#death apologizing for Never Coming when Dream /did/ beg her to

[void-tiger]

[grasps the endless like a bunch of colored pencils.]

[makes them become semi-functional siblings that realize they care about eachother even without being asked first, pay up later.]

[kneelingshadowsalome]

How would konig react if reader left? like maybe without a trace n just disappeared cause she couldn’t anymore?

Hehehe... No one escapes König.

TW/CW: Can we just all agree that toxic!König is a trigger warning on its own from now on? I mean, it's the regular: stalking, harassing, sexism, potential killing(s)... also light angst (featherlight if you compare to the "cheating on König" answer.)

I mean, sure, he would be upset if he found out reader is trying to get away from him. He's not stupid. König knows he's built different (in more ways than one) and knows he will never be the man reader deserves. Still, he is fixed on the idea that they belong together. They are carved from the same tree. She is the moon to his sun, the light to his darkness. Wherever she goes, he goes. It should be the other way around, but if the woman of his dreams plays hard to get... Sure, he'll entertain her.

If someone approaches reader, König gets very territorial. Those poor souls get threats, maybe even some stabbing – this really depends on the situation. But if reader tries to detach or leave the relationship, he would observe this change in behavior with curious anxiety.

If drastic measures are taken and she tries to escape or make a disappearing act, König would simply do everything he can to find her. And let me tell you: this man can and will outwit anyone who doesn't share his background and training. So unless reader gets some actual, skilled, professional help from outside, she doesn't have much of a chance.

And when König eventually finds her, he would try to talk her back. Just persuade, persuade, persuade. Apologize if and when he has done something wrong. Shower her with attention and compliments and gifts. Beg, even – on his knees like a lovelorn knight. If reader says it's over and she doesn't want to continue the relationship, it would break his heart. But that would only last for a day or two. He knows who he belongs to and most of all, who belongs to him, so he would form a plan. König wouldn't get too discouraged.

He would simply draw his shoulders back and stay around. For years, if need be. After all, he already won her heart – he will do so again. He promised he would never let her go.

He would check up on her, be very suave and gentlemanly about it. Reader can always talk to him if she needs someone to turn to. They can at least remain friends, right?

If she answers his calls, he would at some point come over. Uninvited, yes, but just to pay a brief visit... See if she needs something. He is always willing to help should reader need something. A bookshelf needs to be assembled? He's on it! Reader needs a ride somewhere? He's already on his way. Whatever it is, he can do it. (He will show her how useful he is, verdammt noch mal.)

If reader tries to see others... uh-oh. König would start by threatening the possible candidates. No one would stay around for long to oppose this man. If they did, well, death sentence for them! Or at least a new hole somewhere. While he sort of knows that what he's doing is wrong, he also can't stand the idea of someone laying eyes, let alone a finger on her. He can't stand the thought of spending the rest of his life without her, because if she were to find someone new, someone better, he would watch that shit from afar and slowly break to pieces. And that's just not an option.

One slip of a comfort fuck, and she wouldn't get him out of her house. He would view it as a sign that you're back together again no matter what you tell him. Also, did I say comfort fuck? I meant mad, pent-up pounding that lasts the whole night. The sheets would be in shreds, reader would be covered in sweat and cum and tears and bite marks made in the heat of passion and frustration. The cuddles that follow nearly leave her bruised. König has missed her SO much 💞

So, the cocktail would be: hunting her down, harassing, stalking and "helping" her, bullying her dates... Our king would even resort to simping 🥺.

But König would only say he's in love. He will simply never find another you ❤️. (And you're not allowed to find anyone else either.)

He would view it romantic in a way: reader forces him to woo her all over again! As we already know, hunter/prey dynamics only give him a thrill. She must like the setting too. Why else would she do something like this? "Women and their games…" That would be his thought, accompanied with a shrug.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Could I request a Principal Larissa Weems or Lesso? with 52,54,59? Maybe with her assistant? Maybe with some smut🫣. I was thinking that they would be cold to the reader bc they like them and then the reader says something like why do you hate me and then it leads from there.. but do what you feel most comfortable with!!! ( Also I love your writings they are so good and you are so talented<3)

Quivering at Your Touch ~Sub!Larissa Weems xFem Mommy!Younger(20s)!Assistant!Reader (feat. Morticia Addams)

Summary— Sub!Larissa fic where Reader is Larissa’s assistant at Nevermore and they don’t really get along because Larissa is just cold to Reader all the time. But when Reader confronts Larissa, Reader finds that the tall blonde principal is a desperate sub who just wants to be a good girl for her mami… Anon Response— Hello anon!! You can absolutely request this! I would love to write this for you. I admit, I got a little carried away… Enjoy♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

#54. “You can call me Mommy/Daddy if you want too…”

#59. “You… find this attractive?”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, little fluff, eating out (oral sex), fingering, age gap (all legal), clit stimulation, grinding, humping, squirting, voice kink, sexy Spanish— I am not fluent so I apologize in advance for any mistakes, mami(mommy) kink, desperation, teasing, praising, light begging, light taunting, implied light overstimulation, implied Morissa, Morticia Addams, comforting, physical comforting, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You walked into Ms. Weems’ office before the sun had even come up, handing over the paperwork that she had sent you home with last night. Being Ms. Weems’ assistant was your dream job. But it was not easy. The tall, blonde principal had high standards for herself and everyone else, especially her assistant.

After her near death experience, Morticia had convinced Larissa to hire an assistant, because according to the raven haired goddess, “You cannot carry the weight of the world, neigh Nevermore, on your shoulders alone, Mon Chérie…” Morticia had cooed late one summer night into the blonde’s exposed ear.

So, Larissa had began looking and interviewing two weeks before the new school year started. She had put out the news that she was interested in hiring an assistant, and soon the woman had resumes to look through. It had been almost two weeks and Larissa hadn’t found anyone suitable, when you had walked through the door of her office.

Larissa took an immediate liking to you. You were intelligent, organized, well-dressed and well mannered. After a mere twenty minutes, the tall blonde was offering you the job. You had eagerly accepted and moved into Nevermore at once. And the new school year started with a quick bang. And just as quickly, your work began.

“Here is your schedule for the week and those quarterly reports for this semester that you requested, Ms. Weems.” You spoke in a professional and formal manner, as always and as expected, as you handed the blonde principal the files.

Larissa looked up from her computer, reaching out and taking the files.

“Thank you, Miss L/N.” Larissa hummed, then standing up and going over to her cabinets of files, “One thing before you leave…”

You knew that Principal Weems was on first names basis’ with most of the staff, as far as the tall principal using pet names for some of your colleagues. The fact that after over nine weeks of working for this woman that she never wavered from Miss L/N, and she always expected Ms. Weems or Principal Weems made you sad. You knew it shouldn’t, she was your boss after all. But it did.

“Yes?” You asked, raising your head in her direction as she moved across the room.

Larissa paused to look through the many files, before pulling one out and coming back around her desk and up to you. She handed you the file, looking at you expectantly.

“Parent Teacher Conferenecs are coming up throughout the week, I need these typed up and reviewed before the end of today.” Larissa instructed you in her professionally cold tone, the tone that she only used for formal principal meeting, events and for you.

You nodded, taking the file, and looking away to blush at the intense eye contact.

“Yes Ms. Weems…” you spoke out, “Is there anything else…?”

Larissa went back to sit at her desk chair, then looking back at you with a stoic face.

“That will be all, Miss Y/N.” The blonde principal calmly stated, “You are excused until my first parent teacher conference, where I will be expecting you to take notes.”

You nodded and murmured, “Yes ma’am…”, before shuffling out of her office and going back to sit back in your tiny assistant area, designated to you by Ms. Weems.

You sat down with a deep sigh, Larissa’s tone internally eating away at you. You hated how cold she always was… You didn’t think you’d ever down anything to her. But you must have. Because the warm, caring, tall Principal that you saw interacting with students and her staff was a shallow, cold bitch to you when you were alone.

For the rest of the day, you made sure to attend all of the woman’s meetings, taking diligent notes and remaining silent, as she would glare at you if you said a word. By the end of the day, you were tired and still had some of the papers for the conferences to finish. You worked until you had completed all of the work Ms. Weems had given you. You walked into Ms. Weems’ office, it was way past time for you to be off for the day, but alas.

“Ms. Weems?” You called, knocking and then opening the door, only to enter when she permitted you.

“Come in…” Larissa hummed, not even taking the moment to meet your gaze in curteous recognition.

You closed the door behind you, before taking a deep breath.

“Here are the conference files you asked me to fill out, along with my notes from today’s meetings…” You spoke, waking up to her desk and handing over the files.

Larissa continued working.

“Leave them here, Miss L/N…” the woman coolly spoke out, “You are excused for tonight. I will see you early tomorrow.”

A wave of frustration came over you, as you left the papers and turned to leave. You felt your eyes begin to water, as her hurtful treatment seemed to finally hit a nerve. Something about today, and maybe all the other times, made you turn swiftly on your heel, back towards the woman.

“Ms. Weems…?” You choked out, your voice faltering.

The woman hummed lightly, letting you know that she heard you, but not giving you the time of day for any eye contact or actual words.

“I…” you walked back to her desk, “Why do you hate me…? Have I… done something…? Is… my work not up to your standard…?” You stammered, your voice breaking throughout your sentences.

At your words, Larissa stopped typing on her computer. She then very slowly raised her head and her intense gaze finally met yours. She then closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with a deep sigh.

“No Darling, your work is impeccable…” Larissa sighed.

The petname sent warm shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. And at hearing her compliment, a faint blush immediately began to creep up around your cheeks. You were able to take a little sigh of relief at her words, but an underlying pit in your stomache still tugged at you nonetheless.

“Oh—Ok. Then… why do you treat me like…” you stammered, struggling on how to express your feelings without offending your boss.

“Cold? Abrasive? Harsh?” Larissa scoffed at herself, finishing your thought far more direct than you would have ever admitted to.

Your blush deepened and you nodded slowly.

“Yes” you softly stated.

“Because…” Larissa sighed, clasping her hands together and biting her lip before continuing, “I don’t hate you, Darling… Far from it.”

You knew you could hear Larissa’s words, but they didn’t seem to register, as your face was still plastered with confusion and broken spirit.

Larissa’s expression slowly softened at the sight of yours. She then proceeded to stand up, coming over to the other side of her desk, the one closest to you. She indicated for you to sit on the couch by the fire. As she walked to the burning fireplace next to the couch, you scurried to take a seat, then looking up at the woman, whose face was now a myriad of emotions.

“Y/N… You…” Larissa began softly and with the most vulnerable tone you’d ever heard from the formal woman, “You are the most marvelous woman—person, that I’ve ever encountered…”

She paused to take another deep sigh before continuing, “You are brilliant at your job, I have never had anyone do their job as well as you do yours, the passion and effort you put into your work is unmatched. From the very first time I met you, I knew there was something about you. Your personality, your heart is so warm and you are so caring…”

Your eyes widened the more the woman confessed, and your lips parted slightly in shock. You wondered if this was a dream… Where you hearing the woman correctly…?

But when Larissa leaned forward and grasped your hands in hers, you knew this was no dream. Her sapphire gaze bore into yours intensely, and her eyes radiated truth. You gasped lightly at the touch, and found yourself immediately yearning for more. But her gaze and face then turned sad. And in the at moment, you would have some anything to make the tall blonde smile.

“I… I apologize for the way I treated you… I thought… I thought that if I kept you at a distance that I wouldn’t get hurt… But I see now that my actions, while protecting me, ended up hurting you… and that was never my intention, Darling. For that I am truly sorry…”

She squeezed your hands reassuringly, as her remorseful gaze met yours. The realization of the woman’s words started to creep into your mind. A rogue tear managed to slip past your watch, rolling down your cheek. Larissa’s heart nearly broke them and there, having to watch you process your past few months of agony.

“Protect yourself from what…?” You whispered, as you met her gaze once more.

At your question, Larissa looked away and a light rosy blush flushed her cheeks. She sighed once more and then began to chuckle lightly at herself.

“Protect myself from my feelings…” Larissa admitted, biting her lip anxiously, “And now that I think about it, it seems so absurd.”

These words were the final piece of the puzzle that you had spent months searching for. Suddenly, all the pieces came into place, it all made sense. And a wave of calm seemed to flow over you.

Without thought, instinct had you raise your hand and cup the woman’s flushed cheek. Her head immediately swiveled back toward you, her eyes widened at your bold move. But she didn’t pull away, quite the opposite in fact, you found that the woman only leaned into your touch, closing her eyes and letting out a hum in contentment.

“Larissa Weems, are you saying that you like me?” You softly asked, with a little smile and a light twinkle in your eyes.

The woman’s eyes fluttered open and at first, her face was panicked, but once she saw the calm expression on your face, she seemed to relax a little.

“I… I suppose so…” Larissa whispered, her face radiating raw vulnerability.

You smiled even brighter, caressing the woman’s cheek with one hand, as her hands held your other one. The tall blonde then fell gracefully to her knees, now sitting right in between your legs and right up against your couch. And she looked up at you, searching for some, any direction.

“I like you too…” you whispered back.

Larissa entire body seemed to be needing to hear those words, because as soon as they left your mouth, a weight was lifted from the blonde’s soul. And before you knew it, the woman was curling up in your lap. Your jaw threatened to drop, but you restrained yourself. Never in your life had you expected the cold, formal Principal Weems to be in your lap and purring like a content cat.

You gently reached out to her, running your fingers along her tight back hair. She raised her head into your hand with another hum, encouraging you. So you began to take out the pins of the woman’s hair, one by one, until her curls were falling onto your lap and you could run your fingers through her hair freely. The entire time, Larissa was snuggled up in your lap, purring in delight.

You chuckled to yourself, wondering what it would be like if someone walked in… but that thought quickly slipped away, as the ambience of the moment took over your mind. The fireplace crackling and giving a soft glow to the room, seemed to make it all feel more intimate. Not to mention Larissa being literally in your lap, also made it far more intimate..

Time passed naturally, as the woman continued to purr in your lap and you continued to run fingers through her hair, eventually moving to massage her tense shoulders. The blonde let out little whimpers and groans every now and then, which you found to be utterly adorable.

Larissa began adjusting her position for you, so that you could scratch and massage all the itches and tensions littered around her stressed out body. The woman ended up straddling your lap, her head tucked into the crook of your neck as you massaged a particular knot from her upper spine.

She let out a groan as you kneeded the knot out of her tense muscle, inadvertently bucking her hips into your lap and releasing a particularly breathy whimper along with it. Larissa’s mouth opened and her eyes widened in light shock at her overtly sexual actions.

Your eyes sparkled at the shift in tone of the scene, your hands traveling to the woman’s hips, starting to guide her hips to lightly grind against your form beneath her. Larissa’s hands shot to your shoulders as she arched her back and rolled her head back with another groan, this one most definitely sexual. Her eyes fluttered shut as you helped her get off against your frame.

“That’s it… Let me help you relax, Ms. Weems…” you cooed lovingly, eagerly drinking in the other woman’s frame.

“L-Larissa please Darling…” Larissa insisted with another breathy groan, as she continued to grind down against your lap.

You chuckled lightly and nodded.

“Alright Larissa…” you teased her name on your tongue, making the woman melt into a puddle in your lap.

You slowly shifted her frame onto one of your thighs, so that she could grind her core against your tensed thigh more effectively. The blonde was quick to catch on, letting her dress rile up her thighs as she began to put her grinding weight against your tensed muscles.

Larissa let out a mutter of expletives, words that you never would have thought to come out of such a proper woman’s lips. But it felt so right in the moment as the blonde was holding onto you for dear life, as she rutted against your thigh. You could feel the warmth of her pussy on your thigh, as you tightly held her hips and guided her further towards her impending climax.

Breathy whimpers and groans spewed from Larissa’s lips, her eyes were screwed shut tight, all of her previous inhibitions lost, as she unabashedly got herself closer and closer to her high. When she was teetering on the edge, you gripped her hips tighter, keeping her sloppy grinding in a rhythm and your lips snuck to the shell of her ear.

“Cum for me, Larissa… Te ves tan hermosa así… Let go, let it all out.”[You look so beautiful like that…] You purred into the blonde’s ear.

It only took a couple more grinding motions before the woman was coming undone on top of you. Letting out a strangled moan, she rode her high as best as she could before collapsing on top of your chest with heavy panting.

“Eres una chica muy buena, Larissa…”[You’re such a good girl, Larissa…] you praised the blonde.

Larissa couldn’t help but blush, she could recognize praise, even when it wasn’t in English. You let her gather her self in your lap, and the minutes past in comfortable silence. Eventually, Larissa stirred, sitting up once more and meeting your gaze.

“You’re sexy when you speak Spanish…” she breathed out, before her eyes went wide and she instantly began to correct her statement, “What I meant…! You’re always sexy— no I…!”

You hushed Larissa by leaning into her and connecting your lips swiftly with hers. Larissa immediately leaned in, impossibly close to you, her hands coming to cup your cheeks, pulling you even closer. You hummed into the passionate kiss, which seemed to be reigniting Larissa’s lust once more. Not to mention your own…

“You… find this, my Spanish… attractive?” You breathlessly whispered into her lips.

Larissa eagerly nodded before smashing her lips back into yours, and you practically purred in delight. Your lips and teeth began to clash together as hour respective hungers grew. Larissa happily allowed you to slip your tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss even further. Pretty soon, the woman was encouraging you to pick her up, which you eagerly did, carrying her to her attached private quarters.

“Eres tan hermosa, mi amor. Quiero mostrarte lo guapa que eres...”[You are so beautiful, my love. I want to show you just how gorgeous you are…] you whispered against her hungry lips, as you devoured one another.

Larissa bucked her hips against your frame and spewed a string of breathy whimpers as a result of your Spanish. You placed Larissa on the center of the bed as your mouth began to wander past the woman’s lips and towards her neck and shoulders… Larissa gasped as you sucked on her pressure point, her hands scrambling to pull you even closer, tugging you onto the bed with her.

Soon, hands were flying to zippers and buttons, as the two of you practically tore each other’s clothes off in the heat and passion of the moment. The blonde’s dress pooled at her feet as you unbuttoned your pants, both being thrown aside, along with your shirt. Your nimble fingers unclipped both her bra and your own, both of which were also tossed aside.

Now left in nothing but your knickers, you guided the woman to lay back on the bed, propping herself up by her elbows. You crawled on top of Larissa, perching yourself to straddle her stomache before connecting your lips together once more. The blonde let out a whimper into your lips, as her hands dropped her fully on the bed and shot to your exposed skin, wandering and feeling their way down your body. Her fingers stopped and paid special attention to your sensitive buds.

“Dios mío, vas a ser mi muerte...”[My God, you’re going to be the death of me…] you breathed out into her lips, her teasing causing you to buck your hips against the blonde’s form.

Another whimper erupted from Larissa’s throat in response, desperate for more friction. You pressed your lips once more time against her plump red ones, a mere ghost of a kiss, before starting to slowly run down her body, paying special attention to each bit of exposed skin that the woman had to offer. Larissa’s one hand shifted to your head, eagerly attempting to push you further down, down to where she needed you most. Her other hand wandered up to her own nipple, teasing and tugging to deepen her own pleasure. When you showed no signs of speeding up your worshiping of the woman’s body, Larissa began to beg,

“Darling P-please… I need you… need you so bad… need it… give it to me—” Larissa chocked out in a mewl.

Your mouth was attached to her left nipple as she spoke, arching her back into your touch. You let go of her tit with a pop!, and then smiled before shimmying your body further down her frame. Lowering your face down to her clothed, needy cunt, you licked a stripe along her underwear, right above her core. Larissa’s knees buckled and her hips jerked upwards, towards your face.

“¿Es esto lo que quieres? Te ves tan bien, cariño…”[Is this what you want? You look so good, my darling] you purred, fanning your hot breath onto her quivering pussy.

You were quick to hold her shaking thighs down, so that she didn’t accidentally suffocate or hit you from her impending intense pleasure. Larissa struggled a little against your firm hold, but as your grip tightened on her thighs, she quickly became even more desperate in her pleading.

“Christ Y/N Please!! Stop teasing and just… just fuck mami please!” Larissa cried out, desperately bucking her hips to encourage any kind of friction with the throbbing heat.

Her face flushed and all her motions came to a halt at the name just uttered from her lips, and the blonde began to stamer.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… Darling it, slipped out…? I—”

With a chuckle, you hooked your fingers along the waistband of her knickers. Tapping her hips, the woman couldn’t meet your gaze from the embarrassment but nonetheless she instinctually raised her hips and thighs for you. You then pulled off her last garment, throwing it into the abyss. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of Larissa’s glistening cunt. You looked up and met the blonde’s goddess figure and then her lustful, hooded gaze. She nodded in desperation, encouraging you to take her.

With one final teasing, hot breath to the woman’s cunt, you finally gave in and began lapping your tongue through her folds. Her back arched deliciously into your hot touch, her fingers curling in your hair and into the bed sheet. As your tongue flicked her clit, the woman’s head lolled back and her eyes fluttered shut, completely forgetting her verbal slip up for the moment.

“Oh yessss… Yes yes yes…!” She chanted, her mind swimming in overwhelming pleasure.

You swiftly pulled away however, making Larissa’s head shoot up and give you the most needy pout and whimper.

“You can call me Mami if you want too…” you purred wickedly, before swirling two fingers in her wetness and then sliding the digits into her core.

Larissa let out an unbridled groan, her fingers digging into your scalp as her walls fluttered around your fingers. You fucked the woman at a decent pace, pumping and curling your fingers inside her core, paying close attention to what motions made her toes curl especially. Her eyes fluttered closed. Larissa was huffing and whimpering more and more, and soon the sounds turned into full on moans.

“Eyes on me, hermosa…” you lustfully purred, drawing the blondes hooded gaze back to yours.

“Y-yes mami—” Larissa choked out.

Her blown out pupils met your sultry gaze. Her face flushed at the intense eye contact. She held your head in a vice grip as your fingers thrusted inside her expertly and your mouth latched onto her aching clit. Larissa’s back arched desperately in your touch, and one of your hands moved up from her thighs to tease her perked, straining buds.

It didn’t take long for the blonde to be teetering on the edge again…

“Mami mamiiiii…!!” Larissa babbled, shaking her head violently and fighting the urge to screw her eyes shut tight and scream,

“AhgghhhhHhH GOD pleaseeee—!!!” She cried out, her hips thrashing and body spasming.

“Vamos, vamos... Cum for me… lo tienes, mi dulce chica…”[Come on, come on…You’ve got it, my sweet girl…] you purred gently, curling your fingers with huge words to perfectly hit that spongey spot inside the woman’s core.

Larissa’s breath faltered and suddenly her orgasm was washing over her, her juices gushing out of her and onto your fingers as her walls clenched around your fingers. Your tongue eagerly lapped up all the woman’s arousal, practically keening over at her taste. Then with sudden force, the woman’s core squirted all over your fingers and face. You moaned in delight, eagerly taking all that Larissa would give you.

She was so wrapped up in her orgasm, Larissa hadn’t even registered that she had squirted. But even as she came down from her high, the older woman still seemed to be not fully satisfied. She was squirming in pleasure, in need for more, babbling and begging for it…

“Mami mami—por favor, necesito más, necesito más…!!”[Mommy mommy—please, I need more, I need more…] Larissa pleaded with a desperate cry, her hips bucking against your face is desperation.

You nearly moaned into the woman’s cunt at her pleading, her tone, her words, her voice… You couldn’t deny the fact that even broken Spanish sounded sexy on her tongue… It made you shiver with anticipation. With one last lick to her cunt to rock her back from her orgasm, you pulled out of her cunt. Larissa immediately whimpered at the loss of feeling.

“Vale, vale, te escucho, dulce chica… Tell me what you want, bueno chica… Use your words for me…”[Ok ok, I hear you, sweet girl… good girl…] you cooed.

The following sweet babbles that flowed out of the submissive blonde’s mouth were like music to your ears. And you were more than happy to grant any request this woman made of you. Hell, with a simple please from her lips, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for that woman…

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 12

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 5.3k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | mentions of death, drinking, disease (cancer)

note | surpisingly, i am still alive lol i'm kidding. i apologize for the delay! the bad headaches are now gone and the fever has cooled down. and now, the update's here! to everyone who sent their messages, tysm I appreciate it 🥺 I didn't mean to ghost y'all, I'm so sorry! anw hope u enjoy reading this one :)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Ever since you were young, you liked things to go the way you planned it. When you were younger, you carried a small notebook with you. Your father gave you your first one during the holidays when you were seven. In there, you make your own little bullet journal, listing off the things you would want to do for the upcoming days. With your messy handwriting, you even wrote your far future plans.

As a child, you used to see things with your rose-colored glasses. Everything seemed real and attainable for your small hands. You thought you just had to follow the usual path of your plans and you would be fine. But things do not always go according to plan. You learned it the hard way.

You always dreamt of being a nurse. At age eight, you were a frequent visitor to the hospital. Not because you were sick yourself, but because you and your mom had to go back there from time to time with your dad who was receiving treatment for his disease. You wanted to take care of him. So you did what a little girl could do, listen to your dad’s heartbeat through your plastic toy stethoscope and kiss his pain away. He would always call you his favorite nurse and you would give him your toothy grin. After a year, when you were nine, he lost his battle with cancer. 

Confused and in sorrow, you almost crossed out that dream from your list. You had a hard time understanding why you had to lose your dad at such an early age. Your friends had dads, how come you lost yours before you could even reach middle school? Then, you became angry. Your father was always in treatment in the hospital. Hospitals are meant to cure people, right? Your little kid brain thought. It felt unfair to you.

But then, you and your mom later left the small neighborhood you were living in and moved in with your aunt– her older sister. Aunty Belle is a nurse herself, a surprise for you as you didn’t know you have a relative who works in the same place you loathed at that time. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her, she was warm and welcoming when you arrived in her humble abode in Incheon. She doesn’t have a family of her own so she took good care of you and your mom. She became your third parent while your mom deals with the grief of losing her husband.

“It’s fun. You get to meet wonderful people every day and help them to feel better.” your aunt replied once when you asked her about her job.

Aunty Belle never got tired of your questions and curiosity about nursing. Slowly, you began rebuilding your plans. The dream of being a nurse is back, added with your other dreams: making your mom happy, and living independently (like your aunt). You studied hard, aiming for higher grades and going to the best college for your dreams.

But at age fifteen, Aunty Belle became your legal guardian when your mom passed. Through your aunt, you learned that your mother has been struggling heavier than you expected. Your aunt was extremely worried for your mom that’s why she begged her to come and live with her. You always thought your mom was getting better with how she cried less day by day and even took a job as a receptionist in a dental clinic. 

Since then, you have become more understanding and emotionally sensitive to everyone. The feelings you had years ago when you lost your dad were creeping around you. This time, instead of being angry at something else, you felt like this one was on you. You blamed yourself for not seeing the signs from your mother’s eyes. How she became more reserved or how her eyes were often blank whenever she tried to smile for you. Maybe you were too focused on reaching your plans that you didn’t give any attention to her. You were angry, hurt, and in guilt. It’s too overwhelming and is heavy in your heart. It reached the point where you broke down during breakfast, in front of the toast and bacon Aunty Belle prepared for you, weeks after your mom’s funeral.

“I should’ve seen it. I should have seen that she was not okay.” you sniffed as you looked down your plate. “I was supposed to make her feel better and happy.”

Crying, you pushed your plate in front of you and just covered your face with your palms. You repeated the words over and over again like you were reminding yourself how you failed as your mom’s only child.

“Oh, sweetie…” your aunt whispered before sitting beside you and enveloping you in a hug. Her hand moved up and down your arms, making you feel warm. “It’s not your fault. You are the best daughter she could ask for. She loves you more than anything else.”

After that morning, Aunty Belle made sure to get you the best help. She guided you in everything she could and supported you with your choices. She made sure that you will still pursue your plans, never stopping you from doing what you want. Years later, you graduated from high school and were about to embark on a new journey.

“You know that you can just have this place,” she mumbled when you were packing your things. “I’m selling it anyway.”

“But Aunty, this isn’t in my plan. You know how bad I want to live in Seoul.” you smiled at her.

Because of your efforts and hard work, you got accepted into one of the best universities in another city. You later moved from Incheon to Seoul to finish your studies and become a nurse there. While Aunty Belle sold her home and followed her own plans of living with her longtime best friends under one roof.

But none of what happened in the last few years was part of your plans when you were younger. You didn’t really see yourself coming back to Incheon after living in Seoul for the longest time. You never thought you would leave your job in the hospital you dreamed of and work in a slightly different environment.

Two years ago, you left home. The house you had plans in with someone else. You were the one who broke off those plans and moved away without really telling anyone. You remembered that night like it was yesterday.

Every step you took away from him felt like a piece of you fell on the ground. Your vision was all blurry and you had to cover your lips as you sobbed. You clutched onto your gown while you remind yourself that you need to do this. For the sake of your own being. But still, there is this voice telling you to stay– to turn around and come back to him.

“YN, honey,” 

Looking up, you see Julia looking at you with sympathy. She walked towards you with open arms and you immediately just broke down on her dress. Listening to your sobs, Julia eyes her date, whom you didn’t notice was there waiting too, to get in the car. 

Your whispered voice muffled in the hug, “I hate this so much,”

The whole drive home, Julia and Chanyeol respected your silence in the backseat. They put on some radio music and chatted about the wedding while your teary eyes just looked outside the window. They were like your parents that night. When you guys passed by McDonald’s, it took one nudge from Julia to make Chanyeol turn the car back around for the drive-thru. She ordered your food for you in a separate bag so you could have something to eat when you reached home. When you arrived in front of your house, they helped you with your small bag. 

“Thank you so much, guys. I’m sorry this is our first meeting, Chanyeol.” you tried to lighten the mood as you three stood on the porch.

He smiled, “It’s fine. Everyone has their bad day.”

You chuckled before Julia nudged her again with her elbow. Then, she turns to you.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Probably early morning. I already have the keys to keep my apartment so I can go there now too if I want to.” your words rambled as your head felt like a mess.

“Okay, call me. I’ll pick you up–” Before you can say anything, she lifts her finger. “And no, I won’t take no for an answer. I wanna see your new place.”

They left after Julia made sure you were fine. Walking into your house for the last time, you tried to go straight to your room to change from your gown to your pajamas. Then, you cried again. And again. And again. 

The last time you woke up in that house was the morning after that. You woke up before dawn. The sky was barely lit and the moon was still present above you. You promised yourself that you would leave like a ghost. Like what you have been doing the last few days. Cleaning up, your hand ran on your bedsheets to smoothen out the wrinkles. Fortunately, almost ninety percent of your clothes fit in two pieces of luggage. You just have to leave a few things that you’ll probably get when you get back.

From Julia

Will be there in five

Five minutes left, you find yourself sitting in front of your vanity mirror. Making one last check, you pulled the small drawers in the table. That’s when you saw that old pearl ring Taehyung bought you in the flea market. A heavy sigh from your chest makes its way out of your lips. Holding it between your thumb and index finger, you stare at it.

We tried, didn’t we?

Before any tears can fall, you simply close your eyes. Your chest heaves. You clutched that ring in your palm for some minute, like you were giving your one last goodbye. Then, you carefully place it next to your keys. You decided to leave your keys as you don’t want to come and go here in secret as you always have the tendency to do that especially if you want to avoid a person. Like you were doing now. You want to come back here better and hopefully, talk to Taehyung in the future.

Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.

You wrote on a piece of paper that you left on the same table. In the weeks you two lived together after the accident, you knew how he struggled to adjust to this house. Now that you’re going, you wish for him to feel comfortable in this house you two shared and called home. The pieces of furniture and shade of blue that took over every wall in the house were picked by both you and Taehyung when you bought it. The frame kept every memory you and Taehyung love to look back on in the span of your four-year relationship. But if it means for him to feel at home, you won’t mind if he wants to change things around the house. Even though it will probably break your heart harder than it is now.

“You…”

It was only your first morning, the second day in your new apartment in Incheon when someone came knocking on your door. You were still organizing your place and unpacking when you heard continuous heavy knocks. Almost instantly, your eyes widened when you saw who it was through your door’s peephole. The person spoke again as soon as you opened your door.

“You moved?!” Jisoo immediately pushed through your door and welcomed herself in. “You moved here?!”

Based on the tone of her voice, she was more angry than surprised. Her eyebrows were scrunched together while her nose flared. Her hands were on her hips like she was waiting for an explanation. Your lips opened for a second before it closed again. You softly scratched your cheek before opening your lips again,

“I-I thought you were on your honeymoon vacation.”

She tilts her head, “Well, I’m not. Am I?”

“Why are you here?” you mumbled, sounding scared at her.

The thing is, Jisoo rarely gets angry or annoyed. You had known her ever since you began working as a nurse and you learned she have the longest patience for everyone else. But when she runs out of it, you don’t know how she will react.

“Why are you here?” she returned your question with raised eyebrows. “You did not tell me you were moving here or resigning in the hospital! What happened?”

You closed the door and quietly walked back to your messy living room since you knew she would follow. She did and continued,

“I saw the shift schedule like two hours ago and you’re not there. I had to ask Gail and she said you resigned. You were not answering my calls or messages! I had to call Julia. Then, she told me you moved here– What the fuck happened? I was only busy for like two weeks and next thing I know, my best friend’s in another city and hospital.”

You sat on your grey couch while Jisoo still stood in front of you. You looked away as your replied,

“Well, actually I’ll be working in a school–”

Jisoo’s tone went higher, “What?!”

“I applied as a school nurse–”

“No, no, no.” she shushed you. “Tell me everything that happened. Everything.”

So you did. But first, you asked her to sit down next to you. You ordered food by app as you don’t really have any stock of food at the moment. While you were waiting for the food, you began telling her about what happened. From how you met Lily to how you happened to be where you are right now. Jisoo listened intently. As you went on, you noticed her shoulders and facial expression softened up. From her jaw being clenched tight, her lips were formed into a slight frown. You tried not to cry throughout the whole story-telling impromptu but your voice did shake and you just felt your best friend’s warm hands somewhere in the middle of your story. At the end, you find yourself leaning your head on her shoulder while she leans hers on top.

“I and Joon just decided to go on honeymoon next month. Plus, I have a toaster and an air fryer in my car.” Jisoo broke the comfortable silence you two shared with a random sentence.

You lifted your head, looking at her, “What? Why?”

“We received like a ton of it from the wedding. We had to give some stuff away rather than selling it and I just knew your place is probably still empty. So I just bought some. I have plates too.” she smiled.

“But what if I was the one who gave you that toaster?” you asked, squinting your eyes.

“You did not.” she chuckled but your expression didn’t change. She blinked and asked with a feeble voice, “You did not, right?”

Your lips broke into a smile, “Yeah, we didn’t.”

She pouted before you two laughed and hugged. Just like that, you and Jisoo are okay.

Unlike any of your past decisions, nothing was truly planned when you decided to move away. Aunty Belle, whom you visit every now and then, comforted you about it and said that life just happens like that sometimes. And that’s how your two years went. Unplanned. You just applied for the first good job you saw, which happened to be being a school nurse in a preschool. You moved to another apartment after just a few months since your initial place is farther on the subway you always take to get to the school every morning.

Working with kids, you always miss your patients back in Seoul. Particularly, Naeun, whom you are still in contact with. You visit her a couple of times when you go to Seoul.

And there were times when you thought you saw Taehyung. Not just in Seoul, but also in Incheon. The first one was just months after you left, you were on your way to preschool when you saw him in the subway. But you thought it was just a look-alike and impossible since he would not have any reason to come here. Plus, you were feeling a little down that week as it was supposedly your fifth anniversary. The next time is when you come to Seoul to visit Naeun. It was a busy Sunday and you stopped by a toy store in the mall to get a gift for your favorite patient. It was a bit crowded since it was on sale. So you lost him in the blink of an eye.

The most recent one is when you came to Seoul for Julia’s birthday. You had a few drinks with your friends and everything was already slightly blurry. But you swore you saw him when you were waiting for your Uber late at night. You were with Julia, who was waiting with you just to make sure you’d be safe. She was talking about something but your eyes caught a man walking on the other side of the road with his head down on his phone. The small light coming from his screen made you recognize him. It’s him, you’re sure.

Although you have visited the city a couple of times already, you never drop by the bakeshop or the house. You never even contacted Taehyung. There were times it crossed your mind. But you never did. You miss him. God knows, how much. But you don’t know what to say about the house, him, you, or the relationship you two had.

You and Jimin talked seldomly. The first one was a week after you and Taehyung officially went separate ways. He would ask how are you and you would do the same thing. You were surprised but happy at the same time when you learned he had a kid, who happens to be Jisoo’s nephew. You two had this unspoken rule to not talk about Taehyung because Jimin doesn’t bring him up and you are too shy to ask. But you know they are doing well, you heard they expanded the shop.

In the whole two years, Taehyung never really left your mind. It’s hard. Especially when you would still get random reminders of your relationship in unexpected ways. In what was supposed to be your fifth anniversary, you got a scheduled e-mail from his account. Every year, your phone calendar still updates you to buy him a gift a month before his birthday. And just like last month, you found an old picture in one of your bags. Something you probably slipped there long ago. It’s a picture taken years ago during your first snow in your house with a handwritten caption, TOO MORE SNOWY DAYS TOGETHER. It was in his handwriting.

“Goodbye, Nurse YN!”

A little kid waved his little hand to you while his mom politely smiled at you. You waved back and continued walking back from your small clinic. This is how your day ends in school: tiny voices saying goodbye and sometimes giving you warm hugs. You were never really busy since you worked with two other school nurses who you became friends with. 

“Oh, hey, YN.”

You just sat in front of your computer screen, recording some student’s health records, when your co-nurse popped into your shared office. Martha just found her recent hobby a couple of months ago after you told her that you haven’t been dating for the last couple of years.

You exaggeratedly sighed and did not even look at her, “What do you want?”

“YN sounds so tired of you already.” Aileen, your other co-nurse, laughed while organizing her files.

“I know, she is.” Martha chuckled. She turns to you, “I know a guy…”

You paused from what you were doing, “Martha–” 

It’s not like you’re not interested in dating. It took you more than a year to be open again to the idea and so far, you’ve gone into two dates from Martha’s recommendations. But both were not a match. The first one is a great guy but he seems like he cannot get over an ex since he talked about her half of the time. While the second guy is just rude. That’s all you can say about him. The date was all about him not liking how the steak was cooked and how one of the waiters was too kind to you. It was horrible.

“No, no, honey. Listen to me first.” Matha cuts you off. “I personally know this guy. He’s my cousin and… he also works in the medical field! He’s a doctor.”

An eyebrow raised. A doctor? Well, you never dated one before. But you knew doctors were better than that last guy you mentioned.

Aileen joined, “Is he the one you showed me earlier?

“Yup,” Martha replied, popping the ‘p’ sound.

“Oh, you’ve got to see him, YN. The guy is gorgeous!” she exclaimed. “If you won’t date him, I will!”

The three of you laughed. Of course, Aileen can’t. She is currently seven months pregnant with her second child and married to one of the teachers in this same preschool.

“Just don’t tell Seb,” she added, mentioning her husband.

You still haven’t said anything even though you are admittedly interested. Martha pulled her phone out.

“Wait, I’ll show you his account.”

“Oh, that dress suits you perfectly!”

Jisoo’s voice filled your room as you fixed the dress on your body. Even though you two are in different cities, she is still your go-to every time you need to dress up for something. Usually, through Facetiming. The date is fine-dining. So, you tried on different dresses for Jisoo to pick on and eventually, you two agreed on the same one.

“Don’t forget your coat! It might get cold,” she advised. “Now, turn around again!”

You giggled before doing what she said. You heard her cheer and compliments, making you smile.

“You are stunning!”

“Thank you so much for helping me, Jiji,” you said with a small smile.

“You’re welcome. Just have fun, okay? Let me know how it goes later.” she told you and you nodded. She spoke again, “Now, go! Book that Uber already.”

“Okay, okay. Bye! Call you later. Love you!” you waved.

She waved back, “Love you, take care!”

You ended the call and moved to another app to look for a ride. Your date initially asked if you wanted him to pick you up. But you just agreed to meet him at the restaurant he invited you to. He seems nice. Martha said her cousin has been single for a while now. After his last relationship, he just gave most of his time to work.

To +82 65 78** ****

Hi! I’m on my way. See you there.

You sent your date the message when you finally got in the car you booked twenty minutes ago. It did not even take a few minutes before he replied,

From +82 65 78** ****

Okay, see you there! Take care.

Pursing your lips, you look outside the window of the moving car. You hope for the best for tonight. You hope Martha’s recommendation is at least okay this time. Maybe the universe could prove to you that Taehyung is not the only guy in the world who could make the butterflies play around in your stomach. Or the only guy who would be patient enough with your tendencies. You just have to know that he is not the only guy in the world. Period.

As much as you won’t say it, dating Taehyung for four years made him your standard for everything. You already met two versions of him; one before the accident and one after the accident. They are almost the same person but the latter just brought you a lot of pain because of various circumstances. But you know and feel he shows his emotions in other ways.

“We’re here.” the female driver, whom you saw is Val, said as she stopped the car in front of the brightly lit restaurant.

You smiled before getting out of the vehicle, “Thank you.”

Starry Night lives up to its name. As you noticed before, the whole place is lit up with many lights. Carefully, you walked inside with your strappy heels. The staff smiled and greeted you, and you greeted them back.

“Good evening, madam. Welcome to Starry Night. How may I help you?”

“I have a reservation under Jung Hoseok’s name.” you politely replied.

“Oh, okay. Let me check our list. Excuse me.” the host scrolled down his iPad for a minute. “The name’s here! Please, follow me to your table. This way please.” 

You followed him while looking around the place. It’s not too crowded and it has a romantic feeling because of the lights and jazz music. You know someone who would have loved to go here. Before you sit down, the host assisted you with the chair and offered to take your coat. You agreed. Pulling out your phone from your purse, you update Hoseok that you just arrived. You put your phone down and studied the whole place again with your eyes. 

A woman caught your eye. She was talking and chatting with the chef in the side station. They looked like they were waiting for someone to enter the door. Your gaze were broke off when someone spoke from your side.

“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Soojin and I’ll be your waiter for tonight. Would you like to order something?” the young waiter smiled.

“Oh, I’m still waiting for my date…” you murmured. “But can I have some water please?”

“Certainly, ma’am. Excuse me.”

Soojin left as you said thank you. As she was gone from your sight, your eyes landed on the man who was entering the restaurant. Dressed in a nice black coat over a light blue shirt, you quickly recognize him. Your mouth runs dry while your heart beats like a horse’s footsteps in a race. You were frozen.

What is he doing he– Fuck.

Your eyes meet. You can see his eyes widening as his lips gaped slightly. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while you practically lost your hearing. All you can hear is the drum inside your chest.

Fuck, you cursed again.

What are the chances for this to happen? Is the universe playing or simply fucking with you? You asked for a great date and it gave you this. The man you’ve been holding as your standard ever since. 

It burns.

His eyes. You can feel them as you take a sip from the ice-cold glass of water. After the host led him to one of the empty tables in your line, your eyes traveled everywhere except on his spot. You two were literally just an empty table apart.

Is he here for a date? Why here? In Incheon, really? Can’t he just date people from Seoul?

It has been nine minutes, you’ve been counting. Your hand rests on your knee, to stop your knees from jerking up and down, while the other rests on the table with your phone. You’ve been texting but erasing messages to Hoseok. You don’t think you can do this. With Taehyung being just a few feet away from you, it felt wrong to be with someone else. You should have been sitting right in front of him.

Slowly, you try to move your eyes in his direction. You paused when you saw that he was staring at you too, unmovable. Are you supposed to smile? Wave? Nod. just nod. You were about to do that when the same woman from the side station walked up to him, covering your view of him.

“Hi, good evening!” you heard her honey-like voice greet him. “I’m Ashley.”

You noticed Taehyung stood up. They shake hands and you don’t really hear the rest of their conversation. You began texting your date,

To +82 65 78** ****

Hi. Where are you?

You’ve been alone for a while now.

Taehyung noticed. The glass of water on your table is almost empty. The waiter already come back to you a couple of times now. He can see you chewing on your lower lip as you check your phone every minute that passes by.

Did your date just stand you up?

His hands clutched as he thought of that idea. He knew you didn’t deserve that.

“I think this is good! Not too sweet, not too spiced. It’s soft too. Just perfect.” Ashley snapped him from his thoughts.

Taehyung tried to concentrate on what he originally meant to do here, “Yeah… uhm… Jimin, my friend, really tries to balance the texture and taste. It’s his own carrot cake recipe that he worked on before we even had the shop.”

Ashley already had a taste of every cake he brought. Five open Tupperware are on their table, including the cheesecake you love. She began talking about the other cakes and dessert while Taehyung stole some glances at you again. This time, you are on call. You pursed your lips before replying to whoever it was. He can read the disappointment through your eyes as your lips form into a small frown. You sighed before saying, it’s fine, I understand. No problem. 

“Okay, these are really good. I think your products will be a great addition to our menu.” Ashley spoke again. 

Taehyung looked at her with surprise, “Oh, wow. That’s… great.”

Did he just get this deal?

“Yeah, I trusted my chef when he said he had the best Tiramisu in your shop and I’m glad I did. These desserts are perfect and really satisfy my sweet tooth.” She compliments.

Taehyung bowed his head, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Your desserts deserve to be everywhere. Haven’t you guys thought of opening a branch here?” she asked.

“Oh, we’re still figuring things out. We just expanded our main shop in Seoul.” he chuckled.

“Well, I might go there when I visit Seoul.”

“Please do and let us know.” he smiled.

“I will. By the way, the contract is not ready now. But we are definitely having this deal! Can you and Jimin visit here again next week or maybe me and my head chef can visit your shop in Seoul?” Ashley offers.

“I still have to discuss that with my friend.”

“Oh, sure. Sure. Here, we are okay with any decision. Just let us know. You guys have our e-mail and numbers, right?” Taehyung nods. “Okay, I guess… that’s a done deal.”

Ashley stood up and offered her hand. Taehyung stood up too and shook her hand. 

“Thank you so much.” Taehyung smiled.

While Ashley replied, he stole another glance behind her. That’s when he sees you standing up and walking back to the host at the entrance of the restaurant. The host had an apologetic look on his face as you talked to him. He helped you with your coat. It seems like you’re leaving with your date being a no-show. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But I would have to go for now..” Taehyung carefully said.

Ashley smiled, “Oh, of course. Yes. You can go. But one more thing… can you leave these cakes?”

Taehyung chuckled with that, “Of course!”

“Thank you! See you in the contract signing!”

“See you.” 

Taehyung took his coat from his seat and left in a hurry. You were already gone, possibly out of the restaurant. He said thank you to the staff who opened the door for him and he immediately searched around. That’s when he sees you standing, looking down at your phone.

“This one’s just a few minutes away–”

He took a deep breath before saying, “YN?”

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[writteninlunarlight-years]

Whiskey Cake and Beignets

Alastor x Reader Slow Burn

TW: Death, Racism, Misogyny, Murder, Violence, Sexual Themes, Domestic Violence, Abuse, AFAB Reader Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Edited by @willowaudreykeyes

Set in the 1920s, the reader is a young intern at the new hit broadcasting studio in New Orleans. She originally came from a small town in Texas, so she has a thick southern drawl and a personality that drips like honey. She left home due to her more liberal views compared to her family. Because of this, she seeks out the first job that would take a female: an assistant to the new hit voice in New Orleans.

Alastor is put off by the overly sweet southern girl, expecting that when she is alone with him, her distaste for his skin color will come out. However, it never does. As they have wacky mishaps, murder, and love, they intertwine their fates in life and especially in death.

It was a cold, dreary night in mid-August just outside Conroe, Texas, when your father kicked you out of your house. Having caught you ‘fraternizing’ with a ‘colored,’ his last straw broke. Your mother sat in the living room, begging him to reconsider. However, you knew your father better than anyone; he didn’t care when it came to ‘colored’ folk. You were, at one point, a daddy’s girl; nothing could sway you from his words or you from his. However, as you grew, you saw the injustices done to those around you and stood up for those scrutinized. You tried to convince him and show him how good the people around you were no matter their skin color, yet your father saw that as you being brainwashed by their desegregation propaganda. Nothing was going to save you from the wrath you incurred from him. You had pushed every button and forgiveness he had in him, leaving you high and dry standing there in your childhood yard. 

You sat there for hours crying, having no idea where to go or what was next, yet you did know here just wasn’t for you. Texas may be your home, but you could and would do so much more; you had dreams and aspirations, things women dared not think of. As you decided on the following action, your mother exited the house. Her arms were black and blue from your father's firm grip, and from the tear stains, you could tell he took your insolence out on her. 

“Y/N, please come inside and apologize to your father. Tell him you won’t spend time around those people anymore. Please, I can’t lose my only child.” Her deep southern drawl was familiar, but as you listened to her telling you to conform to your father's closed-minded ideas, you couldn’t help but scoff. 

“No, momma, I can’t promise that; you taught me from a young age to stay true to myself, to my heart. I refuse to hate people just on the color of their skin and what a book says; God is supposed to be loving, not hateful,” What you said rang true; your momma was the woman to teach you so much about being headstrong and independent, maybe that was why your father blamed her so much for how you behaved and acted. You knew leaving her here wasn’t the best option; your mother would be beaten. However, you hoped over time, once you were no longer upsetting your father, she could finally have a break. 

She listened to your words and nodded sadly. You could tell she wanted to argue to try and convince you not to leave, taking the world’s dangers all on your own, but as your eyes darted to look at the front door, she knew it was too late, just as you did.

“Get back inside, Carla, that ain’t no child of mine,” He shouted across the yard, glaring at you, “If she wanna go play with them colored folks, then let her; she is scum like all the rest of ‘em!”

Your mother winced at the comment. Her eyes met yours, fear pooling in them. You sighed and grabbed your bags, looking your father in the eyes, a burning flame vibrantly shifting behind them. He would not dull your flame or prohibit you from living a good, honest life. He was once your daddy, but now he was a cold-hearted man before you. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, momma; I will be fine; I will get out of this hell hole and make something of myself,” You could audibly hear your father scoff as he walked back inside the house.

“Yeah, a white woman with no family can go and make something with herself, alright, have fun selling yourself on the streets, you ungrateful brat,” His words cut deep, but you sucked it up. Looking at your mother once more, she had tears building behind her eyes; how she had so much water in her to cry was beyond you. All you had seen your mother do for years now was cry. Quickly, she pulled you into a hug and combed through your hair. 

“Go to Dianna’s quickly; I’ll ring her of your arrival. Don’t stay here; leave while you can.” Your mother’s voice was barely a whisper as she informed you of the plan. As she pulled away, she gently placed a piece of paper in your hand. As she squeezed your hand one last time, you could hear your father start to slam and throw things in the house once again. You looked at her worriedly, knowing that she had overstayed her welcome out here with you and he would punish her.

“Go Y/N. Be safe wherever you go,” As she let go of your hand, you held on tighter.

“Momma, come with me. Don’t let him hurt you anymore,” She shook her head before you could continue your comment. She let go of your hand, picking up your last bag for you to head out.

“I can’t and won’t leave. He is my husband, and I must stay here with him.” As she said this, she caressed your face one last time as she walked back into the house. The door slammed with a sickening crack, and your father's voice rose louder. Luckily for him, the nearest neighbor was four houses down, as everyone else was on vacation. 

Taking a deep breath, you began to trek to the address on the paper your mother slipped you. It was two towns over from where you lived, giving you the perfect space between you and your father. Looking back at your childhood home, you could almost hear how he treated your mom. 

Making it to the local bus station with the bit of cash still in your clutch, you bought a ticket and got out of there. Dianna was a new name for you, not a friend of your mother's you knew or had heard of as you made your way on the bus closer to the location, though you began to understand why you had never heard of this woman.

You were in a heavily ‘colored’ town; you had been here a few times with some friends you had made. How did your mother know of this place, though? Once the bus stopped, you stood, eyes set upon you by the white people on the bus. Swallowing, you put on a brave face; as you reached the front paying your fare, the bus driver grabbed your wrist.

“You sure this is the right stop for you, kid? This is a dangerous town for someone looking like you. No idea what them ‘colored’ ones will do to you.” You scoffed, yanking your arm back. The look of anger crossed the driver’s face as you ignored him getting off the bus. Once the bus sped off, you looked down at your paper again.

You were close to Dianna’s home, it seemed; even if you had been here tons of times with others, this was your first time out here so late and alone. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath, making your way to the address; you passed many homes, most run-down and far worse off than the side of town you came from. It broke your heart to see this; all of you were human and had living, breathing life in you, yet because you were pale and fair-skinned, you got the upper hand. It seemed so unfair. 

You bumped into someone, a quick apology escaping your lips as you looked up; before you, a beautiful African American woman with gray hair stood. “Why do my eyes deceive me? You look almost as beautiful as you did as a child, miss Y/N.” You looked at the woman confused; you had never met her a day in your life, yet she knew your name and what you looked like as a child. Looking down at the paper in your hand and then at the house number, you realize who this must be.

“Are you Dianna? My mom sent me here. I didn’t know she knew anyone on this side of town.” You didn’t want to seem rude or come off as insensitive as your father is. You knew you had so much to learn to escape the closed-minded space your father put you in.

“Oh child, your mom has a lot she doesn’t let that man know, and I am one of them. While your momma hides her life, though you aren’t afraid to show it, there is grit in you, child. You will go far; I am sure of it.” She spoke confidently, and her accent almost melted you; you felt the safest you had been in years—a smile formed as hidden tears built behind your eyes. The woman took notice, stroking your hair gently.

“Come now, let’s head inside; we need to figure out where you will be off to, my dear.” She took one of your bags and escorted you to her lovely home. 

If you could describe something feeling like a home, this is what it would be. Dishes weren’t shattered on the floor, the liquor cabinet wasn’t busted open, and the house didn’t feel like you had to walk on eggshells. No, Dianna’s home felt warm and amazing, the little knick knacks adding a personal touch, her embroidery proudly displayed on her throw pillows, and warm food still sitting in the kitchen for your arrival.

“Now, child, I do not mean to pry, but what could have led to your momma placing you on my doorstep? It’s not every day a young white woman gets sent here, let alone her mother calls me and begs me to help relocate and get her out of here.” As she spoke, she filled a plate with delicious-looking foods: collard greens, Mac and Cheese, and a thick slice of ham. 

“Well, ma’am, my daddy and I fought pretty badly. He saw me spending time with a friend; you see, ma’am, my friend is African American like you. My daddy has never accepted my belief that my skin tone doesn’t stop me from being friends with people from all walks of life. He sees anyone not white as the devil and believes I should see them that way too.” Dianna nodded and watched as you tentatively ate the food she placed before you. 

“I promise it isn’t poisoned, Y/N; you can eat as much as you need, based on the look of ya. Your father hasn’t been caring for you or your momma,” She sighed, pulled out a few phonebooks, and grabbed a pen and paper. She sat across from you at the dining table and smiled at you softly. “You have a good heart, not letting your daddy’s views obscure what you believe is right in your heart. Your momma must be proud of you. She was just like you when she was younger, but that father of yours came into her life and changed her. I was almost taken aback when she contacted me; it has been many years.” 

You nodded softly, looking at the woman before you. It was almost scary to think your father had that much influence, but every white man seemed to. You nearly cringed thinking of how your father would tell every neighbor about your meet-up with your friend, how he would make up some wild story and get him thrown in jail or, worse, killed. You needed to leave; you needed a fresh start away from such a horrible, gruesome man. “Miss Dianna, I appreciate you letting me into your home and even taking my momma’s call. I am lost, though; I do not know what to do from here; I need to leave and get away before my daddy decides he will come and find me.” 

She smiled a glint in her eye, similar to the one you once saw in your mother’s long ago. She opened her phone book and began writing things down on the notepad she pulled out. “Now listen dear, I can pull a few favors; what job experience have you had? How far away are you willing to go? Would you like your momma to know where you are?” She bombarded you with questions, and slowly, you realized your mom sent you to a safe house. She sent you to a friend who could get you out quickly because there was no place for someone with your ideologies.

You swallowed the last of your food and suddenly felt sick. It was all becoming too real; you were really about to leave your home for good, all because your abusive father couldn’t see reason. Tears welled and soon fell on your cheeks as the world came crashing down. You could hear the chair scraping the wooden floor as fast as you felt the arms wrap around you. Dianna held you like a mother would a child, and your tears fell harder. You would never be able to hug your mother again as long as that man lived; you were indeed on your own. 

Dianna didn’t pressure you; she allowed you to cry and get the built-up emotions out, shushing and cooing softly. What felt like a century had passed before you finally calmed enough, even remotely, to answer her questions. Using the handkerchief she handed you to dry your eyes and clean up, she sat back on the other side of the table.

She looked at you expectantly for the answers to her previous questions. “Um, well, I have no work experience; I used to help at my father's office, and I would get drinks and file papers while spending time with him. I was a teen, though, and just wanted some extra allowance. As for how far I want to go, anywhere but here, as far from him as you can get me,” You swallowed, closing your eyes and seeing your momma’s face as you left only hours ago. “I would like my momma to know, only if she will be safe. He has already beaten her enough; I don’t want her to get it worse because she knows about my whereabouts, and he doesn’t.” 

Dianna nodded and looked over her phone book before sighing; she stood and went to the back of her house, leaving you alone. You held your head, thinking through everything that has led up to now. You always thought you were a reasonable kid; you didn’t lie, cheat, or steal. As your father put it, you were a straight-A student and took up many hobbies to make yourself more desirable. You went to church on Sundays and believed in a loving God. Yet here you were, sitting in a stranger’s house, crying because of your abusive father. When Dianna returned, she had a pocketbook and a checkbook in hand. You looked at her, confused, as she sat back down. 

“You are a good kid, and I owe your momma a lot for what she did before your father. I will help you the best I can; you have to promise me you will keep that heart of gold and stand up for what you believe in a child; you hear me?” You nodded and let out a weak promise as a new wave of emotions began to overrun your senses.

Dianna opened her pocketbook, leaned over the side of the table, and picked up her phone, dialing a number into it. The conversation was quick and coded probably for your own good, but as she hung up the phone, she smiled and handed you a piece of paper and a check worth five hundred dollars.

Looking at the check, you shook your head, “No, ma’am, I can’t take this; this is too much; you need it more than me,” Dianna laughed at you and patted your hand gently.

“Child, I gave you the money because I have it to give; you have nothing, and just because my skin is brown and yours is white doesn’t mean I can’t make that money back,” She smiled and pointed at the two addresses on the paper.

“Now, this top address will be your new apartment in New Orleans, Louisiana; I have a cousin out there who will set you up in one of her old ones. I will pay your first two months' rent. After that, you are on your own unless you need me; my number and her number are here for you.” She cleared her throat and pointed at the following address, “This one is going to be an office that you can go to that will help you get employed. There are a lot of upcoming and blooming businesses in New Orleans, dear; you will be fine. Do not let the new world scare you.”

You nodded and looked at the paper, then the check again, a smile breaking out on your face as you pushed the chair out and rushed over to hug Dianna. You held her close and thanked her repeatedly for this opportunity. She smiled, patting your back; once you let go, she stood up from her seat and placed her hands on your shoulders, “Now, child, listen, segregation still exists in Louisiana. New Orleans is a bit more of a progressive city; you will find all walks of life there. Be the light they need and help the cause, my dear.” She kissed your forehead and walked you to a back room in her house. “Now get some rest. There are only a few hours till daylight, and I will need to take you to the bus station to get on the first trip to New Orleans. Don’t be discouraged if you can’t get a job right away. I am here to help you, and your mother has also offered support.” 

You smiled somberly at the mention of your mother; as time passed, it seemed more complicated to accept this fate. You entered the quaint little room and watched as Dianna closed the door and left. Sighing, you sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the homemade quilt. You could hear dishes being cleaned and food put away. She was so kind to do this all for you. The safe house, the home in New Orleans, the job- all was so nice, and she never had to help. How could your father look at her skin tone and think she was any less of a human? She was far more human than he would ever be.

With these thoughts in your head, you changed into your nightgown, looking at yourself in the mirror; your hair was ruffled and frizzy from all the moving between places. Your eyes were swollen and red from all the crying, and the bruises from your father’s beating before your being kicked out were starting to form. Sighing, you climbed into the bed, letting the exhaustion from the day overrun your mind.

Your dreams were anything but kind to you, from seeing your mother’s face to seeing your father tormenting your mother over and over again. However, the only saving grace of your dream was an obscure figure reaching their hand out to you. They had a lithe frame and smooth voice directing you to accompany them. You couldn’t help but oblige and follow them wherever they would lead you. Sadly, where they led you were straight to waking up. 

Rising from your slumber, you looked at the time and saw it was eight in the morning. With a heavy feeling in your chest, you stood and began getting ready for the day, trying hard to forget what had happened recently in your past. Once you were done, you went to the bathroom and cleaned up your face and hair as best you could. Walking out, Dianna greeted you with a hearty breakfast. “Good Morning dear, come sit and eat; you need it for the long trip ahead.”

Nodding, you sat and ate your food, a pretty sad feeling sitting in the room. Once you were done, you did the dishes for Dianna, and she dressed for the day. As she walked out, you noticed you two matched, from the red summer dresses to the black Mary Janes. You laughed softly and took Dianna’s arm as she led you out the door.

Once on the street, the neighborhood looked much brighter and more lively. As you two walked, many people passed by and called Dianna, Momma D. “Should I call you that too? I didn’t even ask when we met; I just assumed because of what my mom wrote down.” 

Dianna let out a short laugh, shaking her head and keeping pace to the bus station. “No deary, you are fine. I go by Momma D here in the neighborhood. My door is open for any wandering traveler, and I have money to spare since my husband's untimely departure from this world. I help where I can when I can, just like you do and your momma used to.” You nodded, listening to her speak. She was something else; how could anyone not like her, not see her as the human she is? 

The bus station came into view, and Dianna had you stand to the side while she handled the tickets. As she returned, you gave her a shy smile, “Will I ever see you again, Dianna?” You were worried this would be the last time this kind person touched your soul.

“Oh dear, no, you will see me again. My family lives in New Orleans; I will visit when possible.” At her words, you smiled, letting a tear fall. Quickly, she wiped it away as your bus approached. Giving her one final hug, you climbed aboard the bus and found your seat. As the bus rolled out, you waved at the woman's distancing figure; once she couldn’t be seen, you got comfy in your seat and let your thoughts wander.

You had so many questions about what would happen when you got there and the dream you had as well. Why did that person in your dream seem so close yet so far? Would you like your new home? How quickly could some random woman get a job? With a sad sigh, you lean your head against the window and drift off back to sleep, being gently rocked by the motions of the bus. 

When you woke, it felt like no time had passed at all, yet hours had gone by as you were now in Louisiana, only two stops from where you were designated to stay. Watching as the trees and roads moved below and around you, you soon found the scenery to change into more of marshland. After an hour or so of marsh, you see the most beautiful river and a sign welcoming you to New Orleans.

With a shout from the driver up front, you knew your stop was coming up; gathering your things, you eagerly awaited as the bus halted. Hoping out, you grabbed your bags from the undercargo and looked around for anyone who looked like they may be looking for you.

That was when you spotted the most beautiful woman you had ever seen; she looked just like a mini Dianna—waving you down as she saw you smiling and shouting your name. As people stared at you two, you approached the woman quickly. “Hello, sorry, Dianna said that I would be meeting a family member, but not who,” The woman laughed a full, bright laugh that had your worries melting away. “Uh, my name is Y/N. It was a pleasure to meet you.” 

She pushed your hand away as you stuck it out to shake hers. Instead, she hugged you and began to speak, “None of that, girl; we are family now. Anyone who gets Momma D’s stamp of approval gets mine, too. Now, you must be starving, and the food here in the city’s heart is to die for, so why don’t we stop and eat, then head to the apartment building? Oh, and my name is Rika.”

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were till she brought it up. You nodded gently and followed her to the restaurant she chose nearby. Waiting in line, you heard a beautiful voice coming through the radio; looking at the sound source, Rika noticed your attention elsewhere. 

“Ah, you have swooned for the new radio host's voice too; he is all over New Orleans radios. Has women falling left and right for the faceless man.” You looked at her quizzically; what could she possibly mean by faceless? Was this some joke you weren’t used to in this part of the South?

“Faceless? You mean like he doesn’t have one?” She laughed at your comment and shook her head, pointing at the radio, and then the onslaught of people listening to him sign off for the afternoon but saying he would be back later that night. 

“No, I mean he never tells anyone his name or shows his face. He is only ever dreamed about by women. He goes by Dear Radio Host to anyone who asks.” She walked up to the host and asked for a table for two while you mulled over this new information. 

“Huh, interesting. I wonder if he is attractive. He sure had a beautiful voice.” You followed her to the table and sat. As you two talked quietly about what brought you to New Orleans and what places to stay away from and go to, you found yourself growing more and more happy with your choice to leave Texas. 

“You know, Y/N, you have such a beautiful accent, and you are so nice too; Momma D said you were sweet like honey, but damn, I didn’t expect it, truthfully.” You looked at her, shocked by the cuss, and silenced her. She laughed at your innocence and waved you off. As you were blushing, a handsome man bumped into your table.

“Oh, sorry about that, ladies, I seemed to have misstepped; I do hope I have not ruined your afternoon meal.” Looking at the man, he was enticing to say the least. He was tall with wavy reddish brown hair. Black-rimmed glasses and a smile that seemed to shake you to the core. What did you in, though, wasn't the lithe frame of the man but the beautiful chocolate eyes that stared right at you? His caramel skin looked soft, and his eyes roamed your face like he was searching for answers. 

“You are fine, no worries. I hope you have a good rest of your day, sir. Enjoy your food.” At your kind comment, he looked at you confused before giving a light bow and walking away. Your eyes followed him until he was out of sight. A breath you didn’t even know you were holding escaped you. 

“Oh, I see someone fancies ol’ Alastor over there, huh.” You look over at Rika wide-eyed. You shook your head, a symphony of no’s leaving your lips as you covered your reddening face at her teasing comments. “No need to be shy, girl; you think half of New Orleans is in love with Dear Radio Host, well the other half is in love with him. He and his momma live in the Bayou; my brother and him went to school together.” 

You looked at where he retreated before looking back at Rika again, “Just him and his mom? He doesn’t have a dad?” Rika sighed and looked around before moving in closer to you.

“His dad had a hunting accident a couple of years ago, so now it’s just him and his mom; Tony, who owns the radio station, gave him an intern job there. If anyone knows what Dear Radio Host looks like, it would be Alastor.” You snorted at her last comment but contemplated the beginning.

Based on his skin tone, his family must be mixed. It made you smile to know that was even a possibility since you might as well be prosecuted for thinking it where you came from. You and Rika finished your meals and walked out of the building to a beautiful sunset. 

“The apartment isn’t that far from here; we will pass the radio offices too on our way; maybe we will see Alastor or the mystery Radio Guy.” You smiled. You liked Rika. She was only a little older than you. You being 26 and her 29, a fast friendship formed between you two.

As you two walked, you talked about your do’s and don’ts in life and relationships. Once you get close to the radio offices, you notice Alastor walking into the building, smiling as he talks to a beautiful blonde woman. A sigh leaves your lips as you watch them. 

“Aw, don’t get too dejected. I have known Alastor for the majority of our lives. He doesn’t date. He always told everyone he was waiting for the one; if you ask me, he is just a momma's boy and a workaholic.” You snorted at her observation and found yourself before the quaint apartment building. 

“Wow, it's adorable, and look at the stonework and the greenery!” Rika laughed at your excitement and took your hand, helping you in the building. As she walked up the stairs with you, she handed you a key, stopping in front of a door with the number 302 on it. 

“Alright, miss Y/N, this is where I will be taking my leave; my fiance is probably waiting for me; we live on the fourth floor, 403. Don’t hesitate to call or come up there if you need anything.” You nodded, smiling at her as she waved and went up the next flight of stairs.

Carefully, you used the key to open the door and enter the beautiful apartment. As you brought your luggage in, you couldn’t help but feel at peace finally. Years of fear in your home finally led to this; you were free and could start your path. 

Once you had everything put away and got acquainted with the simple space, you began to map out mentally all the things you would need to get done now that you were officially here. To start, you went to the phone and called Dianna to let her know you had made it safely. After a brief conversation with her, you hung up and worked on your list of to-dos.

Night fell quickly, and beautiful jazz and other music began to play outside your balcony. Sighing, realizing you needed a break, you walked out and looked at your new home. First thing tomorrow, you would have to head to the job agency to see if there was anything you could do with your limited experience. 

Resting to the music, you looked down and noticed Alastor walking around the city streets; it looked like he must have been heading home from the studio. Sighing, you admired him briefly as you didn’t want to seem weird. You recollected your lunch experience with Rika and how he looked at you when you told him to have a good evening. Was that an odd thing to say? Maybe he wasn’t used to the niceties as you thought. Of course, Dianna told you segregation still thrums here, but from what you have seen, it is far less strict than where you came from. 

You head back inside and get ready for bed. Here is hoping tomorrow will be a bright day that offers more positives for your future. Crawling in, you turn off the last light and look at the ceiling, letting the beautiful music of the night drift you off to sleep.

* * *

Tagged @pan-to-the-head

[attackurheart88]

Morpheus was gone for a long time, forced to sit naked in a glass dome in silence for centuries.

Within that time he thought.

He thought about the dreaming, the kind of state it must be in the dreams and nightmares that inhabited it. How worried or scared they might be. He thought of Luceane and wondered how she must be feeling. Would she or any of the others still be there when he returned? It hurt to think of it. He thought of his sister, death. It was she Roderick wanted after all. What would she do if in his situation? Would she have called for help? Did she know he was after her?

Morpheus was uneasy. He knew there was a way to leave this prison, yet he refused to take it. Allowing his siblings to see him in this state? To beg and plead for their help? No. That could never happen. If he asked or if they came, Roderick Burgess might as well start killing him now.

Amiss this inner torment there was you. Morpheus's first wife.

You came long before Calliope and Nada and even Killala. You were everything Morpheus needed, patient, kind, and strong. Through your marriage, Morpheus wasn't always the best husband that he admits. Yet you never left him. Not when he made you feel lonely or he made you cry after an argument. You were patient and loved him even when he was selfish and cold. Until one day you left.

There wasn't a warning. You didn't scream or yell or even cry. He just woke one day to find you gone and you never returned.

You would often ignore him when you got angry and leave for weeks and months at a time. So Morpheus wasn’t concerned at first. Until years had passed without even a word. It was then Morohies realized you weren't coming back. That he had truly crossed the line.

And even since Morphies has tried to find someone else, another woman or God like yourself but there was none. No one was as patient as you were. So many had left him unable to deal with his temperament. They claimed he was too harsh or too egoistic. It didn't help that Morpheus wasn't good at communicating his feelings. He didn't like to show weakness and very few were able to accept that. Hob, Mathew, his sister Death, and you. You always knew how to put up with him, how to calm him down, and brighten his day.

Although all of his relationships ended for different reasons, Morpheus was still the catalyst. He grew obsessive. Trying to find the one who could fix him the one who could allow him to move on from you. But no one did. Not Calliope or Nada or Killala or Thessaly. And now that he was alone with his thoughts he had all that time to think of you.

It was when thinking of you Morpheus felt better.

He regretted the way things ended. He regrets allowing you to leave without stopping you. He regrets taking in other women and giving one of them his child. It was an honor that should have been given to you.

It was that which led him to your realm.

As soon as he dealt with the matters of his court he found himself wandering back to you. The person on his mind for all these years.

Morpheus greedily took in the sight of you seated on top of your throne. Your eyes were deeper and even more magnetizing and small lines reminded one where your smile reached. Although you aged slightly over the centuries in Morpheus’s eyes you were just as beautiful as the day he first met you. His eyes lowered to your body. The dress you wore did not reveal any unnecessary skin but it did hug your body tightly. Demonstrating any and every curve of your skin.

Morpheus swallowed. Hoping to bring his thoughts to the back of his mind.

“Did you need something Dream of the Endless?” Morpheus had to stop himself from flinching at your cold tone. You rarely called him by his title. It was always Morpheus and darling with you. Dream lord was so distant and formal.

“I wish to apologize.”

It was then Morpheus spoke in depth of his thoughts and actions since the time he married you. He spoke about his other paramours and what he hoped to gain from them. How they were at the core, a way to replace you. He spoke of the things he missed like your laugh and how beautiful you looked in the early morning. The warmth of your skin. Softness of your lips. He spoke of his regret and cowardice. The amount of letters he had written but never sent. The times he would sit down and cry at the sight of your favorite flower or an old portrait. He spoke of your former room, closed off still preserved with everything you left behind.

By the end Morpheus had laid himself bare before you. It was a sight to look down and watch as he kneeled, opening his heart to any hateful words you had to say and being so willing to accept them.

It was clear to you that Morpheus has changed. The man you once knew would have never subjected himself to such a state. To allow himself to be so vulnerable and give you the power to see him. To hurt him. It was then you realized your feelings not have disappeared after all.

[ghostlygeto]

never going to be | geto suguru

pairing: geto suguru x fem!reader

warnings: hurt/no comfort, spoilers?? bc half based on the street scene from s2 ep5 but no gojo, talks of death + killing, i’ve never written jjk before sorry if it’s obvious. potential for part two, who knows wif me :3, proof read but it was 7am so i probably missed stuff!

wc: 1.4k

there were several people geto would have anticipated shoko calling after seeing him on the street. he assumed it to be gojo, knowing his best friend would show up and likely give him an ear full. he was ready for it, he had been preparing himself to see satoru since the second he made this choice.

he listened to shoko’s one sided conversation for a little while before she hung up and gave him a smile. “care to wait here with me? someone’s on their way, they want to see you.”

silence fell between the two, geto staring down at his shorter friend and she stared into the crowd, leaning against a pole behind her. he decided to stay, at least for a few minutes. to talk with her.

“you can ask about it,” geto closes his eyes and sighs, “i know you want to.”

“you wouldn’t have run away if it wasn’t true, we all know,” shoko responded, taking a drag of her cigarette, “he was devastated when he found out.”

geto shifted uncomfortably, “i knew he would be.” he waited a second, wondering if he should even ask his next question. “what about-”

“ask her yourself,” shoko threw the unfinished cigarette onto the concrete and stepped on it. “if you get the chance.”

confused could barely sum up how geto felt as his friend started walking away from him. still, he stayed silent, not calling out to her in fear that she’d say something he didn’t want to hear. geto understood the consequences of his actions, the moment he made up his mind he knew that he’d have to abandon everything. jujutsu tech, his friends, you.

it felt almost like a dream when you called out for him. for some reason you were the last person he had expected shoko to call when she found him. but there you were, standing a few feet away from him in your school uniform with tears in your eyes and breathing heavily. you had to have ran all the way here from the school.

“what’re you doing here?” geto tried to keep a straight face, pretend that his heart didn’t ache seeing you. as much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were the hardest part about the decision he made.

leaving you, his girlfriend that had been by his side for as long as he could remember, behind had to be the worst. the two of you had been together since close to the beginning of your first year, you had spent close to every day together since then.

you were his everything. and he was yours, you would do anything for him. you always had and swore you always would. you always tried to fix things for him, covering for him and lying when you didn’t need to to help keep him out of trouble where you could.

which was exactly why you were the last person shoko should’ve called.

“come back, suguru,” you tried to keep your voice stable, unwilling to let him see you cry. you were always so brave, yet another thing he admired about you. “i’ll talk to them, i’ll convince them it’s all just a misunderstan-”

“there is no misunderstanding, y/n,” you hated the way his voice sounded. cold, distant, unbothered. he was trying to shut you out, “the things they’ve said about me are true. i did those things, don’t you understand?”

geto wouldn’t even look at you, and you weren’t sure if it had been for your sake or his. if he looked at you now, he’d see your big eyes staring up at him, tears filled to the brim. and he’d break. he would have to hold you, apologize and beg for your forgiveness. but he didn’t deserve your forgiveness, deep down he hoped you knew that too.

“there has to be something else to it, something you’re not telling us,” you grab into the sleeve of his shirt, forcing him to keep still. he keeps trying to walk away from you. “just tell me the truth suguru, please.”

“what you heard is the truth, y/n. i killed the non-sorcerers. i want to create a world without cursed. the only way to do that is to kill everyone who can’t control it,” he wanted to tear his arm away from your grasp but he couldn’t. your fingers burned the skin on his hand that they had grazed against, so softly it almost hurt. “this is the path i’ve chosen.”

you weren’t sure what to to, or what to say. you didn’t want to accept the fact that he did this. your suguru could never, he was sweet and kind and gentle. but the man before you, that spoke to you in a harsh tone and wouldn’t even look you in the eyes, he somehow seemed to only be a shell. he was not geto suguru.

“take me with you, then. let me do this along side you.”

your words shook him to his core, causing him to finally look you in the eyes. “you’re insane. i could never let you throw everything away like that.” the look he was giving you felt like a combination of anger and disgust, one that almost made you cower in fear. “you’ve got too much going for you there. you’re not doing this with me.”

“and you don’t?” you raised your voice, feeling the lump in your throat grow larger, “you don’t have too much going for you there? you’re going to throw away everything. your friendships with shoko and gojo, your future. our future?”

“this is my future! can’t you see that!” geto surprised himself with how loud his voice came out, not intending to yell at you the way he was. but he couldn’t believe you would say something like that. “i’m creating a better future. for us, y/n. a world without non-sorcerers is a world without curses. a safer world for all of us.”

his words made you feel sick. you were born, chosen, to be a sorcerer to help the people who couldn’t control their cursed energy. how could he turn his back to them like that? how could he turn his back to you?

“if you won’t take me with you, i want you to kill me.” your voice shook, filled with uncertainty and heartbreak.

“what?”

“i don’t want to do this without you, suguru. i can’t. gojo and shoko will understand, i know they will. and you can’t get in trouble if i asked you to do it,” fat tears rolls down your cheeks as you moved your hands to try and wipe them away. though your efforts were worth nothing, because they were quickly replaced with more. “you are my everything.”

geto hesitated for a second. bringing you alongside him was off the table, in no world could he do that to you. the road ahead of him would be harsh and cruel, not something meant for someone as kind and gentle as you. you didn’t need nor deserve that. but to kill you? the only person he’s sure he will ever love?

but how could he deny you this one last thing?

“okay.” your heart freezes at his answer, though you’re almost relieved. “close your eyes. count to ten, don’t open them.”

you did as told, squeezing your eyes closed as you counted to ten in your head. with each number, you gripped the button from his school uniform tighter. gojo had given it to you, saying they found it at the remnants of his crime. muttering something about how “you should have it” before shoving it against your chest and leaving to his room.

when you reached the number ten and nothing happened, you opened one of your eyes. you half expected to see any number of his deadly curses right in front of you, begging to see the look of fear on your face before killing you. or to see him still standing there, to tell you that he’d changed his mind and he’d rather take you with him.

but instead you were met with emptiness. geto suguru nowhere in sight, leaving you alone in the middle of a now quiet street. not absorbed by darkness as you had wanted, but devastated by the idea that maybe geto was always destined to leave. he had now left everyone that cared for him, maybe leaving had been the only card he would ever be dealt. you may have loved him, but it wasn’t enough.

it was never going to be.

reblogs, comments, nd likes appreciated!! &lt;3

[traveler-at-heart]

What we were

Chapter 2 

A/N: Background into the What we were story. Mentions of cheating, character death.

PS I didn’t mean to make you all hate Natasha 😭 I’ve just had this story for a long time in my mind and wanted to write it. Baby’s been through it and I promise in other chapters she’ll be better if that makes sense lol.

Six Months Earlier

It was a warm spring day. Flowers were blooming. In no time, grass would grow back to cover the grave.

As Clint’s coffin was lowered to the ground, it felt like time had stopped, or it had been altered.

You were all pretty much retired. The Avengers were a thing of the past.

So why was he on that mission with Kate Bishop?

Carol, still grieving over Maria, only sent flowers.

Natasha was away from everyone else. No one could approach her, not even you. She’d only talk to Anya or Laura.

It felt like she was punishing the team. 

You are all to blame.

Natasha almost threw Kate across the room the minute she tried to apologize.

That was the first wedge between her and Yelena.

She ignored everyone’s disapproving stares as well. And you knew what that distance meant.

Nothing and no one would get in her way to avenge Clint.

You were scared.

And rightfully so.

Natasha didn’t sleep, barely ate and simply stopped being present in your lives.

You heard her scoff and protest everytime you brought it up.

Laura is raising three kids on her own. And you think you have it hard?

One day, you begged her to come with you to therapy.

It could be good for us.

She agreed, if only to shut you up. Natasha never made it to that first session, nor did she apologize for her absence.

For the first time in your life, you could actually picture what it was like in the Red Room.

No feelings, no humanity.

Just a mission.

Before summer break, you asked Yelena to organize a family trip to celebrate Anya’s birthday.

Maybe Natasha could speak to Alexei or Melina. Maybe they’d understand.

Natasha refused.

“It’s for your daughter’s birthday,” you pleaded.

“We’ll do something else. Just the three of us. I promise”

Because she looked ashamed for the first time in months, you believed her.

It was a lie.

Yelena flew the next week, agreeing to look after Anya until school started again.

Your plan was simple; you’d help Natasha find all the information she needed. You’d finish the mission and then go back to normal.

The day after Yelena and Anya left, you went back to the Compound.

That’s where your wife was most nights, alone. Even Bucky had moved out years ago.

Still, you remembered every corner of this building.

It was your home, a long time ago.

Yours and Natasha’s.

Your first kiss, your first night together… It all happened here.

Curious about the things left in your old room, you walked over there, not even bothering to knock.

And there, you found Carol putting on a shirt and shorts, while Natasha walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.

“Shit” her skin paled the second you locked eyes. “Y/N, please”

The room was spinning, you couldn’t breathe and you were certain your heart would explode any minute now.

Natasha ran behind you, pulling you by the wrist to make you turn.

She was screaming, crying, begging. All the things you had done for the last four months to keep your family in one piece.

Going to Wanda’s old room, you locked the door, barely listening to her pleads on the other side.

It was the strangest feeling in the world. Your energy was drained, as if you’d come back from a mission and were fatally wounded.

Natasha was still there when you opened the door, a couple of hours later. You couldn’t feel your face and your voice sounded foreign as you spoke.

“You have until tomorrow to move out of the house”

“Please, don’t”

You walked past her, without sparing a single glance her way.

Were you dreaming? Because you didn’t feel anything as you left the building, driving straight to Bucky’s house.

But when he opened the door and you could see how concerned he was, you finally broke down.

Your family was destroyed.

And you couldn’t save it.

/

Taglist: @wandabear, @thatonebrazilian, @canvascoloredin

[bajablasterrr]

Who You Gonna Call?

Chapter 1: Something Strange DC x DP Fic based off this post

Warnings: Major Character Death, Strong Language, Depictions of Violence

Rating: Mature

Author’s Note: For those who have been waiting for forever I apologize for how long it took me to crank out this one chapter this is my first time writing a Fic so any constructive criticism helps, also thank you soo much for the support ❤️. Update On Chapter 2 of “Who You Gonna Call?” It’s knots done jut need to finish a few final touches should be posted by Friday of Next Week

When you think about it, peace will never be the outcome. Not for him, not anymore.

Not while his Parents lay dead at his feet, not while his sister sobbed helplessly; never again will Danny Fenton ever know a peaceful life.

But he’s okay with that; he’s come to terms with how things stood and knew there wasn’t much left to figure out besides where he will go now.

He never thought he’d have to plan a life without his parents, never suspected that this family vacation would be the last.

Nor did he expect his sister to go from “Annoying Older Sibling.” To “My Only Living Family Member.” in less than a day.

This was inevitable with his line of work, but he never expected his life to be this crazy, at least not so soon.

For him, being half ghost used to feel like a gift, something he could use to help the people he cared about the most. Now it was a curse, a cancerous infection slowly seeping into everything he held close.

Because of his “gift.” everyone and everything he knew was gone, replaced by this empty confusing nothingness, all their hopes and dreams for him nothing more than lost memories.

His parents were gone, taken from him in some brutal twist of fate by some psychopathic clown they call “The Joker.” to be completely honest, Danny was feeling anger beyond rational thought every time he thought about him.

And the worst part about this was that everything everything that happened was all a ploy, some sort of elaborate trick to lure Batman to his hideout, and The Fenton’s were nothing more than pawns in The Joker’s scheme to kill him.

Not only did he kill his parents, but he did it with a smile as he made Danny watch, laughing at his suffering until he got what he wanted.

Danny was taken to the police station and asked to state what he experienced while begging held hostage by the Joker, but all he could do was stare blankly at the wall.

As he got interviewed by the police, news anchors, and other journalists, all he could think about was how he everyone down. His frustration was building up under the surface, and he felt sick.

“How could I let this happen.” he thought. 

His mind raced, his fingers felt numb, his chest heaved as if something was blocking his airway, and he felt like everything around him was closing in. The walls began to spin, and he could feel his throat closing up, tears welling in his eyes.

Jazz noticed his strange behaviour and tried her best to get him to calm him down, but the panic had already set in.

They were alone, he let this happen, and there was nothing he could do to fix this. Nothing at all

Dozens of forced statements later, Danny was drained.

Despite being the “Hero.” he was, he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly useless. They kept asking him the same questions repeatedly until the words melted into nothingness, his brain felt like swiss cheese, and he thought he would pass out at any second.

Jazz had to handle all of the legal proceedings, taking her parent’s estate, medical bills, funeral expenses, and everything else; She was overwhelmed, to say the least.

She had no idea what to do once they were done with the police, they had nowhere to go, and beyond that, they had nobody to help them.

Her head was swimming, and for a split second, she broke; Danny noticed his sister sobbing and went in to hug her.

“I’m sorry this happened, Jazz, really I am. I wish I could trade my life for theirs; I would,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

“Hey, I know this everything is so crazy, but don’t blame yourself for what happened. There’s nothing more you could’ve done, okay?” she replied, rubbing his head to soothe him.

“but I let everyone down. I’m the reason they’re dead; if I don’t do something to avenge them, then-” he said rapidly, beginning to panic again.

“Enough, no more vengeance, no more self-blame. You’re just a kid. Nobody should’ve put that responsibility on you-.” she tried to explain, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“That doesn’t matter anymore, Jazz. I’m not a kid anymore; I think I need to go for a walk and clear my head,” he said, pushing her off his and heading towards the door.

Jazz called out for him, but he was gone before she could get a word out.

As he walked the streets of Gotham City, he felt angry; at the world and at himself; he even felt anger towards his parents for suggesting this stupid trip. He wanted nothing more than to change the way things are right now, be somewhere different, and do something right for once.

He didn’t know what to do with himself; he walked around aimlessly for what felt like hours, looking for something, anything to do. He needed someone save; he wanted something to fight, anything in the world that would take his mind off things for a second.

all of a sudden, a blue mist leaves his mouth

“Finally.” he thought to himself

He changed into his ghost form quickly, and he waited. The tension in the air is thick, and he slowly looks around, hoping to see whatever is watching him.

“Don’t you know this place isn’t safe after dark?”

Danny looked around, trying to see where the voice came from,

“If I were you, I’d just turn around and head back home.”

“And why should I listen to you, wise and powerful shadow man?” Danny replied sarcastically

suddenly, he saw something jump from the fire escape down to the ground in front of him. He didn’t expect him to make that fall, let alone get up that easily.

He stood there frozen as the figure approached him, wearing a red helmet, a leather jacket, black pants, and a shirt with a red bat.

“I’ve heard of you before; you’re Red Hood, right?” Danny asked nonchalantly, trying to cut the tension of the situation

“In the flesh, and you’re that ghost kid “Phantom.” right?” he replied as he stepped closer to Danny, cornering him into a wall.

“Uh, Yep, in the flesh.” He said with a nervous chuckle

Danny was terrified; after the last couple of days he’s had, he didn’t want to take any chances with any more of the heroes or villains in Gotham.

Red Hood had him backed to a wall, his hand on the right side of Danny’s face.

“What’s your deal anyways, ghost boy? You want to run around being a vigilante, too?” he said, leaning in. 

“I-I’ve been a vigilante since the 9th grade,” he stuttered. “And for the record, I don’t need your permission to do anything, so why would you expect me to ask for it?.”

“Because if you don’t, I get to kick your ass and have you arrested for breaking curfew.” He replied

Danny chucked, “finally.”, he thought, “a reason to punch someone in the face.”

“respectfully, I’d like to see you try,” he said, cockiness radiating from his voice.

“fine, it is your funeral.”

@blackrabbitt3t @nedwec @blackstar-gazer @baykitthings @real-danny-phantom @hungrymentor @the-lokes @dizzydreamerzzz @phantom-phrases @sheep567 @lenoryt13 @theauthorandtheartist

@phantomskeep @arc-777 @dreamingasters @betinaplayingwriter @zeldomnyo @jaguarthecat @the-gay-florist @reinluna @gabrielandjackthenephilim @icepopstar5105us @skulld3mort-1fan

@batbootie @that-random-fangirl@cyber-geist@dat1angel@undead-essence@distractedducky@oddessy@dreamingasters@jarlyd@

[softspeirs]

Daisies + Love Letters (7): John Egan x OC

Author's Note: It's been so long but good news: I am still insane over these two, and they're still insane for each other. This one takes place post-war. TW for nightmares, mentions of PTSD, and descriptions of violence.

Seven. Dreams.

He wakes with a start, a cry dying in his throat. Instead of fading, the images behind his eyes are still vivid.

Her voice is the first thing he hears. “I love you. You’re safe.” She whispers, her words a soothing balm on his tired, tired soul.

He wipes a hand over his face, not really embarrassed, but feeling a strange type of shame that he can’t voice.

“‘m sorry.” He mumbles.

She doesn’t tell him not to apologize - she doesn’t need to. They’ve been here before.

“Love you too.” He adds, voice earnest. “I’m okay.”

He dreams of that night in Germany at least once a week. It gets worse every time. Some nights he dreams of these men he didn’t even know, the helplessness and stark fear that hit him when he realized what was happening.

Other nights he dreams it’s Gale with him. Gale and Crank and Murph and the rest, and he has to watch as they go down one by one, the terrible bang of a gunshot echoing in his ears long after he wakes.

Ellie is always right there, right there with a soothing word and a kiss to his sweaty brow. She has never once asked him what he dreams about, and she never tells him it’s all going to be okay. She tells him she loves him instead, and he fights the little voice in his head that screams you don’t deserve her over and over again.

The worst part of all of this is that the dreams get worse when he sees the guys, when Gale and Marge come to visit or when Benny stops by on his way through town.

It takes everything he has not to shut himself away, to do what he’s always done and isolate himself after drinking himself to sleep.

So they escaped to Manitowoc, seeking a safe haven at his childhood home, and still it was impossible.

He scared his mother half to death as he lurched awake in the middle of the night, wishing like hell he had asked Ellie to abandon decorum and sleep in his bedroom with him.

He had begged her to go to a hotel with him the next night, refusing to give his mother any more to worry about, anxious to get away from the wary, scared glances from his sisters. He knows they don’t pity him, but he doesn’t know what to tell them and they don’t know what to say.

Now, he sits up in bed, head in his hands as he tries to catch his breath. His heart rate is high but slowing as Ellie leans over and rubs a gentle hand on his back. He shudders under her touch.

"Come with me," She says softly, taking his hand and urging him out of bed.

They pause so she can pull her robe over her shoulders, and she hands him the matching one from the hook by the bed. When they're both ready, she takes his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Silently, they both head for the door, Ellie leading the way and John closing it softly behind them. They booked a hotel right on Lake Michigan and Ellie is grateful for it now as they sink their feet into the cool sand.

Bucky squeezes her hand again as they walk. "Thank you." He says quietly. He sighs as the cool lake breeze hits him. "Did I scare you?"

"No." Her answer is quick, definitive.

"I know I keep you awake some nights.”

“But it’s not your fault. And it doesn’t scare me. I just wish I could make things better for you.”

He looks down at her quickly, eyes going back to his feet as he schools his expression - he’s still not used to her wanting to take care of him. “You do make things better. Just by being here, you do.”

She hugs his arm close, squeezing his hand and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Can we just… can we just sit here for a while?” He asks, and it’s so plaintive, she can’t deny him, can’t push him to be more vulnerable.

So they sit in the sand, they watch the waves come rolling in, and she leans her head on his broad shoulder and she scoots closer, feels the kiss he presses to the crown of her head.

This ache inside of him won’t go away. Maybe not ever. He knows that, doesn’t need a doctor or anyone else to confirm what he already knows - he lost a piece of himself in the stalag, the piece of him that was halfway dead the minute they tried to kill him on a city street in Germany. Hell, maybe even before then, as he watched crew after crew go down.

Whether she knows it or not, Ellie has already helped him tremendously. She saved his life. The nights he doesn’t have nightmares, he dreams of her. Of her and the life they’ll have together, as soon as he gathers his courage and asks her the damn question.

“We should go see your family.” He blurts, voice rough.

She frowns. “Won’t that—“ Won’t that make it worse? She doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s understood anyway, hanging in the air between them.

“It would be nice to get out of the city for a while.”

Ellie hums. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”

“I think we already did that part.” His voice is low with laughter. He leans in, nose ghosting over the shell of her ear. He presses a kiss there, where her ear meets her neck, and inhales the subtle sweet scent of her, perfume lingering from the day.

She turns towards him and they hover there in the in between, their breath mingling and growing heavier as they delight in being this close, finding comfort in the warmth radiating off each other.

“I’d go anywhere with you, John Egan.”

He kisses her then, a little more feverishly than he intended, but he can’t help himself, not when she’s here and she’s looking at him like that, and she loves him.

[lya-dustin]

The Dornish Princess

(Part ii of the Dornish Princess)

Cw: mentions of sex, fantasizing of murder, attempted murder via drowning

Fool.

That is the new name he was given.

Fool.

Fool for trusting you, for believing your words and a worse fool for loving you.

He cannot chase you and kill you for your betrayal, he was the regent and he must deal with the fall out of his own fucking foolishness.

With his brother at the Stranger’s door and no money to continue the war, his campaign into the Riverlands is postponed.

Postponed being a nicer word for it.

They are to surrender to his whore sister and bastard heirs and beg for mercy.

The negotiations had begun and Aemond has requested exile over death. He would never set foot in Westeros for as long as Rhaenyra lives.

No matter, after he gets his hands on you, it will he worth it.

Aliandra Martell offered her hand in marriage should he bring her your head.

Prince Consort of Dorne is good consolation reward.

His exile isn’t the terrible thing his mother thinks it is, his change of scenery matters not when he hunts you down.

He will enjoy killing you, he dreams of seeing the life leave your indigo eyes as he avenges his honor.

Aemond follows your trail even when he takes up the occupation of sword fro hire as Daemon once did. He hears how you defrauded a Braavosi key holder, how you robbed Sharako Lohar blind and just recently, drove the Rogares of Lys to complete and utter ruin.

Word had come from the spymasters that you lived in Volantis in a manse behind the Black Wall. You’d overstay your welcome once the lord you flatter with your serpent’s tongue and poison him with kisses as sweet as honey.

Where would you go from then? You weren’t welcome anywhere anymore.

You could never go home just as he can’t either.

He disguises himself as a servant, a slave rather. The Valyrian looks so coveted in Westeros were as common as horse shit in Essos. Even slaves had silver hair and purple eyes.

Something he’d learned to exploit as he earned his pay with blood.

Something he’ll exploit to finally end you.

You aren’t Y/N Sand nor Coryanne Martell here. You are merely a wealthy widow enjoying the fruits of your labor.

He stalks into your bath quietly, you assuming it is another servant carrying your hot flowery water pay no mind to him.

You are far more beautiful than he remembered, you grew into your looks just as he went from youth to man these years past.

Five years ago, you ruined his life and made damn sure you would never be forgotten.

“I will wash my own hair tonight.” You say as he takes your dark braid in his hands. Within a heart beat he’s holding your face under the water as he fulfills every fantasy he’s had these five long years.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?” he asks taunting you when he lets you come up for air.

“Not as much as you did, husband.” You gasp and sputter with a laugh. As if you’d known he’d come. “Took you long enough, Aemond the Fool.”

He narrowed his eye and wished he could just drown you in your tub and be done with it. But he doesn’t. He is still the fool he was at nineteen at twenty-four.

“Join me, you reek of dragon.” You say as you gather your bearings and pretend nothing had happened.

He could kill you later, hot water was a luxury even in this warm winter. A good fuck and a hot bath seemed like a better send off you deserved, but Aemond has stopped being so picky with whores these years.

“You need me for a scheme don’t you?” he concludes aa you wash his body with the same soaps you had used. You had done this before, back when he loved you and you ensnared him in your trap.

You had felt divine then, your soft caresses, your sweet lips and the oh so tight cunny you sheathed his cock with.

You haunted him till this fucking day, even after trying to forget you with every willing woman he could find. Not even the Red Priestess with her knowledge of the seven sighs couldn’t erase you out of his mind.

“A final one, an apology from me to you.” You say coming close enough to kiss him stupid.

He’d let you, only if your scheme is good enough for him.

“As if I’d believe anything that comes from your mouth, y/n.” he scoffed and yet snaked his arms around your waist to pull you onto his lap.

He'll discard of you once he is sated, your pretty head was worth as much as this manse. A place close to home too.

“Oh trust me, what I will show you will speak for itself, my sweet prince.” You whisper before leaving the bath all together.

The sight waiting for him in your rooms leaves him without words.

Sharing a room and the distinctive looks of House Targaryen, a boy of five and a boy of eight hold on to plush dragons. The younger a green as Vhagar and the other as red as Caraxes.

His child and Rhaenyra’s lost son, presumably.

“Lysandro bought Viserys from his captors and sought to ransom him back to your family along with my son. I don’t bite unless I have to, dearest husband.” You admit with a hard edge to your soft voice. Somehow he believes you.

“What do you want?” Aemond cannot do anything but stare at the boys, his more than his nephew.

His hair is silver and sleek as his is, a faint smattering of freckles like the ones he had as a boy and his mother’s wicked mouth pouting in his sleep.

“That you recognize Aelyx as trueborn, we were married in truth and he shouldn’t carry the stain of bastardry when he is innocent.” You speak honestly, as if you knew your luck had run out. “Take Viserys and my wealth and negotiate your return to your home. It should be more than what I stole from you.”

If you knew he hadn’t thought of killing you since you showed him his son, you’d think your hold on him was as strong as it was then.

Perhaps it was.

Damn you. Damn you to the seven hells for making a fool out of him.

The following morning he writes home saying he’d found his errant wife and a treasure greater than all the gold in Volantis.

If Rhaenyra lifted his exile, he’d personally deliver Viserys to her.

Aemond the Kinslayer gets a hero’s welcome despite being foolish enough to forgive you and wed you in truth.

But you are not content with just being his wife and the wealth you amassed. No, you like your husband were cursed with ambition.

“Have you ever considered conquering Dorne, your grace?” you ask Queen Rhaenyra who owes you the life of her youngest son even if Aemond took the life of her second born.

[fizzfizzypop]

CLARABELLE LORE

Clarabelle Marlynn Devereaux was born into a middle class household. She was born the instant the clock ticked to midnight. However, the heavenly hour in which she took her first breaths was the same hour in which her mother took her last. Her father, having absolutely no experience in childcare whatsoever, raised her the best he could with whatever little money he had. Living from pay check to pay check, he found himself constantly overwhelmed with the burden of having to be a single father he couldn’t even feed himself. Despite being so young, Clarabelle gained her sense of consciousness very quickly, and thus, was able to somewhat process her father’s utter and complete anger and hatred toward her and the cruel tricks of fate. She was subjected to verbal and slight physical abuse at a young age, with her father yelling profanities at her and calling her a curse. A curse for taking away the love of his life. Many times he wished death upon the small child, cursing her and calling her a cruel joke and a horrible mistake, only to come sobbing to her moments after, rambling apology over apology in a drunken haze it the slayed y scared and confused child. Clearly not being suitable for the role of a father and wanting a better life for his daughter, he made the horrible decision to place her in an orphanage when she was 5. Clarabelle, like any other child, was utterly horrified of being stripped away from her everyday surroundings. She was used to the simple, small and rather cramped life of her tiny cottage home. Now, she was placed in a castle of an orphanage, where mistakes could cost your chance of potentially being in a family. Being in the orphanage made her heavily dependant on herself, as it was very clear nobody else would do it for her, judging the way she was treated in that hellhole of a sanctuary that they claimed to be. Unable to defend herself, she became the subject for teasing and demands, such as clean up duty and homework help. One particular day, she was pushed down a flight of stairs, which (obviously) resulted in her getting concussed and having to be under close supervision. There, she met the nurses of the campus. She would watch eagerly as they did all their handiwork. Blood pressure..injections..bandage wrapping..it was all so interesting to witness, how someone could easily do that in what seemed to be such short time. It wasn’t just her. She would see how they would care for others. How gentle and patient they were..how kind and caring..that’s what she strived to be. Luckily, she had the pleasure of being adopted when she turned 8 by a well off family. She was very close to her mother, but not so much her father. Never having a mother, she didn’t know what it was like to having a relationship with one. But having a father, especially with one like hers, she wasn’t very eager to have a new relationship with someone who was trying to be her father after her unfortunate times with her previous father. In doing so, she was able to learn how to cook, and her mother graciously allowed her to be mentored by the nurse of the manor, along with all of their other personal staff. Even after being showered relentlessly with gifts from her adoring adoptive father, she found herself unable to come to terms with the fact that she had another father, especially remembering her history with her birth father. As she grew older, she grew closer to her mother, and by this time, most of the staff from her childhood had taken leave and been replaced, along with the nurse and half of the team of cooks. She was also now going to a med school and working as a receptionist at a hospital. She couldn’t be happier. She was almost done with school, and she was perusing her dreams. It was then that the man who proudly declared himself her father got very sick. She knew simple first aid, and that fateful day, she face upstairs to find her mother sobbing as she no longer felt her husband breathing. She begged her daughter to do something. Anything. And she easily could have.

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Brothers and Bank Heists

Pairing: Jason Todd (version unspecified) x F!Reader

Warnings: Jason being angsty, mentions of crimes, guns

Word count: 937

A/N: Here’s part 6 of Castle of Glass! I know I said I would post a Convenience blurb today, but I wasn’t going to have time to edit and post this tomorrow. So, I’ll be posting the convenience blurb tomorrow instead. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Ko-Fi

Jason had never wanted to slap himself more. Y/N had been in his lap, her fingers tangled in his curls, kissing him in a way that made him feel like he might combust on the spot. She had felt so good beneath his fingers, like everything he ever dreamed she would be. But then she had moved to take off his tie and he knew his shirt would follow. He couldn’t let her see his scars, remnants of the life he lived, and was continuing to live. The danger of who he was the only thing on his mind so he’d pushed her away and stumbled over apologies before running to get Dick. And he knew Dick could tell something was wrong, and he wouldn’t blame Y/N for coming completely clean and telling Dick everything now.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head as he looked out at the darkened city. His hands twitched over his holsters, practically begging someone to give him a reason to get involved so he could take his mind of what had happened.

Gravel crunched behind him and he spun, gun automatically raised and level with the other person’s head. Dick just raised his hands and gave him a sheepish smile, his eyes hidden beneath his domino.

“What are you doing on this side of town?” Jason practically growled, re-holstering his gun and turning back to face the city.

“You seemed pretty rattled when you ran off, and Y/N was pretty tight lipped about what happened other than saying she had a panic attack on you.” Dick walked closer. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He sucked in a breath through his nose. “I’m fine. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s sleeping in my spare room with Haley.”

“Good.” Jason muttered, hating that his first thought was it was good she wasn’t on her own because she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she was.

Dick hummed in agreement. “But you’re not fine. If this is about what happened last week, we’ll get him again, we always do.” Dick said softly, coming to a stop next to him but making sure to leave space between them.

“That’s the problem, you keep catching him and throwing him back in Arkham, only for him to break out and hurt more people. It’s a never-ending fucking cycle. He needs to die.” Laughing started echoing in his ears and he bit hard into the side of his cheek, grounding himself as the taste of iron flooded his tongue. “That’s not what’s bothering me tonight anyway. What the fuck are you doing going after Black Mask?”

“She told you.” Dick winced.

“She pointed him out while we were dancing. She was under the impression that he was just a mob boss, not Black Mask.” He finally turned to completely face Dick, only for Dick to suddenly find the view interesting.

“I hadn’t got round to explaining all the finer details of his operation.” Dick turned back to look at him. “How the hell do you know he’s Black Mask, anyway?”

Jason sighed. “I did a few jobs for him when I first got back. Look, I’m not proud of it okay. I got out as soon as I realised arms weren’t the only thing he was trafficking. He’s a tricky bastard to get info on, so if you need any help on this, I’m more than willing to pitch in.”

Dick nodded, studying him closely. “Thanks. I might take you up on that, I’d rather not involve B and the others in this one.”

“Alright.” Jason said with a nod.

“It was good to see you tonight. You looked like you were having fun.” Dick said hesitantly.

“You don’t have to keep feeling guilty about my death and pretending to care if I’m happy or not, you know.” Jason had to force the words out and he refused to look at Dick, keeping his eyes on the skyline.

“Is that why you think I’m doing this?” Dick’s shoulders dropped. “Jay, I’m never going to stop feeling guilty about your death, I should have been there for you and I wasn’t because of my stupid pride. And I do care about you. I’m not pretending, you’re my little brother. I want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy after everything.”

Jason had never been more glad for his helmet as he blinked back tears and swallowed thickly. He had no idea how to respond to what Dick had said. But Dick seemed to realise that because he changed the topic again.

“Thank you, though, for getting Y/N out of there when Luthor walked in. You should have seen Bruce’s face, I thought he was just going to tackle Luthor there and then.”

“He would have deserved it.” Jason said.

“He would, but there’s only so much Bruce can pass off as a drunken mistake.” Dick smiled when Jason snorted, before raising his hand to his ear and switched on his comm. “Nightwing… I can be there in 20 minutes, which one exactly… Alright, on my way.” He tapped his comm again and turned to Jason. “Someone’s attempting a bank heist downtown, fancy lending a hand.”

“God, yes.” He followed Dick, glad for the distraction.

Part 7

Taglist: @fives-coffee-cup @xnorthstar3x @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @literally-a-ferret​ @thomaslefteyebrow @elleclairez @shimmeringgrim

(shoot me a message to be added/removed)

[myrcxlla]

Of Killers and Devils

PROLOGUE

Driven by a tradegy that has haunted her for most of her life, after the death of a notorious clan leader, Nakai Tanako rises to the top with just one goal in mind. Vengeance.

Saturo x Fem!OC character, (mentioned/assumed) Nanami x Fem!OC character

Warnings/triggers: angst, murder, mentions of cannibalism, cheating, violence, death/gore, dub con, non con, forced pregnancy, miscarriage. This story does not have a happy ending.

"2 years before Yuji Itadori"

AFTER ALL, KILLING HIM WAS THE PEACE SHE NEEDED. Her knuckles tightened as the twist of her wrist arose deadly thorns of gore from her fingers, and when her eyes widened, blood gushing from his neck and dousing the skin of her forearm, she was hit with a wave of satisfaction that she chose to hook her technique’s sharp blade into his carotid artery. Fatal enough to ensure his death, but slow enough where she got to enjoy watching every last second of her father’s miserable life drain away, taking one pathetic breath with him.

She knew it would take mere seconds for him to fade into dust, pleading, but that's all she needed.

Just a few seconds.

Long enough for the wretched man to stare into the eyes of the monster he, and every other member of the clan birthed by the dark intentions and desires of others, helped create. The living incarnation of sins coming back to sow justice for a girl who once dreamed, and another who loved.

He begged for mercy once more. Just loud enough to send birds flying and the ruins of a home creak in pity. She stood crouched on top of him long enough for the high of his bloodshed to fade. Her hand wrapped around what was left of his neck, the other lengthened in long ropes of thorns, slowly dispersing around her entire body, waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for an apology. But the only thing that came was the chill as his blood cooled on her skin and the knowledge that not even toward the end, her power was cheered. 

“Tanako-sama,”

It wasnt until the door behind her creaked open that she released him, the weight of his guilt and control lifting away as his corpse dropped from her arms. 

“Do come in, Celeste.”

“I’m sorry, it was not my intention to interrupt. But, everyone has already settled in the Grand Room, and they ask for–” the foreign girl of pale blue eyes stared at the body beneath her friend’s feet, “--Mister Tanako. Should I explain to them?”

She grinned. “There's no need. They came at the request of the clan’s leader.”

“So, was it true then? Your plan, Nakai?”

She walked through the empty space of the office and onto the en suite. “It was never a question.” She turned the water and waited until swirls of warmth embraced her skin and began rinsing the blood spatters from her arms. “Of course it was always true, my dearest.”

Celeste nodded. “How did it feel?”

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, and she leaned forward to stare at herself in the mirror. In the corner, Celeste could see the small smile gracing her lips. “How did it feel?” Her heart did not skip a beat while at it. No sudden fire emerging from her fingertips, no stronger power surging from her. “Not as emotional as I thought. Rather boring, I'm afraid. How much did you hear?”

Celeste reached for a towel and dried her arms clean, chasing behind as Nakai walked back into the office and reached for a brand new Haori. The pink one, one her father had gifted her not long before his macabre death. 

“I didn't hear much, just enough,” Celeste chuckled. “It is not surprising, you are the hardest person to please.”

She smirked as she allowed Celeste to place the garment over her bloody kimono, before she headed back to stand over her father. She gazed down at him, his black eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, his mouth opened and petrified, much like he always forced hers to be. 

She laughed, a great, silly laugh. “Funny is all.”

She kicked his leg out of the way, his hideous crocodile boots splashed in the blood that pooled beneath his body. “Things go a little messy, though.” Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Will the head of the Gojo clan show up this time?”

“Saturo Gojo is here, and he wishes to speak to you, privately, afterward.” Celeste answered, following like a lost puppy behind its master. “Don't worry about the mess, I'll take care of it. Will you speak to him this time, or will you have me do it?”   

A spark of hope shone in her eyes, but the sudden chuckle from Nakai made the smile on her own face disappear. "I will speak to him. In the meantime, I need you to find Geto for me, tell him I will support his cause."

Celeste seemed to stop, breathing only sightly.

"Support?"

She nodded, without responding, and allowed it to sink that this was the last moment she would ever spend in the presence of her father. His little girl, innocent, naive, Nakai, is at fault for his death. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, searching for a silver string of regret. 

There was none.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound broke the silence and it made her gag, repulsed, scratching from her insides and the vile she was forced to hold down in the back of her throat. “Celeste,” she called. “Hand me that.” She pointed to the golden watch on her father’s limp arm. 

Celeste did not hold for a moment. She kneeled down and pulled the handkerchief from her breast pocket, then reached for the shiny, date watch. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Nakai placed it around her wrist, despite the anger surging from the pit of her stomach, she embraced it as her own. Once a little girl who admired the godly thing, now wore what her father most loved. It was a final ‘fuck you!’ to him, at least. She straightened her back and took a deep breath, then stroked long locks of black away from her face. 

In the peak of it all, with gentle pulls of her hair and the braid that formed behind her neck and caressed her back, Celeste watched her. Their relationship was often mistaken, but never by them. To Celeste, Nakai Tanako, daughter and heir of the Sacred Clan, was her beloved and trusted friend. 

To Nakai, however, Celeste was only her servant. 

A simple monkey at her command.

“What should I do with the body?” 

Her features were covered by the shadows of the cold room, but the smile on her face seeped through with a horrifying resplendor. “Don’t care,” her voice was too sweet as she began to walk out the office. “Leave him to rot. Erm, better yet…” she singsonged, “Feed him to those pigs in the Grand Room. Save the best for Gojo.” 

[spacenintendogs]

3 10 16or 17 for the httyd asks!!

3. Did you play School of Dragon? If so, what dragon(s) did you have?

i tried back in 2018 but my laptop couldn't handle it. i never got past the tutorial with toothless and immediately uninstalled it and then was still devastated when they shut it down :')

10. What are your favourite songs from the soundtracks?

the big 3: forbidden friendship, test drive, and romantic flight.

see you tomorrow is a BANGER

all of the jonsi songs!!

once there were dragons is also so good... listened to that on repeat after i saw the hidden world in 2019

16. What is your favourite plot arc?

edit: i realized this said plot arc and astrid's character arc doesn't rlly count but for plot arc: hiccup & snotlout's arc of learning to respect each other more in riders/defenders of berk. basically the screaming death arc!!

astrid's in the first movie... it's near perfect and her role in the story is so vital bc her mind being changed makes stoick's mind being changed so much more believable. astrid's arc is such an interesting throughline to see the movie through. astrid being the most viking like of the teens and taking everything so seriously only to decide to give hiccup a chance (yes she was hanging off a tree rlly high off the ground and then only apologized bc toothless was whipping her around as payback for her attitude lol) but once toothless calms down that's when astrid rlly sits back and gives toothless & hiccup a chance & you just. see her relaxed for the first time in the movie and smiling so wide and it's SOOOOOOO. i love her so much.

17. Do you read or write HTTYD fanfic? If so, give some recommendations!

i do both!!

for reading, i haven't done a lot & i am kinda particular abt what i read (i heed tags & stuff seriously!! they're there for a reason!!) but!! from recent memory & my bookmarks

promises, promises is by @artinandwritin and it's abt her httyd ocs and @beebooca's oc set post the hidden world (except the dragons are still there!!) and it's such a fun exploration of the effect things can have on oc characters based on what happens to the canon characters they're connected to!! it's very good (and i am honored to have helped beta read :'))

translations by @bignostalgias is a hijack fic where jack frost ends up on berk after following silver dream sand (and ends up becoming "alive" again) and there's the whole thing where he's confused abt how berk exists and seems to be behind modern day and dragons exist. everything is so thought out and carefully put together and i just can not wait for more!!

frowny kisses by @tysonrunningfox bc my snotstrid loving ass adores those losers so much and op has got them DOWN!! the original snotstrid person fr fr i am begging y'all to pls check out their stuff!!!!!!!!!

also fics by @eemoo1o-tfrmoo & @kolasharkattack are also rlly rlly good!!!!!!

and yea i write fics lol but i go through spurts of YEAH UPDATE LET'S GO WOO and then quickly losing steam & updates come rarely even tho they take up so much space in my brain bc writing hard :')

the summer snotlout jorgenson got laid is tied to my modern au & it's abt the brief period astrid & snotlout decided to try dating & obv they break up but hey. unrestrained summer fun :)

burn is a series following astrid & snotlout's friendship. there's only 2 fics rn but windburn is complete and heartburn is a work in progress. i have a few fics for series stewing around in my brain as well but!! yea!!

then there's the calm dragon nip provides which is basically my fishlout smokes weed fic and it's not even a year old yet & tbh i'm not happy with it at all but i don't regret it enough to delete it. u can read it if u wish but i'm not proud of it. c'est la vie.

and those are my most recent fics!! and then my docs are just. full of incomplete bullshit lol <3 ty!!

[sseanettles]

For the WIP ask game, oh you know I'm going to ask for more on Ruin. 😁 This series is my Dreamling life blood at the moment.

ohhhhh @windsweptinred yes, yes indeed, I did know you were going to ask for more on Ruin, but what to give you, what to give you, what to giveeeee youuuuuu....

you know what. you have been my biggest champion of nothing grows in corpses and this AU-verse as well as my buddy in "actually Hob and Dream are incredibly cruel and destructive and selfish people and we shouldn't whitewash that, it's a feature not a bug." So I think I'm gonna quickly do some typing and give you That One Fucking Scene where everything falls apart and we hit rock bottom as a reward. (this is a first pass draft below the cut so apologies for any errors or slight OOC-ness)

Gwen has been planning to leave Hob for a couple months now, as it has become clear that this is a dysfunctional dynamic that Morpheus and Hob can’t help but be bound to. She got a job offer at a university back in the States anyway, and he needs to stay here. What she’s planning to tell him (and what she’s practiced with Matthew) is a variation of “Morpheus needs you, and you need him. I need someone who can be present for my lifetime. Because I only get the one.” But then, Destruction comes for dinner. She never gets the chance to use it.

BIG spoilers and long excerpt ahead for ruin (of bitten lips and broken hands). The chapter song will be 2WEI's cover of Crazy for those who like to play along. and...tag warning for gore, violence, and discussions of assault. Talking about Nada's canon gets harder after all the NG fuckery but in light of that especially, I do not shy away from it.

+++++++

Hurt him, the voice, that voice, seethed within him—gnashing its teeth with black eyes and paper-white skin and hair as black as the pitch that filled the throats of animals and men mired alike in its fields until there was nothing left to do but gasp for air and die. Simpering, sickening, make him SEE—

Make him see that which he proclaims he loves in the blackest of mirrors.

“I killed my son, yes,” Murphy agreed, proclaiming the words with something that could almost be called pride, and he saw the flinch in Hob’s eyes as he spoke. Saw the confusion, the uncertainty at his delivery in response to what the man had intended to be context to behavior, not proof of Morpheus' malice. Oh, how blisteringly wrong the low-born idiot was, and when he continued, there was no more Murphy. There was only the truth.

Only Morpheus.

“But I disowned him first.” He stepped closer. Gadling’s balance tipped further, unsteadied. Morpheus’ lips curled, baring teeth like fangs, and he let that light into his eyes that he had kept smothered for so long in this suffocating home: that light of Endless righteousness. “Left him dismembered and begging for the mercy of death and refused him it when I was one of the few who could grant it.” He guided his advance by the backs of the stools at the kitchen island, by the chair Destruction had left pulled out at the table when he had bid his farewell, both too early and too late in his departure. He closed in on Gadling like a predator, like a spider upon a web the humans were only now seeing had been spun about every inch of their home far, far too late. “And when I did grant it?” Was he smiling? Grimacing? Laughing with the tears of the unhinged and anguished in his eyes, with the heat of a manic king? Morpheus could not tell, but his face was doing something, his blood boiling in his veins with the same wild, untethered thing that twisted within him in the way that Destruction laughed and laughed and laughed and— “I did not do so until it served my purposes.”

Gadling looked distinctly ill. Gwen was not far behind him, her normally warm cheeks taking on a decidedly more ashen tone as she stood there with one hand still braced on the counter, near the cutting board and the barely touched bird sliced open upon it.

Perfect. Ill was what Morpheus wanted, disgusted was what he wanted. Enough of this charade, of this pretending. Gadling wanted to preach of his missteps, of betraying his evolution? Gadling wanted to scold him? In the same breath that he championed themselves?  Their journey?

Then, let the charlatan face that which he upholds.

“I damned a woman to hell for no greater crime than refusing to love me,” Morpheus spat, drawing closer still, his hands clawed and shaking. Gadling stood tall, unmoved not with conviction but with the paralysis of the doomed deer in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. But there was no truck, there was only his Stranger before him, stooped and unfurling like a kettle about to explode. Morpheus’ words came faster, unraveled, more impassioned. “Condemned her for thousands of years—starving, alone, tortured, in agony for millennia.” Hatefully. “For exercising her right to consent!”

None of this was news to the immortal; he had seen it himself in the prison of Fawney Rig. And yet, Gadling’s face had grown as flat as stone. He scarcely seemed to breathe, and somehow the dispassionate response only fueled the molten rage burning away the fallen Endless’ insides. The heat fissured through to the surface, turning his skin brittle and fractured until it was tearing him apart. Morpheus laughed, his eyes creasing, and something as searing as acid cut its way down his cheeks as he did. He dragged himself forward another step by the guideposts of the furniture. His hands shook. His legs trembled in kind, and he forced them to steel.

“I let a universe burn into madness because I could not kill a single child, my pride and my principles were to great a treasure to me,” he intoned, slowly drawing his stooped height up to its full towering form. “I rotted in a glass and iron sphere for a century rather than succumb to my pride and plagued the world with my absence! Robbed millions of their lives, robbed the Kincaid family of normalcy and joy!”

He was so close to Gadling now. Close enough to strike him, and he threw a hand toward the man—a damning, condemning jab, as the furnace blew.

“AND YET YOU FAWN OVER ME, EVEN NOW!” Morpheus bellowed, and Gwen screamed at his sudden, uncharacteristic roar, something clattering across the counter behind Gadling’s back. The mercenary seemed to grow taller and broader at the sound, interposing himself squarely between them.

Between the halves of his heart, Morpheus sneered, and went for the kill, grabbing the man by fistfuls of his shirt front.

“YOU!” Gadling grunted, startled, and took a half-step back only to come up short beneath Morpheus’ stunning strength—an evolution he had kept a carefully guarded secret in this prison of a home. Gadling’s eyes flashed, taking him in head-to-toe in the manner of a soldier, a killer, and not a friend, and Morpheus’ eyes burned brighter at the returning grip that seized his wrists on fighter’s instinct. He laughed again, mocking, scything, aching. “My only friend,” he sneered, almost sing-songy, fracturing, and once again the acid cut its way down his sharpening face, “a human who profiteered over the slavery of other humans, the chattel of Africa—”

He felt the shift in the man beneath him. Felt the grip go from steadying to defensive, from stilling to get the fuck away from me, and he struggled to hold fast as Gadling tried to push him away.

“—who acquired a wife and son as if they were naught but more trinkets to collect—” Gadling tore his hands free and slammed him back a few steps with open palms to the chest—his face, god his face, it had gone pale, his eyes wide, red, stop, stop, too far—

Morpheus caught his balance easily; his stance braced, battle ready, to Gadling’s own, and he glared blindly into his friend’s setting face.

Destroy him.

“A GLUTTON!” he finished in a roar. “And yet!” Morpheus spread his arms, laughing, laughing, laughing—crying, you are crying, stop, breathe— “He preaches to me!”

Gadling was trembling. Head to toe, the man was trembling, his face going from pale to now dark with abject rage, his hands curling into fists, his arms tensing to iron in turn, his back heel grinding as his knees began to bend, and Morpheus’ chest heaved. His mind had gone fuzzy and beyond the bounds of control or sanity. He knew where to go next. He knew, precisely, where to go next, where he had to go next, to destroy this man at his very core, to take a sledgehammer to the last, threadbare beam holding his illusion together like glue and tape—

Destroy him.

He took the breath…

Destroy me.

And the plunge to follow.

“And your latest conquest?” Morpheus prompted with a mocking, taunting saunter back into the man’s reach, a chin jerked toward Gwen where she was still ducked behind him. “Is she merely a method by which you can alleviate your guilt or—”

Pain split across Morpheus’ mouth, his lip scything open on his teeth that knifed with white-hot pain all the way through his skull as something cracked, his nose shattering into a spray of hot blood and crunching agony—

His head snapped back, and he hit the ground just as hard, the air and his words knocked from his chest in kind. And as the stars and the tears cleared from his eyes, Morpheus worked himself up onto his elbows. Gadling loomed above him. His right hand was splattered with their blood, split where the knuckles had struck teeth, and his chest heaved, setting his whole body trembling with the depth of his fury.

“YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT HER!” Gadling’s rage shook the very rafters, echoed clear out onto the street even through the closed windows, left their ears ringing, and Morpheus lay beneath it in silence, slowly touching a hand to his wounded face. “YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT ELEANOR! YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT ROBYN! YOU DO NOT SAY THAT ABOUT LIZZIE!” He paused, his breath stuttering, his body shaking so terribly that for a moment words failed him until his teeth bared in a clench. His eyes glittered. “BUT YOU ‘SPECIALLY DON’T SAY THAT ABOUT HER!” His hand swung around to point toward the last place he had seen Gwen, the rest of him remaining fixed upon his Stranger, and he glared down at the man beneath him as if he could not fathom his very existence, as if he were a wholly alien species, unknown and unknowable to him, disgusting. Incomprehensible. “AFTER EVERYTHING SHE’S DONE?!”

What an impressive display for such a hypocrite, Morpheus glowered back at him. He lowered his hand from his nose and lips as he forced himself back up into a reclined seat, balanced on a single arm with his weight tipped onto his healed hip. His fingers were coated in rapidly darkening red, and he felt the blood coursing down his face, soaking into the black of his shirt, never to be seen again, and spattering the wooden floors. He spat out a mouthful of blood, licked his lips with a reddened tongue, and looked up.

When he did, it was not at Gadling.

“Has he told you?” he panted, his eyes dark, his voice a sickening combination of goading and truly wondering. “Has he told you all he did on those ships of his? To your ancestors?”

Gwen gulped and stepped back from him on shaking legs, jumping near out of her skin as she hit the cabinets, and immediately swung the carving knife to point down at him, gripped in two trembling, pale-knuckled hands.  

Murphy just laughed, fragile and mad and mocking.

“Do you know, truly, the man with whom you share your bed?” he pressed and saw in his periphery the way Gadling’s expression changed. “Or has he got you fooled with his stories of woe and regret?”

His final words grew wicked and sharp, deriding, and his matching gaze slid from the shaken Gwen to Gadling as the man let out some kind of twisted, whimpering exhale.

His face…his face was a most exquisite betrayal, as if Morpheus had just plunged a knife into his very heart down to the hilt and twisted. His hands had gone limp at his sides, the fingers still trembling but slowly unfurling from their fists. His shoulders still heaved with battle breaths, those gulping, grounding things that filled your head with oxygen and your limbs with energy, yet every bone in him seemed to be fracturing. Every muscle seemed to be losing its strength, and his eyes….

His eyes were so very filled with heartbreak.

“…How could you say that of me—”

“Were you on the ships?”

Gadling froze at the sharp, wavering demand, his own achingly genuine question to the man he had laid out on the floor dying on his lips. And he followed Morpheus’ unblinking, dark eyes to slowly, oh so very slowly, turn on his heel.

Guinevere stood where she had been stood before, backed against the cabinets with the knife held before her in both hands. But where once she had been terrified, defensive, holding the room at bay with shaking hands, her stance had firmed. She was no longer recoiled against the wood but braced against it. Her eyes had recovered some clarity, some strength, and both sharpened the longer the silence dragged on. Her grip on the blade adjusted, eased from throttling to sure.

“What?” Hob asked.

Her eyes never wavered from his, and she took a step forward, gesturing between him and Morpheus with the blade. The silver gleamed in the warm glow of the island lights, and Hob watched it move with a prowling of disquiet deep in his gut.

“You told me that you profited off the slave trade,” she accused. “That you owned the ships that stole my people across the Atlantic, took cotton one way and my ancestors the other. And I thought…” Hob watched her, held her glittering gaze with quiet somberness. Her chin trembled on her next words, the shine in her eyes brightening. “I let myself think….”

“But the shit you’ve described,” she gritted out and swiped at her eyes with her free hand, “the things you knew they did…” She pointed to him with the knife again. Took another step forward until she was standing alone on her own strength, with no wall to hold her.

Gadling did not move so much as a finger; his breaths grew careful, damp. On the floor, Morpheus grew extraordinarily still, shrunken back toward the floor, as if rendered to stone, and watched all that was unfolding with unreadable eyes.

Guinevere no longer held the room at bay.

She just held the room.

She took another step forward. And she repeated her question, the wobble in her voice worsening even as she tried to embolden her stance, tried to square her shoulders and stand tall.

“Were you on the ships?”

Robert Gadling beheld the woman he loved, with her microbraids and her beautiful, dark skin that smelled of coconut oil and her earth-after-rain eyes and the stray bits of paint around her cuticles that she hadn’t quite managed to clean away. He beheld her height, her strength, her soul, her gorgeous face that had the most beautiful smile and laugh now caught in a horrible moment of realization and denial. Her artist’s hands that were now clenched around an implement of cooking turned lethal weapon….

He slowly raised his hands to his shoulder. Her chin shook and then clenched shut, and she shook her head in a vicious denial.

“Gwen,” he started, quiet, apologetic, placating, and she took a final step forward, bringing him to a standstill with the point of her carving knife.

“WERE YOU ON THE SHIPS, YES OR NO, GADLING?” she screamed.

Silence rang in her wake. Morpheus’ heart was in his throat, his words all dried up inside him as if they had never been there to start with, and he watched Gadling’s back as the man took a deep breath and slowly released it. He could see Gwen’s control spiraling, her mind buckling under the realization of what was coming, the inevitable truth, the truth Morpheus had forced to the surface. Her second hand came up to support her wrist, to steady the blade, and the tears in her eyes neared the tipping point. But still Gadling did not speak. He only stared at Guinevere, held her anguished eyes, held his hands where they were at his shoulders, and breathed.

What was he thinking? What was he doing, what was he—

Robert Gadling beheld the woman he was partly responsible for creating, seeing through her to her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, her great-great-grandmother—to whoever it was that his industry had kidnapped from her home, whisked away to be little more than an animal bound in servitude and cruelty until death. The true answer to her question was a complex one. It was a simple one. And there was a way to say it that would shatter her heart but end with the knife clattering from her hands to the floor as she sobbed and wailed and screamed at him to get away from her as he moved on well-meaning but ill-timed intent to comfort her. There was a way to handle this that did not end in brutality.

But the corner of his mouth itched to smile, to crack open wide like the pavement artist and laugh and laugh until he cried, until he sounded manic and battle-mad and hollow…so very hollow.

There was a way to handle this that did not end in brutality.

But that was not how Robert Gadling wanted this to end. And so, with his last full, painless breath, he answered Guinevere’s desperate cry with the bluntest, simplest truth he could. He gave her a small, sad, I’m so sorry, love, I’m so, so sorry smile—a tragic acceptance, an I forgive you for what you’re about to do, an it’s okay.

He shook his head. Let out that breath in a heavy, sepulchral sigh.

Where you on the ships, Gadling, yes or no?

“I started it all.”

The pause as Gwen processed his words, as she struggled to parse the reply to a yes or no question, as she realized what he had just admitted to, the implications of it, seemed to last an eon. The way her face frowned, first in bafflement, in dismay, in refusal, in rage, in anguish—all the stages of grief switching between each other like a flip book repeating endlessly, mis-bound in the wrong order—it filled Hob’s heart with a sickening lead. But in truth, it took no more than a breath, for he had not completed his next inhale before her tortured countenance made its choice.

And on the floor, Morpheus’ heart stopped beating as Gwen loosed an anguished, desperate scream. It echoed from her very soul, raked its nails up her throat as it tore from the fibers of her heart. It spilled the tears from her eyes, left her eye-teeth bared like fangs, and the grief of generations turned to pure anger as, in a single, life-changing moment, their beloved lady of Camelot moved.

Gadling let out a strangled, animalistic wail of pain as a single line of slicing agony split open his abdomen, and he stumbled back, crashing into the island counter and the stools, as his hands clutched for the source of the pain and immediately found themselves full of something writhing and hot and thick like sailing rope. Something that could not seem to stop expanding, that just poured and spilled, meters of it, endless—

The scream came again, and he forced himself to meet Gwen’s hate-blinded eyes, forced his arms to remain at his eviscerated gut, cradling his spilled intestines rather than defending himself, as she followed him down and stabbed the blade down again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again—

They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, a wet splat of blood and viscera and flesh and bone, and Guinevere was left straddling a mess of blood and gore where once there had been the man she had loved. His gut had been split from nearly hip to hip, leaving his innards to spill out, to entangle his hands and bind them in his own sinew and flesh. Even now, she could see the intestines moving, the peristalsis causing the organs to shift and squirm in his twitching hands like snakes. His eyes were still open, still blinking through the blood spray that had flecked into his lashes. They looked agonized, terrified, yet somehow accepting all the same. His mouth, filled with blood, continued to try to swallow, to push the pulsing crimson from his airway with his tongue to no avail, and when he coughed, weakly and growing weaker, the blood sprayed and bubbled. His ribcage, riddled with holes, sputtered and quaked as he tried, even now, to breathe through lungs that could not expand, could not deflate—that could only drown and drown and drown. His legs beneath her twitched and kicked, desperate for air, for the fear to be gone.

Drowning, he had once told her. Always hated drownin’ the most.

And as she stared down at him, she saw not the individual pieces of horror detached from context, not the murder of a man who had had it coming for centuries, not the murder of one of the founding fathers of chattel slavery, not justice. Not peace.

She saw the crimson-soaked blade clenched in her shaking hand yet held aloft for another strike. She saw her other hand fisted in the ribbons of his shirt, a shirt they had picked out together last summer break. She saw the blood drenching her clothes, her thighs, could taste it in her mouth.

She saw Robert.

She saw Robbie.

And Morpheus watched the scene in silenced, terrified horror from his paralysis on the floor as Gwen’s mask of rage faltered to a mirror of his own, and she began to wail. Her hands clapped over her mouth, smearing her face with Robbie’s blood, the killing blade still clenched tightly in her fist. She pushed herself off of him, slipping on and crashing to the blood-soaked floors in the process as her sneakers transformed to ice skates in the viscera.

“Uh-uh,” she begged, whimpering, shaking her head desperately, “nuh-uh, wh-what did I—wh-what did I—no! No, mm-mm, no—” The word drew out in a choked-back wail, and she scrambled to her feet, fleeing, as she saw the tears falling from Gadling’s eyes that watched her even now. “No! Nononono—”

And, the knife still clenched in her hand, Guinevere bolted.