#gradually succumbing to his own dark desires.

[cruoren]

one thing about kylo is that he'll argue and throw hands. you're a jedi? he's criticising the code. sith? he's criticising the code. lovecraftian space horror? lightsaber is ignited. truly, a menace to the cosmos.

[dailynnt]

CAPTIVE OF HIS ATTENTION

♡ Summary: You're an art and design student at Seoul National University, trying to maintain your independence and focus on your studies. Your peaceful life is shattered when you meet Jungkook , a charismatic, stubborn, and unpredictable guy who pairs up with you for a group project. He starts to annoy you by challenging your principles. Jungkook, who loves to be the center of attention, uses his charming and playful nature to play with your feelings and control the situation. You are constantly trying not to succumb to his manipulations, but gradually you find that his influence on you is becoming stronger and stronger. The relationship between you is a game of power, desire, and sensation, where each tries to leave their mark without letting the other take over completely. But will you be able to maintain your independence, or will Jungkook eventually make you his?

♡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

♡ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

♡ Age restrictions: 18+

♡ Relationships: ⚤

♡ Number of part: SNEAK PEEK

♡ Tags: university life, students, from enemies to lovers, everyday life, mild longing, sex, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, smoking, profanity, tags will be added as the story progresses

♡ From the author: Guys, I want to share with you the announcement of my new project when I finish working on Friends within Touching Distance. This is an interesting idea that came to me while reading the comic. This story is also supposed to be a series, but I don't know how many parts it will be. I would appreciate any feedback, but also please let me know in the comments if you like my idea 🙏🏻🥹💜

♡ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

SNEAK PEEK

The library was quiet, filled only with the soft rustle of pages turning and keyboards clicking. In the farthest corner, where time seemed to stand still, Jungkook and you sat down at a table. Your determination to complete the project was evident in every movement, while he seemed to have come here just to pass the time.

“It's a great place,” he said, stretching his words. “Quiet, cozy. I'd even say it's perfect for... sitting and a little sleep.”

You put the papers down, looking at him reproachfully.

“Do you really think it’s work like that? If you don't make an effort, I'll just not put your name on the project.”

Jungkook smiled, leaning slightly toward you.

“And then what? Aren't you afraid that I'll convince the dean and my name will be there without question? I'm sure this project will be the best in the class. And it's all thanks to me.”

You sighed, unfolding your notes.

“Your reputation speaks for itself. I think the dean will be more likely to believe me.”

His eyes sparkled and he laughed.

“You sure know how to hold your own, Y/N. It's kind of fun.”

You didn't answer, staring at your laptop. Your fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, and your gaze remained stern and focused.

Jungkook propped his hand on his cheek and began to look at you. In the soft light of the lamp, your features seemed almost perfect: your dark blonde hair was carelessly tied back in a ponytail, and a few strands were playfully falling over your face. Your lips, slightly pursed from concentration, looked as if they might say something harsh at any moment.

You looked pretty sexy. Your figure was attractive. Jungkook looked at your breasts and noticed that they were the perfect size for him. He would like to see them without all these clothes you are wearing. Trying them to taste. How could he not notice you before? You are full in his taste.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he suddenly asked, not looking away.

You froze, your hands stopped on the keyboard.

“Do you care?” you answered dryly, not looking up.

He leaned closer, almost crossing the invisible line between you.

“I would say yes. I'm wondering what kind of guy you would choose. Probably some bookworm who also likes to sit in libraries?”

You looked up and your eyes sparkled.

“It’s none of your business at all.”

Jungkook smiled wider, noticing you blush slightly. Your ears turned red, and that only fueled his curiosity.

“Why are you blushing, Han? Did I make you think something? Did you imagine me as your boyfriend?”

You immediately turned away, hiding behind your laptop screen.

“You're too confident. You're not attractive enough for me to think of you as my boyfriend, Jeon.”

He laughed again, but this time his voice was lower, more intimate.

“And you seem to know how to make me interested.”

His words sounded as if he were challenging you. Your heart beat faster, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

“If you think that such tricks work on me, you are mistaken,” you replied, trying to sound cold.

Jungkook leaned back, looking at you with satisfaction.

“We'll see.” He said quietly.

He realized that you were not like the others. Your reaction to him gave him a strange desire to test you even more. Girls always fall for his words easily, not to mention those who goes wet at the mere sight of him. But you are different, you are cold and indifferent to him. But does it ever happen?

The sexual tension between you has become almost palpable.

Jungkook moved his chair to sit as close to you as possible, pretending to be interested in what you were typing on your laptop. His hand barely touched the table next to you, and it made you tense.

“What are you writing there that's so serious? Maybe I should contribute to the project so you can put my name on it?” he asked calmly, leaning in so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

“I'm trying to finish the introduction,” you answered briefly, not looking up, but your fingers slowed on the keyboard.

“Introduction?” he repeated, as if savoring the word.

Jungkook leaned even closer, almost touching your face. His perfume-with notes of fresh citrus and wood-filled the space around him. He was so close that you could no longer ignore his presence.

“You're too close,” you said dryly, moving away slightly, but not being able to go far, there were only a few centimeters between them.

“Don't you like it?” his voice was quieter, almost a whisper, but that only made him more intriguing. His handsome face was so close that you could see it in every detail. Black eyes like two buttons that looked at you slyly. Long, thick eyelashes. A mole under the lip, which is now clearly visible, lips with a bow with a loose lower lip. They had an attractive pink color. They glistened slightly, as if he had licked them beforehand.

He tilted his head as if he were looking at the screen, but he was actually peripheral vision watching you with a studying gaze. You turned back to the laptop screen, your ears still slightly pink and your lips pursed as if you were trying not to react. You felt him leaning down to your ear, going down to the jaws and taking a quiet, deep breath.

“You know,” he says, “you smell so good.”

You froze, trying to remain calm, but your cheeks betrayed you again, turning even more rosy. You move a few centimeters away and quickly said:

“Will you just move away and stop violating my personal space?”

Jungkook laughed, leaning back a little, but his eyes never left your face.

“You're blushing really cute. It's even nicer than I imagined.” you looked at him angrily.

“You have no respect for other people's boundaries, do you?”

“I respect,” he replied with a smile, “it's just that with you I want to violate them a little.”

His words made you feel confused for a moment. Your heart was pounding, and you hated yourself for letting him influence you even a little. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and put all your emotions aside.

“If you're not going to work, then I can work alone. But you remember what I said,” you looked at him sternly, “then your name will definitely not appear in this project.”

Jungkook smiled again, but this time his smile was a little warmer than usual.

“Okay, I guess I'll have to work a little harder if I want you to keep reacting to me like this.”

“React?” you asked again, raising an eyebrow. “My only reaction is to want to finish the project and never work with you again.”

Jungkook tilted his head as if he was seriously thinking and whispered, leaning into your ear:

“Let's see how long you can stay away.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, and although you pretended not to be affected, Jungkook noticed your breathing become a little faster.

He leaned back, pleased with himself, and took his phone out of his pocket.

“All right, partner. Where do you want to start?”

Feeling your heart beating wildly, you turned back to your laptop, trying to focus on your work.

You knew that working on this project was going to be a living hell for you. And Jungkook would be your main torturer.

☰ Index 𓏧

[alicerosejensen]

Warning: unhealthy relationship; Dark; not a yandere Leon but almost; the reader has no family and friends; Rescuer syndrome (if you look really closely at the very beginning); mentions of alcohol; Dom!Leon; fem/reader; Older!Leon; Mentions of pregnancy;

Summary: He will love you until his death. You are his and no one else's.

A/N: English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Also I don't approve of this crap in real life and if it triggers you, please look at the warning again and skip it. Just because I write doesn't mean it's cool in real life. Build only healthy relationships based on mutual love, trust, compromises without violence.

If you look closely, neither of you two were healthy enough to build a relationship.

Of course you're not a pet. Even if you is devoted to him like a dog whose owner is drowning on the Titanic, and Leon has long been sinking. Of course, he does not consider you an animal and he is sincerely sorry that because of your injuries you cling to him, and he, in turn, succumbs to the selfish desire to keep his girl close to him.

You were so young and alone that, apparently due to your childhood traumas, you sought love from someone who tried to cope with his traumas with the help of alcohol. Leon didn't think he should have touched you at all. In his opinion, everything he touches turns to shit, and he didn't mean to hurt you at all. Besides, he believed that seducing such a young girl, even if you are of age, is almost a crime, however, he could not stop being drawn to you. My God, he’s already turning 40 and you’re a little over 20. Do girls your age hang out with such old men? You should find a young guy with whom you can do all sorts of stupid things while being on the same wavelength, and not cling to his back like a lost child. But in general, it’s not really a fact, but just an observation, but lonely people often have pets to while away their unbearable loneliness. Leon does not have the opportunity to get a dog or a cat, his job means that he spends little time at home, but...

At night, you sleep soundly, throwing your leg over him and reaching out with your arms to hug him. Leon catches himself thinking that he likes to listen to measured breathing and feel the soft skin on his body. His sweet girl... in your sleep you feel how other people's fingers are drawing patterns on your back and you fucking like it. Don’t care about studying, which can open the door to the world of a good career with a decent salary, love into which you dive headfirst is the most beautiful thing that has happened in your life.

And you are ready to hold on to him until the last... Well, actually, just like he does to you.

It’s deep night outside, the bedroom is in wireless darkness, which Leon is so afraid of because of painful memories, but why is he calm now when you’re sleeping so quietly next to him.

"Bunny?" Leon rarely calls you that, but those cute pajamas of yours with the bunny ears on the tank top make him smile, kissing your forehead because your sleep, unlike him, is quite sound.

In fact, he feels like a son of a bitch who sleeps with a girl half his age and, to Leon’s own horror, it’s not even lust. He himself doesn’t fully understand what kind of crap is happening to him, but the point is that he really feels for you... high feelings. At least every day it becomes more and more difficult to let you out of his arms.

But you're sleeping. An absolute angel and Leon wonders if he can mistake your compassion for love? Or do you just have daddy issues? Thinking about this, Leon grins, burying his nose in your hair. He has his faithful “Matilda” in his bedside table, and, in theory, he has nothing to fear, but he is unlikely to be able to live with such crap as before 1998. You planted an obsession for him, gradually nurturing and strengthening it, like a caring gardener painstakingly working on his favorite flower. You yourself cling to him, adjoining him, you are even ready to give up all prospects for your future life for the sake of him alone.

Leon kisses you and strokes your cheek with his thumb, pressing you to his chest, finally closing his eyes and falling into sleep.

Actually, Leon thinks that it’s all your fault. Who if not you?! It’s like you’re deliberately making him worry by putting the phone on silent or calling him back too late, which is why he gradually seems to lose his mind if he can’t be sure that everything is okay. He screams and you cry and apologize to him because you are afraid that he will leave you alone. This is your biggest fear, even if Leon had nothing like that in his thoughts. For heaven's sake, he really hates your tears and he hates feeling guilty about it even more.

"Just don't make me worry anymore" He asks in a soothing tone, pressing your trembling body to him.

And you nod your head, feeling how painful your stomach is from the stress you have experienced and your conflict with him.

"I'll never again...I swear"

You are a stone on his neck, which he in theory can throw off but does not want to. What's going on with you two is clearly not normal. This is immediately noticed by Claire watching how you loyally sit next to him and seem to be interested in nothing but Leon. Seriously, of course, few people from her inner circle like a secular reception, but Claire really thinks it's very strange.

"She's…" Redfield notices your discomfort when Leon walks away to talk to her. However, he himself constantly turns around to look after you while you are nervously sitting at a table with a half-empty glass looking at him with deer eyes. "How old is she? In my opinion, you don't really look like a guy who…indulging in young girls"

Leon squints into Claire's eyes. In truth, part of him realizes that she is saying a clever thought and the other begins to howl unbearably, because you are really the nicest thing that has happened in the last years of his life. So why the hell should he constantly give up his human happiness just because it allegedly does not fit into the worldview of other people?!

"I'm not keeping her forcibly next to me," he replied rudely, and Claire shuddered at the unusual cold tone, "She can leave if she wants to, but she doesn't want to."

Well, who will look after you if even all your loved ones have abandoned you?

The Redfields look disapproving, and when Leon returns to the table in a bad mood, they both see you clinging to his hand, anxiously flapping your eyes, calming down only when he quickly kisses you on the cheek and runs his palm over your back. However, Leon has never really hurt you. After a while, Claire even gets used to this abnormal connection between her friend and his young girlfriend, only rolls her eyes when she sees that Leon constantly sends you messages, checking how well you took care of yourself while he was away.

"She has problems with dad" is a fair conclusion, which Leon deliberately ignored, without commenting on it in any way.

And it wasn't even untrue. With Leon's help, you unconsciously compensated for what you were not given as a child, in turn, Leon himself treated himself with your presence. Because he knows for sure that when he wakes up, you will be next to him in bed, and you will not run away while he sleeps, leaving a paper airplane with traces of scarlet lipstick on his lips and a short signature "See you later", along with the fading scent of perfume in the room. He doesn't need to worry about where you are in the evening, because you are either in the living room watching TV, or in the bedroom, or in the kitchen. No matter what you are doing, the main thing is in his field of vision. If he need to call out to you, then you will respond, and this is the most important thing for him - to know that you are always in close proximity to him.

With each passing year, his control grows, building strict rules.

There is no point in listing them, and Leon knows that you would not violate anything even if you knew nothing about them. Mostly it was just for peace of mind. You walk only with him, don’t lift weights, communicate with strangers to a minimum and... yes, you don’t go to college anymore, because he doesn’t always have time to pick you up from there after classes, well, you can’t say that you were completely against it . There were already enough missed classes for this to become a problem. Anyone's problem but not yours, because...

“I will support you perfectly. My credit card is at your disposal, buy whatever you want or wait for me, sweetheart"

You weren’t a shopaholic, but sometimes you indulged in expensive purchases. Leon never objected.

They took care of you, you didn’t have to study or work, you could sleep until lunchtime, the only important thing was to remain an obedient girl for your Leon, who was too fixated on you. No normal person would consider what was happening to be normal, when you literally cannot leave the house without someone else’s permission. Should you walk to the store for groceries or just a short jog in the morning? Strictly prohibited! Of course you can with Leon, because in his opinion he is a guarantee that everything will be fine with you as long as he is around. You won’t be attacked by some crazy person or a rabid dog, he will carefully check the expiration date on the packages so that his bunny doesn’t get poisoned and other little things that were completely absurd.

It’s remarkable that you were an obedient girl, because your subconscious said that if you make even the slightest mistake, the retribution would be terrible, only the fear was not because of physical violence (no, he doesn’t beat you at all) but because you were afraid that Leon would find yourself another girlfriend, leaving you to choke on your own love or even kill yourself.

Although Leon didn’t threaten to break up with you at all. All lovers quarrel, but you were literally shaking with fear that everything would end, as if the sky would fall to the ground or the sun would stop shining, destroying all living things. No, of course Leon wouldn’t leave you, because his love is no less sick than yours. So his fear is that you'll probably realize he's too old for you, as Claire tells him, and leave for a younger guy. Leon simply cannot tolerate this shit, so he locks you in his house. And still you don't mind.

Leon knows everything his angel likes, from food to your favorite color, which can change depending on your mood. Unlike you, he himself was quite secretive, but you knew well some of his preferences and how to behave when his self-esteem fell through the roof after yet another death at work. Sometimes it was necessary to sit quietly in the next room, but more often just sit on his lap, stroke his head and kiss him. Kiss a lot.

And yet Leon was afraid that you would find a replacement for him.

Therefore, it was necessary to tie you to him so that no one could ever take you away from him. And the only option that Leon saw was to become a father.

“Are you serious?! Damn it, what’s happening to you?! Did she really so calmly agree to conceive a child with you?!”

For God's sake, the way Claire screams makes Leon's ears pop. In fact, only he planned, with only one goal to make you stay with him and fulfill his old dream of a family. But he will say that this was discussed with you and, in fact, you and he even managed to argue about names and what color you would decorate the nursery, which of course was not true, but Claire and others don’t need to know about it.

Leon didn’t even bring up this topic of conversation with you, he just pierced a few with a condoms and, fortunately for him, the result did not take long to arrive. With the first signs, Leon immediately knew that the pregnancy tests would show a positive result and yet he takes care of you when vomit turns your stomach. Like a caring daddy who collects your hair at the back of your head while you spew out everything you’ve eaten and strokes your back, supporting you. A warm blanket, a dim light, a pat on your stomach? It's all for you, baby, and for this little pea inside of you. Leon suppresses a grin, believing that his plan has worked... which is really the case.

"Oh, sweetheart, I hope it's tears of joy, because you don't have a single reason to cry anymore," Leon says when he looks at you crying sitting on the toilet lid, hugging his shoulder, and a positive test is lying on the floor next to you.

Complete shit, but you were crying literally because you were afraid that he would definitely leave now. Fortunately, luck, as you naively believed, has not left you.

Leon did everything to ensure that his little American dream and family were safe under his complete control. Firstly, he immediately said that his child needed more space, although the apartment was spacious enough and the three of them could live here in peace, especially since there was a park nearby, but Leon needed a house. The one that no one will stick their nose into, although in fact, despite the quarrel with Claire and the others, he is thinking of inviting them to the birth of a child. And he's not going to completely isolate you from others. Courses for young mothers, the same walks with a stroller near the house, it was necessary, especially since the baby and mom need fresh air.

You are required to obey and strictly follow all the doctor's recommendations as before. Of course, Leon takes you to all prenatal appointments to make sure that everything is fine, it gives him an unprecedented delight to be next to you at the first ultrasound. Damn, baby, you have to give him a girl! Although he wasn't against the boy.

It is noteworthy that you have never said a word against. After all, everything was fine with you: huge care, a new big house with a small extension for a playground in the backyard, which hinted at the obvious fact that this is your first child with Leon, but not the last. However, how much love he gives you while you are pregnant compensates for all the ailments!

And when you finally give birth, Leon, of course, next to you meets his sweet girl, whose fate, as he thinks, can only be envied. At least now you won’t leave him anywhere, but will forever remain with you and next to you, cherishing your little girl whom he is going to spoil just like her mommy. Leon will put the crib next to the bed, make a new schedule and take a million photos of his happy family.

He adores you and that's all you need. In the end, Leon even admits to himself that he didn’t need the child as much as you, and only Claire and Chris seem to see how abnormal this relationship is.

Only Leon doesn't care anymore.

And you too.

[st-alastors-confessional]

Alright miscreants,

I’m closing asks for now while I catch up on the multitude of confessions I’ve received.

Y’all are so sinful, it’s almost impressive.

I didn’t think this silly side blog would get so popular it’s kinda hot. So thank you for all the wonderful interactions I’ve had thus far!

In the meantime, here’s a scrap of meat for y’all the gnaw on…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Warnings: NSFW RadioApple

Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Saint Alastor and the King of Hell against the wall of his Confessional. Angry sexual tension, Alastors Shadow, tentacles, choking, restraining, power dynamics, sacrilegious as fuck without actually fucking lmao

Enjoy your food ❤️

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

St Alastors grip tightens around Lucifers waist as he pins him against the outside of his Confessional. A new found anger boils beneath his skin, expertly masked by his perpetual smile and steady hands. The cross that hangs around his neck presses harshly into the King’s chest as he leans in closer.

Lucifer hisses through gritted teeth, his nails clawing lines up the dark wood behind him.

“You wouldn’t dare.” the King speaks evenly, challenging his own restraint by not simply charging St. Alastor into the opposite wall and succumbing to his own desires. Instead he remains still, gaze unwavering, feet planted firmly, biting back the unholy hunger he suffered for this man of the cloth.

It’d been weeks since the Saint had returned Lucifers letters or so much as offered a glance in his direction- even his ridiculous grin seemed strained when entering rooms now. Lucifer had started to believe he’d previously been too forward and offended the Saint, or worse: He’d been forgotten about entirely.

In any case, the reasoning behind the Saints cool shoulder was unknown to Lucifer and it hurt him more than he cared to admit. So one night, after a glass of whiskey and an impulsive thought, he marched up the cathedral stairs and confronted St. Alastor directly.

Fury pooled in his gut again.

He is the King of Hell and he will not be treated as a passing thought.

His hands shook and curled into fists, readying himself to slam them into St. Alastors chest, but he stills. The temperature in the room drops, a sudden iciness creeps up his spine. Each shuttered breath is released as white plumes between them.

The heat of St. Alastors body against his is interrupted by a coolness that first coils itself beneath Lucifers shirt, up his torso, and around his wrists without tangible force behind it. Before he can act, his hands are thrown up and pinned tightly above his head.

A shadowed figure stretches out from the darkness and cascades up the wall Lucifer is pressed into. It looms ominously, silently behind him, sharpened by the candlelight of the surrounding room, and arches down beside the Kings head with a snarl. Its talon-like nails run up Lucifers elevated arms, clasp around his wrists, and pull ever so slowly upwards. Lucifers feet gradually lose contact with the floor as he’s dragged up the wall by the unseen force, until he’s eye level with the holy man.

Lucifer shivers as he realises his predicament: He’s trapped between St. Alastor and his shadow.

The Saints eyes are lidded, mouth parted. "Oh, Your Highness,” his demonic voice chuckles softly in Lucifers ear, “Sinners like yourself are not worthy of the holy ground on which this cathedral stands. Do you seek exhalation?" The tendril beneath the Kings shirt, long and thick, travels above his collar and wraps itself around his throat, eliciting a moan as it constricts. A thin line of red slick trails from St. Alastors smile, down his chin, and drips onto the white of his collar, "Show me how you plead, Your Majesty."

The wall groans as St. Alastor leans in firmer still, his mouth inches away from Lucifers. He runs a calculated hand over the shadow-like tentacle encircling The Kings neck, twirls the tail end around his arm and playfully tugs. A soft threat: You are at my mercy.

"P-please. Your... Your Holiness." Lucifers broken words are squeezed out of him. The shadow that grips his wrists squeezes tighter, seemingly displeased by the answer.

“Oh, you'll have to do better than that, Sire." he responds lowly, “You’d be wise not to waste my time.”

"I-" Lucifer strains against the pressure on his throat, "I’ve come to confess."

“Mmm.” St. Alastors long tongue snakes out from between his razor-sharp teeth and licks a slow, wet line across Lucifers exposed collarbone, “Good boy.” he murmurs, “And what do you wish to tell me?”

“I fucking hate you.”

[ladylaviniya]

Lassoed In Love

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: You and Clark are caught by none other than Miss Lara Clark, the person you had originally come for. You learn the girl has a hidden dream.

Pairing: Farmer!Clark Kent X Teacher!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Adults Caught Kissing (No Sex In This Chapter), Slowburn, Teenage Angst, Mentions of Military Pathways.

Word Count: 3k

Author Notes: Please leave a comment about your thoughts, it helps me with continuing or adding ideas. I know the ending and main plot but I don't mind hearing theories and new ideas.

I intend to update every Saturday 10am AEST

Inspiring Song: "Brutal" by Olivia Rodrigo

"I guess I’ll come back later then?” Came a new, young and feminine voice interrupting your blood rushing thoughts, “You could’ve told me you were trying to get laid...I could’ve gone to Jonathan’s house.”

You jerked away from Clark totally at the sound of another person standing at the end of the hallway. She was tall and lean with well rounded muscles on her biceps and calfs, her hair was cut short in a pixie cut, her hair was dark but in the sunlight behind her there was a shimmer of Auburn and reds. Her skin was covered in freckles. She was holding a bucket. It swayed by her side. She wore denim overalls and a collared shirt, around her neck were a pair of headphones connected by wire to a small walkman tucked inside her breast pocket.

She was licking her teeth and scoffed at the look of your surprised expression.

“Anyway...guess I’ll be off shovelling more horse shit.”

She turned to leave before Clark yelled out, “Lara, stay. She came to see you.”

The girls dark brows connected, she sarcastically chuckled and turned back to face you, glancing you up and down, “Why? Does she need a tampon? Got a nose bleed Sweetie?”

Clark cupped your shoulders unexpectedly and seethed over your head, “Don’t be using no sass girl, you know how to properly address a guest. Just cause you’re grounded don’t mean you get to keep acting like a brat.”

You were a guest?

She rolled her eyes. You could hear her father click his tongue. “This here is Miss Y/N Y/L/N, the new schoolteacher. Miss Y/L/N, my daughter, Lara.”

Her mean streak washed away in seconds, “oh...” she put the empty bucket on the floor, she sheepishly asked, “I ugh um...wha-what can I do for you miss?”

Even while battling overwhelming embarrassment of being caught kissing her father, you couldn’t help but be jolted by the way Clark had called you by your last name after that lustful kissing embrace. He was different, instead of being affected by it, he appeared composed and in control as if it hadn’t even happened. Your entire body still quivered with every sensation from the moment, making you want to surrender yourself to the all-enveloping flames that seemed to be licking at every pore of your body.

Instead of succumbing to your desire to fall back into his arms, you remained rigidly still with your arms stiffly at your sides while your face burned. You directed all your attention on Lara Kent instead, reminding yourself that she was the reason you were there. Her resemblance to her father gradually became more apparent as the seconds ticked by.

Her brows, eyes, scowling lip and high cheek bones were a copy paste depiction of his own. Her other features must be that of her mother’s you figured. Lara was also tall like her father, maybe half a foot shorter.

As her pale, gleaming blue eyes met yours, you were struck by something in them unlike anything you’ve ever seen before – a mixture of untamed power and bitter acceptance that gave her a wise yet jaded expression. There was no doubt, she was his daughter.

You extended your hand towards her, eager to have a chat, “I’d really love to chat with you, Lara.”

Her expression remained flushed. She crossed the hallway rug to shake your hand anyway, albeit enthusiastically. “Don’t know why,” she stated bluntly.

“You’re only a sophomore, made it in the top of your KAP and you then you just dropped out of school.” The facts hardly needed to be confirmed by the teenager, but Lara shrugged and nodded. You took a lengthy breath, “Dare I ask why?”

The corner of her lip pulled downwards, she looked at her feet and toed the floor, sweeping invisible dust along, “I just... There ain’t nothing there for me.”

You felt increasingly frustrated by the calm, flat statement the girl made, as you couldn’t discern any hint of uncertainty in her demeanour. It was clear from the way she spoke that Lara had already made up her mind and wouldn’t be swayed. You tried to devise another way to approach her, but Clark’s deep, steady voice cut you off before you could find the words.

“Miss Y/F/N, you can finish talkin’ when you get into some decent clothes. Lara, can you find one of yours or one of my old shirts or coats, something to cover her?”

To your astonishment, the girl looked you over with her old soul eyes. “Why? Where are you goin’ off to?” For a moment amusement sparkled in her blue-diamond gaze, and you chewed your lips together worried about the sinister smirk on her face. Fucking teenagers. Absolutely terrifying.

“Miss Y/L/N crashed her car just out on the roadside, see if I can pull it out of the gulley...get it to the mechanics in town,” Clark added to the list.

“I can look at the car Dad, see what I-”

“Lara,” her father said sternly, “Do as you’re told.”

Your eyes widened, you turn fast and quickly regretted it. You touched your forehead with a soft groan. With a wobbly determination you stated, “Mr. Kent, I really don’t need extra clothes and I am fully capable of calling a tow bar. I really need to speak with your daughter, Miss Kent.”

“No,” he chuffed, “Frankly I don’t trust your expertise in cars or maintenance. I also ain’t lettin’ you leave my damn property covered in blood, and,” his hand snuck around and cupped the small of your back, you could have swooned, “...I’ll gather you need to have a sit down again soon..”

His dark eyes flashed up to his daughter, his voice sharp in authority, “Lara, shirt, now.” Without even glancing at you again, he left your side, put on his broad brim hat stalked out the front door.

With Lara dropping the bucket carefully to the ground, she put her hands on her hips as if ready to draw invincible pistols. She smirked and walked passed you, “This way Miss Y/L/N.”

You continued to follow her into a room down the right at the end of the hallway, passed the stairs.

“Our old clothes are boxed up at the top of my wardrobe, but it won’t take long for me to find something to fit you. You can wait and then change in here though. It’s my room.”

Lara opened the door, and you were surprised by what you’d discovered. You had expected makeup, posters, maybe even a stereo and a messy on the floor or bed...instead you were welcomed by a room you swore was devoid of any teenagers inhabitants.

Just like the living room, the bedroom exuded a old charm with its floral wallpaper and thick wooden walls. The absence of modern music equipment or adolescent clutter served as testament to the maturity of its dweller. A neatly made single bed adorned with a homely quilt stood in one corner, accompanied by a simple straight chair. Next to the bed, a collection of bookshelves stretched upwards to the ceiling, their sturdy construction showcasing expert craftsmanship. The shelves were brimming with books, piquing your curiosity, and you idly glanced over the titles, admiring the interesting collection of reading materials. Maths, mechanical engineering, car model histories, science, and the history of transportation were the biggest themes on Lara’s shelves.

As you perused the shelves, you suddenly realized that most the books had a theme: automobiles. From pioneers like Karl Benz to modern innovators like Tesla, the collection covered the entire spectrum of automobile history. There were books on cars, race cars, motor cycles, military tanks, ambulance vans, and trucks. War-related books detailed battles fought in each conflict since tanks made their debut in World War I. You also noticed books on experimental automobiles and driving techniques, as well as delving into internal design and engine capabilities.

Lara stomped over and shut her curtains, maybe for a sense of privacy in case her father returned and got a peep of something you wished you had shown him before Lara interrupted.

In the centre of the room was a brass metal bed. And before you fell face forward you choice to sit at the edge of the mattress.

Lara glanced over her shoulder, “So whatcha do to your car?” her fingers peaking through the curtains. Perhaps she sore her father and your cat.

Your fingers dug into the blanket on her bed as you awkwardly scratched your chin and mumble, “I accidentally crashed it...in an attempt to avoid hitting a rather big bull.”

She held back a laugh and swayed to the wardrobe, the sound of the rail screeched, “Let me guess...Chief? Odin would’ve ran, he’s a scaredy cat, but Chief is half cow, half dumb brick wall.”

She tore out a thick blue flannel shirt with sleeves that would’ve made you look like a child, it was huge while she held it up on the hanger. She held it out to you.

“Thankyou Lara,” you pawed it close and over your head and torso. You slipped into the oversized flannel shirt, fastening the buttons before rolling up the sleeves that hung past your hands. As the fabric brushed against your skin, you couldn’t help but notice the oversized nature of the garment. It felt as if you were enveloped in a warm embrace, a subtle reminder of Clarks presence even in his absence.

While you struggled to poke your arms through the scratchy material sleeves, you tried to continue the point on why you’d grace the Kent’s doorstep.

The scent of Clark filled your nose as you fiddled with the sleeves. It may have been clean and washed, but his cologne was a powerful scent.

You looked around the room again. On the walls were rows of different family photos. A repeat was of a young girl with a missing tooth smiling pushing a toy truck in the dirt. Another photo for her, she was sitting on a old man’s lap watching a race on a big tar road. And finally one of the same girl bent over, staring at awe at the mechanics of a old ford truck, her face and clothes, covered in grease.

You smiled, the little girl was Lara.

The collection on her shelves was not merely an indication of an interest in cars and the like, but rather, it was a testament to a hyperfixation, an obsession. Obsessions, in general, could either harm or uplift people, as some could lead to ruin, while others could elevate individuals to greater heights and make them shine brighter, burn hotter, and live life more fully. However, when those obsessions were not satisfied, the individual would suffer, their soul starved and their life blighted. If your suspicions were correct, then you might have a way to reach out to Lara and potentially help her return to school.

“So...you like cars?” you asked, then winced at your own pedestrianism.

Lara paused, hesitation in her face. Her eyes glanced at her feet.

“Yea...I like ‘em”

“Have you thought about having driving lessons?”

She blinked at you before snorting with amusement as if you said something truly funny.

“Miss Y/L/N...most kids ‘round here know how to drive by the time they’re ten. I’ve been driving since I was six. Sure, grandpa had to reach the pedals for me but, I grew into them eventually.”

“Oh, right, of course you would...” Where were her grandparents and mother? “Anyway, so why did you decide to quit school?”

She shut the wardrobe harder than you’d like. Her nose flared a little as she breathed. Was she embarrassed? Annoyed? Maybe you weren’t the first teacher to have asked her? Despite this Lara gazed at you pointedly and provided the same stark reply as before.

 “There was nothing for me there.”

Your brows came together, “Nothing else you can learn from or...?”

“Miss Y/L/N, everything I know, I taught myself.”

That shouldn’t have been possible. It sounded unlikely...but...what if..

You paused. “Miss Lang did not-....” you stopped, unsure of how to phrase your own thoughts or inquires.

“I was always ignored,” she stated sourly, “From the first day of grade four I realised that none of the teachers wanted to help me anymore. I wasn’t included. It was like I was outcasted. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions. I am surprised anyone even marked and graded my work.”

It didn’t make any sense to you, “But you were number one in your class? The top KAP. How is that possible?”

“I read, a lot,” Lara explained, her voice filled with passion. “My dad even buys me cassette tapes that are audio books. I’ve learned more here on this farm than I ever did at Smallville middle and high school. Besides, I know the dairy and maize industry better than anyone else around here, perhaps except for my dad. I didn’t learn that in school. This farm will be mine someday, and this is my life. Why should I waste my time in school when it doesn’t involve what I love?”

You took a deep breath and insisted, “Because you love cars more.”

  She couldn’t prevent the avid gleam that shone briefly in her blue eyes, but it was quickly extinguished, “Yea, well, I can’t exactly learn about mechanics and engineering at Smallville High School. Maybe in another life.”

You rubbed the tip of your fingers along the bruise rising on your chin, “How about in this life? Have you thought about taking on an military ASVAB to apply as a diesel mechanic? They can teach you more on hands skills with their vehicles I am sure.”

Lara paled. This time you couldn’t see a gleam of eagerness, but a deep, anguished need so powerful it shook you, as if she’d been shown a glimpse of heaven. Then she turned her head, and abruptly she looked older. “Don’t try to make a fool of me. There’s no way.”

Lara’s face drained of all colour, her eyes widened, replaced by a deep and tortured longing that seemed to consume her entire being. It was as if she had been granted a glimpse of some sort of utopia, something that promised to quench her soul’s desperate thirst. But suddenly, a flicker of doubt crossed her eyes as she turned her head away. She shook her head, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and bitterness. “Please, don’t feed me false hope. I would prefer to be realistic.”

“Why isn’t it realistic Lara? From what I saw in your school folder, the records, your grades are above average. That is more than enough to get you into their programs when you turn eighteen.”

“I dropped out,” she glumly mumbled.

“You can always return.”

“As far behind as I am? I think I would need to repeat this grade, and sorry but, I refuse to sit around and be bullied for it among the other things.”

Other things...it was unclear what those other things were. But every teenager has their own problems and social issues, so you decided not to press any further.

“I doubt you would be that far behind. You will need to catch up and I could tutor you. I’m a licensed teacher, Lara, and I believe I could help you in the classes you need and how to access these supportive programs that could benefit you.”

She chewed her bottom lip and wiped a little sweat from her forehead, “Okay, so, what if I do it?” she muttered. “Dad would be all alone on the farm. What would I do? Join the army and then retire when he croaks?”

You came to her side and touched her shoulder carefully, “Lara, I think your father wants whatever is best for you. If that is your choice, then you can do that. But wouldn’t you like to at least try? Say you tried and gave it a shot, instead of never knowing and always wondering about the ‘what ifs’?”

She straightened, her dark blue eyes fierce, “I guess.”

“Then it’s time to find out, isn’t it?” You smiled.

Lara heaved a sigh, her slender fingers combing through her tousled auburn locks. With a restless energy, she moved to the window, her gaze fixated on the billowing curtains. The rhythmic sway of the fabric seemed to match her inner turmoil. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of longing and resignation, watched the dance of the cloth, as if searching for solace or an answer to an unspoken question.

“Do you really think it’s possible?” she glanced back at you, awkwardly standing in the centre of her bedroom

You nodded, “Of course it’s possible. It isn’t guaranteed, but it’s possible. Can you live with yourself if you don’t try? If we don’t try?”

“If I agreed,” she said, rubbing her hands on her legs, breathing hard, “It would have to be at night. I got my chores around here that have to be done. I can sleep through parts of the day.”

“Night time is fine with me if it will at least get you back in school.”

She gave you a quick look. “You actually mean it, like... You actually cared that I dropped out of school?”

You were dumbfounded, “Of course I care. Lara, teaching is part of my soul,” you began, your voice carried a soft, sombre tone. “When I am unable to teach and know that I’m making a difference, I lose a part of myself. Just as you feel the compulsion to know about vehicles and their inner workings. Isn’t it the same for you? Your fascination with vehicles isn’t just a hobby; it’s a deep-seated need, a part of your identity. If you were to lose that knowledge, to be unable to tinker and understand the machines that you adore, wouldn’t that make you feel like a crucial part of you had died?”

The silence was thick and heavy. And for a shocking moment, you could see the glassy tears gleaming in Lara’s eyes.

“I want it so bad it hurts,” she admitted, her voice raw, her throat bobbed, “so fucking bad Jesus Christ. Sorry for cursing. When can we start?” Her face was blushed and her arms hugged herself.

The bubbling of joy could not be contained. You clapped your hands excitedly, “We can start Monday after school hours. You’ve already wasted enough time.”

You couldn’t help but notice the transformation that was taking place before your eyes, as if the burden of a thousand weights were gradually falling away from Lara’s slender shoulders. She appeared younger, more like the little girl in the photos, and yet, there was an undeniable maturity in her that set her apart from her peers. If working with vehicles truly held such significance for her, you couldn’t help but wonder how it must have felt to have chosen a path that seemingly contradicted her deepest desires.

  TO BE CONTINUED....

    HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[loony-lupus]

Jean won over Eddie's love life. Again. Bwahaha

Thank you, @beauty-4-thebeast for good advise and help!

TW: DARK THEMES, MENTION OF S.A. AND PREDATORS.

Amber Starling: (here) and (here)

Jean Van Burren. Just a gothamite boy who grew up to an abusive mother, he was a victim of sexual abuse from the "friends" of this same mother. Deprived of a childhood and any healthy relationships, Jean grew up a very aggressive and angry teenager. His alienation, rudeness and open hostility towards others scared his classmates and made him an outsider at school.

His only friend was a tall, awkward and very gloomy girl named Amber Starling. They were both considered freaks and bullied by a whole group of bullies. Jean stole candy for Amber when the bullies took money from her and she had nothing to eat and defended her from attacks, was not afraid of a serious fight even despite the obviously losing situation, after which he was beaten and exhausted, laying on the ground.

One day, Amber got tired of watching him suffer and endure pain and humiliation from a group of bullies. Then she lured the main bully into the hands of a predator. After that, being a victim of such violence, Jean broke all ties with her.

Gradually, he got involved with a bad crowd and soon became a hired assassin, known for his brutality and bloodthirstiness. However, over the years, his desire to lead such life faded and, having made many useful connections and lots of blood money, he settled down and opened his own restaurant-cafe called "Guesting at Jonas". He jealously guards the restaurant's reputation as "the safest place in Gotham" and works there with several friends who also have a dark past, which makes the bond between Jean and his comrades even deeper and stronger.

... The building of his restaurant is stuffed with traps, sometimes deadly, so that any hostile or random element that gets there (especially in the depths) without an invitation risks staying there forever...

Jean and his company take their business seriously. And those who know the truth about GaJ's "security system" try to leave them alone.

Edward and Jean have a funny relationship. In addition to the fact that Eddie's crush shares a past with Jean that seriously affected her and she never let Jean go after their separation, periodically secretly stalking him, he is everything that Ed hates. A violent thug, NOT A GENIUS!!! Unable to say a single sentence without inserting a swear word into it. And in general, he behaves like some kind of animal (Jean feels more empathy for animals than for people because he was often equated with a beast). What's even more infuriating is that Van Burren has incredible intuition and defies logic, so Edward has not yet managed to lure him into a deadly trap. Jean is infuriated by such attention from the super-villain, but Amber will eventually receive more rage when the truth about Ed's feelings is revealed. "You scorned the guy. Why am I getting shiet?!" Which will make the situation between Jean and Amber even more awkward...

Ed and Jean kind of remind me of Izaya Orihara and Heiwajima Shizuo from Durarara!! a little bit. For those who don't know, these two characters have been feuding since school. Izaya doesn't consider Shizuo a human, and Shizuo considers Izaya an annoying flea. Shizuo doesn't succumb to Izaya's logic, and Izaya considers him a monster/beast.

...The most offensive thing is that you give out a witty and sharp insult, and this asshole did not understand half of it, did not listened to the other half and blurted out stupidity that successfully got on your nerves...

P.S.: If you wanna know what Eddie says:

"Ha! I can't believe that my informant was once friends with you! What's wrong with her? You're just an aggressive, brainless, dumb monkey! Why aren't you in a cage at all? I mean, you are in a cage now, BUT WHY ONLY NOW? What an irony of fate - to sit across from an underdeveloped animal. Me! Edward Nigma! The genius of our time is forced to look at your dumb mug devoid of any human thought!"

[liaa--qb]

"The Viper and Nightingale game"

[ Dark mean Aemond x strong niece ] part 2

chapter 2 : HER REMINISCENCES

Summary : Rheawina recalls her sweet and sour childhood moments. (We will go through their childhood memories )

Ch 1 : Introduction

chapter 2 :

Huddled beneath her blanket, clutching her pillow tightly, Rhaewina sought refuge in the comforting embrace of her mother. She buried her head in her mother's lap, her tears flowing silently while her mother softly hummed a soothing lullaby. The events of that fateful night on Driftmark, the encounter with Vhagar, and the turmoil surrounding Aemond had left her in a state of profound fear and now his threat.....

Gradually, as her mother's gentle massage worked its magic, a semblance of calm began to wash over her. However, she remained shaken and shocked by the night's events. Rhaewina reflects on what went wrong here.

What mistake did she make for Aemond to transform into such a beast? Why did Aemond suddenly turn into this monstrous figure from the quiet, dedicated boy he used to be? Was he always like this, and she simply failed to see it ?

***********************************************************************

Having nurtured a crush on Aemond throughout her upbringing, Rhaewina never divulged her feelings to anyone. Jace and Luke were more preoccupied with following Aegon's ill-advised actions, never taking Rhaewina and Heleana seriously. They seemed disinterested in everything she and Heleana did, merely finding joy in laughter and play. Though Jace did attempt to concentrate on his training, striving to improve as long as he avoided Aegon and Luke's distractions, unlike Aemond who succumbed to them.

Aemond, akin to the protective brother she had always wished for, consistently stood by her side. He supported both her and Heleana as they grew up, always ready to assist whenever they required anything.

Many times, he quietly stood with them when he couldn't participate in dragon-related activities due to lacking a dragon of his own. While Rhaewina's dragon egg never hatched, it didn't trouble her; she didn't experience the agony Aemond did. He deeply mourned not having a dragon, often speaking for hours about the magnificence of these creatures, causing Rhaewina and Heleana to doze off during his monologues.

In time, Rhaewina's affection for Aemond blossomed. His presence brought her immense joy, and she relished any opportunity to be with him. His striking appearance, with his flowing white hair and his graceful training style, captivated her. Despite excelling, he remained unsatisfied with his performance, endearing him to Ser Criston, who favored him over the other children as his protégé

.Observing Aemond's training in the yard became Rhaewina's daily routine. She even abandoned her dance lessons, citing the desire to spend time with her Grandsire, but in truth, her heart led her to this decision.

Her grandfather cherished watching all the young princes training together, always with Lord Lyonel Strong by his side, assisting him in every way. Seeing her favorite family member, her grandfather, laughing brought her immense joy.

She once overheard him confiding in Lord Lyonel, expressing his wish to possess the combat prowess of the young boys, akin to his father and brother Daemon, but he had never been a skilled fighter. Time had now taken a toll on his health, making it too late for him to change. She never wanted to witness his sadness.

Seeing her grandsire sad was something she vowed never to endure. In the eyes of her grandsire, she held a special place, even her mother dared not scold her in his presence. He playfully took Rhaewina's side in any dispute. It was from that day forward that she decided her dance lessons mattered less than making her grandsire smile. She would rush to the terrace on the east, embracing him tightly. And not only her grandsire but she had also noticed that his trusted companion, Lord Lyonel, took delight in her cheerful company.

A pact had been forged between Rhaewina and Lyonel Strong: her secret of skipping dance lessons was safe with him, a secret he vowed never to reveal to anyone, including her grandsire. Often, he would gift her delectable sweets, specially procured from his own house, which she relished with glee.

On several occasions, she'd teasingly tell him that she had two grandfathers, the king himself and the King's Hand, rendering her untouchable in the realm. His response was always the same: a gentle pat on her head, a soft smile, and a profound silence.

In her heart, she held this trio close as her small, happy family—herself, her beloved grandsire, and Lord Lyonel Strong. They laughed together, basked in each other's company, and savored the view from their elevated vantage point.

But there was one more person she longed to welcome into this cherished happy family, only if... he actually becomes happy for once, that one person who's always having huge anger on his nose, that one person who's stare is always filled with godly arrogance, that one person roaming with sadness and irritation on his face showing he doesn't need anyone whole time, that one person who's training with his wooden sword so hard that it looks like it might breaks right now, that person for who's the actual reason of her missing lessons. Aemond, there he was... doing his daily practice with other kids.

Although she would like to believe otherwise, Aemond was not the sole reason. She cherished this time spent with her small, happy family, but why not enjoy the presence of that one person she yearned to see more often? Wasn't that simply splendid ?

Her 7th name day ;

At a feast celebrating her 7th name day, Rhaewina's friends from House Lannister engaged in discussions about fairy tales and knights. The conversation took an unexpected turn from necklaces to potential husbands. One of the princesses expressed her desire for a handsome knight as her husband. Princess Felicia of House Bracken then stood and shared her wish to marry a Lannister prince, turning to Rhaewina and asking her opinion. This question caused Rhaewina to blush, pondering who she might marry.

After a mischievous pause, Felicia continued, suggesting, "I believe a Baratheon would suit you." Rhaewina strongly disagreed, as she held a negative view of the Baratheons, finding them too impetuous for her liking.

Another friend added, "Maybe a Greyjoy would be a match!" Felicia playfully inquired, "So, who will be your partner, little Rhae? A Greyjoy, Baratheon, or Blackwood? They all have their appeal."

Rhaewina retorted, "Neither Greyjoy, nor Baratheon, nor Blackwood would be my choice. I have no interest in princes from these houses" 

Her handmaiden, Shaila, suggested, "Perhaps the princess will marry within her own house. Targaryens and Valyrians do intermarry, don't they?"

Felicia nodded, saying, "Indeed. In that case, you and Jace will be wed."

Rhaewina vehemently dismissed this notion, stating, "No, I will marry someone else, not Jace."

Felicia argued, "Don't lie; we've all heard about Aegon. He's destined to marry Heleana."

Rhaewina countered, "I don't want to marry either of them. I wish..." She stumbled over her words, then continued, "I think Prince Aemond might be my future husband"

Their shocked reactions were unanimous. Even her handmaiden wore a disbelieving expression. Nevertheless, Rhaewina persisted, "Yes, he excels in swordsmanship more than any other prince. He's handsome, obedient, and always protective of me. He's the second son of my grandsire, who is the King, and I am a Valyrian princess. We are a perfect match, and he's only three years older than me. I believe our parents will make this decision in the future as well. Yes Aemond will be my husband."

Felicia let out a delicate, feigned giggle, capturing little Rhaewina's attention. Quizzing her, Rhaenwina asked, "Why did you do that?"

She replied in an unconcerned tone, "Oh, I did nothing. Your thoughts about Prince Aemond are indeed quite charming."

The other princesses and their attendants joined in giggles, much to Rhaewina's irritation. After all, it was her nameday. Asserting herself, Rhaenwina retorted, "It's not mere daydreaming. Aemond and I are destined to be wed. He will be my husband, the perfect match."

Felicia and her lady-in-waiting Joyce rolled their eyes and muttered, almost in a whisper, "As if Prince Aemond would ever entertain such notions."

Never before had Rhaewina felt this surge of anger, moreover on her nameday. With resolve, she stated, "He will accept it, I'm sure. He cares for me, and we share happiness. I love him dearly."

Joyce shot back with a snide remark, "Are you absolutely certain, Princess Rhaewina, that he doesn't hold any regard for another princess? Perhaps... there?"

Rhaewina fought the urge to shout and cry, but her tiny voice managed to muster, "No! Prince Aemond is always there for me, always protective. He enjoys spending time with me. He even teaching me Valyrian language"

The last part was untrue; he never taught her Valyrian. Though she wished to learn from him, he avoided it. Despite her disinterest, learning the language held significance, as her mother had informed her.

She could have learned it from her mother, her grandsire, or anyone else, just like Aemond learned from maesters, dragon keepers, and trainers. But blinded by love, she missed this chance to spend more time with him, observing how he imparted lessons to Daeron. In that moment, she resolved to learn Valyrian solely from him. Even if she avoided others, she would not skip Aemond's lessons in the language. 

Rhaewina's anger toward her friends' teasing and covert giggles reached a boiling point. She yearned to disprove them, determined to showcase her sincerity. She gathered her gown's skirt and stormed away from them, her footsteps rapid and small.

Joyce let out a sigh and turned to Felicia and the others, saying, "Let it be. She's merely indulging in her fantasies. It's an impossibility. Her dreams won't materialize."Felicia, her patience already thin, as she toyed with her hair strands, commented, "My friend Maris also fancies Prince Aemond, but she doesn't carry on as foolishly as Rhaewina. Aemond hardly converses with any princess. It's clear he isn't interested in her. I'm confident he only spends time with her due to the absence of his own dragon, much like her. The moment he obtains a dragon, he won't waste a single second on her, as she so adores. His preference is solely for a genuine Targaryen princess"

These words, spoken unintentionally loud, reached Rhaewina's ears. They stung, ached. Why had Flora spoken these words? What did she mean by a "genuine Targaryen princess ?" Rhaenwina was herself a Valyrian princess, the rightful one who Aemond would eventually marry. Her heart, filled with a tinge of jealousy, constructed a narrative in which her friends, particularly Felicia and Maris, taunted her out of envy.

Her enraged eyes blazed with intensity as she unleashed a tirade about Flora's perceived clumsiness and how she herself was unquestionably more attractive. In the heat of her fury, Rhaewina failed to notice the collision about to occur with Aemond. Her disposition took an abrupt turn as their paths converged. Her ire gave way to a bashful blush in an instant.

Aemond observed her petite form with curiosity and remarked, "Where are you wandering so blindly, little niece? Your grandsire was eager to inundate your pea sized brain with his ceaseless chatter; he was looking for you. I lost count of how many times he asked"   

Rhaewina couldn't help but giggle "My grandsire is your father too, Aemond. Speaking of the king that way is rather disrespectful. You might end up in trouble," she teased him, her clownish grin on full display.

[hc-geralt-23]

"Chasing the Light"

Chapter 1: Unexpected Temptation

It all began with a fleeting glance, a sizzling connection that defied the chaos of the world they lived in. Joel Miller, the rugged survivor hardened by loss, and [Y/N], a resilient and passionate soul finding solace in her own strength, had found themselves at the crossroads of longing and desire.

The air crackled with unspoken tension as their eyes met, a magnetic pull that neither could resist. Joel's normally guarded expression softened, a flicker of interest dancing in his eyes. [Y/N], unable to tear her gaze away, felt her heart skip a beat. A small, shy smile spread across her face, and her hand trembled slightly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Their worlds collided in that moment, as if fate had brought them together to challenge their complacency in this apocalyptic nightmare. Neither spoke a word, but in the depths of their eyes, a thousand emotions swirled—an unspoken longing for something more.

Chapter 2: One Fateful Night

In the midst of darkness, longing turned into a volcanic eruption of passion. Joel and [Y/N]'s inhibitions were cast aside, succumbing to their shared desire for one another. Their one-night stand ignited a wildfire that would forever change their lives.

They moved with an urgency born of desperation, their bodies melting into one another as they sought solace and release from the endless weight of their individual burdens. Emotions ran wild, amplifying every touch, every breath they shared. Pleasure mingled with a bittersweet ache, knowing that the world they inhabited offered no guarantees of a future. But in that moment, their connection filled the void that grief had carved in their souls.

Chapter 3: The Scars of the Past

[W]retched memories of loss haunted Joel, rendering him terrified of forming emotional bonds, and even more so, of fatherhood. When [Y/N] discovers she's pregnant, a rollercoaster of emotions unfolds as she confronts Joel, hoping he would be there for her and their unborn child. But fear and denial consume him.

Tears glistened in [Y/N]'s eyes as she held onto the pregnancy test, the weight of the truth crashing down on her. Heart pounding, she approached Joel, struggling to find the words to convey the magnitude of what lay between them. His eyes flickered with panic and uncertainty, his jaw clenched in resistance.

"You can't be serious," Joel whispered hoarsely, anguish etched deep into his rugged features. "We can't do this. I can't do this."

A sense of desperation welled up within [Y/N], her voice shaking with a mix of sorrow and frustration. "Joel, I thought... I thought we had something real. Don't you see? This child, our child, is a gift. We can't let fear control our lives."

Chapter 4: The Journey Begins

Joel's heartache leads him to make a difficult decision. He resolves to confront his fears head-on and embarks on a journey from Boston to Jackson with [Y/N], determined to protect her and their unborn child. Along the way, conversations crack open their vulnerabilities, allowing them to confront their deepest fears and begin to understand one another.

The open road stretched out before them, a physical representation of the path they needed to trod. Joel's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the endless expanse of asphalt ahead. [Y/N], seated beside him, watched his profile with a mix of concern and tenderness.

"You don't have to go through this alone," she said softly, a glimmer of hope weaving through her words. "We can face our fears together, Joel."

His grip loosened, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he swallowed the knot of emotions lodged in his throat. With a long sigh, he turned to [Y/N], his once-guarded eyes brimming with newfound vulnerability. "I don't know how to be a father, and I don't want to let you down."

Chapter 5: Fragile Bonds

For [Y/N], a delicate balance between hope and hurt exists. As Joel gradually opens up, their conversations become a lifeline, where they lay bare their fears, insecurities, and the weight of their shared pasts. With every exchange, fragile bonds form, intertwining their lives in ways neither of them ever expected.

Underneath a star-studded sky, Joel and [Y/N] sat on a worn-out porch swing, their voices mingling with the hushed melody of crickets. He reached out, cupping her face in his rough hands, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt or regret.

"You've given me something I never thought I would have again," he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "A chance to love, to be loved, and to build a family with you."

Tears rolled down [Y/N]'s cheeks as she leaned into his touch, overwhelmed by the vulnerability he displayed. "Joel, we've both been through hell, but we can find solace in each other. We can heal together."

Chapter 6: Love, Loss, and Healing

Through shared laughter, quiet intimacy, and understanding, Joel and [Y/N] discover the incredible power of love's healing touch. Together, they navigate the intricate web of emotions surrounding their growing family, creating a haven built on trust and unconditional support.

Life slowed down in the safety of Jackson, offering respite from the relentless challenges of their pasts. Joel and [Y/N] reveled in stolen moments, basking in the warmth of each other's company. They shared meals, laughter, and whispered dreams, and in each passing day, their love bloomed unburdened by the shadows that once plagued their hearts.

In the quiet of their shared bedroom, Joel caressed [Y/N]'s swollen belly, marveling at the miracle growing within. "I thought love was lost forever," he murmured, his voice quivering with an emotion he had long forgotten. "But with you and this baby, I've found a new purpose—a reason to fight and hope."

Chapter 7: Finding Light in the Darkness

In Jackson, the community strengthens Joel and [Y/N], acting as a beacon of hope in their darkest moments. Surrounded by friends who have become family, they embrace the joys and challenges of impending parenthood, knowing they are now equipped to face whatever comes their way.

Huddled together by the warmth of a crackling fire, Joel and [Y/N] found solace in the company of their newfound family. Each member of the tight-knit community wore scars of their own, yet they radiated resilience and an unwavering determination to forge a better future.

As [Y/N] rested her head on Joel's shoulder, she found comfort in the collective strength surrounding them. In that moment, she realized that light could indeed be found amidst the darkness—a flickering flame of hope that they could nurture into something beautiful.

Chapter 8: A New Beginning

As [Y/N]'s due date approaches, the depth of Joel's love becomes irrefutable. The transformation within him leads to a profound realization: he longs to be a father once again, to cherish and protect this newfound love. Their journey, both across the country and within their hearts, culminates in a beautiful and bittersweet new beginning.

The hospital room, suffused with soft morning light, seemed to hold its breath as [Y/N] clutched Joel's hand, her body pulsating with the intensity of labor. Joel's eyes never left her face, etching each shared moment deep into his memory.

"You're doing great," he murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance amidst the pain and anticipation. "I'm here, [Y/N], and I won't leave your side."

As the cries of their newborn baby filled the room, joy and sorrow tangled within them, evoking an overwhelming mixture of emotions. The past, with all its hardships, had led them to this pivotal moment—a fragile, resilient new life.

Chapter 9: Life Made Whole

In the final stretch, Joel and [Y/N] stood together, experiencing the miracle of birth and the purest form of love. As their journey comes full circle, they find solace and redemption in the tiny, fragile life they created. Their shared story highlights the power of healing, resilience, and the irreplaceable connection they forged in the face of adversity.

Tiny fingers wrapped around Joel's calloused hand, sending a surge of warmth and purpose coursing through his veins. The tears that welled up in his eyes were no longer born of sorrow, but of an overwhelming love that expanded with each breath his child took.

"[Y/N], we did it," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and a newfound sense of completeness. "Look at what we've created—the light that emerged from our darkest days."

Chapter 10: Forever and Always

As the sun sets on their turbulent past, Joel and [Y/N] embark on a future radiant with hope and the promise of everlasting love. Their bond, fortified by their shared journey, serves as a testament to the strength of the human spirit and the infinite capacity for healing and growth.

Their unbreakable bond sustained them through endless trials, forging a partnership built on love, trust, and a fierce determination to protect their family. With laughter in their hearts and a shared purpose, they emerged from the depths of their past, leaving behind the shattered fragments of their former lives.

Standing side by side, Joel and [Y/N] gazed at the horizon, where the fading light of a dying day met the vibrant hues of a new beginning. With hands clasped together, they stepped forward, united in their pursuit of a future filled with love, resilience, and the ever-present hope that had sustained them from the very beginning.

"Chasing the Light" is a tale of emotional redemption, trust, and finding love amidst the ruins of a broken world. In the face of loss and fear, Joel and [Y/N] learn to embrace their vulnerabilities, healing not only themselves but also the shattered fragments of their hearts. Their journey reminds us all that even in the darkest of times, love has the power to illuminate the path ahead.

[strings0fcontrol]

Hannigram – Post-Fall (2)

…nothing.

Less than the void itself.

He found himself ensnared within an eerie negative static, a presence both self-aware and indescribable, as if he existed within and beyond, nowhere and everywhere simultaneously.

This couldn't be heaven. He couldn't possibly have ended up there, could he? The macabre thought nearly provoked a rueful chortle.

Will was acutely aware of the searing pain, the sticky feel of blood, and the wounds that marred his cheek and chest where the knife had found its mark. Yet, he couldn't see his own hands, couldn't feel the contours of his body. As he attempted to reach out to trace the outlines of his chest, to validate his existence, it was as though his hands passed through frigid, empty air.

Panic, its malevolent tendrils slowly creeping and unfurling, seized him. It was a sensation so overwhelming that it devoured his sanity in a mere bite.

His eyelids grew heavy, succumbing to the weight of weariness, and they gently closed, submerging him beneath an undulating tide of further nothingness. Meanwhile, his body convulsed and twitched, battling against a force he couldn't even perceive.

Into the darkness.

A place where warmth and safety enveloped him.

His eyes gradually fluttered open.

Dark blue.

Ceiling?

His eyes first squinted, then snapped open wide.

HOSPITAL.

He surged upright, immediately greeted by the searing agony of wounded flesh tearing at him, and the startled gaze of several pairs of eyes converging upon him.

Jack!

It was the first one he recognized, and yet that very moment felt astonishingly surreal.

"You did it. He's gone," Crawford's words carried a solemn weight, akin to a sudden splash of ice-cold water after a hangover. They jolted Will back into a state of shock, his breath becoming labored as his body recoiled, snapping onto the mattress as it resisted the acceptance of this new reality. But why?

Why, when it was everything he had desired? Why couldn't he embrace it?

Molly and Walter were safe now! Hannibal could never again harm them. He could have his life back, be reunited with his family, and escape the clutches of darkness.

Then why did he despise it so vehemently?

Why did it all feel so profoundly wrong? Why did it ignite an urge to tear it all asunder with his teeth, and why did it kindle a desire to unleash a scream toward the heavens?

And why did it seem as though a thousand blades were draining him of every drop of life?

He could only watch in helpless despair as the world crumbled and folded in on itself, akin to the ancient city of Babylon devoured by the maw of earth and fire.

His entire being rejected it. Tears welled up, his throat constricted, and the overwhelming sensation threatened to choke him back into the darkness.

And as the darkness descended, it enveloped him with a warmth that felt as welcoming as Hannibal's embrace. Whenever his lights were extinguished, he returned to this realm of nothingness, but it was a place he had come to appreciate—a sanctuary that cradled him, offering that gentle respite.

Once more, that static sound buzzed in his ears, accompanied by the distant murmur of the ocean … and the hum of a motorboat. Yet, just as he was on the brink of reaching out for it, it vanished, and he found himself in a different place entirely.

Hannibal stirred from his slumber, his body as heavy and unyielding as a waterlogged clog. He lay sprawled upon his couch, or at least, he surmised as much. A drab gray blanket covered him, its muted presence registering in his drowsy consciousness. His eyes traced the room, eventually settling on Will, who lay at rest on the floor. Though Graham's eyes remained sealed shut, he had been tidied up, and Lecter could discern the meticulous stitches adorning his cheek.

Why was he on the floor? If Lecter had brought them in, he would have surely placed Graham on the couch.

With a gaze as dark as obsidian, Hannibal shifted his attention to the brown blanket that cocooned Will, his keen scrutiny searching for any subtle rise or fall of the chest—a silent assurance that Will still clung to life.

He cautiously inched a leg forward, testing whether his body possessed the strength to support him. Gently, he lowered himself beside Will, his arms reaching out to draw the limp form tightly against his own, as if to cradle him in the safety of his embrace.

Hannibal's body remained unable to vocalize words; he was still too weak. Yet, the only sanctuary he sought was here, by Will's side, where his palm lay atop a beating heart, providing a steadfast anchor to their fragile existence.

It almost appeared too perfect to be real.

[drakesylvera]

The garage door commenced its descent, the mechanical groan, a slow and deliberate symphony, punctuating the air with a palpable tension. The sound, both familiar and foreboding, seemed to echo within the confines of the space, mingling with the man’s quickening heartbeat, becoming a harmonious melody of anticipation and secrecy. His eyes lingered on the narrowing sliver of the outside world, watching as it gradually succumbed to the encroaching semi-darkness that began to envelop the garage, a tangible curtain drawing him into his concealed sanctuary.

As the door sealed shut with a soft, yet definitive thud, a hush fell over the space, the outside world now a mere memory, its sounds and lights smothered by the sturdy barrier of the garage door. The man, now shrouded in a dim, shadowy twilight, felt a shiver of exhilaration cascade through him, the semi-darkness not just a physical state, but a metaphorical cloak, under which his secret self could emerge, unjudged and unrestrained.

His ears, still ringing with the fading echo of the door’s groan, now tuned into the receding hum of his wife’s car as it retreated down the driveway. The sound, a soft, distant murmur, seemed to linger, a ghost of its presence hanging in the air, before it too was swallowed by the silence, leaving him truly, utterly alone.

Anticipation, sharp and tantalizing, coursed through his veins, mingling with a forbidden thrill, a sweet, intoxicating nectar that whispered of secrets and hidden desires. His skin, tingling with an electric charge, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, each hair, each pore, alive with the promise of the concealed.

His heart, once a steady rhythm within his chest, now fluttered erratically, a wild bird desperate to escape its cage, each beat a pulsating reminder of the forbidden thrill that awaited him. His breath, caught between excitement and a faint trace of guilt, hitched in his throat, the air within the garage becoming a thick, heady mixture of anticipation and car exhaust.

And in that moment, suspended between the world outside and the secrets within, the man existed in a bubble, a space where the rules and judgments of the outside world could not permeate, where his hidden self could breathe and bask in the dim, secretive glow of the garage, before the narrative, and the secret, surged forward into the light.

The man, his frame a silhouette against the dimly lit garage, took a measured step forward, each footfall a deliberate and cautious advance towards the back of the semi-shadowed space. His steps, though soft and restrained, reverberated through the stillness, a slow, rhythmic heartbeat that punctuated the silence with its steady cadence. His breath, held captive in his chest, was a silent witness to the journey, each exhale a whispered secret, each inhale a drawing in of the thick, musky air that permeated the garage.

His eyes, pools of focused intensity, remained unwaveringly fixated on the old, rusty toolbox, its form partially obscured by the dim light, yet unmistakably present, a beacon amidst the shadows. The toolbox, once a mere utility in the hands of his late father, now stood as a sentinel, a guardian of the secret that lay concealed within the depths of the garage. Its rusted exterior, a tapestry of time and neglect, whispered tales of days gone by, of hands, now stilled by time, that once worked and toiled, oblivious to the future secrets it would one day guard.

As he moved, the distance between him and the toolbox seemed to stretch, the anticipation, thick and tangible, elongating the moments, making each step an eternity, a delicious torture of the now and the soon to be. His heart, a frenzied flutter within his chest, seemed to echo in his ears, a rhythmic drumming that kept time with his steps, a physical manifestation of the emotional maelstrom that churned within him.

The toolbox, hidden away under the sturdy workbench, seemed to beckon him, its rusted form a siren’s call amidst the shadows, luring him towards it with the promise of the concealed, of the secret that lay shrouded behind its metallic facade. His fingers, twitching with a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy, ached to reach out, to brush against the cool, rough surface, to once again lift the veil and plunge into the depths of his clandestine indulgence.

His hands, outwardly steady yet betraying a faint, almost imperceptible tremble, extended towards the toolbox with a reverence that belied the ordinary nature of the object. His fingers, tinged with a pallor from the potent mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through his veins, hovered momentarily above the cool, rusted surface of the box, absorbing the silent energy emanating from the concealed mystery that lay just beyond. The air around him seemed to thicken, becoming a tangible entity that pressed against his skin, heightening the sensory experience of the moment.

As his fingers made contact with the toolbox, a shiver of anticipation whispered through him, the cool, rough texture of the rusted metal a stark contrast to the heated, pulsating energy that swirled within him. His hand, moving with a deliberate slowness, gently pressed against the toolbox, the metal yielding beneath his touch, a silent accomplice in the unveiling of the concealed. The subtle creak of the shifting metal, a sound barely there yet deafening in the hushed stillness of the garage, was a herald to the secret that lay in wait, a precursor to the revelation that teetered on the brink of the now and the imminent.

Gently, ever so gently, he nudged the toolbox aside, each millimeter of movement a tantalizing promise of the concealed becoming revealed. His breath, held captive in the anticipation of the moment, escaped in a slow, measured exhale, mingling with the musty, stagnant air of the garage, becoming a part of the tapestry of the secret space.

Behind the toolbox, partially obscured by a delicate veil of years’ worth of dust and memories, lay the rolled-up towel, an unassuming guardian of his secret self. The dust, a testament to the passage of time and the persistence of the concealed, danced gently in the disturbed air as he reached for the towel, particles of the past mingling with the present.

The fabric, stained and worn, whispered tales of clandestine moments and stolen indulgences, each thread a silent keeper of his hidden world. His fingers, as they brushed against the towel, felt not just the physical texture, but the emotional tapestry woven into its very fibers. The stains, dark against the faded fabric, were not just marks of use, but badges of secrecy, each one a moment, a memory, forever imprinted into the material.

As he lifted the towel, the weight of the secret it concealed seemed to permeate its fibers, making it heavier than its physical self, a tangible reminder of the hidden that lay shrouded within its folds. And in that moment, the man, the towel, and the secret existed in a space suspended in time, a realm where the concealed lived, breathed, and waited, on the brink of revelation.

He cradled it with a gentleness that belied the rough, worn texture of the towel, his fingers tracing the frayed edges and faded stains with a delicate, almost reverent touch. The fabric, once a vibrant canvas now reduced to a dull, brownish hue, whispered tales of clandestine moments and secret indulgences, each thread a silent keeper of his hidden world. His fingers, as they explored the rough surface, felt not just the physical wear, but the emotional tapestry that was woven into its very fibers. The stains, dark remnants of its vibrant past, were not merely marks of use, but badges of secrecy, each one a moment, a memory, forever imprinted into the material.

As he lifted it, the weight of the secret it concealed seemed to permeate its fibers, making it heavier than its physical self, a tangible reminder of the hidden that lay shrouded within its folds. His hands, steady yet trembling ever so slightly, cradled the towel with a tenderness that spoke of a deep, intimate connection, of moments and memories entwined with every fiber.

The towel, now close to his face, released its scent into the air, a musty, familiar fragrance that was a blend of aged fabric and lingering memories of secret moments. It enveloped him, a comforting, almost reassuring presence, a silent acknowledgment of the secret self that existed within the dim confines of the garage. His eyes, gently closed, allowed him to sink into the scent, to be enveloped by the memories it evoked, to exist, if only for a moment, within the secret world it guarded.

His breath, slow and measured, drew in the musty fragrance, each inhalation a journey into the past, each exhalation a reluctant return to the present. The scent, rich with the essence of the concealed, became a part of him, mingling with his own being, a silent, invisible tether that connected him to the secret, to the hidden self that existed within the shrouded confines of the towel.

His fingers, trembling with a delicate, barely perceptible quiver, gingerly met the edge of the towel, a tangible barrier between the known and the unknown, between the seen and the unseen. The fabric, worn and soft from years of secret handling, felt almost alive beneath his touch, as if it, too, was quivering with the same restrained excitement that coursed through his veins. Each fiber seemed to whisper tales of the hidden, of moments stolen in the dim, secluded confines of the garage, where his secret could breathe, unjudged and unfettered.

As he began to unwrap the towel, his fingers delicately peeling away the first layer, a shiver of anticipation coursed through him, each fold revealing not just another layer of the fabric, but another layer of his concealed self. The towel, a keeper of his secret, relinquished its hold bit by bit, each layer peeling away like the veils of his hidden life, each fold a step deeper into the abyss of his clandestine indulgence.

The air, thick with the musk of aged wood and lingering motor oil, seemed to grow denser, pressing in around him as he unwrapped the towel, the world outside the garage fading away until there was only the secret, and him. His breath, shallow and rapid, was a staccato against the silence of the garage, each exhale a release of the tension that coiled tightly within him, each inhale a drawing in of the musty scent of the towel, a fragrance that was a blend of the aged fabric and the memories it guarded.

The gentle unrolling of the fabric, a soft, subtle sound in the quietude of the space, seemed to amplify, becoming a symphony of secrecy that enveloped him, the notes a melody of the hidden and the revealed. His heart, beating a rapid, fervent rhythm within his chest, seemed to synchronize with the gentle rustling of the fabric, creating a harmony that pulsed through the dimly lit garage, a melody that spoke of secrets kept and a self concealed.

As he peeled back the layers, the suspense, already a tangible presence, seemed to heighten, wrapping around him, intertwining with the anticipation that coursed through his veins, becoming a part of him, until he was one with the secret, existing in a space that hovered on the brink of revelation and mystery. And in that space, he lingered, the narrative pausing, allowing him to exist, if only for a moment, in the delicious tension of the now, before the secret surged forward into the light.

Just as the final fold of the towel was delicately being peeled back, a moment away from revealing the object of his concealed indulgence, an abrupt, mechanical groan pierced the thick, secretive atmosphere of the garage. The man’s heart, already pulsating with the thrill of near revelation, jolted violently within his chest, as the garage door began its slow, inexorable ascent. His fingers, which a moment ago were trembling with anticipation, now quivered with a sudden, sharp anxiety, the secret momentarily forgotten in the surge of adrenaline that coursed through his veins.

His hands, now slick with a sheen of nervous perspiration, hastily refolded the towel, each layer a hasty shroud to conceal the secret that had been mere moments away from seeing the light. The towel, once a vessel of tantalizing mystery, now lay once again hidden, its secret veiled, its revelation thwarted by the untimely intrusion of the outside world into the man’s secluded sanctuary.

His breath, previously a slow, anticipatory inhalation of the towel’s musty scent, now came in rapid, shallow gasps, each exhale a sharp release of the tension that had so suddenly shifted from excitement to panic. The gentle rustling of the towel being hastily rewrapped was now juxtaposed against the grating, mechanical sound of the garage door’s ascent, a discordant melody that underscored the man’s frantic movements.

As the towel was thrust back into its hiding place, the man straightened up, his body rigid with a tension that was now spiked with fear and relief, a potent cocktail that left a metallic taste in his mouth. He turned towards the opening door, his eyes, previously alight with the thrill of his secret indulgence, now wide and alert, pupils dilated in the dim light of the garage, reflecting the turmoil that churned within him.

A cold sweat, a chilling cascade of fear, anxiety, and relief, washed over him, droplets forming rapidly on his forehead and tracing a path down his spine, a tangible manifestation of the emotional maelstrom that had so suddenly engulfed him. His clothes, previously unnoticed, now clung to him, the fabric a cool, damp reminder of the near exposure of his concealed self.

As he faced the opening door, the light from the outside world gradually illuminating the dim, shadowy confines of the garage, the narrative paused, suspending the man, the secret, and the reader in a space that hovered between revelation and concealment, between the known and the unknown, allowing the perpetual wonderment about the man’s covert obsession to linger, unfulfilled, in the air.

Does this story resonate with you? What do you keep wrapped in your towel? I would like to know. You can share with me anonymously here:

[dramatiique]

(Heavily headcanon based.)

Ui-myeong didn’t live a normal childhood by any means. His father, Sung-ha, was a drug addict and criminal who beat him and his mother, Heejin. He also sold his son’s belongings when he needed drug money, mentally abused him, and told him every day that he wished he were dead. His mother did nothing to protect him or herself, saying that Ui-myeong should just behave and that his father was the reason they had a roof over their heads, despite him only being able to afford it because of his connections to crime.

Ui-myeong resented his parents.

At school, he did well in his studies because he wanted to achieve something with his life. He was top of the class but was an outcast among his peers, which made him a target for bullies. His teachers didn’t step in to help, even after he tried to confide in them. They told him to take measures to avoid the bullies as if it as his fault for being near them in the first place. Dealing with school on top of the abuse at home only served in cultivating his hatred that he buried deep until it rooted itself in his heart.

Ui-myeong resented his peers and his teachers.

Before graduating high school, when he was eighteen, he was forced to work at a gang-owned bar (the gang Sung-ha is part of) because they needed a new staff member after one of theirs was arrested. Ui-myeong had no choice but to agree because disagreeing just wasn’t an option. He was surrounded by his dad’s scummy friends night after night and was their personal punching bag, often berated and made fun of, and just treated badly in general.

The gang's leader took things a step further. He would harass and assault Ui-myeong sexually. When Ui-myeong once asked why he was doing such things, he simply replied that he was bored and that it was for his own amusement. The other gang members all knew what was happening (including his father) but it didn’t matter to them - they were too busy with their own duties within the gang to care. When around the gang, and the gang leader in particular, Sung-ha was reduced to a slimy bootlicker, who wanted to please those higher than him.

Ui-myeong resented the gang and its leader.

His dreams of going to university to study chemistry were ruined after his father refused to pay for him. It wasn’t like he was being paid at the bar job, either, so he couldn’t exactly do it on his own. This caused Ui-myeong to steal wherever he could. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty, Ui-myeong did whatever he could to survive. Somewhere along the way, due to the trauma he has experienced from all aspects of his life, Ui-myeong’s mental health declined. It led him to becoming detached from himself and his emotions — the things and people around him sometimes became distorted. 

One day, as his father lay in a drugged out state in the living room and his mother was out, Ui-myeong finally snapped. Finding one of his syringes that his father carelessly left out in the open, Ui-myeong stabbed it into his father's arm and injected him with more heroin, hoping to force an overdose. It worked and he soon left the house after packing some belongings.

While on the run, he experienced bad nosebleeds, fainting spells, and hallucinations. Something dark gradually took over him, trying to force him to succumb to his desires. However, he was able to control the monster within him, allowing him to be conscious of his actions and do what he wants, even when the monster is present.

In the chaos that followed citizens turning into monsters, Ui-myeong volunteered to be analyzed by government scientists after revealing that he was infected. He thought it would help figure out what the monster (he thought it was a disease at the time) inside him was and why he could control it better than others he’d seen. They tried everything to separate it from his body (freezing, thawing, sawing, piercing, and scorching) but after the monster inside continuously killed the scientists, Ui-myeong had an epiphany - the monster isn't able to be separated from his body because the monster is him.

During one of the experiments, his body was broken down and unable to continue functioning but his abilities made it possible for him to transfer his consciousness to the corpse of one of the scientists that he'd killed earlier; it becomes his new body. This is when he realized that this new state is an evolution and that he was chosen, that humans have failed to be selected by nature, and that he is above them. He also believes that humans and monsters cannot co-exist.

Ui-myeong resented the scientists who experimented on him.

He escaped the facility and went on the hunt for other “Special Infectees”. On his search, he arrived at a chapel. The survivors welcomed him inside, thinking he was just a young man in need of help. After spending some time with them (and subtly trying to convince some to join his revolution), Ui-myeong watched as the stress of the monster apocalypse made them turn on each other. As they killed each other, this further reinforced Ui-myeong's opinions on humans being weak.

He was the sole survivor of the attack, easily dispatching those who were left at the end. Only a few hours later, he was found by the group of mercenaries led by Shin Jung-seop. He joined their gang just to disguise himself from the ever-growing military presence, pretending to be just like them…

The rest of the story can be found HERE.

A brief summary of Ui-myeong including his personality can be found HERE.

First FC is Kim Sunoo (Before he transfers his consciousness) Second FC is Kim Sung-Cheol (Sweet Home look) Third FC is Hur Hyunjun (his permanent one after leaving Wook’s body)

[notkageyamasprincess]

glad you came | kageyama tobio x reader

request: big brother!kegeyama walking in on the reader touching themselves .. 😁

notes: a huge thank you to jodie (@keijidearest​ ) for being my beta, a hundred kisses fo you, muah muah <33

characters: nii-chan!kageyama tobio x reader

genre/warnings: smut, incest, slight voyeurism, mention of dacryphilia, mutual masturbation, corruption kink, slight degradation, breeding kink

words: 2.2k

summary: tobio-nii finally finds out that his adorable little sister feels the same way

As always, your parents weren’t at home—that much was expected. But today, even Tobio would be out until late. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when you walked into your empty husk of a house. It was so lonely ever since your older brother started spending more time on campus, and you had no choice but to comfort yourself the only way you knew how.

The bedroom door didn’t quite close all the way behind you, but you disregarded it, knowing nobody would be home to disrupt you anyways. You flopped onto the bed, and wiggled out of your bottoms, one hand creeping beneath your waistband while the other clutched your phone to browse raunchy sites. Although you took in the obscene videos, racy comics, and filthy erotica, your mind drifted to Tobio, wishing that he’d take the place of the men in all those scenarios, comforting you in person rather than leaving you alone at your time of need. Settling into your blankets, you began taking care of the ache in your core, back arching off the mattress as you slowly worked yourself up to your high. The room gradually filled up with the sounds of your heavy breathing, slick noises of your arousal, and the familiar creak of the bed as you shifted around.

Unbeknownst to you, Tobio was on the other side of the wall, quietly taking care of his own needs, stroking his length to match your rhythm. He seriously lucked out today; he didn’t think he would ever have the opportunity to catch you at a vulnerable moment like this, unsuspectingly letting out your sweet moans for him to hear. When practice got cancelled, he went straight home and took a nap, only to wake up to the sounds of your self-pleasuring. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on his precious little sister, really. Yet, how could he let this chance pass him by?

As he gripped his cock, your brother felt his balls tighten much quicker than usual. He wasn’t expecting his innocent sister to sound so...so lewd. His orgasm was coaxed on by how slutty you sounded as you moaned, how sopping wet he reckoned you were just through the noise of you fucking yourself. Before long, he felt himself shudder as he shot out his load. Never had he cum so early, the embarrassment enveloping him as he realized what had had him so worked up to begin with. Your soft whines remained in the background as Tobio slumped down and began cleaning himself off.

As his post-orgasmic bliss dissipated, a sense of guilt and disgust grew within him, as though he had violated you himself. He laid an arm over his eyes and exhaled deeply.

A few more seconds passed, and he shamefully emerged from his room, intending to wash up in the bathroom when something made him stop in his tracks.

“N-nii-chan…feels good!”

Erotic fantasies of your brother fuelled your lust while you touched yourself. Instead of your own hands, you imagined that it was his large palms caressing your breasts, and his long fingers stretching you out, loosening your entrance for his thick cock. Your gasps and whimpers grew louder as you gave in to the pleasure, but you didn’t care, chanting your brother’s name as you came.

Lost in a euphoric trance, your eyes remained squeezed shut, allowing him to slip into your room unnoticed.. The moment his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he was captivated by the sight of your limp form splayed out on the bed. His ravenous gaze traveled across the expanses of exposed skin, pausing briefly on the rise and fall of your chest and your spasming pussy. He swallowed before revealing his presence.

“____, was that…my name?”

Upon hearing his voice, your eyes snapped open, and you yelped. Panic welled up inside you as you sprang up and hastily covered yourself.

Thoughts of possible consequences raced through your mind. No more hair ruffles, no more head pats, no more words of praise. He’d no longer swing by your school to treat you to lunch when he was between classes. You could definitely say goodbye to him picking you up from the bus stop after dark.

“Tobio-nii! I- how long have you been standing there?”

Now you’d gone and done it. He must be repulsed by you. No one should have been in the house, nobody should have been there to catch you, so how was this happening?

“Not important. I’d rather talk about how you were just masturbating while thinking about me.”

Blood rushed to his dick as the scene he walked in on replayed in his head, and your cute noises echoed in his mind. His shock quickly shifted into frustration: frustration that he had to conceal his possessiveness when you gave your attention to another boy, frustration that he had to control his urges when you pranced around the house in your ratty drawstring shorts, or that he had to avert his eyes when your nipples poked out from your thin sleepshirt.

Frustration that he had to live through hell hiding his feelings for you when his dear sister was exactly the same way.

“You mean to tell me,” he started, taking calculated steps towards you, “That this entire time we could have been taking care of each other? The fuck did I jerk off in the shower for?”

Huh? You were stunned and relieved, but there was no time for you to hold back your tears. Unable to process what he said, you peered up at him with watery eyes.

Thinking that he frightened you by raising his voice, his eyes widened in alarm. He gathered you into his arms and stroked the back of your head. “Whoa, hey, hey, don’t cry, angel. I didn’t mean to get angry with you; I got too excited back there.”

“No, that’s not it. I-I thought you would hate me, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I could never hate you, ____. You’re so precious to me that I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else putting their hands on you where mine should be.”

Pulling back, you looked into his eyes for confirmation. “Really? Because I always hated your girlfriends for stealing my place.”

“You’re so cute, but I promise you have nothing to worry about at all. I didn’t want them like I wanted you.” You felt him guide your hands to his groin, where his dick was nearly popping out from his boxers. “Do you feel that? Feel how hard I am? You made me this way.”

Your heart swelled with pride knowing that he loved you more than he did any of those whores, and seeing him so worked up, all for you brought back the familiar tingle between your legs that only your Nii-chan knew how to soothe. Freeing him from his pants, you watched in wonder as his cock stood at attention, leaking precum from the tip. Tobio’s breathing grew heavier from your touch.

“____? Do you think you could do Nii-chan a favour?” His ears reddened in mortification.  Despite the fact that he had cum earlier, all he wanted to do was shove his cock into you and fuck you silly. “I got turned on when you were crying,” he groaned and covered his face. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t react that way, but you’re just so cute.”

On the contrary, you were really happy that he found you so endearing.. “Don’t be sorry, Tobio-nii,” you reassured, shaking your head. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Tobio kneeled at the foot of your bed and gripped his length, grateful that you were willing to help him out. “Could you remove the blankets and show me your pretty body?”

The idea of baring yourself to him made you flustered. But if it was your brother, asking you so politely for help, you wouldn’t mind displaying your most vulnerable parts. Glancing at his hopeful expression, you peeled back the covers.

“So good, baby. Now open your legs and touch yourself for me.”

Again, you bashfully complied, spreading yourself and angling your hips to give him a better view. The way he watched you made you searing hot; he gazed at you with lust blown pupils, eyeing you like a starved wolf as he fisted his cock.

You were fixated on his dick, curiously observing the rosy colour of the tip, the slender shaft, the slight curvature upwards, and the vein running down the middle. It was the first time you’d seen one. Heat pooled in your centre when you thought about taking him in your mouth.

“Nii-chan? Can I try sucking you off?”

“What?” he panted. “You don’t—ah, fuck—have to. I can’t make you do that.”

Leaning forward on your hands, you stared at him in earnest. “I want to.”

His face scrunched up as he weighed his options, but a quick glance at your glossy plump lips was all he needed to succumb.

After he agreed, you held him gently, noting how your hand barely wrapped around the girth of it, and how it felt so much thicker and heavier than it looked.Experimentally, you eagerly licked the sides, lapping at the precum that dribbled down his length, then you wrapped your lips around him. Paying close attention to his instructions, you gingerly massaged his balls and inched him further down your throat. “Yes, yes just like that. Now swallow.”

He tugged at your hair, pushing himself deeper, alternating between looking down at you, and closing his eyes in ecstasy. Your jaw was sore, and your throat was starting to burn, but you couldn’t help but moan at the disheveled state he was reduced to. Your cunt clenched around nothing, pulsating with desire.

Tobio’s eyebrows knitted together, loving the sight of you gagging on his dick. He’d always dreamed of defiling you like this; he felt so dirty, but so good.

“Shit, you’re making your Tobio-nii feel so amazing. I’m gonna cum soon.”

You desperately longed for him to cum on your tongue, but even more than that, you wanted him to alleviate your aching core, so you reluctantly pulled your lips off of him. “Mm, wait! Not yet.” You spread your lower lips apart, looking at him with need. “Please. In here.”

Tobio regarded your fucked out expression and your dripping hole, deciding to satisfy you against his better judgement. His cute sister was begging so sweetly for him, so how could he deny your request? Besides, he wanted it just as badly.

“Yeah? You’re gonna give your virginity to Nii-chan? Gonna let your big brother fuck his seed deep into your slutty pussy?”

His filthy words caused you to shiver, yet, he was soothing and gentle as he slipped his cock inside, pushing the head in little by little, pausing until you were ready for more. He moved only the tip back and forth, parting your opening, coating his dick with your juices.

The stretch hurt a little as he inched in deeper, but there was no one other than your beloved Nii-chan you’d rather lose your virginity to. You knew he respected you enough that you could even call it off there, and he would stop without any questions. There was no doubt that he would treat you better than anyone else you could’ve had your first time with.

When you finally nodded to him, he eased in the rest of his length, and he sucked in a breath when your cunt squelched, accepting him in hungrily. He waited a few more seconds before thrusting slowly. Once you gave him the okay, he increased the pace steadily until he was slamming his cock in and out.

His cock reached places inside you that you were never able to reach with your fingers, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. You felt so full, so complete.

Tobio nearly spilled into you when he directed his gaze to the spot where the two of you were connected. Your cunt squeezed him like it didn’t want him to pull out and painted him in a creamy white substance. He was addicted to seeing you losing yourself on his dick as he split you open.

Pressing on the back of your thighs, he pushed you deeper into the mattress and shoved his length even deeper. Your brother enjoyed the feeling of corrupting you, wiping you clean of every man that came before him and ruining you for every man that would come after him. That is, if you would ever want another man after he’d had his way with you.

Feeling your pussy tighten, he slid a hand between your bodies and grinded the heel of his palm against your nub, forcing an orgasm out of you, and spurted his viscous cum inside. He pumped his cock a few more times before pulling out, admiring his handiwork when his cum leaked out from your convulsing hole. Rather than let it drip onto the sheets, he lifted your pelvis to place a pillow underneath, then collected his release with his fingers, only to push it deep inside you again. Contently, he plugged you back up with his cock, brushed some hair out of your face, and pecked you tenderly on the forehead.

You laid there, basking in each other’s warmth, filling the void in each other’s heart.

Tobio nosed the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “Mine.”

a/n: well, well, well... tobio-nii makes a comeback

[nikmikaelsonswife]

White Doves.

Description: Klaus doesn’t realize his feelings are requited until it’s too late.

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of death, mature themes, unhappy ending

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: for ash’s may prompt challenge!! enjoy.

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

Your gaze drifted to your glass as you swirled the contents inside with your straw, a bashful heat flushing your cheeks. You suddenly became very aware of his arm slung over the booth behind you and the proximity between your bodies. “My greatest friend,” you lifted your chin so your eyes could dance across the ceiling, “my greatest inspiration,” his dark irises were twinkling once you’d finally gained the courage to meet them, “my soulmate.”

“Even if I wanted to leave you behind, the gods above wouldn’t allow it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he reached down, fingers ghosting over the smooth skin of your cheek, plump lips parted as he leaned in even further. His breath fanned over your face, lashes fluttering as he took you in, a look in his eyes that was different from the way he’d normally see you. Or at least, when you were paying attention. The atmosphere was different, the chaotic world around you drowned out by the steady thumping filling your ears. For that moment, he was truly everything, your most beautiful dream, your most yearned desire.

“Promise me,” he breathed, eyes dropping to your lips.

That mischievous sparkle in your eyes dulled, a supernova fading into a black hole in the masterpiece that was the galaxy of your gaze. Your lips trembled, muscles straining to form a simple smile, one that never failed to unleash immense serotonin throughout his body, to calm his otherwise incessant storm within merely a nanosecond.

Long lashes fluttering and lids growing in weight, you attempted to do as he said, to hold his gaze. He took his time with taking in your features then, mind momentarily drifting to the many times he’d promised to recreate you on a canvas as he couldn’t pass up on such a beautiful creation.

If only he’d had more time. Time was a bitch of a thing.

A gloss of tiny droplets gathered over the surface over your eyes, creating an artificial shine. A lone, rebellious tear broke from the pack and rolled down your cheek just as one did from his own, the two mixing together before they met the ground.

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he cradled your face against his chest, attempting to be strong for you to no avail. The bridled cries clogged in his throat, though the tears were unrelenting in flooding his cheeks. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he nearly jolted when your hand reached up to brush against the wet skin of his face. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, voice weak, “you’re too pretty to cry.”

He clenched his teeth, chest heaving as he fought against the tears for you. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head as much as you could, with the burden of your withering strength and his hands, which was nothing more than a subtle shift. A wet cough left your throat as your lungs gradually filled with blood. “Wasn’t your fault.”

In that moment, he wondered why. Why he’d been brought on to this earth, to have a father who treated him not like a son, but an enemy since his adolescence. To be born as an abomination, a monster, a creation that was not meant to walk the earth, not meant to live, not meant to love. To find the woman of his dreams, countless of times it seemed, to have it end in bloodied destruction.

To find the woman of his life, the embodiment of his love, just to lose her as he did all the others. To have her succumb to not her’s, but his fate.

To be doomed to an eternity of living an endless nightmare. He’d walk around, feeling superior in the fact that he was immortal. But the fact had never made him feel less than the dirt on the ground, had never made him wish he were dead more than now.

“Tell me,” you began to request, seemingly stronger than before, but Klaus knew it was most likely a figment of his imagination that stemmed from the dying hope in his heart, “What was it like to die?”

His brow twitched at the inquiry, reddened eyes rounding in something along the lines of concern and shock. “So I can be prepared,” you explained with a quivering smile, as if holding on to the bit of light you had left.

He sniffled, gulping down the saliva that’d collected in his mouth. “It won’t be the same,” his fingers timidly stroked your hairline, “but it will bring you peace, because I know for a fact where you’re going is some place nearly as beautiful as you.”

Your smile grew, “Will it have white doves?”

“Plenty,” he reassured, “You’ll see them and I will immediately come to mind.”

“Wouldn’t want to forget you,” you attempted to chuckle, but coughed instead, the back of your throat filling with the thick, crimson liquid that signaled what he wasn’t ready for. What he would never be ready for.

His chest constricted as he watched it flood your mouth, dribbling from the corners where your lips met and streaking down your face. “Promise,” you gurgled, “n-not to forget...me.”

He shook his head. “T-to not forget-t how good you truly are. To not forg-get how,” your head lolled, but you fought through the pull on your conscious as if what you had to say was worth it, “how much I always will love y-you.”

He would’ve allowed it to register as a platonic kind if it weren’t for the look in your eyes, one that casted butterflies throughout his stomach, that thickened his heart in his chest. It was one of pure adoration, shared between lovers, between soulmates that offered lingering touches and feverish kisses. It was the first time he’d truly seen it, as if his tears had washed away the haze of oblivion that had been obscuring his gaze for who knew how long. He didn’t, as it would show him just how much time he’d wasted, afraid of rejection, of losing you.

And somehow, fate had made a way for him to live in his greatest dream and nightmare all at once.

His hands shook as he was consumed with so many unidentifiable emotions as once, “I love you, too.” He wasn’t allowed a reaction as just at that moment, the light faded from your eyes and your smile fell without the support you’d been pushing to give.

“Wait,” he cried, a crack in his voice, “Please,” his volume dropped to a whisper, “please.” Despite the fact that your life slowly slipping away, his touch remained gentle, tremors shaking his fingers as he held your face in his hands. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

“(Y/N), please. I don’t want you to go.” Your skin was warm against his fingertips, providing some sense of hope yet dread in his heart. At the fact that maybe, deep down, you were still there, but you were still slipping away. Still abandoning him, still breaking your promise. “You can’t go,” he all but cried out, broken voice echoing throughout the room.

Your fingers found his chin, the pads brushing against the course hair that licked his jaw. A genuine smile pulled at your lips accompanied by a fond twinkle in your irises, “I promise.”

You solidified it with a soft, platonic peck to his lips, before a jingle could be heard from above. The both of you looked up, finding two white doves hanging from the ceiling.

“There,” you pointed, “Whenever you see white doves, remember that it means we’re together even when we’re physically not.”

[mangozcat]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. huang renjun x fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. smut, smut, smut

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘.

you had decided this, for probably the millionth time in your life, when renjun decided to wear that one outfit that made you crazy. you wanted to touch him, leave marks from where your nails dragged down his back, wanted to make sure he felt the same pain you were feeling as you were forced to sit back and watch him discuss songs with his bandmates.

you were so sure the dreamies could wait and that he too, from the various heated glances that had been thrown your way, was as needy as you were. you had whispered in his ear earlier that night that he looked handsome, even mentioning how sexy the dark tones of his outfit made him look.

of course, renjun being the absolute tease he was, he simply gave you a “thank you” and turned back towards jaemin, continuing their conversation. you were rather baffled, wondering how your boyfriend could just avoid giving you attention, even when you were sure he wanted to.

you wanted to stop thinking about him, wanted to be able to strike up a conversation and give it your full focus just as he had.

but, over time, you found that increasingly more difficult.

with a wandering hand settling itself on your knee, thumb rubbing comforting and slow circles every now and then. not only was your very attractive boyfriend beside you, close enough to smell; a scent you had fallen in love with, but he was also refusing to give you upfront attention, all while maintaining the secret attention to your body.

did you like it? of course.

did you want his eyes on you instead of his friend? of course.

were you extremely conflicted? unfortunately, yes.

when renjun realized you were deep in thought, he decided to slide his hand a little bit higher, resting on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to where you wanted him. you quietly inhaled a deep breath, giving the boy beside you a glare. he simply gave you an innocent smile, leaning in to dot a kiss on your cheek, making it seem as though nothing interesting was happening.

but you knew, when his lips left your skin for a split second and he whispered, “naughty girl,” ever so quietly, that something very interesting was certainly happening.

the band never would’ve guessed that a mere five feet away from them, you were so easily dripping for your boyfriend, who hadn’t even touched you. maybe you were a naughty girl, feeling so filthy from only a simple, affectionate (though it was laced with a much deeper intent) touch such as a hand on the knee.

when jaemin finally turned towards jeno instead, you looked towards your boyfriend and narrowed your eyes. he smirked in response, tracing his fingers over the zipper of your jeans and downward, right over your heat, a smug gleam in his eyes at your visible stall.

your brain was in overdrive as you tugged lightly on his jacket, wanting to whine out as he moved his hand away, tutting under his breath. “so needy,” he muttered, shaking his head. he brought you in for a hug as his lips came to your ear, saying, “you couldn’t even wait until we were done talking, huh?”

you nodded, setting your chin on his shoulder and feeling his sigh. he pulled away after telling you to meet him in the bathroom in five. watching him walk off, you felt your body throb with need. you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, mentally counting down the time.

after all, late girls are considered bad girls. and bad girls don’t get rewards, as renjun had once said.

watching the dreamies interact with each other, eating their food in distracted bliss, you were sure no one would even notice if you left. so, as the time ticked closer to five, you eagerly got up and started heading towards the bathrooms in the back.

you hadn’t even made it to the doors when you were pushed against a wall, a leg forcing yours apart as lips hurriedly rushed to kiss your neck. shivers went down your spine when you felt him, getting carried away by his sweet scent of candy. your head lolled back against the wall as renjun pressed his body closer to yours.

you let out a shaky breath, air catching in your throat as you eyed the bathroom door, nodding your head in it’s direction. you didn’t quite feel like being kicked out of the restraunt, and judging by how renjun grabbed your hand and tugged you inside, he didn’t either.

it was messy, so incredibly messy. your mouths found each others, tongue toying with the other. you let out a quiet whine into his mouth when his hips ground against yours, forcing you to feel the bulge in his jeans.

god, he was so fucking hot.

eyes closed in bliss, tongue tracing his lips, and small gasps escaping his mouth at every movement you made against him. he was outlined in black, his outfit dark shades of blues and blacks that blurred together. renjun was by far the sexiest man you had ever seen.

you gave him a lazy smile, bringing his face closer to yours for yet another, far sweeter kiss. he nuzzled his nose into your neck when the two of you pulled away, gathering his breath as he dotted kisses on your skin.

the gentle moment didn’t last long, however, as renjun tapped his fingers on your jeans, just over the skin of your thigh. you obeyed eagerly, lifting your leg and wrapping it around his waist. he hummed in delight, starting to rock his hips into yours.

the feeling was dulled through your pants, but that didn’t stop you from gasping out his name, making him hush you quickly, placing his lips on your own. “can’t be too loud, babe. don’t wanna get caught, do you?” he muttered, looking up into your eyes.

you shook your head.

“then be quiet for me, baby.”

putting your head on his shoulder, just so you could muffle your sounds with his soft shirt, you hummed to him. slowly, he worked his pace back up, making you force your eyes closed as the pleasure slowly began picking up.

renjun wasn’t the type to hurry sex. he liked working you up, working himself up, and letting the two of you crash together. which is why as soon as your body curled into him, clinging on for dear life, he stopped completely. you whined out at the loss of contact, feeling your slowly approaching high drift away at once.

“you’re such a jerk,” you complained, hands inside his shirt, running up his sides. he chuckled at the comment, only saying, “you love it.”

“I love you, not your methods.”

he only grinned at the confession.

putting a finger under your chin, he pulled your head up, forcing you to look at him. your eyes were half-lidded, and you already looked fucked despite him not even touching you for five minutes. “so responsive,” he tutted, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “so cute.”

you only whimpered.

his next kiss was on your nose, slowly going up to your forehead, and then your cheeks. renjun was taking his time, and you both loved and hated it at the same time. you both knew you had a limited time in this bathroom, closed off from the world, yet here you were, succumbing to bittersweet patience.

finally, his trail led back to your lips, making you melt in his arms. he kissed you slowly, filled with desire and passion and suddenly your head was swimming from all the different sensations.

then, as if a fire had lit in his mind, he started unzipping your jeans, undoing the top button. “you look lovely in these,” he said in your ear, nibbling on the outside, “but I think you should take them off.”

almost immediately, he lifted you up, setting you on the counter as your jeans slid off your legs. renjun’s fingers traced your skin, making you shiver as the cold air hit your warm skin. you wouldn’t be cold for long, though.

your mind was so clouded when his fingers slipped into your heat, slowly pumping in and out of you. everything was slow when it came to renjun’s pleasuring; from the way he kissed up and down your collarbone to the way he curled his fingers upward, hitting that perfect spot inside you.

he knew your body better than you did at this point, always knowing just how to make you whine out. he shushed you immediately, snapping, “quiet.” he didn’t stop moving his fingers, keeping them moving at a gradually increasing pace. biting your lip, you felt your orgasm approaching steadily.

but, as quick as it came, it was gone again, renjun removing his fingers almost immediately at the signs.

it was utter torture.

you hit his shoulder as a frustrated sob wracked your body, making you cling to him for comfort. he was undoing his belt, whispering sweetly in your ear short praises to make you feel better. you should’ve been used to it, with how often renjun pulls you away from your high just before it crashes, but your body would never.

renjun’s dick was almost comforting at this point, with how needy you were. so when he slipped into your heat with little to no resistance, he let a little moan in your ear as you sighed in relief at the feeling of being filled.

for once, renjun started fast. he was eager, almost as much as you were, for release. he had watched you cry out, struggle to contain the pleasure- that only he could give you. he had to admit, it was something that boosted his ego, and only made him want you more.

with your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his lips to yours for desperate kisses, his cock thrusted into you roughly. you wanted to moan, wanted to whine out his name, only to find yourself breathless as the release that had been worked up for so long was finally set free, making your face contort as you sliently cried out.

renjun was far from his release, but he gave you a moment to relax as he slowly worked you through your high. his eyes bored into yours desperately; he wanted to cum, but to do so, he’d have to force your body to take more than he thought you could handle (especially since you had to walk out of the bathroom on your own two feet).

you gave him a small nod of approval, making him sigh out. furrowing his brows as he focused on getting himself off, he abused your already overworked heat, but the look on his face, the sounds escaping his lips, made it all okay.

when he finally did release, covering your thighs in his cum, you had managed to cum again, your own essence dripping down your leg.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you smiled lazily, threading your fingers through his hair comfortingly.

“did I ever mention that you look hot in black?”

[lrissa]

I Hate You

requested by @bighopenat165

summary: after breaking up with levi you secure your citizenship to the surface but not without reopening an old wound

warnings: vomiting, mild violence

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

Walking down the dirty stone pavement you held only a small bag of groceries, just a loaf of bread and two variations of cheese. Hungry gazes followed your steps while you walked, whether it was because you had food that they starved for or because you were simply just a woman walking alone in the underground. But fortunately for you, Levi had taught you self defense and insisted you carry a dagger with you no matter the circumstances. Of course, you agreed.

Stepping up the crumbling stairs to your house you passed by young men as they stuck their grimy hands out to touch your soft skin, a hard glare meeting their gaze before their futile hands could even caress an inch of you. Opening the door to your little house you quickly shut it and observed the room, Levi wasn’t home yet. Sighing quietly you walked to the table and set the bag down, anxiety crawling up your nerves as you wondered why he hadn’t made it back yet.

Taking out your bread and cheese, you made little slices of bread and cheese together. Sitting down on the couch you silently ate, your stare locked to the door as you waited for your boyfriend's arrival. Succumbing to sleep you felt your eyelids shut and your body lean on the couch arm, still in an upright position while your arms were crossed over your chest. Until eventually, darkness wisped you away.

The hard bang of the door made your eyes flutter open in shock, your boyfriend entering the house as he seemed to be mentally struggling, gripping his hair. Blinking, you slowly stood. Drowsiness still coursing through your veins as you almost tripped when walking towards the raven head. “Levi, what’s the matter?” You asked softly and reached your hand out, taking his hand while he snapped his head up to you. He grunted and pulled you to the couch, sitting you down while he leaned on the table.

“I got a job, but it's different this time. I don't know if i’ll come back.” He stated with his arms crossed over his chest, staring down at you with his stoic eyes. You met his eyes with worry in yours, “What do you mean.” Beginning to fiddle with your fingers excessively, he noted this and turned his head to the side, he really didn’t want to do this but he believed it was best. 

“We can't be together anymore.” He stated flatly while your eyes widened in shock, standing from the couch instantly as you approached him. Levi turned his head back to you, they held no remorse or sadness. “You’re being irrational Levi.” You snapped and stood in front of him, eyes boring into his as he scowled. “You don't know what's good for you yet, brat.” He stepped away from the table, walking around it as he headed for the door.

Truthfully, Levi was dying from the inside out. More than nothing, he wished to embrace you in his arms and take you on the mission. But it was more than dangerous, life threatening. He had been given a deal from a man with high superiority to kill Erwin Smith and that the pursuers would be coming to get him, Isabel, and Farlan soon. If you had even gotten one hair on your head touched from his doing, Levi was afraid he’d never forgive himself. So instead he took it upon himself to break up with you and sever all ties, breaking both hearts in the process.

“Levi. Do not exit that door.” You commanded and stood abroad, eyes glossing over with tears as you watched your world, lover, your everything take your heart and rip it apart. “Levi..” You croaked out as he stopped for a moment, his hand mid-reach for the handle to turn it and never look back. His fingers shook violently, the urge to grab your face and kiss you was strong. But he couldn’t, he couldn't risk your life for his self desires. Without even saying a simple goodbye he shoved the door open and slammed it on his back, maybe he hoped to see you again, a goodbye rested uncomfortably with him. 

You dropped to your knees and sobbed loudly into your hands, your shoulders shook recklessly as all you could do was cry, cry for the lovely times, cry for all the future memories you had wished to have with him, cry for Levi. You had known his lifestyle was going to interfere with the relationship but never had you expected this from him. It was so bizarre that you thought it was a joke, a little tease he was playing on you.

But there you were kneeled down. Tears never seemed to stop as they poured down your cheeks onto the wood boards below you.

──────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────────

You had done it, you’ve finally gained citizenship and coughed up enough money to go to the surface. It's been years since you had last seen your ex boyfriend, honestly you were still in love with him even after all the heartthrob he had caused you. But as you stepped up the stairs to the blaring sun all you thought of were new beginnings, a new hope fluttered in your chest as you clutched onto your small bag of belongings.

Conveniently, today was also the day Levi was returning from the expedition.

Breathing in the fresh air you stood, eyes staring at the beautiful sky before you. It surpassed your expectations tremendously. Walking along the unfamiliar road you felt the stares of the civilians, your clothing was very different. Dirty and disheveled while they were clean and perfectly perfect. Finding what seemed to be the main road you saw people standing on either side of it, some were sobbing as they awaited their child, although they didn’t know what was left of their kid it was almost a given it would come back cold and lifeless. As others were staring in shock or longing, their dying wish was to be a part of the Survey Corps and live a heroic life, so naive.

Pushing past the civilians you weeded through the crowd, grumbling apologies as you did. Then began the rumble of the floor as the large gate began to pull itself open, revealing horses with battered and horror stricken soldiers. The tired trot of the horses as the hooves clanked against the stoney path. As they moved along their open pathway, carts full of bloody bags filled with mutilated bodies crossed the gate.

Time went short as the cart of bodies passed by your vision. Seeing the missing half of one's face as the remains of their brain was drooping out of the gaping hole. Blood splattered the face while the eyes were wide with fear and their mouth had been mid scream before they met their doom. Bile rode up your throat abruptly, clasping a hand to your mouth as you began to shove through the crowd, pleading to unsee that terrific event.

But in your haste had someone’s eyes gazed at you. The familiarity of the hair and back profile striking a place in their heart so suddenly he almost fell over. 

You ran to a back alley, placing a hand on the wall to give support as the bile had tipped over. Puking up any remains of the lunch you had just hours earlier. Heaving air as your chest rose and collapsed in shuddering breaths, tears pricked at your eyes as you shut the tightly, trying to erase your memory. 

A man stood at the entrance of the alley, his heart clenching in loving memories as he stared at the woman he’d abandoned. “Y/N.” A man stated from behind your vulnerable figure. You had frozen, there was only one man you had met with that voice, it was Levi. Your fingers began to shake as memories that you shared between each other came crashing down onto your heavy heart.

With trembling steps you willed yourself to turn, to face your fear of seeing him again. Painfully, you looked back to him. He almost looked the exact same, his face still had a passionless look but it was stronger now. His haircut had stayed the same throughout the years. Unbeknownst to you your heart played against you and pang with love, strong enough love it could support two of you.

“Levi..” You whimpered softly as tears unwillingly began to flow one by one down your cheeks. The urge to punch him was strong, you wanted him to feel guilty, to feel sorry for leaving you down there by yourself. Levi’s eyes widened at your tears, he had expected you to lash out and scream not crumble before him.

The raven head began to walk forwards, your tremble only increasing as the man neared you. Seeing you like this struck his nerves and tore his heart even more. His arms began to extend out to you, slowly and shakily they enveloped your shaking frame. Sobs left your lips and you clenched your hand into fists, beating on his chest weakly, “I hate you…” You cried as you continued your futile attempts in hitting him.

Levi frowned and brought you closer to his chest, his own eyes glazed over as he shut them tightly, his hands gripping your shirt in clumps as he held onto you as if you’d slip through his arms again. “I'm sorry.” He said softly, tucking his head in your hair as you stopped your vain attempts and held onto his shirt. Your tears left stains but in the moment he’d forget about it.

“I hate you..” You wept again, his embrace only tightening, “Don't do that ever again…” You choked out. Levi let small tears slip past his eyes, finding themselves suited in your hair. “Never.” He whispered gently, pulling back from the embrace gradually as his hands went to your face. His eyes roaming every place they could, he had missed you so much.

Cautiously, he leaned down and shut his eyes with you following suit. His lips found yours, he still felt the same on your lips, as if you were molded only for each other's warm kisses. The kiss was long overdue, your hands on him relaxing as they moved to his shoulders. Leisurely you pulled away, resting your forehead on his whilst his thumb coated your cheek and rubbed your tears off tenderly.

Both hearts mended back together that day. Starting new beginnings.

[flightfoot]

Trials of Apollo - A Character Study of Apollo, of Abuse, Redemption, And Change

This series, Trials of Apollo? Has, ultimately, been centered firmly around APOLLO’S personal journey, his character development throughout his time as a mortal, with him slowly coming to terms with the problems in the world he’s been ignoring, the issues within himself he’s been pushing down, who he is, and who he wants to be.

The Hidden Oracle: Apollo starts at least thinking about his issues, from how much his kids deserve a better father than him, admitting to himself that Zeus abused him, to realizing, to beginning to accept that the lives of the beings around him, from the dryads to the demigods, had far greater worth than he’d treated them as having.

The Dark Prophecy: Mostly just deepening the lessons he started learning in THO, especially with him Taking a Level in Kindness with respect to helping save Lit and deciding that he would in fact be willing to die for Meg. This is also the book where his arrogance mostly fizzled out.

The Burning Maze: Now THIS book, this was a MAJOR turning point. In the previous two books he saw the problems and issues both with himself and with the culture he’d been apart of, with callously abandoning demigods and mortals, treating them as expendable and lesser. The Burning Maze hammers in that Apollo needs to remember these lessons, with Jason telling him to “Remember what it’s like to be human”. It cements Apollo’s desire to change.

The Tyrant’s Tomb: I’d say this book’s main claim to fame is really hammering in how Apollo himself has screwed over and mistreated people in the past. While previous books emphasized how his inaction and uncaring approach, with just standing by while terrible things happened and not caring unless he was personally involved, led to him just accepting a lot of tragedies happening around him that he was somewhat complicit in and could have reasonably stopped or made better, this book... this book was different. 

This time, Apollo’s confronted with how he screwed over the Cumaen Sibyl, ordered for one of his girlfriends to be murdered for cheating on him, cursed crows and blamed THEM for telling him about the affair, and bullied Harpocrates pretty horribly. This wasn’t just him being callous or uncaring; he was the main one responsible. Here, he really confronted that in some ways, he hadn’t always been that different from the Emperors themselves, at least in the eyes of those he hurt.

He’d been trending away from wanting to forget and just move on with his life after this experience for awhile, but having his worst actions thrown back in his face like that, now that he had the perspective to understand how bad the things he’d done really were? Made sure that he did NOT want to be that person again, while also emphasizing how much he WASN’T the person who’d done those things anymore.

The Tower of Nero: His main changing is done. Meg’s character development, her plotline, receives a lot more attention this book than in... probably any previous book honestly, with her whole situation with how she deals with Nero, with being within her abuser’s grip again, being addressed in a lot of detail. Apollo makes direct comparisons between her situation, with needing to go back and confront her abuser while trying to stop from falling in line, from succumbing to their emotional and mental abuse, and his own, with him wanting to retain who he is now and not to regress into who he was, into who he was shaped into by the toxic environment on Mount Olympus and by Zeus more specifically. Abuse, how it works psychologically, and how to try to break free from it, receives a LOT of attention this book, having been touched on in previous entries but in far less detail.

It also emphasizes identity a lot, with Apollo trying to figure out who he is and who he wants to be. Not so much as in actually questioning what principles he should adhere to in the future - previous books locked that down pretty well - but more in coming to terms with who he’d become and not wanting to lose himself, to lose this version of himself, once he regained his godhood, and being afraid that he would if he returned to Mount Olympus’s abusive environment once more. 

In Conclusion: I REALLY enjoyed the whole book series from start to finish and think it did an excellent job developing Apollo’s character, with each book emphasizing different stages along the way, but with other facets of his development running along in the background. It happens gradually enough, with the catalysts of his changes and realizations made clear enough, that it all feels like a natural course of development, even with as drastically as he changed.

Trials of Apollo is in my mind, one of the best character development-focused stories out there and is absolutely worth a read, especially for anyone who likes redemption arcs.