guilt passing over his features. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, like he doesn’t know where to start. The hesitation sets your mind racing. The jealousy swirls around your thoughts, twisting every moment you’ve spent together into something ugly, something tainted. Has any of it been real? Or have you just been fooling yourself in your delusions all along? Is this really all you are to him—a temporary distraction, something to fill the empty spaces between him and her?

“I don’t know,” Elias finally mutters, his voice barely more than a sigh. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something there, something deeper, something almost sorrowful. But then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar guarded look. “I just… I don’t know.”

The simplicity of his answer, the emptiness of it, sends a wave of frustration crashing over you, mixing with the jealousy already burning in your veins. “That’s it?” you snap, your voice rising, barely able to keep the tremor out of it. “You don’t know? You’re with her, you’ve been with her, but you don’t know why?”

You’re losing control. The words are tumbling out faster than you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy consumes you, feeding off every tiny piece of doubt, every flicker of uncertainty. You hate how much you want him to give you an answer, to explain why he’s with her and not you, why you’re standing here, outside his door, while she gets to be inside, living the life you’re so desperately clawing for.

“I—” Elias starts, his voice soft, almost apologetic, but you can’t let him finish.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” The question comes out more like an accusation, the jealousy twisting your insides, making you feel sick to your stomach. “That’s why you’re with her. Because you love her, and I’m just—” You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. Just what? A fling? A mistake?

“I don’t—” Elias stops, running a hand across his jaw, his expression torn. He lets out a long, frustrated breath, his gaze darting back to the closed door, like he’s afraid she might hear. “It’s not like that,” he says, but his voice is quiet, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

“Then what is it?” you demand, your voice shaking, barely able to keep the desperation at bay. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fight the urge to cry, to scream, to do something other than stand there, unraveling. “Because it sure as hell seems like she has you. She’s got the jersey, she’s got the smile, she’s got the fucking Instagram posts—and what do I have? What the hell do I have, Elias?”

He stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking between you and the door, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, but can’t. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, and you feel yourself breaking, the dam inside you cracking wide open.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. “You can’t even admit that you don’t care about her the way you—” You stop, choking on the words, unable to say what you so desperately want to hear.

Elias lets out another sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly, and for the first time, he looks tired. Tired of this, tired of you, tired of the mess you’ve both made of whatever this is. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something there—something almost sad. But it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally mutters, his voice low, almost resigned.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy twists and tangles inside you, tightening its grip until it feels like you’re going to burst. “I want you to say you feel something,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Anything. Just… anything.”

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his face blank, his silence louder than any words he could have said. And that silence—it shatters you. It breaks you into pieces so small you don’t even know if you can put yourself back together again.

“I can’t do this,” you finally choke out, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long spilling over, hot and fast, burning as they slide down your cheeks. You swipe at them angrily, hating yourself for breaking in front of him, for letting him see just how much he’s destroyed you. But there’s no stopping it now. The dam has broken, and the jealousy, the hurt, the love—it all comes rushing out in a tidal wave of emotion you can’t control.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whisper again, your voice cracking, barely able to hold yourself together as you look up at him, your heart in pieces at his feet. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I love you, Elias. And I hate it. I fucking hate that I love you, and you can’t even—” You stop, choking on the sob that rips through you, your whole body trembling with the force of it.

Elias’ face softens, his brows drawing together in something that almost looks like regret, but it’s too late. You’re too far gone. You’re already falling apart, the jealousy and heartbreak swallowing you whole.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, almost tender, but it only makes the pain worse. Because sorry isn’t enough. Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Sorry doesn’t make you her.

You shake your head, the tears blurring your vision, making it hard to see him. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice hollow, broken. “Me too.”

*** The rain starts falling in steady sheets, drumming against the window as you sit curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. The flickering images mean nothing, just background noise to the storm inside your mind. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting there, wrapped in one of Elias’ old hoodies. The fabric is worn and soft, smelling faintly like him—like cedar and soap, like something familiar and heartbreaking all at once.

You hate that you still wear it. Hate that you can’t let go, even when you know you should. Even when you know it’s over. He chose her. He made that painfully clear, standing there in that hallway, his eyes darting between you and the door where she waited for him. And yet, here you are, clinging to the last scraps of him, like they could somehow make up for everything you’ve lost.

The rain blurs against the window, much like the tears you’re too tired to shed. You feel hollow now, emptied of all the anger, the jealousy, the heartbreak that consumed you. All that’s left is a dull ache, a quiet sorrow that settles deep in your chest, heavy and unmovable.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the quiet of your apartment. Your heart stutters in your chest, a flicker of hope igniting even though you tell yourself not to feel it. It can’t be him. It won’t be. And yet, as you stand and pad to the door, every step feels weighted with anticipation, your fingers trembling as they curl around the handle.

You open it to find Elias standing on the other side, the beanie on his head damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his jacket. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his eyes dark and tired, his expression unreadable as he stares at you in the dim light of the hallway.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You just stand there, your heart pounding in your ears, waiting for him to speak, to say something that would make sense of all this. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time, like the weight of his silence might crush you both.

“Can I come in?” he asks finally, his voice low, hesitant, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You should say no. You should slam the door in his face, walk away, leave him standing there in the rain. But you don’t. Instead, you step aside, the words caught in your throat, and let him in.

He moves past you, his presence filling the small space with a tension you can feel in your bones. He stops in the middle of the room, glancing around like he’s searching for something, maybe the right words, maybe some kind of explanation. But all you can do is stand there, your hands gripping the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie, trying to steady yourself.

“I broke it off with her,” Elias says quietly, his back still to you, the words hanging in the air like they might shatter the second they leave his mouth.

You blink, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s said. The rain beats harder against the window, filling the silence between you, a reminder of the storm both outside and within.

“What?” Your voice sounds foreign, small, like it isn’t even your own.

Elias turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours, and you see it then—the sorrow, the regret, the weight of everything that’s passed between you. He takes a step toward you, his movements cautious, like he’s not sure if you’ll let him get any closer.

“I broke it off with her,” he repeats, more firmly this time, his gaze steady, unwavering. “I know there was an agreement, but itt wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to you. I should’ve done it sooner, but… I was scared.”

Scared. That word echoes in your mind, bouncing off the walls of the tiny apartment, wrapping around you like a vise. What did he have to be scared of? He’s the one who had control, who made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to decide if you were worth saving.

“You hurt me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, the rawness of the admission surprising even you.

“I know.” Elias steps closer, his hands slipping into his pockets, his posture uncertain, like he’s not sure what to do with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The apology should feel like relief. It should feel like something breaking free inside of you, but instead, it only makes the ache in your chest grow heavier. “You can’t just… say sorry and think it fixes everything,” you murmur, turning away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Elias doesn’t respond right away. The weight of his silence feels almost unbearable, pressing down on you like gravity. Then, after what feels like an eternity, you hear him take a deep breath, his footsteps soft on the floor as he moves closer.

“I know I can’t fix it,” he says quietly, his voice so soft it’s almost lost beneath the sound of the rain. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, searching for any hint of the indifference you’d seen before. But it’s not there. Not now. Now, his eyes are filled with something else, something raw and honest, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I love you.” The words spill from his lips, quiet but sure, like he’s been holding them back for too long. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Your chest tightens, a rush of emotions surging through you so fast you can barely process them. You want to believe him. You want to fall into his arms and let those words heal all the wounds he’s left behind. But the scars are still there, fresh and painful, a reminder of everything that came before.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears you held back earlier threaten to return.

Elias closes the distance between you in two quick steps, his hands reaching for yours. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, the familiarity of it both comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice low, desperate. “I’m not asking for everything. I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me. I need you to know that I choose you.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. He chooses you. After everything, after all the hurt and confusion, he’s standing here now, choosing you. But is it enough?

His fingers tighten around yours, pulling you gently toward him until you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “But I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if you let me.”

After what feels like an eternity, you nod, a single, tentative movement. “Okay.”

Elias lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in for hours, and without another word, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that feels both familiar and brand new. The warmth of him, the solid weight of his chest against yours, makes something inside you unclench, like you’re finally able to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe him. Finally.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey fanfiction #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks fic #elias pettersson #elias petersson fic #elias petersson x reader #elias petersson x you #ep40 #ep40 fic #ep40 x you #Spotify

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gnomewithalaptop · 1 day

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One Man's Trash is Another Man's Cocaine Distribution Plan

In which Jon gets arrested, gets trapped inside a garbage truck, and steals Kon's jacket (though not necessarily in that order).

This fic was written for the DC Gotcha for Gaza charity event on Twitter. Super mega thanks to @ladybirdbeewrites for betaing! <3

Relationships: Damian Wayne & Jonathan Samuel Kent, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Jay Nakamura (mentioned)

As soon as Damian picks up the phone, Jon already knows he’s in for it. The extended pause on the other end is like a physical thing. Then: “Jonathan,” he says flatly, voice tinny over the cheap speakers.

Jon does his best not to roll his eyes. Cameras, he reminds himself firmly. In Gotham, you can never be too sure when a Bat is watching. Still, he makes an effort to straighten his shoulders before he replies. It’s only dignified. “Damian,” he shoots back.

See, he can be cool and collected too.

Damian, of course, cuts right to the point. “Care to share why you’re calling me from a GCPD payphone?”

Jon winces, then immediately wishes he hadn’t. If Oracle hadn’t hacked Damian into the cameras already, he’d eat Lex Luthor’s foot. And considering the amount of Kryptonite poisoning that man has, that’s saying something.

Behind him, one of the guys in the drunk tank throws up. The smell of it hangs on the air, rank and heavy. It makes Jon want to tear off the handcuffs and speed out of there.

But of course, he can’t do that without blowing his cover, so instead he just wrinkles his nose and worries a forefinger along the woven metal of the telephone cord. The wire covering’s started to fray at the base of it, right where it connects to the box.

He’s taking too long to respond. Jon clears his throat sheepishly. “I… might’ve gotten arrested?”

The silence on the other end of the line speaks volumes. Jon rushes to clarify.

“Only a little bit though!”

Damian makes a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, well, thank god it was only a little bit,” he says sarcastically. “Imagine the trouble you’d be in if you got super-mega arrested, a differentiation that’s definitely real and not at all made up.”

“Hey, cool it with the sass, Mr. ‘I Own Eight Swords.’”

“I’m sorry, since when is having a sword collection illegal? Oh shit, wait—” Damian gasps in mock horror. “Do you think I’m in danger of getting super-mega arrested?”

[Continue on AO3]

#dc gotcha for gaza #damian wayne & jon kent #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent #robin #superman #superboy #superfamily #batfam #batfamily #super sons #this-is-gnomes-writing-tag #fic

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thebarontheabyss · 21 hours

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The new version of The Bar on the Abyss 2.0 update is coming soon!

I've finished stocking the Library of Pseudonium with stories, tales, and entries for you to devour, and now I'm moving to overhaul some of the romance scenes in the game.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share one of those entries. See you soon in the Abyss :)

Waiting for You by Albus Gauss

"Did you see the moth, my love?

It was there when we said our goodbyes. I could see you holding back your tears. You had to be strong, I understand. But I wish you hadn’t. I was so weak, and all I wanted was to hold you, to feel your warmth one last time. I longed for your tears to flow freely, to form a river that would carry me away into the unknown, into oblivion.

As you whispered your final words, I saw it in that quiet moment.

A fragile, black-winged creature. It fluttered softly between us, hovering like a silent witness to our parting. It landed on my chest, just above my heart, and in that instant, it whispered something I couldn’t quite hear, or remember.

The following moments are hard to hold onto—like trying to catch the wind. A blur of sensation and then… seagulls.

I woke to the sound of the ocean.

An endless beach stretched before me, an ancient town clinging to its shoreline like something plucked from an old memory. Remember our honeymoon in Sanremo? The way the sun seemed to melt into the sea, the scent of salt and warmth in the air? It was just like that, only quieter. Still, Timeless.

The sand beneath me was warm, and the breeze carried not just salt but something else… something eternal, like time itself was holding its breath. The sea shimmered in silver hues, a glow that made it almost alive. I stood up, feeling lighter than I had in years—lighter than I had ever felt in life. The pain that had gripped me for so long was gone, but with it, the weight of myself—of being alive.

It’s strange to explain. You never realize how heavy your existence is until it’s lifted away.

I followed the shoreline, letting my feet sink into the soft sand. And then, near me, I saw it fluttering again—the moth, gently gliding on the warm waves of the sea. And it spoke to me.

So, I’m in a place called Kaitz, an ‘ethereal realm.’ Not Heaven, just… a haven. We talked for a long time, and he told me so much. My mind struggles to comprehend the details, but apparently, this is the afterlife.

I followed him into a small house on the outskirts of the town, overlooking the ocean. It was a simple, quaint place, like something we might’ve stayed in during one of our seaside holidays. The walls were cracked but alive with vines of unfamiliar flowers, their blooms glowing faintly as dusk crept in. There was a feeling of anticipation in the air—like the house had been waiting for me. The moth told me I could stay here if I wanted to. I was so confused, I really should have asked him for how long. Did he mean forever?

I wandered onto the balcony, looking out over the ocean as the sunset bathed everything in gold. The horizon shimmered in a way that I can’t quite describe—like the light was bending, swirling into itself, but never fully disappearing. For a long time, I just stood there on that balcony. This place was beautiful, yet I felt… alone.

The moth—Mavet, it whispered its name—perched beside me on the railing, its wings reflecting the dying light. It didn’t speak again, just hovering for a while until the sun was gone, and so did he.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The stillness was too loud, so I went outside into the town.

That’s when I heard the music. There was a festival, with fireworks and sky lanterns floating in the skies above us. I’ve never seen clearer skies—whole galaxies stretching and spiraling, and I swear those sky lanterns rising above us were turning into stars as they met the heavens.

The streets were lined with people, all lost in the celebration, their laughter and voices mingling with the music that filled the air. I came here feeling lost and alone, but when I saw the happiness in their eyes and the calmness in their faces… for a brief moment, I also lost myself in that feeling. And it felt so good.

I followed the parade, blending into the river of souls and meeting a group of recently deceased souls like me. They were different from me in every way—one had skin like marble, another glowed faintly as if lit from within—but somehow, we felt acquainted with one another. There was an instant camaraderie, as if we had always known each other, as if we’d met many times before, in some other life. They told me they were from different realms. I had no idea there were other realms besides ours. And yet, here we all were, walking together under a sky that seemed to stretch forever.

We walked through the winding streets, drinking and talking like old friends. They told stories of their lives, and I told them about us. About you.

At some point during the night, as the festival flowed around me, I found myself dancing to rhythm of the celebration. And then it hit me—a wave of emotion that I couldn’t hold back. The freedom of it all. The weightlessness, the sheer absence of pain, of sickness. I cried. Tears of joy. Pure, unfiltered happiness. I hadn’t felt this alive in years, Malcolm. My new friends didn’t say a word, but their hands held mine tighter as if they understood.

I’m so sorry for being this happy without you, my love. Please forgive me.

By the time dawn arrived, we found ourselves back on the beach. The festival had faded, and the sky was painted in shades of violet and gold. We sat there, five of us, watching the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise fully.

When it did, I said goodbye and walked back to the little house on the cliff. The streets were quiet now, the remnants of the festival scattered across the cobblestone roads. It felt strange to be back in that empty house. But for the first time since I passed, I felt the weight of exhaustion settling into my bones.

I fell asleep quickly, and I dreamt of you.

I was lying next to you, in our bed at home. We had just bought that house, remember? We called it our forever home. Funny, isn’t it? How man plans, and the cosmos laughs.

In my dream, I reached over and held your hand, and as I did, I saw your face. You were crying in your sleep, your cheeks soaked with tears.

I’m glad you finally cried, Malcolm.

When I woke, I couldn’t shake the feeling of that dream. It felt so real, like I was there with you. But I woke up to an empty bed, and I can imagine you were too. I guess this is our reality from now on.

My new friends told me about a train that comes through once a day. It drives straight into the ocean, vanishing beneath the waves, and it takes you to other places, other realms.

They say you can visit all sorts of worlds and find places you never imagined–other afterlives, other paradises. I’m thinking of getting on that train soon, after spending a little more time here.

I want to explore, to see what’s out there. That dream… It gave me a purpose, something to do until we find each other again. I’m going to search for a place for us. A perfect place. A home where we can be together again, after your time has come.

I will find our forever home.

And until that day comes, Malcolm, I’ll be dreaming of you.

Here, on the endless shores of Kaitz… or somewhere else, entirely."

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sillygoose067 · 2 days

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A Masked Promise

Ch.2

Dick Grayson(Nightwing) x Reader

As soon as Dick reaches the Titan Tower, he looks you up on all of his databases. Nothing. Nothing vaguely interesting about you pops up. You were a simple girl from middle-class family, who went to university, got a degree or two, and now you were in a tiny coffee shop due to the recent collapse of the economy. Nothing remotely suspicious about you. He was in no danger of having revealed his identity to you. Albeit, it was his civilian identity, but one could never be too sure.

So if you were so boring, why did he want to get to know you better?

…

Dick finds himself at the door of The Chariot again the next day. Your eyes meet his as he walks through the tinkling entrance. “Hi! It’s you again. Welcome… back?”

He just nods, not being used to sharing friendly greetings with anyone. “I’ll just have the same thing as last time, thanks…”

“Oh! Um, Y/n.”

“Thanks Y/n.”

“Yeah, no problem... Mr. Wayne?” you wince as you say his name out loud.

He waves you off. “Just Dick is fine.”

…

As you bring his order around, you can’t contain your curiosity and ask, “Hey, Dick. I noticed you were wearing a uniform yesterday. If I’m not being too annoying, which you can totally tell me if I am, but were you working on a case from around here?” you bounce nervously, twisting your fingers.

He calmly motions for you to sit in the seat across from him. Taking a sip of his coffee, he watches as you wait for an answer with a bated breath.

“Yeah, I was looking for this girl," he pulls out a picture of a purple-haired young girl from his coat pocket. “Her name is Rachel Roth. She allegedly has been having many emotional outbursts in which she goes into a state of psychosis and injures the people around her.” He adds the last bit once he notices how you’re itching to know more.

“So you’re going to arrest her? She looks so young... probably around 16.”

He watches as you look down sadly at the picture of the girl on the table. “Let’s keep this between you and me, but I’m not going to arrest her.”

You look up sharply. “What do you mean? Isn’t that your job?”

He glances away sheepishly. “It is... yeah. But let’s just say I have a sort of... soft spot... for misunderstood children. I want to help her before society can condemn her for things she can’t control.”

You nod along, humming as you mull over his words. Then, suddenly, you check your wrist. “Shi– Sugar! My break’s over.” You sigh and look back over to him and apologize. “I am so sorry, Mr. Dick; this was a great talk, and I’d really love to know more, but I have to go now.”

Fiddling with the straps of your apron, you rush towards the counter—but you stop midway, turn, and stalk back up to the enigma of a man, Dick Grayson. “And for the record, I think you’re doing the right thing. Sometimes what’s right isn’t always what we’re told to do in society. I wish you luck in finding Rachel, and I’ll help in whatever way I can.” And with that, you’re off to work, and stunned Dick is left staring behind you.

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melmedardasworld · 1 year

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Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Who Got Her Revenge

Qetsiyah delivers her promised torment on Silas

The Other Side

A perpetual gloom hung heavy in the muggy air, casting a wan pall over the entire realm. The landscape, a mirror of the mortal world, is eerily desolate. Gnarled trees reach their skeletal limbs toward the foggy sky. Amidst this silent wasteland, a stone sculpture lies in the center of a clearing. The slab, covered in enchanted scripts in Aramaic, marked the focal point of distorted energy. A spectral hand reaches out, attempting to touch the humanoid bust, but the male's fingers pass through without effect.

A slither of frustration rose within Silas as he realized the full extent of powerlessness. "Beaten through the combined efforts of a teenage witch and my crazy ex." Lost in thought of his defeat, Silas suddenly keeled over when a searing pain tore through his stomach from the inside. His mouth dropped, but he suppressed the cry ripping from his burning throat. Silas's body shuddered from the aftermath of the sudden soul passing through for the nth time.

Silas muffled grunts turned into a wheezy chuckle. "You think this is going to break me, Qetsiyah?! I was desiccated for 2000 years. I can handle pain double that amount!"

"No need to keep track of time," The sultry voice brushed and whispered close by, "we have an abundance of it together." Silas whipped around. The shadows on his face twisted at the sight of the beautiful woman.

Recovered from the numbing pain, Silas narrowed his eyes and smirked, aiming to strike at Qetsiyah's deepest vulnerabilities. "You think this will break me? You've already given me what I wanted. You released my true love from her torment. Amara is at Peace. Nothing that you can do here will ever change that. You were merely a means to an end, and like the lovesick fool, you gave it to me."

Qetsiyah's eyes glinted with amusement as she observed Silas's futile attempts to hurt her. She had long forgotten those feelings. Qetsiyah didn't say anything but flashed Silas a soft and lovely smile.

Silas grinned like a madman." You love me. No matter what I've done or how much pain I've caused you, you'll never stop loving me. You know you do, Qetsiyah. This prison proves it."

"I did love you once, and then you broke my heart," Qetsiyah answered calmly, her smile unwavering. She had long since accepted the twisted nature of her feelings for Silas, and his taunts could no longer shake her resolve. Qetsiyah had heard all his cruel words before, his repetitive egocentric claims and immortalized love for Amara.

Qetsiyah raised her hand in a dismissive gesture. A tingle crept up Silas's spine, and he whipped around when countless apparitions surrounded them. He stiffened, anticipating the agony that was to come. Qetsiyah's narrowed eyes sharpened beautifully at the edges and gleamed as she manipulated the very nature of the Anchor, her creation, the Other Side, her domain, and the Spirits waiting to pass with childish ease.

"Since you're so confident in your convictions, let's put it to the test, shall we?" In an easy, fluid motion, Qetsiyah waved her hand. She dismissed the invisible barrier she had placed, allowing a torrent of freshly departed supernatural souls to appear and pass through Silas all at once.

The moment the partition vanished, Silas braced himself for the imminent onslaught. But nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating torment that followed. Once the first soul passed through, it felt like a white-hot blade slicing through his core. Silas gasped, his body tensing as the pain intensified. The sensation was akin to being flayed alive, each nerve ending set ablaze by a relentless fire that seemed to consume him from the inside out.

The second one tore through him like a barbed whip, ripping at his spirit with a ferocity that left him breathless. Silas gritted his teeth, his eyes wide with shock and horror at the relentless brutality of the assault.

As more and more souls surged through him, the pain only grew, each soul carving its own unique path of destruction through his being. Every ounce of suffering the departed had experienced was channeled directly into Silas, amplified a hundredfold. His immortal essence was stretched and torn, twisted and shredded, as the relentless tide of agony threatened to overwhelm him completely.

Silas's screams grew louder, more desperate, until they were nothing more than ragged, anguished sobs. His body trembled, convulsed, and writhed in torment, every muscle and tendon straining against the onslaught. His vision blurred through the haze of pain, his surroundings twisting and warping in a nightmarish kaleidoscope of color and shadow.

The air around him seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his pain as if the Other Side was recoiling from the brutality of his torment. But he was immortal. Silas possessed an infinite physical and spiritual life span, immune to death.

Finally, as the last of the supernatural souls passed through him, Silas's body went limp, his spirit battered and raw. The once-proud Immortal lay broken, now a tormented shell of his former self. In the aftermath of the indescribable pain, he struggled to draw breath, his mind reeling from the intensity of the experience.

"...your reality now, Silas. You will endure this pain for all eternity, and you can do nothing to escape it." Qetsiyah muted voice gradually trickled through his ringing ears. Silas's eyes flickered with pain and hatred as he looked upon Qetsiyah. Her captivating presence taunted him, a cruel reminder that love had led him to this infinite torment. Her raven hair cascaded down her back, framing the delicate contours of her face. Her eyes, a deep, enchanting brown, shimmered with triumph. Even her lips, curved in a sinister smile, held a cruel kind of beauty.

As Silas lay there, his spirit bruised and battered, he knew his torture had just begun. He would be subjected to this pain and suffering, a never-ending dance of retribution. But even in his weakened state, Silas clung to a flicker of defiance, a stubborn refusal to be defeated. "Give me your best shot."

Qetsiyah's lips curved. "Don't worry. I will."

They were bound together in this realm of perpetual gloom, locked in an eternal dance of suffering and retribution. The realization that the nightmare had just begun began to sink in, but deep within Silas's soul, a flicker of defiance still burned, refusing to be extinguished.

The spectral energy in the clearing swelled as a timeless woman of beauty that echoed her ancient lineage drifted into the scene. She emanated an aura of calm, counteracting the chaotic air of the Other Side. Her dark gaze was steady as she took in the sight of Silas, writhing in the aftermath of his torment. Her eyes, however, held a more profound layer of caution as they moved onto Qetsiyah.

"Taking pleasure in the suffering of others?" The woman's voice held a trace of disappointment, but her gaze remained unwavering.

Qetsiyah, unperturbed, turned to face her descendant. "Ayana, here to nag and judge me again? Know that none of it has any sway here."

#qetsiyah #silas #imo this happened #ayana tvd #this is what should have happened imo #part of a larger story im busy with #can’t wait to share it soon with you all #also imagine cheating on qetsiyah?!?!?!?!#that man deserves the worst

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