#i sigh and look into the horizon longingly

[lopsaii]

Witnessing the consequences of my actions

[poisonf0rest]

Intertidal Zone

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.

♱⋅── word count: 6.7k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, fem! masterbation, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf

art credit to @/khouxy on instagram

You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose. 

The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.

It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.

It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind. 

Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night. 

“How’s your drawing?” 

Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but. 

“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.

He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder. 

“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?” 

You hoped the together was implicit by now.

But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”

Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness. 

Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was. 

Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship. 

You’re leaning in despite yourself. 

Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away. 

You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before. 

When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”

The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him. 

But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.

He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.  

"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."

A laugh. Dry, humorless. 

His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.” 

You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"

"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."

"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.” 

Like he’s always fucking starving.

Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”

You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.

“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"

Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."

You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."

"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"

The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more. 

“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.” 

Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.

“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”

His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another. 

“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”

You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.

More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you. 

The glass lays shattered against the floor. 

Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses. 

“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.” 

The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever. 

“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”

“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

“Fuck.” 

You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”

You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you. 

By the third time, you know something is wrong. 

It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long. 

But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues. 

So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel. 

His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again— 

It’s the cold that wakes you up. 

Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs. 

“Rafayel?”

A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand. 

“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console. 

He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.

Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.

"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.

Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."

The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.

Yet again, he stops you halfway.

“Do you want to go back to your room first?”

At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point. 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”

“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”

“Cutie…”

“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”

Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.

Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”

“What kind of promise?”

A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”

There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true. 

So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”

Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true. 

Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching. 

You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.  

Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”

Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.

Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets. 

You need him. 

Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.

The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire. 

And then the room is all too hot once again. 

Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated. 

A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing. 

Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.

You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.

How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.

And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.

Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”

Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—

Without him.

A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.

You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"

The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs. 

There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains. 

You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition. 

It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it. 

Shit. This is Rafayel’s room. 

You must be trying to kill him.

Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.

Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.

The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.

Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart. 

It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.

Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.

He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.

But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul. 

It’s not fair.

No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.

Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.

Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left? 

Shit. He’s hard.

“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?” 

The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites. 

The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide. 

Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”

The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear. 

Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.

As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.

A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you. 

Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him. 

You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.

The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.

But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.

Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.

There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.

It's the last breath you take.

An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here?” 

The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs. 

Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.

You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”

Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again. 

You can feel the cloth slipping.

But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.

It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.

So you bite him. 

“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”

Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.

"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat. 

“Or was that intentional?”

The look in his eyes is feral. 

There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper. 

The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again. 

“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”

He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin. 

“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”

Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours. 

Oh.

A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.

Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—

“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."

A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.

"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."

Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess. 

He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you. 

“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”

He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”

Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit. 

Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk. 

“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”

Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.

Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again. 

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—

The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.

“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whiping his chin as he goes to decline the call.

But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard who tried to take Rafayel from you tonight. 

“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”

Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept. 

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back. 

His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm.

Ripping his shirt’s buttons off, you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man. 

“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses. 

No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again. 

You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest. 

And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more. 

Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”

“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”

Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running. 

Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.

“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”

“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."

He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.

“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”

“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”

“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”

At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you. 

You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in. 

His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots. 

Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.

Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.

It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.

But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.

Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.

He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.

"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.

But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.

"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."

He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.

Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.

"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there. 

It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.

Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.

It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips. 

And that alone is enough.

Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still. 

"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."

You're cumming.

He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears. 

Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies. 

As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods. 

God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun. 

The one who's still kneeling before you. 

The one who you love. 

"Maximum voicemail length reached, recording sent."

♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.

Oh the things I’d give to hear Raf sing~

[karikarasuno]

part one | part two | part three

you're starting to wonder if you want to fuck your neighbor because you might actually like him or if he's just a rebound. law is attractive. ridiculously hot, if you will. and you have a tendency of ogling him when he's not looking.

he's tall, tan, and muscular. and you've seen just enough of his tattoos to want to trace them. with your fingers or your tongue. whichever manages to come first.

but you can't tell if he's just nice or if he too wants to fuck you. and it only became more confusing after he built your dresser for you. he was over for hours. and you chatted and laughed and did plenty of ogling since building was such a strenuous activity.

you helped here and there, but for the most part you sat crisscrossed on your rug as you handed him tools and kept him company. and for as serious as he seems to be, he's actually kind of funny too, in a silly, witty, dark kinda way.

that's when your lust started to become muddled with something else. something sappier and mushier. you should not have a crush on your neighbor.

“he anchored it to the wall,” nami’s voice is astonished as she braces two palms against you’re dresser and wiggles it around, but it doesn’t budge.

“he claimed it was safer since i have a dog.” chopper squirms around on the floor, accidentally kicking over a stack of books that you never actually placed on the bookshelf and proving law’s point.

“im so jealous. im pretty sure zoro put one of the legs of mine on the wrong freaking way,” she complains, proceeding to sit on top of the dresser. “damn, this bitch is sturdy.”

“nami, get off my dresser, please,” you scold her as you push her off. “and we know better than to have zoro build things when he can barely follow instructions.”

“yeah, next time i’ll just get your sexy neighbor to do it,” she laughs as she jumps off and starts opening drawers.

you swat her hands away when she makes it to your underwear drawer. “you will not. he’s my sexy neighbor, get your own.”

your face heats up when your words register to your own ears. “oop, someone’s possessive. is that how you thanked him? fucked him on your new, strong dresser?”

“no,” you admit, even though you really wanted that evening to end that way. “he’s not like that. he’s respectful and courteous and nice.”

“and you like him,” she shrugs, not sounding the least bit surprised.

you sigh, not even willing to put up a fight and deny her. “having a crush on your neighbor is just so…”

“cute,” she offers.

“cliché,” you amend, shoulders sagging as you lean against the large piece of furniture law built for you.

nami doesn’t stay for much longer. but that conversation lingers on your mind. even hours later when the sun dips low into the horizon and the sky turns into glittery ink.

****

it takes your lighter one too many tries to produce it's tiny flame. it must be running low. you hold the tightly rolled joint between your fingers, the filter sitting firm between your lips as you try once more to light it.

finally, blissfully, the end burns and smoke fills your mouth as you breathe it longingly into your lungs. you don't smoke often. it's rare these days, especially when kid was the one with the medical card. but nami was able to slide you some pre-rolls today before she left.

the fuzzy feeling is quick to warm over you as you shuffle in place outside. it's not cold per say, but there's a definite chill in the air that has you regretting not pulling on a jacket.

you take another deep drag.

“i hope you know smoking is bad for your lungs,” law's voice is much, much closer than he actually is. and to be fair, you didn't think anyone could see you from where you're standing beside your house.

“oh, so you’re saying i should stick to edibles,” you respond, blowing out smoke from your lips and watching it temporarily cloud his figure.

“no," he's approaching you and you register how comfy he looks in sweats and a hoodie. you're really starting to regret only being in a t-shirt. "i'm saying smoking is bad for your lungs.”

"i think for tonight my lungs can handle it," you take another puff. he stops beside you, the sliver of the moon offering very little light, but it still somehow casts just enough for your eyes to outline the contours of his face. why did he have to be so damn handsome?

"just make sure to stay hydrated so your lungs don't fill with mucus," he chides, leaning against the wall of your home just as you are.

"okay, doc," you chuckle, inhaling once more as you lean your head back. you offer him the joint after a beat of silence, hand extending towards him as you watch his contemplation.

“wow, i haven’t smoked since college,” he eventually says, fingers brushing against yours when he makes up his mind and takes the joint.

“and what century was that?” you tease, knowing good and well that he can’t be more than a decade older than you. you can still have your fun, though.

“18th, i think,” he jokes in return, smile stretching across his lips before he brings the joint to them and inhales. you stare as his chest inflates with the action, and continue staring as the exhale relaxes his shoulders and he rolls his neck.

you’d hate it if he was your doctor. some people are just too hot for certain jobs. medicine being one of them.

he takes two more hits before handing it back. you smoke just a bit more and offer it to him again but he declines.

“it already went straight to my head,” he explains, voice sounding sleepier than before.

“you didn’t tell me you were a light weight,” you jest, taking a finger and poking him in the ribs. an action you wouldn’t normally have done if your head also wasn’t swimming.

“that’s what happens when you don’t smoke for over a 100 years.”

you laugh, light and giggly, and it makes you warm all over. who needs a jacket when the hottest man you’ve possibly ever seen is a furnace right beside you.

“well if you don’t have any other plans for tonight, you can crash mine,” you suggest, fingers crossed behind your back for him to say yes.

“which are?”

“pizza and the wedding planner.”

“the wedding planner?” his brows furrow like he has no idea what you’re talking about. and you’re sure that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“the movie with jennifer lópez and matthew mcconaughey? how are you not familiar with JLO’s romcom cinematic universe?” to say you’re shocked is an understatement. and maybe it’s the weed that’s making this feel like more of an affront than it really is, but you can’t help the way your jaw drops with disbelief.

“can’t say that i have a clue what you’re talking about;” he shrugs, much too unbothered for your liking.

“well now you can’t say no,” you blurt out, turning your body to fully face him. “the pizza is already on its way and i can’t possibly eat an entire box on my own.”

“i don’t want to impose,” he tries to counter, but you hook your hand in his hoodie pocket, catching him off guard and begin to tug him towards your screen door.

“don’t be silly,” you dismiss him, smiling to yourself at the fact that he’s not fighting your grip on his pullover. “and i’ll also have you know that this movie is the reason why i only ate the brown coated m&ms for like a year.”

"that seems like a waste," he responds, following you into your home through the sliding glass doors.

"it really was, but you couldn't tell me it wasn't the coolest thing in the world when i was 11."

chopper greets him first, traitorous little shit. he places his front paws on law's abdomen (you definitely are not envious of your dog), and the unexpectedness has law teetering back. you assume his balance is shitty from his high. not that yours is any better.

"thirsty?" you end up asking as he stands unfamiliarly in the entry of your kitchen.

"yeah, my mouth is actually very dry," his lip curls in distaste, and you can't help but find the expression cute.

“cotton mouth can be brutal sometimes,” you hand him a room temperature water bottle, then twisting the cap off of yours to take a sip.

law’s really thirsty though, and you stare as he chugs. his head is tilted back and his adam’s apple bobs. every muscle on him is strong and lean. his chest is broad and the softness of his sweater makes your hand twitch to cuddle into him. the high must have gone straight to your pussy.

you pull your eyes away from his chest, lazying them back up to his face, and you’re startled to find that he’s already looking at you. pretty intensely.

he pulls the water bottle away from his lips, only a quarter of the liquid left. but a drop manages to dribble out and slip down his chin. he raises his hand to clean it off but your hand beats it. you swipe a thumb down his chin to catch, the tip of your finger grazing his lower lip.

you freeze with your hand on his face, your eyes stuck on his parted lips. god, you really want to kiss him. he raises his free hand to gently wrap his fingers around your wrist. you swear you must sway in place because he’s much closer. you can smell his body wash. it’s intoxicating.

your eyes drift closed before you can think twice and you rise on your toes a little. you feel his nose brush yours before anything else. and for one count you both breathe into each other’s waiting mouths. everything is so syrupy; time is fuzzy. and you’re drowning in his smell.

why did he also have to smell so good?

he closes the gap, however small it may have been. there’s a brief hesitation from him when his lips press to yours. but you don’t give him a real chance to change his mind. to regret his decision. because you practically wrap yourself around him. the arm that’s not being held in place by his hand loops around his neck. it forces him closer to you while it flattens your front to his.

your lips part, urging him to deepen the kiss and he does. his tongue snakes into your mouth and presses wetly against yours. his mouth is a little cold from the water, but that only serves to strengthen the shiver that runs down your spine when he trails a hand down to cup your ass.

it’s unexpected, the pressure he applies there. but you moan anyway. that seems to encourage him and he brings his other hand down to grip you in the same way. you tighten your hold around his neck, continuing to kiss him in dizzying circles.

your feet are locked around his waist at some point. he used the leverage he had on your ass to pick you up. you really didn’t think he could get hotter.

but you speak too soon again. he plops you down onto your counter, his hands now firmly on your hips as he drags you to the edge of the counter to be flush against him.

you’re not sure how this all happened. too fast. you’re too desperate to want to stop and take your time. not when every touch lingers and sizzles as he drags his fingers along exposed skin.

he pulls away for you to breathe and you’re silently thankful. you would have suffocated on that kiss if he let you. but your lips aren’t unoccupied for long because you drag them along the column of his neck. he shivers in your embrace.

there’s a bit of black ink poking out from the collar of his hoodie, and you couldn’t stop the temptation to lick it if you tried.

your tongue darts out and you use just the tip of your tongue to graze along his collarbone. a groan rattles around his chest and involuntarily your thighs tighten around his waist.

his hands slip beneath your t-shirt easily from how thin it is. and suddenly you no longer regret not wearing an extra layer. his fingers are warm as they coast up your sides and you press yourself further into his touch, urging his hands higher until his fingers skim the soft skin of your breast. you moan lightly into his neck, mouth still kissing and sucking at him.

you can tell he’s trying not to overstep. to restrain himself. his fingers are curious but unsure.

“law,” you whisper against his throat, watching as his skin litters with goosebumps. one of your hands slips beneath your shirt to grab hold of his and you place his large palm directly over you. he squeezes and you gasp. your mind just melts under his attention as you lift your face to capture his lips again.

it’s all tongue and whines and you want more from him. your hand drifts down his torso, lifting the hem of his hoodie until your fingertips meet the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. how is he so warm?

he shivers again, his body curving into you.

your fingers barely breach beneath the fabric of his pants when the doorbell rings. chopper jumps off the couch and barks loudly at the interruption. law nearly jumps halfway across the kitchen from the sudden commotion. his body is ripped from yours and you’re left breathless, confused.

“the pizza,” you say when you remember. everything feels delayed. time doesn’t make much sense when your mind is foggy from kissing.

“I’ll grab it,” law says, but you don’t miss the way he readjusts himself in his pants when he turns away from you. a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips at the sight.

part four

[frost-queen]

Crazy possesive (Fem!Reader x Agatha Harkness)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22 @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic , @p0nycurtis , @eliscannotdance

Agatha flicked the damned torn note in her hand with slight annoyance. Teen beside her came closer. – “So who are we recruiting first.” – he asked looking over her shoulder to the written down names. Agatha moved the note away. Putting on a smile for him with a dramatic turn to him.

“Leave that to me.” – she answered booping him on his nose. It made Teen blink surprised at the childish approach towards him. She winked him to follow her back to the car. Teen came hurrying after her. – “This is all very exciting.” – he said holding the door handle in his hand.

“Right.” – Agatha responded with a slight mockery in her eyes. She opened the door to get inside the car. – “So who first?” Who do we persuade first for our coven.” – Teen was enthusiastic. Agatha much less.

She leaned back against the seat, elbow resting on the frame. – “Just drive, I’ll give you directions.” – she responded sounding mysterious. – “Okay.” – Teen breathed out with giddy. He started the car, following Agatha’s first direction. Her directions led to the first witch to recruit. – “How do you know where to find them?” – he asked her curious.

“Covenless witches can easily be sensed by other.” – Agatha explained to him, adjusting the scarf around her arms. With a smooth expression, she opened the door, allowing Teen to enter first. After the first recruiting there was a second, third, fourth. Agatha all gave them instructions to head for her house back in Westview.

Teen was heading back to the car, Agatha waiting behind. He sensed that she stayed behind, furrowing his brows. – “Aren’t you coming? There is still one name on the list.” – he told her. Agatha quirked her eyebrow up. – “Very observant and good memory.” – she called out, slightly to mock him for peeking before.

“I’ll take the last one alone.” – she informed him with a gesture that he could leave without her. – “Are… are you sure Agatha?” – he asked wanting to be certain. – “Yes.” – Agatha dreaded on with a loud sigh. – “I’m a big girl I can handle myself.” – she told him with a wink.

Teen rolled his eyes at her. Teen lingered making Agatha shoo him once more away. Waving her hands away like trying to fend off a crow from her crops. Teen thought she was being dramatic but got in the car with a heavy sigh.

Agatha waved him flirtatious goodbye. Waiting for him to be out of view. Till his car was nothing more but a little speck on the horizon. Clasping her hands together, she spun around. – “Oh dearest.” – she called out into the air. Her voice sweet and melodious. Agatha felt a tingle behind her.

A vibration, a shift in space. Making her curl up a smile. She turned around with the cheekiest smile. Her gaze fixated on the woman before her. – “You called.” – you said lowering your hands. Agatha approached you. Cupping your cheeks, staring longingly in your eyes and kiss you.

Before anything else, she wanted to kiss you. You let her. Allowing her to kiss you once, twice, trice. By the fourth time, you lowered her hands on you, eager to hear what she had to say. Agatha came to your side, taking your hand in hers.

“Who’s the boy?” – you asked her. It made Agatha look teasingly back at you. – “You have been observing me?” – she called out with a tease. – “Someone has too.” – you replied tilting her chin a bit up with your finger. She grinned from ear to ear. Then she waved her hand aside as if the matter was not so important.

“Not sure yet, but he’s interesting.” – she told you, walking down the road with you. – “He’s looking for the road.” – she told you with a glorious twinkle in her eyes. You sighed soft knowing exactly what it meant. – “I’m on my way now to gather a coven.” – she continued, taking out the paper from her pocket.

“Yours on it too love, but not to worry." – she let out with a bump against your shoulder. – “What do you say love, are you up for some fun?” – she clutched onto your arm, letting her chin rest on your shoulder to look up at you. – “With you always.” – you replied. Agatha smiled giddy, taking your hand firm in hers once more.

Once you arrived in Westview, there was no more hands holding. Walking at least a few steps away from each other. It wasn’t known to anyone you were dating; something Agatha liked that way. She liked her business to be private and mysterious. The two of you rounded her house. – “I’ll go in first.” – she told you with a wink.

You nodded, allowing her to go first. You went after her inside the house. Very suburban style. It made you snicker soft as it was so unlike her. Agatha entered the house with a dramatic entrance as always. – “Did you locate the last witch?” – Teen immediately question bombed at her. – “Well…” – she said moving her finger under her chin with a slight smile.

She moved a bit out of the way for you to enter. – “Hi.” – you spoke sticking a hand up. Looking back at the poorly gathered covenless witches. Glancing at Agatha, you made subtle to her with the question ‘where did you find those’. Agatha slightly shrugged her shoulder.

One of them caught your attention as they moved closer. Rubbing her hands off by her pants before holding her hand out. – “Alice.” – she introduced herself. – “Y/n.” – you replied taking her hand slowly to shake. You heard Agatha inhale sharply through her nose beside you.

“I…I can’t wait to form a coven with you… I mean sorry… it’s just…” – Alice kept on rambling, seemingly losing her mind. – “You’re gorgeous.” – she blurted out. It made you press your lips together in surprise. You looked over your shoulder to Agatha.

Seeing her eyes stood wide, her chin fumbling to keep a stern expression. – “Yeah I’m not sure either if I should fear you or ask your number.” – Jen pitched in raising her hand. You could practically hear Agatha braising near you.

Agatha clapped her hands loud to make everyone snap out of it. – “The road sisters!” – she called out in a stern voice. Jen moved her hands up in defence, making her way to the basement. You followed her as Alice came by your side. Gesturing for you to go first as she held the door open.

You thanked her with a smile and a pat against her cheek. Alice smiled all giddy, coming right after you. Agatha stormed after her. Boiling inside that someone was interested in someone that was hers. Was she possessive? Perhaps. Down in the basement you lingered somewhere as Alice was speaking to you.

Agatha was coming down the stairs as she saw her touch your arm. Her nostrils flared with rage. – “Alice!” – she called out, alarming everyone. – “Call my girl’s name again and I will rip you apart.” – Agatha made clear. – “Touch my girl again and I will f*ck you up.”

“Agatha you are crazy.” – Jen said to smooth things over that she was seeing things. – “Maybe I should take you outside and show you crazy!” – Agatha responded fiercely. You smiled wickedly when she made her way over to you. Grabbing you fierce by your wrist.

Cupping your cheeks as she smacked her lips on yours. Kissing you roughly to make her statement that you were hers. That anyone that would dare to come near would feel her wrath. Even though she didn’t have her purple yet, she wouldn’t hesitate to fight them. Alice took a step back understanding the message.

Both of you stopped as kissing as Agatha kept her hand around your waist. – “Did I make myself clear that Y/n is mine! And I don’t like sharing.” – you smiled back at her, taking her by her chin. Turning it to you. Staring with those hungry eyes at her before kissing her once more. Lilia cleared her throat to get matters done.

“The road.” – she pointed out that it was the task at hand. Agatha and you stopped kissing. You winked at her before taking a stand beside her for the chant.

-------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[akicine]

Won’t you say goodbye? (Sunday x Reader)

Was your love all a joke to him? You’ll never know the answer. He already left .

A sigh escaped your lips as you gently swirl the liquid inside the glass in your hand .You look upon the horizon , watching penacony from the dreams edge . Your eyes well up with tears as you attempt to recall if you did anything wrong .

When you find nothing , you set down your glass on the edge of the wall and let the tears fall .

It all started when you realized that Sunday was hiding some crucial from you , now , being the head of the Oak Family required keeping secrets because , well , it’s confidential information.

But it wasn’t that , it was something that endangered everybody and could force everyone in an eternal slumber that nobody wanted .

He became an enemy of the astral express , a fugitive from Penacony , and disappeared to who knows where .

You closed your eyes , rested your forehead in the palm of your hands , and choked on a sob just thinking of him and how much you love him .

You spent weeks trying to find him, you went to the reverie , the golden hour , dreams edge , anywhere and everywhere.

And still , all your efforts were wasted .

Was he avoiding you? Did he hate you? Did he want to avoid your wrath? What did he want?

All you want is to see him again.

To hold him , to make him laugh , to see his face and admire all of him , to be there with him, lay down on the bed and sleep with him , kiss him . You just want him back . That’s all you ask.

Then you feel a cold metal hand on your shoulder , drawing you out of your thoughts.

“ Excuse me , are you feeling alright miss?” A soft voice asks you , though it sounds warped .

You turn around , and your eyes widen as you see Sunday , but when you blink , it’s just an intellitron . But you blink again .

It’s Sunday . Your lover.

You were about to tackle him , but then realized.

He’s hiding from you.

Your eyes dull , and you plaster a fake smile on your face as you respond to him ,” I’m … not doing the best or the worst . Just sort of numb .” Who wouldn’t be when they found out their lover was hiding from them?

You watch his eyebrows furrow, worry in his eyes, but also watch the intellitron’s face remain the same.

Their voices overlap each other as they say ,” I see , I do hope your day will get better ,if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so somber?”

You give a sad smile as you look away from him and stare into the horizon , “ I was looking for someone , someone so very dear to me , I looked for them for the past few weeks , giving my all . Only to realize they don’t want to be found by me or anyone else .”

You turn your head and see his eyes widen , and you also see the intellitron’s face remain indifferent . The person you’re looking for is right here . But you know he doesn’t want to be found .

The intellitron gives a curt nod , while Sunday’s eyes show a hint of guilt as they say ,” Truly ? I hope that you’ll find them soon . I’ll be taking my leave now , it’s seems that you need some time .”

A sigh escapes from your lips , your heart wrenching as you watch him slowly slip away from you , leaving you alone . Tears start dripping down your cheeks faster and faster , your vision blurring as you gaze longingly at his retreating form .

“I want to be with you again…” you whisper .

And likewise , he says “ May we reunite somewhere amongst the stars”

You clench your fists as you look down at your feet , sobbing as you let the love of your life leave your sight and board the astral express . Making you wait even longer to be with him.

( You feel like a fool , waiting for him )

[aimbutmiss]

"Shanks, have you ever been in love?"

The red head quirked a brow at the boy's question, smirking teasingly. "Aren't you a bit young to worry about such things?"

Luffy shrugged. "I don't really care, but adults seem to think it's important."

Shanks gave a small smile. He really wished everything could be as simple as it was in a kid's thought process.

He answered the question truthfully after a tired sigh. "Once."

"Once?"

"Yes. Once."

Luffy looked at him curiously with big eyes. "What did she look like?"

Shanks longingly watched the sea, his hair swaying in the breeze and his eyes glazed with memories. "His hair was the colour of the sky. His eyes, the colour of the sea. And you know a pirate's first love is always the sea!" He chuckled. "So I really didn't have a choice other than falling for him."

Luffy looked thoughtful for a moment before asking another question. "What did he choose?"

Shanks frowned, staring at the horizon as if searching for something, someone, that want there. "... I don't know. I just know it wasn't me."

[anonymous-dentist]

Ocean's Haunted

Read on AO3

-

First off, the ocean's haunted.

That's very important.

Once upon a time when Cesar was still on land, his mother told him all about the spirits that lived on the water. There are the ghosts, of course, and their ships that sail under the full moon. Sea monsters that live in the deepest parts of the ocean and drag sailors to their dooms. Sirens that take on the appearance of one's deepest desires.

What Cesar's mother failed to mention were the goddamn sea zombies.

Sea zombies like the ones currently trying to eat Cesar's face: lean and filled with holes like a sponge, leaking water from every orifice, hair the color and appearance of decayed seaweed. And, of course, smelling of dead fish.

Being alone on his back in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean miles away from land and armed with only a pistol (one bullet left) and a bottle of rum (unopened), Cesar briefly thinks that this is how he's going to die: alone.

The sea zombie gurgles and spits up a mouthful of brackish brown water onto Cesar's shoes. Its teeth graze the back of his calf, tearing his pants' leg to shreds.

Cesar kicks the fucker and skitters back in his boat until his back is against the bow. His hand scrambles for his pistol, finds it.

He raises it with both hands. He doesn't have the time to aim, but at at least his hands don't shake as he fires his last and final bullet into the sea zombie's icky oozing skull.

The sea zombie collapses into a puddle of sea foam with a scream. Its teeth, somehow, are left behind. As are its remaining clothes, including a large, audaciously-colored tricorn hat.

Cesar stares at the foam.

"What the fuck?" he asks it.

The foam, predictably, doesn't answer.

Slowly, Cesar sits up. He puts his gun down in his lap and adjusts the remains of his pants. He looks longingly at the bottle of rum. He internally curses his mother for not knowing about goddamn sea zombies. He externally curses his "father" for his very existence, just because he can.

The sun starts to set over the horizon, and Cesar settles back at the boat's oars. He presses a hand gently to his stomach, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he doesn't start bleeding again.

With a sigh, he cracks his neck, and he picks up the oars in each hand, and he starts rowing again.

-

Pirates.

Ever since he was a child, Cesar has hated pirates. Not because of their whole rob-and-kill-and-steal thing, but because he's only met one pirate in his life, and his life has been ruined ever since.

It's a personal thing. Some people hate pão de queijo. Others hate the winter months. Cesar hates his no-good father, and he hates pirates.

But when a ship that looks about as textbook a pirate ship can be pulls up next to Cesar's rowboat, Cesar feels a rush of relief.

A head pops over the side of the ship, feet above Cesar's head.

"Hello!" the head calls- black hair, and a smile obvious even in the night.

Cesar raises a hand in greeting. "Hey."

"Do you need some help?"

Cesar moves to answer with a, "Nah, I'm good," but, suddenly, the head is yanked out of sight by a pale hand.

"What are you thinking?" a new voice- female?- hisses. "We don't know this guy?"

"Aw, look at him, though! He'll die without our help!" the head argues.

Cesar puts his oars down for the moment.

And then he picks up his still-unopened bottle of rum and holds it in the air like it's a trophy.

"I have rum!" he calls.

Immediately, a woman's head and shoulders appear where the last head was. She looks almost as much a corpse as the sea zombie Cesar just killed, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Why didn't you say so?" she asks, warmth dripping off her voice like slime mold. Her head turns to the side. "Joui, get the ladder."

And that's when a third voice appears and sighs, "Come on, are you just going to let any old wretch onto the ship because they have rum? They could be a siren."

"I'm not a siren," Cesar helpfully says.

A new head, the third voice's, presumably, appears next to the woman's. This man, Cesar notices, is balding.

R-I-P.

"Prove it," the balding man says.

The first head appears on the woman's other side, pouting.

"Would a siren do this?" Cesar asks. He raises his empty pistol to his temple and puts his finger on the trigger.

Alarmed, the first head reaches out as if that'll do anything.

The other two people are not amused.

Sighing, Cesar lowers his gun and flatly says, "And I can play the accordion."

The balding man grins and claps his hands together. "Joui, get the ladder!"

Head number one salutes and ducks out of sight once more. (That'll be 'Joui' then...)

The woman looks at the balding man with a frown. "So me wanting rum is suicidal, but you wanting sea shanties isn't?"

The man shrugs. "What can I say, my dear? We're pirates. We need a sea shantier."

Cesar isn't sure if that's an actual word or job description, but he doesn't quite feel like arguing with the pirates currently saving his life.

One rope ladder climb later, Cesar finds himself tied to the ship's mast with his rum being drank straight from the bottle by the woman.

All three of the pirates are gathered around him, each one with weapons very clearly visible on their persons.

Cesar squirms slightly. "You couldn't have at least let me sit down before tying me up?"

"Nah," says the woman, bottle to her lips.

Well.

Pirates.

Cesar looks around. It's an empty ship, no crew members in sight besides the three in front of him. The sails are down, and the anchor's chain is leading off the side of the ship. The deck is a mess, and the rigging is knotted just so incorrectly that it's making Cesar's teeth hurt.

The balding man steps forward, his hand resting on the end of his sword on his belt.

"What crew do you work for, then?" he asks, fake smile and even faker gold teeth.

"None," Cesar truthfully replies. "I'm out here on my own?"

Presumably-Joui furrows his brow in confusion. "In a rowboat?"

Cesar shrugs. "It was all I could afford."

That, though, is a lie. His mother left him one hell of a fortune when she passed, and all that money is currently siting in a bank back home waiting for his return. (He'll never actually return, but the money doesn't need to know that.)

But, well, it's a bunch of pirates. They don't need to know the truth.

(Mostly because the truth, of course, is too strange for anyone, even a pirate, to believe.)

Silence. Physical silence so heavy that it weighs Cesar's shoulders down. It sits in the pit of his stomach and tugs on his tongue, begging him to talk.

The woman leans over to whisper to the balding man. His face crinkles, and he whispers back with his hand cupped over her ear.

Cesar chooses to lock eyes with Maybe-Joui.

He looks... nice? He smiles when Cesar makes eye contact, though he stays a fair distance away from the mast, a full step or so behind the other two pirates.

A literal second of eye contact is all Cesar can take, though; he shivers and swallows the lump in his throat and looks up at the sky, instead.

Stars.

And the moon.

Bald and Woman's whispering gets louder as they start to argue.

"We are not telling him!" Bald hisses. "Are you crazy?"

Woman rolls her eyes. "What else are we supposed to do? He is literally ten feet below us right now!"

"Yeah, and he probably heard us bringing him up," Maybe-Joui adds.

Both Bald and Woman snap their heads towards Maybe-Joui with narrowed eyes.

"This is a private conversation!" Woman huffs.

"Cover your ears," Bald tells him.

Maybe-Joui's face falls, but he nods and puts his hands over his ears, though not without mumbling, "Maybe don't speak so loudly next time..."

He even closes his eyes for good measure. How polite.

But Cesar, facing him, can see that the way his hands are placed leaves plenty of room for sound to sneak in.

Cesar bites back a smile; he can always appreciate a good fofoqueiro.

"What about me?" he asks. "Do I need to cover my ears, too?"

Woman and Bald both ignore him. Assholes.

Sighing, Cesar tips his head back until it's resting against the mast.

At least they aren't sea zombies, he tells himself.

"We could use the extra help..." Bald muses.

Suddenly, there's the sound of a hand striking cloth, and an offended, "Hey!"

"Are you crazy?!" Woman argues. "He might be an occultist!"

"Look at him, he's, like, twelve. How many occultists do we know that are children?"

Okay, what?

"I'm 29," Cesar sighs.

He tilts his head down to give the pirates a tired look.

They both look at him with varying levels of confusion on their faces.

"Maybe he is an occultist," Bald admits.

"Maybe we should get Cris," Woman adds.

A shudder goes down Cesar's spine at that.

A cloud passes over the moon.

Foreboding.

Maybe-Joui's eyes snap open, and he drops his hands back to his sides.

"Oh, are we getting Cris?" he asks. "I can get him."

Cesar barely manages to hold back a wince.

A cold wind blows across the ship's deck.

Foreboding.

Cesar flexes his arms against the ropes tying to him to the mast. He isn't that strong, but maybe...

Oh, who is he kidding? There's no way that he's on this ship. What would be the odds of that?

The ship creaks.

And then Cesar hears them: footsteps. From below, wooden planks groaning in protest of the weight on them; a door opening.

Panic rises in Cesar's throat. It's bitter and horrible and familiar in the same way as an old blanket and, suddenly, he has a bad feeling.

"Throw me overboard," he hoarsely says, looking right at Maybe-Joui because he, at least, seems normal.

Maybe-Joui's eyes widen. "What? No!"

Woman claps her hands together. "Well, you heard him, boys. Let's throw him overboard."

Cesar strains against the ropes. His ears ring. The moon is looking at him, judging. The pirates are looking at him, judging. His chest hurts. His arms hurt. Is he bleeding again? His shirt feels wet. Damnit.

Bald holds up a hand. "Now, hold on, look at him. Something's wrong."

Of course something is wrong, something is always wrong!

Woman puts the bottle of rum down on the deck. She crosses her arms, a frown appearing on her face.

"Hmph," she brilliantly says.

Maybe-Joui perks up slightly. "Guys, I hear someone moving downstairs."

Woman and Bald tense. They look at each other, having a silent conversation that Cesar, frankly, could care less about.

"Cris," they say in unison.

Bald turns to look at Cesar, and something weird lights up in his eyes.

He smiles, slightly, and he takes a full step back away from the mast, stretching his arms above his head.

"Liz, darling, take a good look at our guest," he calmly says.

Foreboding.

Cesar flinches as a door slams open on the other side of the deck.

Woman's eyes widen. "Oh. I see."

"I don't," Maybe-Joui says.

"What are we seeing?" a fourth voice- utterly grating and horrible and terrible and shitty and bad and disgusting- calls, a yawn and a smile in his voice.

Panic falls way to anger, which falls to hatred, which falls to nothing.

Cesar goes limp, falling back against the mast and looking down at the deck. He's. Tired.

"Who's this?" he hears.

"We have a guest," Bald hums. "Joui fished him out of the ocean. He hasn't given us a name yet, but... maybe you can help with that?"

The deck creaks with every heavy footstep.

Once, Cesar's mother told him about his "father": a tall, handsome man with a big hat and wide shoulders. He was a sailor, she said, and he always came home from his voyages with gold and silver and the finest jewelry Cesar's mother had ever seen.

A few weeks after Cesar was born, Cesar's father left for another trip. He left a letter behind. He left his wife behind.

He left his son behind.

"He can play the accordion," Maybe-Joui helpfully says. "I think we should keep him."

"I'm not an animal," Cesar grumbles.

He looks firmly at his boots even as the hulking figure of the fourth pirate comes to stand in front of him.

"Well?" Woman asks.

"Why is he tied up?" the pirate asks, sounding almost upset. "Hold on..."

Hands start tugging at the ropes.

And then they suddenly stop.

"Wait a minute..." the pirate murmurs.

"Oh, this will be good," Woman quietly says to her friends.

"Look at me," the pirate gently orders, voice cracking as his two hands settle on either side of Cesar's face.

Cesar sneers and tries to shrug off the pirate's touch. "Go fuck yourself, old man."

The pirate gasps, "It is him!"

And then Cesar is being pinned to the mast as the pirate hugs him, wrapping his beefy arms around both Cesar and the mast and Cesar can't breathe for so many reasons-

"Cesar!" the pirate weeps, tears in his voice and running down his face and dampening Cesar's hair. "My boy!"

Cesar tries to become one with the mast. Why didn't they throw him overboard?

"Cristopher," he stiffly replies. "I can't breathe."

The pirate backs up immediately, though his hands remain on Cesar's shoulders.

For the first time in years, Cesar looks his father in the face, and he feels nothing.

The pirate is crying. Cristopher is crying, the overemotional old man. He's gained a massive scar on his face since Cesar last saw him, and his hair has gone fully white. He's in his pajamas already even though it's barely past sunset.

"Girl!" he shouts over his shoulder. "Untie my son!"

Maybe-Joui winces. "Um, Mr. Cris, I'm not sure-"

"Gladly," Woman smirks.

She approaches, winks as she passes Cesar and steps behind the mast.

Cesar desperately tries to avoid Cristopher's gaze as he's being untied.

Maybe the sea zombies aren't too bad...

The ropes drop.

Cesar immediately makes a break for it, shoving past Cristopher and the balding man and running for the edge of the ship.

"Son!" Cristopher cries.

Cesar manages to get one leg over the ship's railing before two strong arms are wrapped around his chest and pulling him away from the edge.

"Don't be stupid," Maybe-Joui snaps, stumbling backwards with Cesar and expertly dodging the fists being thrown his way.

"Who's stupid!?" Cesar exclaims. He throws an arm out and points at a pained-looking Cristopher. "That guy's insane! I'd rather take my chances with the sea zombies!"

"'Insane'?" Cristopher repeats, face falling. "Cesar..."

Cesar glowers. "Don't."

He does stop fighting, though... mostly because he can see Bald and Woman snickering together near the mast.

Maybe-Joui drags him just a little bit further before dumping him on the deck. He crouches next to Cesar, head cocked slightly, a weird expression on his face. It's halfway a smile, halfway a frown, halfway a confused hmmmm? of a look.

And then he holds up a hand, one that was pressed against Cesar's stomach during the brief struggle. Even in the moonlight, it's clear to see how it's painted red.

He looks up and towards Woman.

"Liz-senpai?" he calls. "Is your office cleaned up yet?"

Cesar looks down at his stomach and groans, flopping fully onto the deck in defeat.

"What?" Woman asks. "Why... oh. Huh. Shit, okay. Help our new friend down, would you?"

Cesar doesn't so much as spare a glance in Cristopher's direction as Maybe-Joui and Bald each take a side and help him to his feet.

"What happened?" Cristopher demands. "Cesar, what happened?"

What else could it have been? Out of every monster Cesar's mother told him about, one came up time and time again in her stories as the worst of them all:

Pirates.

--

A/N: Hi! If you liked this, please let me know! I'm super nervous about writing for a different fandom, so any comments or reblogs or anything would be SUPER appreciated!

[bratbby333]

even if it hurts

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ angst, kinda toxic, college au, 21+ warnings: language, alcohol consumption summary: unrequited love word count: 3.2k

“I just don’t understand what she sees in that guy,” Megumi thinks to himself. He watches you as you exit the library from his vantage point, seated by the window. You walk toward your boyfriend, who’s leaning up against his car. Megumi’s chest gets tighter the longer he watches you, wincing as your boyfriend pulls you in close, your lips connecting with his for way longer than Megumi can handle. 

“It should be me,” he sighs within, eventually turning away from the window, bringing his attention back to Yuuji and Kugisaki, the two of them oblivious to his mental anguish. But, of course they are, and so are you, his unchanging, neutral facial expression never giving away his true, tortured feelings. 

Then again, Megumi doesn’t know what you’d see in him, either. He knows everything about you; the good, the bad and the ugly, caring deeply for your well-being and happiness, but that doesn’t outweigh the negatives that come along with him. His lack of empathy, his overly analytical nature, his disdain for small talk, the permanent frown on his face. He hopes one day you take a chance after all these years and accept him in the same way he already accepts you; flawed, but so beautiful. 

“Aren’t they just so cute together,” Kugisaki gushes out, before looking to her friends for input. Yuuji smiles wide, nodding in agreement.

“They seem very happy together. I’m glad she’s finally found someone.” Yuuji adds, before looking back at his notes. Megumi glances outside again, observing that you’re now seated in the passenger seat. He stays quiet, which isn’t unusual for him. Neither of his friends bat an eye at his lack of commentary, chalking it up to Megumi being typical Megumi. He wishes he could rejoice on your behalf, to congratulate you on your new found romance without stifling a gag. Even if he could fake his way through it, his words would be coated in jealousy. Instead, he continues to retreat within. You’d see right through his bleak attempts to be supportive, anyway. So he packs his feelings up in a box, stowing them away on a forgotten shelf deep in the darkest corners of his mind.

Within his tormented psyche, Megumi is anything but his normal self. Looking down at his textbook again, he can’t comprehend a single thing in front of him. He stares longingly into the book, willing himself to read, but his mind can’t help but always find its way back to you. One of his best friends. Your cheery disposition contradicts his cold, closed-off demeanor. The way your perfume lingers on his shirt after a friendly hug, how your body feels pressing against his. The way your lips curl before you laugh, how you wrinkle your nose after someone tells a joke, or the soft smiles you always send his way. How your eyes gleam with excitement when you see him (well, not just him, but your friends, collectively). You’re everything he isn’t, and everything he wishes he was. You make his normally frigid skin run warm, feverish even.

He knows it will never be you and him. Like the sun and moon; coexisting, but never coming together, a constant, cruel cycle. You two meet briefly in the same sky, before you disappear under the horizon and his world goes dark. That part doesn’t hurt nearly as much as what the actual outcome is: You will always be in his life, just out of reach; so close yet so infuriatingly far. He will always be an outsider looking in; a friend. It’s a tortuous realization. But the moon cannot glow without the sun. So he wills himself to stay put. To watch you fall in and out of love, over and over again; listening to you rave or rant about your relationship, he inevitably being a voice of reason for you when you need advice, even if it burns his throat when his supportive words leave his mouth; and it will never be him. And he accepts that as the painful reality he’s condemned to live in. Purgatory. It would hurt much less if he wasn’t as close to you; if you were just a friend of a friend, or even strangers; an unknown face, a passing daydream. Someone easier to lose. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You press your hands against the metal bar of the library doors, sighing as you push against them. The setting sun dances across your hair, the warmth kissing your skin. You smile softly at your boyfriend, who always insists on picking you up after class. He pulls you into him, his lips meeting yours. Pulling away, you smile up at him before taking a step back, allowing him to open up the passenger side door for you. You turn your head back toward the library before getting in, looking through the window at the table you were just sitting at with your three best friends. Your eyes linger on Megumi, whose attention is back on his textbook. 

“I wish he was you, Meg.” You think to yourself, looking at the ground before sitting in the passenger seat. You’re quiet on the drive back to your boyfriend's apartment, thoughts utterly consumed by Megumi. But you know it will never be him. You’re too talkative, too excitable. Too different from him. With the two of you being such close friends, by the time you realized how your heart ached for him, it was too late. You don’t want to ruin what you have. You can’t confess. That would make the dynamic shift towards awkwardness and tension, possibly even destroying the friendships you cherish so deeply. So you stay quiet. You date other people in hopes that someone can replace him. But your attempts are all in vain. No one can replace Megumi. He knows everything about you, appreciates you for everything you are and accepts you for everything you’re not. But you know the deeper connection that you desire will never be reciprocated. He does all these things for me because we’re best friends, you rationalize.

You reconcile with the silver lining of it all; enjoying the time you’re able to spend with him, relishing in the jokes between you two, cherishing the glances you steal when you know he's not paying attention. You ignore the gnawing deep within you, the hunger for more. You cling to the way his smooth voice delivers eloquently thought out sentences to your yearning ears, the way your heart leaps when his deep blue eyes gaze attentively into yours. At least you can hold on to the notion that he will always be in your life, at the very least, as a friend.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You can’t settle for meaningless connections. You’ve decided that you’ll take Megumi however you can get him, the cards dealt to you leaning in favor of just being friends. And that’s okay. You’ll hold on to the hope that one day he’ll take the risk. Such a selfish desire, you acknowledge that. You refuse to fight these feelings any longer, the stark realization that it will never not be him coming to fruition on that fateful car ride, which is why you’re at your boyfriend’s house, sitting across from him, attempting to explain that it isn’t him, it’s you.

“I’m sorry,” you start. You can’t seem to find the right words that will soften the blow. Your mind is an endless sea of thoughts, a similar deep blue that you find in Megumi's eyes. Oh, his eyes. One thing at a time. 

“You did everything right, I promise. I just think we’re looking for different things.” You don’t have much more to say, tuning out your now ex boyfriend’s pleas and questions as you stand and walk towards the door, not uttering another word. Your movements shift to being calculated and emotionless; maybe you are more like Megumi than you thought. You take a deep breath once outside, pulling your phone out and dialing Kugisaki. 

“Hey, what’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be with your boyfriend?” she asks. She can hear the whizzing of cars in the background of the phone call. You walk along a busy freeway with no destination in mind. But your body knows where it wants to be; with Megumi. Your heart drives you with such conviction that you’re nearly running now.

“I was, yeah, I just broke up with him. Can we go out for drinks? Ask Yuu and Meg, too.” You reply. Nobara pauses, waiting for more information before realizing you weren’t interested in sharing. Your tone was emotionless and commandeering; very out of character for you. She decides not to pry. After a moment of silence, you hear the soft murmur of voices echo through the speaker of your phone, before she returns to the call, the plan being set to meet at a local bar just outside the campus at 6pm. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The study session is interrupted by an incoming call to Nobara’s phone. Megumi’s heart soars at the sight of your name on the screen. Kugisaki smiles before answering, but her twinkling demeanor drops almost immediately. He hears her ask a couple questions, but he can’t comprehend what was said over the loud roar of blood rushing through his ears. He doesn’t understand how you elicit such unusual responses from him. These feelings are getting harder and harder for him to fight. He snaps back to reality when Kugisaki relays that you want to grab drinks tonight. He’d do anything and go anywhere for you, jumping on the chance to be around you. Keep your composure, they can’t know. Megumi stoically agrees to the plans, as does Yuuji. The call ends a moment later.

“I did not see that coming,” Kugisaki sighs, placing her phone back down on the table. Megumi looks to his friend, anxiously anticipating her debrief of the conversation she just had. The possibility that you were hurt made Megumi want to jump out of his skin, to console you in a deeper, more intimate way that friends probably shouldn’t do. Kugisaki’s vagueness of the whole situation was making his nerves run cold. 

“It’s not unusual for her to want to grab some drinks…did something happen?” Yuuji asks, concern painted across his normally cheerful face. Kugisaki just glances between the two boys, her brow furrowed. Megumi’s blood is ice in his veins when Nobara finally tells them. He tunes out his friends, his mind inundating with possibilities, sending a silent prayer to the heavens that you’ll soon take a chance on him. He kicks himself for thinking that way, guilt soon replacing his desperation. How dare he attempt to take advantage of your pain for his own pleasure. What kind of man has he become? 

You want nothing more than to run into Megumi’s arms, to hold his face in your hands. You can’t help but feel sinful for what you’ve done. But being with someone when you crave someone else’s touch goes against everything you believe. Inauthenticity. It’s causing you more harm than good. You can’t stand it anymore. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry it didn’t work out…just earlier today we were talking about how happy you two seemed together. Can’t help but think we jinxed it,” Yuuji apologizes as he crashes into you, his arms constricting you tightly. Such a sweet boy. He holds you there for a moment, rocking you back and forth, before breaking away, Kugisaki taking his place. 

“His loss, you’ll forget about him soon enough. Let’s get drunk. Maybe you’ll find someone new while we’re here!” Nobara smirks. Megumi can’t help but cringe at that suggestion, the thought of seeing you engaged with yet another man, a man that isn’t him, shoots a lead bullet through his chest. He reaches his boiling point. He can’t patch up his wounds anymore. 

Megumi approaches you last, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, patting gently and saying nothing. Pretty on brand for Megumi’s way of showing comfort, but there’s something different behind his eyes; a new, unknown feeling that you can sense while looking up at him. You fight every urge in your body telling you to ask about it, to pry deeper into his mind, knowing he wouldn’t tell you, anyway. You desperately want to lean into his touch, electricity shooting through your body. You smile gently at his unreadable expression before the four of you head inside. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Seated at a table away from the bar, the four of you talk about the upcoming exams. You set plans for your next study session. Yuuji invites the group to a movie premier on Saturday night. Everyone reluctantly agrees, even though the premise of the film sounds dreadful. As the night goes on, the drinks keep coming, and you and your friends are properly buzzed, giggling and joking around. Everyone except Megumi, only offering the occasional smile and quiet chuckle. Everytime he laughs, your heart beats faster. Unbeknownst to the group, he’s clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, fighting every urge to spill his deepest, darkest secret. 

Your eyes trace lines along his face, taking in every curve and angle of his disposition. Something is bothering him. Your stare is burning holes into his side profile, and he shifts his weight in search of relief from your intensity. The sun and her rays. You’re snapped out of your trance as Yuuji stands from the table, pointing his finger in Nobara’s direction. 

“Nobara Kugisaki, I challenge you to a Skee-Ball tournament!” he shouts. The abruptness of his actions shocks the three of you. You glance at Kugisaki, who’s smirking at Yuuji. 

“You are so on.”

The two abandon the table, trash talking one another on their way to the machine, leaving you and Megumi alone. You feel elated at the time you get to spend one on one with him. He feels differently.

“It was for the best, he seemed like an ass anyway,” Megumi huffs out, avoiding your gaze as he takes another sip of his drink. His comment catches you off guard, but it leaps from his mouth before he can give it a second thought, as if he had been waiting the entire night to say that to you, only feeling confident enough to do so with the liquor in his system and the listening ears now on the opposite end of the bar. 

“Well, no, he was perfectly nice, Meg,” you retort, confusion painted across your face. This is so unlike Megumi, the man of few words.

“So why dump him if he was so nice? There must be a reason,” he challenges. Megumi has moved from denial, to bargaining, to anger in the span of a day. He can’t help but lash out. He’s bursting at the seams. Being near you is no longer enough, and his ego is his last line of defense before you fully break his heart without even meaning to. The constant torment he’s felt since meeting you has slowly been chipping away at him. All he knows is that he’s had enough. If you leave, if he pushes hard enough, he won’t hurt anymore. He will no longer have a constant reminder of what could be. He will finally reach acceptance. 

The hostility of his words bruise you, anger plastered across his face. Why is he upset with me? I did this for him, not that he’d ever know that. You brush off the sting from his comment. You’re just happy to hear him speak. You’d do anything to listen to him express whatever thought popped in his head, hanging on every word that leaves his lips, even if they send shards of glass into your heart. It aches so beautifully. You can’t muster up the courage to tell him that he’s the reason it didn’t work out. You’re exhausted from trying to force connections with other people in hopes that they could replace him, the constant back and forth leaving your life in ruins. You cut ties with perfectly good people because you know they will never be Megumi. So you cling to anything you can get from him, even if it destroys you.

“I…I don’t know, Meg. I think I’m searching for something else,” you reply quietly, your response insinuating much more than you intended. Your words float through the air so inaudibly that they are nearly drowned out by the music pouring out of the bar’s speakers. But Megumi hears you. He always does. His head snaps to face you, meeting your gaze. He feels his blood pressure spike. Is she referring to me? No…that can’t be what she means. She’s just feeling vulnerable right now. He maintains eye contact with you, looking past your eyes and searching deep within your soul, hoping something in there will guide him towards the answers he so hopelessly needs.

Your breath catches in your throat. Why is he looking at me like that? Did I make it too obvious? Did I ruin everything? Megumi’s eyes dart around your face, searching for something, anything, that would alleviate his pain. It doesn’t matter what you meant by that statement. He can’t stand this anymore, teetering on the edge of insanity. If I can’t have her, and I can’t stand keeping her around without torturing myself, then… fuck it. He decides to jump.

He grabs your face with both hands before crashing his lips into yours, a muffled yelp escaping you. Your eyes go wide, your body freezes. Time slows to an insufferable pace. You can’t comprehend a single thing, a part of you trying to convince yourself that this isn’t real; if it’s nothing more than a drunken kiss. But it’s real. It’s everything and more. You close your eyes, surrendering to this moment. You move your lips against his, desperate to savor him. He feels the exact way you imagined him to, the taste of him clouding your senses. You can’t get enough. The two of you fit together perfectly. You are utterly and completely consumed by him.

His heart races as he feels you reciprocate. His hands run up and down your body with urgency, trying to make up for years of wasted time. The loud bar fades to black as he pulls you deeper into him. All he can feel is you; you’re all that matters, that has mattered. Your hands meet his cheeks, moving to thread themselves in his hair at the nape of his neck. He groans into your mouth, his tongue battling against yours. You claw at one another hungrily. After years of starving, you are finally satiated. Every doubt that clouded your mind is cast to the wayside. All the pain and suffering has come to an end. The outcome that you both desired comes to fruition. 

“Fucking FINALLY!” You break away from one another, the sound of Kugisaki’s voice bringing you back to reality. She's standing before you two with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side. Yuuji is positioned beside her, grinning from ear to ear. Megumi takes your face in his hands again, pulling you close.

“Fucking finally,” he whispers. 

author notes: if this seemed very unhinged and scatterbrained it's bc it most definitely was..and i tried to write this is in a specific way so that it bounced back and forth and contradicted one another and...u get it. im sure u do.

anywho, thank u so much for engaging with my stories...every like, comment, and reblog makes my little heart soar xx

my inbox is always open, send your requests here♡

if u wanna be added to my anon club, drop an emoji when u send ur message, and i will add u on my welcome page xx

© bratbyy333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[emira-addams]

Dude I asbsplutely loved ur velvette and Odette fic??? And I was wondering you take requests? I was hoping i could request some emilute!! (Emily x Lute) us emilute shippers are starving

Hazbin Hotel - Emily x Lute - Drag Me to Hell

"No!" Emily almost shouted at her sister, while tears gathered in her eyes and blurred her vision. Again and again she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "You can't just kick her out of Heaven. She has nowhere to go, they'd rip her apart in Hell!"

Sera crossed her arms sternly in front of her chest "I'm so sick of Lute's permanent misbehavior!" she scolded. "She's always causing problems. She doesn't go to her appointments with her doctors and her sessions with her therapists. She refuses to take her medication. She bothers the other residents of Heaven, she scares them. She can't control her emotions and she's not seriously trying to get better." Sera sighed sorrowfully. "Emily, I have to think about the greater good for all the residents of Heaven, I'm responsible for all of you and I can't allow Lute's misbehavior any longer..."

"Sera, please... Don't give up on Lute so soon..." Emily pleaded, her voice full of despair. She looked intently at her sister, her vision blurred with tears. "Please, Sera, don't kick Lute out of Heaven... I promise you, I'll make sure Lute does everything you want... I promise, I'll take all responsibility for her!"

Sera's cold gaze started to warm slightly. Somehow she was proud of Emily, her little sister really wouldn't give up on any soul so easily. "All right," she agreed to Emily's suggestion. "But you're completely responsible for Lute and if she misbehaves again, I'll kick her out of Heaven for good..."

"Thank you!" Emily squealed and threw her arms around her sister's neck, hugging her tightly while beaming with joy.

"Good evening, Lute!"

Emily found Lute on the edge of Heaven, sitting silently on the ledge and staring down into Hell. Her shoulders sagged and her legs dangled in the void. Once again, Lute hadn't shown up for one of her appointments.

Too lost in her thoughts, Lute winced, startled. She looked up, confusion reflected in her glassy eyes as she looked Emily up and down. "Hey, Emily..." she greeted the youngest Seraphim hoarsely. Her voice rasped with dust, so rarely had Lute used it recently. "Can I help you?" she asked politely. She contorted her face into a grimace and made an effort to smile for Emily.

"No," Emily replied bluntly, joining Lute on the edge instead.

"Why are you here?" Lute wanted to know quietly, her voice wavering and the hand in her lap trembling. She was looking bad. Black circles under her eyes formed a stark contrast to her sallow skin, she was terribly pale and her body trembled. Golden blood stained the bandage around the stump of her left arm; it had probably not been changed for days.

Emily sighed sadly. "I'm here to help you..." She put her hand on Lute's remaining one to stop her trembling. "We all want to help you, the doctors and the therapists... So tell me, why are you skipping your appointments?"

"I don't know?" Lute shrugged her shoulders, slowly lowering her heavy head to rest on Emily's shoulder. She enjoyed her warmth, while the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the black of the night bleeding into the golden glow. Bright stars shone above them. "Every time they sit in front of me and look at me so disapprovingly with their stern gazes, analyzing my symptoms superficially and claiming so confidently that they know what will help me. As soon as my hour is over, they shoo me out the door with empty words of encouragement and a plastic bag of medication to numb me..." Lute tilted her head back, looking longingly up at the stars. "You know, Emily, if I take these pills, my whole world will go numb. If I don't take the pills, then I feel the faux pain in my missing arm, and if I still can feel the pain in my arm, then my arm is still attached to my body, right?" Lute laughed bitterly, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto Emily's hand. "Then it never really happened, I am still an exorcist and he's still with me. If I don't take the pills, I'll still hear his voice and I'll still see him standing in front of me. I don't want to take these pills, please, because if I do, I'll really lose him..." Lute looked to the ground. "With these pills it's too true to be good..."

"Oh, Lute..." Gently, Emily squeezed her hand. Emily never saw Lute cry before and she couldn’t do much against her tears, so she intertwined their fingers while her other hand gently turned Lute's chin towards her, coaxing her to look at her. "I'm sorry, but you can't just suppress reality for ever..." Emily leaned her forehead against Lute's as fine fingertips ran tenderly over her cheekbones, wiping away the stray tears again and again.

"I can try..." Lute whispered, while she lost herself in her eyes.

"You can’t just give in to your inner demons so easily." Emily shook her head. She saw the pain in her eyes. She heard the pain in her voice. "I won't let you to, Lute, I promise..."

I have never written Emily and Lute, but I hope, you like it! It was fun, maybe I will continue this idea?

[queens-peril]

Apollo and Hyacinthus

This was just a little scene I wrote for a roleplay server I'm in, but people seemed to enjoy it enough to tell me to post it, so... Here we are!

(2569 Words)

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Feeling the warm sun on his face was always something Hyacinthus treasured. It reminded him of the love he knew and the love he dearly missed when he was away. Apollo, god of the sun and of music and of healing had somehow fallen in love with him, a mortal man and prince of Sparta. When not running around after the gods, he spent his times with Hyacinthus in the very flower field the Spartan prince was laying in. His arms propping him up and his eyes closed as he soaked in the sun's warmth, felt it linger on his skin like a blanket wrapped around one's frame on the coldest of winter nights. 

"Where are you, my love?" Hyacinthus muttered softly as he opened his eyes, having to bring a hand up to his eyes to shield his gaze from the rays of light threatening to blind him.

Hyacinthus smiled softly as Apollo tucked his hair behind his ear, a soft sigh of content falling from his lips. He leaned slightly into the other's touch, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to feel the warmth of Apollo's fingertips soak into his skin. "I've been well, dear." He replied, opening his eyes to stare into the face of the man he loved. "And how are your godly duties?" He asked as he turned to lay on his side. He plucked a vibrant purple flower from the field of flowers around him before he raised it up to Apollo and tucked the flower into his golden hair.

Apollo sighed softly as he glanced off towards the ocean that lay on the horizon. He smiled back at Hyacinthus as the Spartan prince tucked the flower into his hair. "Don't get me started. I needed to get away from that mountain-" He paused as he too laid down on his side to stare longingly into Hyacinthus' eyes. "To see you, sunflower... to hold you." Apollo muttered as he reached forward, wrapping his arms around Hyacinthus' waist before pulling him closer. He laid his chin atop Hyacinthus' head, breathing in the faint scent of sweet florals and sea salt that lingered in his hair.

He allowed himself to be pulled into Apollo's grasp, laying his head on the sun god's chest as he closed his eyes. He began to trace patterns absentmindedly across Apollo's arm. "Oh, my radiant god, do you think I do not know?" he murmured, tilting his head slightly to press a fleeting kiss to Apollo’s collarbone. "I see it in your eyes, the weight you carry, the longing you try so hard to conceal." 

His hand moved up, fingers grazing through Apollo’s golden locks as he buried his nose in the crook of Apollo's neck. "But you are here now," Hyacinthus whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle breeze that caused the flowers around them to dance. "And here, in this moment, you are simply mine... as I have always been yours."

Apollo exhaled a gentle chuckle as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of Hyacinthus' head. "Yours..." He echoed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He shifted slightly, pressing another lingering kiss to Hyacinthus' temple as he trailed his hand down to the small of Hyacinthus' back to pull him impossibly closer. "You speak as if I could ever belong to another," he murmured softly in response as he pulled back ever so slightly to look into his lover's eyes.  "As if my heart does not beat in time with yours, as if my hands do not crave your warmth the moment we part." 

Apollo's gaze softened as he met Hyacinthus' gaze once more, leaning in ever so slightly closer so the tip of his nose brushed the other's. "I would cast away my divinity if it meant staying here, just like this, forever... No temples, no worshippers, no duties to the gods, no immortality. Just you… and the way you make me feel so utterly mortal.."

Hyacinthus sighed, his breath mingling with the salt-tinged air as he closed his eyes and savoured the way Apollo held him so securely against his chest. It was as if he was something to be treasured, something sacred, something irreplaceable. "You speak such sweet things, my love," he whispered as he trailed his knuckle down Apollo's arm and back up towards his shoulder, watching as he traced the invisible line.  "But even the sun cannot abandon the sky… just as I cannot keep you from your duty,. No matter how much I long to." He added as he brought his gaze back to Apollo. 

He pulled back just enough to meet Apollo's gaze, the deep devotion and something so achingly human lingering in those bright eyes. "But if, for now, you are mine...truly, wholly mine...then let me worship you as you deserve." Hyacinthus murmured as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Apollo's cheek before he pulled back again. "For if the gods are meant to be worshipped.." he breathed out, voice barely above a murmur. "Then I shall be your most devoted."

Apollo shuddered beneath Hyacinthus' touch, as if the mere brush of his fingers carried the power to unravel the threads of his very soul. His hands cupped the Spartan prince’s face as if he were the deity here and not Apollo himself. "You say I cannot abandon the sky." He replied as he brought the prince's face closer to his own, his lips ghosting over the other's. "But what is the sun without the earth to warm? What is a god without his followers? What am I without you?"

His thumb traced along Hyacinthus' cheek, committing the softness of his skin to memory. "You call yourself my most devoted, yet you do not know," he whispered, his voice beginning to tremble with something he couldn't quite name. "It is I who kneel for you.  I who would carve your name into the heavens if only to make you eternal. I who would rip out my own heart to present to you if only to show you just how much love I carry for you." He sighed, resting his forehead against Hyacinthus’. 

"But I am selfish," he admitted with a soft sigh, brushing his lips against Hyacinthus' skin. "I would have you forever, mortal though you are. And if the Fates are as cruel as the tales say…" He swallowed hard, his grasp on the man he loved tightening ever so slightly. "Then let me love you enough to defy them."

Hyacinthus smiled a knowing smile as he gingerly placed his hands over Apollo's. He soaked in the feeling of those warm hands against his cheeks and let out a soft laugh. "Oh, my love..." he whispered as he pressed a kiss to Apollo’s palm, "even the gods cannot fight the threads the Moirai weave. But if I must be mortal, if I must be fleeting… then let me be yours for as long as the Fates allow." He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Apollo’s once more. "Do not mourn me before my time, my radiant god," 

Hyacinthus murmured, his fingers threading into golden strands. "Let us have this. Now. Let us burn like the sun itself, so bright that even Olympus will remember." His lips found Apollo’s once more, slow and tender and fleeting like all things were. "And if the gods are cruel," he muttered as he looked up at the sky for a moment. "then let them know that I was loved by Apollo himself. That I was held in his arms and cherished for the entirety of my life. And when the fates do take me, they will have to pry me from your loving arms."

"Fleeting," he whispered, the word bitter on his tongue. "What a cruel thing it is, to love something the Fates will not let me keep." His eyes burned with something fierce before softening as he looked back at the man in his arms. "But you are right," Apollo murmured as he tightened his arms around Hyacinthus' waist as if his grasp could prevent the mortal man from slipping into the underworld when his time finally came. "We will not waste this, this love that we share. Let it be an ode, a hymn sung across the ages."

He kissed him then, desperate and deep, as if trying to write his devotion into Hyacinthus' very soul. "You speak of eternity, my love," Apollo whispered against his lips, "but do you not see? You are already immortal." His fingers brushed through dark curls and he tucked those soft curls behind Hyacinthus' ear. "As long as the sun rises and as long as the flowers bloom, you will live on. In every petal, in every golden ray of dawn, I will find you. I will love you."

He smiled, though it was tinged with sorrow. "And even when you are no longer in my arms, you will never be gone, for I will make the world remember your name, Hyacinthus. That, I swear to you."

Hyacinthus gazed up at Apollo with his eyes that were as dark as the night and so deep Apollo swore he could get lost in them. "And so you shall," he whispered, his lips curling into a soft smile. . "You are the god of poetry, my love, who better to etch my name into eternity?" His touch was gentle, as if he was scared that his touch would somehow sully the sun god, as if Apollo was the fragile one out of the two of them. 

He leaned in, pressing a kiss just beneath Apollo’s eye. "But my radiant god, must you always speak as if the fates have already stolen me away from you?" He asked, his lips curling into a soft grin as he laid his head back against Apollo's chest. "I am still here, I am still yours, just as I always will be." 

Hyacinthus closed his eyes and let the warmth of the sun and the warmth of Apollo warm his sun-kissed skin. "And I have no plans to leave you, not today, not tomorrow. So banish those sorrowful thoughts, my love, for they have no place between us.”

“You always know what to say to still the worry that seeds itself in my heart, sunshine.." Apollo murmured, resting his cheek against the dark curls that smelled of the sea and wildflowers. His fingers traced slow, reverent patterns along Hyacinthus’ back, as if memorizing him through touch alone. “You call me the god of poetry, yet it is you who speaks words that make the heavens envious."

If Hyacinthus was his most devoted follower, then his gift with words made sense. But still, it surprised him that even a mortal such as the love of his eternity could comprise a sentence that wove itself so deeply into his mind that he was sure to remember it for the rest of the days the earth was blessed with. He tilted his head, pressing a kiss into Hyacinthus’ hair. “Then I shall not mourn,” Apollo promised, his voice as warm as the sun-kissed air around them. “I shall not waste our time on sorrow when I could spend it adoring you.”

Hyacinthus’ gaze softened as he laid comfortably in the arms of the sun god. “I wish we could spend all of eternity like this,” He mused as he glanced out at the ocean on the horizon. “With you holding me while we watch the waves lap at the shoreline, or walking along the warmed sands of the beaches.” Hyacinthus murmured as he soaked in the sun on his face as if it were a kiss from Apollo. 

“I would never ask that if you, however.” He said as he opened his eyes once more. “We each have our duties to attend to, but how I wish to abandon them in favour of you, my brilliant aoidos.” 

Apollo pulled back enough to look down at his lover, tangling his fingers in his dark curls and brushing through them as he hummed. “If only the world would allow it, my muse,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against Hyacinthus’ temple. “If only the sun could pause in its path, if only time could be swayed by love alone.”

He followed Hyacinthus’ gaze to the horizon, watching the waves roll onto the shore. “But even the ocean must meet the land, just as I must return to my place in the sky,” Apollo said, though there was no sorrow in his voice. “And yet, no matter how far I go, no matter how high I rise, my heart will always belong here… with you.”

He tilted Hyacinthus’ chin up, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips once more in a slow, unhurried way, like a silent promise. “And when duty calls us apart,” he breathed against his mouth, “know that I will return to you, always. For even the sun must set… only so it may rise again.”

The two of them stayed in each other’s arms for a long time, just enjoying the company of one another as they watched the sun slowly move across the sky. Apollo lovingly brushing through Hyacinthus’ hair as Hyacinthus spoke of his love and his longing for the shining god. 

-

Apollo sighed, his fingers lingering against Hyacinthus’ cheek, tracing the familiar warmth of his skin as if trying to etch it into his memory. The golden light of the afternoon had begun to fade, casting long shadows across the field of flowers the two laid amongst. “I must go,” Apollo murmured, though every fiber of his being rebelled against the words. He should have been used to this by now, leaving, returning to the sky, to Olympus, to his duties. And yet, every time he was forced to part from Hyacinthus, it felt like tearing himself away from something sacred.

Hyacinthus looked up at him, dark eyes steady despite the sadness that lingered there. “I know,” he whispered, reaching up to take Apollo’s hand in his own, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “But I wish you did not have to.”

Apollo let out a breathy laugh. “You make me wish the same.” he admitted, brushing a stray curl from Hyacinthus’ face. “But I will return to you,” he vowed as he hugged the Spartan prince tightly against his chest. 

Hyacinthus let out a quiet hum, resting his head against Apollo’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart. “And I will be waiting.” He replied in a gentle murmur, pressing a soft kiss just above Apollo’s heart.

With great reluctance, Apollo gently moved Hyacinthus out of his arms and stood up from the field of flowers. He looked down at Hyacinthus whose eyes held a deep longing that almost caused the god to falter in his departure. “Do not forget me in my absence.” He spoke softly, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. 

Hyacinthus laughed, though there was a hint of sadness woven in the facade he wore at his lover’s leaving. “As if I ever could.” He replied. 

With a final longing glance, Apollo turned, golden light gathering around him as he prepared to ascend. And as he left, he carried the warmth of Hyacinthus’ touch with him. For as long as Hyacinthus lived, he would be woven into the god’s heart. 

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There we go! I hoped, if you read this far, you enjoyed it!

[gingerbloof]

Glimpse of Us (An Ascended Astarion x Spawn Fem!Tav Ongoing Series)

summary: When Tav helps Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension, she realizes that he is no longer the man she had fallen in love with. However, she does her best to make her true love happy. But will the cost of her self worth and identity prove too much to pay for the price of love?

word count: 2,180

chapter 2: The Proposal

They did it… They really did it. The Elder Brain was gone, and everyone was finally rid of their tadpoles. It was the biggest wave of relief Tav had ever felt in her life.

As Tav and her companions looked out on the rising sun, she watched Astarion carefully… They didn’t know whether or not the ritual would allow him to walk in the sun after the tadpole was gone, so just in case she made sure to bring an umbrella for him.

The golden rays rose over the horizon. Shadowheart and Gale grinned successfully at each other and turned to look at you as well, but you were focused on Astarion, looking for any sign of pain on his face. But there was none… The sun shone on his face and he closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. He bathed in the sun for a few more moments before pulling Tav into his side by her waist. Even though the sunrise was beautiful, Tav had her own star to gaze upon. She leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, earning her a soft squeeze from him.

It had been a hard couple weeks growing accustomed to Astarion’s newfound power. Tav still couldn’t quite figure out what drove him to say any of the things he said after he ascended, but she was reassured fairly quickly that it was just the adrenaline. He had grown even more protective of her, making sure she didn’t push herself too hard in any battles and always checked in on her. Even so, the way he remarked about their companions had changed. It seemed like the only person he ever saw was her. But she was okay with that. It made her happy to know that Astarion always had his eye on her. It made her feel safe and secure, nothing like how her past was.

Gale and Shadowheart turned to face the couple and smiled at them, although they had been avoiding Astarion like the plague since the ascension, they were happy that he still had the sun despite everything. “Well,” Gale chimed in, splitting the silence. “It’s over… It’s all truly over.” He smiled. Shadowheart was going around briefly to everyone to heal everyone as she replied. “It’s strange… I know we should all be celebrating right now, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad.” Gale raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?” Tav quickly responded before Shadowheart could. “Because now we have to figure out what’s next for us.”

Astarion stayed silent, still bathing in the sunlight, but Tav noticed he peeked at her with one eye with a furrowed brow. She was sure they’d talk about this later… Because they needed to figure out what was next for their relationship. Gale waved a dismissive hand and started to walk slowly back to the tavern. “That’s a conversation for later, I presume. For now, we have lots to celebrate!” He exclaimed. Shadowheart chuckled softly and started to follow. Tav and Astarion didn’t move a muscle, still wrapped in each other’s arms. “We’ll be at the tavern when you two are ready. Don’t be too long,” She said, mostly talking to Tav.

Tav looked back at her and smiled warmly. “Of course. Go on, have fun. We’ll meet you there,” With that, Shadowheart smiled and placed a gentle touch on Tav’s shoulder before leaving to meet up with Gale. Once she was gone, Astarion finally spoke. “Little love… I want to thank you.” He said. He turned Tav around so she was facing him. He stared longingly into her eyes, gently cupping her cheek. Tav stared back into his eyes, trying her best to ignore the hungry gleam they had to them. She was certain it was, yet again, the adrenaline from the final battle still wearing off. She smiled up at him and leaned into his cool touch. “For what?” She asked softly, touching the hand that was on her cheek.

“For giving me… Everything. You’ve given me your trust, your love, and my freedom,” His eyes softened, any lingering trace of hunger quickly fading. “Thank you, truly. This is a gift, I’ll never forget it.” His eyes glossed over with tears for a moment, but he quickly blinked them away as he slowly leaned into Tav, softly brushing his lips against hers. Her breath hitched and she shut her eyes expecting the inevitable.

He pressed his lips against hers softly as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky illuminating them both. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, pressing their chests together. The kiss ended as soon as it started, and Astarion pulled back enough to look into her eyes again. He scoffed softly to himself as he spoke softly. “I can’t believe you let me do that. Killing all those people… A pleasant surprise.”

The guilt of damning all 7,000 souls at the palace faded the past couple days. After everything was said and done at Cazador’s palace, she thought about how happy she was for Astarion. Freedom was something she had been looking for all her life. Her past always caught up with her, especially late at night. Her life had been nothing but darkness and captivity, just like Astarion. The two had stayed up late many nights along their journey talking about their past and ultimately bonding over it. There were many nights where either Astarion or Tav would come to each other’s tents and just sob into the other’s chest. Meeting someone who went through the same thing as you is an eye opener. It makes you realize that you are never truly alone in what you are going through, and Tav and Astarion were no stranger to that. They shone a light they never had in each other’s lives, and because of this Tav felt free with him. Like the chains she bore her whole life had been fully erased by him.

“I wanted what was best for you. Besides, it was the least I could do, after you saved me,” She said, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. He chuckled softly. “Oh, you sweet thing… I want what’s best for you, too, of course.” Tav smiled at this. She knew it was true, he had proven it so many times before, like when Haarlep threatened to claim her body. He was so protective, and made sure she didn’t give up her body to an incubus. It was so surreal, knowing that he loved her, though they haven’t said the words out loud yet. Even so, they didn’t need to say it, they just knew they loved each other unconditionally.

“Let’s head back to the tavern, my treasure. I want to give you something.” Astarion said, taking Tav’s hand. She took it and arched an eyebrow. “It better not be stolen, Mr. Acunin,” She giggled. Astarion chuckled softly as they started to walk to the tavern. “In a sense it’s stolen. Trust me, this gift is going to take your breath away.” He purred. Tav’s cheeks went red. She knew that tone anywhere…

The tavern was bustling with celebration. Drinks and a hearty feast greeted Astarion and Tav as they entered. Minsc was already drunk, despite it being early morning still, and everyone was laughing and cheering triumphantly. Volo even played a bardic tune about the party’s journey. Tav giggled as she watched everyone celebrate. Astarion swiftly cut through the crowded bar room like it was nothing, never letting go of her hand. Typical rogue behavior…

Soon enough, they reached their shared room. It was a cozy little room they had been sharing for the past couple weeks, nothing like anything they had ever slept in before. By the Hells there was even a bed! The early morning sun peaked in through the curtains lighting up the room in a beautiful golden hue that shone off of Astarion’s silver locks as he walked in. Tav looked at him dreamily. She had never felt so lucky in her whole life.

He turned to her and caught her staring. A smirk swept over his face and he chuckled softly. “Come here, my treasure.” He said gently, coaxing her over with his finger. She happily complied and practically skipped over to him, waves of joy and relief from saving Baldur’s Gate and her friends completely dulling any sense of reason in her.

As she approached he took her hand, sweeping his thumb over her knuckles and looking into her eyes. She stared back, not even noticing something cold and hard wrapping around her fourth finger. She looked down to see a gorgeous ring. The band was pure gold and lined with tiny rubies, the same shade as Astarion’s eyes. Her eyes widened as she examined it closer, and saw that on the back there was an engraving.

“Aeterna amantes”

Tav looked up at Astarion with glossy eyes, her lip quivering a bit. As if he could read her mind, he spoke gently. “Aeterna amantes means… Lovers forever,” He smiled and traced the ring gently with his thumb. “You’re the one I want, from now until the world falls down. I want you… To be my consort. To be my bride.”

Tav didn’t know what to say. She was so taken aback by this… Astarion wanted to marry her? She was the happiest she could ever be at such a proposal, but this still begged the thought…

“But… We don’t have forever…” She said through tears. “I’m human, and you’re, well…” She trailed off, but the silence was quickly split by Astarion. “Yes, little love, I know. Which is why I’m asking if you would like to join me in immortality. One more bite is all it would take…” He said, his other hand gently tracing along her neck, immediately creating goosebumps on her skin.

She pondered on this for a moment, recalling what he had said to her about becoming a vampire. He said it was very painful and, normally, a true vampire would not so easily turn their spawn into true vampires. Her eyebrows furrowed as this thought drifted across her mind.

“You wouldn’t just be some spawn, my love,” He said, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “You’re far more to me than that… My dark consort, my bride… My most beloved spawn.” His words were thick with reassurance, but there was something hidden in his tone. Tav just didn’t know it yet.

“Spawn?... But I want to be a true vampire, like you.” She said, worry started to cover her face. Astarion chuckled softly. “My sweet, there are no vampires like me. There never will be again. Besides, we mustn’t rush these things, I want to make sure that you are well prepared before I offer you my blood and turn you into a true vampire. But, this is what you want, isn’t it? To be mine? Forever?” To some people, his smirk could have been read as misleading and malicious, but Tav only saw a warm smile on his face. Her sense of reason was completely diminished at the thought of being married to her true love and living life eternal with him, so there was only one right answer to his proposal.

“Yes… Yes! I want this!” She said happily, a grin appearing on her face. She hugged him tightly, joyous tears rolling down her face. He chucked happily and returned the hug, sighing softly in relief. “I love you. More than you could ever know, my treasure.” He said softly into her ear.

He pulled away and grabbed her hands, gripping them firmly and looking into her eyes. “Let’s run away together… Tonight! We can reclaim Cazador’s palace and make it our own,” He said, haste and excitement in his voice. “We don’t need any of these people, we have a whole world to make our own! Imagine the power we could have over the city. Over the entire world! Just you and me… Forever,” His words were maddening, but to Tav they were as sweet as a ballad. All she ever wanted in her life was to have something of her own, to lead a life of triumph and freedom, and that’s all she could see in this. She nodded happily, forgetting all about her friends downstairs and everything else that mattered.

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” She said, grinning. “Let’s go right now!” She turned away from him to start gathering their things. Astarion was slightly taken aback by this. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t be so keen to up and abandon everything she knew and loved for him, but to his surprise she did. Maybe that vampiric charm was working afterall…

He smirked and helped her quickly. Before they knew it, they were on their way back to the palace to start a new life together. This was everything Tav could have ever dreamt of; To spend a life eternal with the one she loved, and never having to fear anything ever again.

au: i am so sorry for the long wait… i have been severely burntout due to working a lot of overtime and work and just with life in general that it took me forever to get this written :( but i appreciate y’all being patient! i hope you enjoy this chapter ❤️

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

A Light In The Dark | Telemachus x reader|

Link to Warnings/Both sfw and nsfw masterlists Click here

Chapter Ten ~Truths~

The sweet taste of alcohol… The way it numbs the mind… The burn as it slips past your aching throat. You hid away in your room for a few days… Nobody came to see you. You hear no footsteps approach your door, no Telemachus, no Eurymachus.

You’ve been unable to fall asleep the past few days, slipping into a reliance that borders on addictive at this point. Eventually, you’d run out… Eventually this was bound to happen. You don’t know why you’re here.

Why do you fight tooth and nail for life when there is nothing there? You are bound to him. He made it painfully obvious in a literal and metaphorical sense. You sigh, sitting on the edge of the railing staring down. If you just happened to slip… If you just had a sip too much… You have the feeling your brother would be more annoyed than saddened by the accident.

“Y/n?” You sigh… Of course… He tends to always find you when you’re drunk. “I thought you were ill…”

Maybe it’s the way your mind is right now or the way those thoughts seem more appealing than usual… But your lips part before your mind can catch up. “Is that what he’s saying? Eventually, he’s going to overuse that.” You aren’t drunk enough to slur your words, but your headspace is off.

Telemachus pauses in the doorway before he approaches you. The flicker of a torch nearby gives off just enough that he catches the bruise around your neck. He wants to ask, but he doesn’t want to intrude.

“If I just…” you make a movement of slipping, staring at the ground below you. Telemachus jumps with a squeak as he takes two rushed steps towards you. “This happens every so often, where I start to wonder why I try… Why do I need his approval, his attention…” You drop the chalice, watching it tumble on to the grass below.

“Did something happen?” Telemachus is cautious, unsure how close he can get. You’re clearly intoxicated. He has no plan to abuse that fact, so you open up to him.

“Telemachus… Do you… Love me?” The prince stares as he approaches the railing. It’s a random question. “Do you?”

“Yes… Why are you asking that?” He finally sees your eyes, and his heart drops in his chest. They look… So lifeless. Now that he’s closer, he’s noticing bruises, lots of bruises.

“What if I told you I didn’t truly fall in love with you until that day in the rain… That these feelings… They’re screwing with my perception of reality, making me question things…” Your voice grows soft as you stare out past the horizon. 

Once again, Telemachus stares at you, and you stare longingly into the distance as if you are caged and yearning to soar. “You confessed before that, though?” He’s hesitant and fidgeting.

“When we were little… I approached you for him.” You look at him, and he takes a step back, hand resting on the stone as he stares. You can’t keep your gaze on him, can’t bear to see the hurt that swallows his light. 

“That’s not true… You’re different.” His voice cracks as he attempts to reason with your confession.

Tears well in your eyes as you trace the bruising on your wrists. “I’m not any better than they are, Telemachus. I do anything he asks me to suffer through everything. He asked me to use your feelings, and I did for a bit, but… I ended up falling in love with you. Your eyes… The way they light my world up.” You stare down at your hands, watching them shake. “Eury said nothing comes for free. That’s why I’ve never had issues with what I did. I got a roof over my head and his mother hit me. He took care of me, so I did him favors. He kept me from being sold off… I let him pass me around as another pawn to bargain. He’s soft and gentle… He was always caring. He brushes back the hair from my face, telling me I was pretty and that he adored me. I was his world, his Dove… You’re not the first man I’ve done this with… Just the first one not to fuck me.” 

Telemachus tenses trying to push past the pain. You used him… And ate it up. He thought this was real… That everything was real, but… None of it or at least most of it wasn’t. “What changed?” 

“You… This light began to flicker in the dark. You reached out your hand no matter how many times I put space between us. You only shined brighter when I pushed away. You never ask for anything in return. You made me question him. I questioned my brother. I’ve never done that before.” You raise your hands to tangle in your hair as you slide down from the wall and lean against it instead.

Telemachus sits next to you, his eyes focused on your trembling and the bruises. “Did he…”

“He was just rougher than usual.” You shrug, not sure why he’d be so concerned. “I stepped out of line one too many times, so he… He had to. He hates doing it but he had to. He’s usually gentle with me… Caring and… He’s my brother, he’d…” You struggle to find the right words.

“So… To be clear, we are talking about his words and the fact he… Hit you.” He grits his teeth, staring at you.

“That to…” You make the mistake of turning to look at him, the alarm in his dilating pupils.

“You aren’t saying he… Your brother… That’s…” Gods, he’s trying not to judge… But… That’s just… And he’d left you with him on several occasions.

You shy away, starting to close off again. “What? It’s normal.”

“Having…” How does he say this in a way that’s not going to sound lewd? “Having bedroom relations… That’s not normal.”

“Yes, it is.” You narrow your eyes. He’s told you over and over that things are simple as they are. It’s just another form of attention. That’s all it is. 

Telemachus knew you were mentally broken, but this… This is something else. “It’s not. It’s… That’s the sort of thing you do with somebody who isn’t related to you.”

You hear the revulsion in his voice, and your heart picks up to a thunderous pace. “It is… Stop it… He wouldn’t… He’s… He loves me, he cares about me! You don’t have a sibling, so you wouldn’t get it! You… Shut up… Fuck no… Please…” You tug at your hair as your eyes defocus. You shake as you wrap your head around this.

“Y/n, it’s not… What else does he claim is normal?” Telemachus reaches out but you flinch back.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelp, recoiling as you stand up and back yourself away from him. “You’re lying! You’re… You… He wouldn’t. He’s all I have. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead or whoring myself out on the streets for money…”

Telemachus doesn’t understand why you cling. Why you flinch away, why you call him the liar? He’s been here for you this entire time. He’s been waiting for you to open up and this is it? This is what he gets? “I’m not lying! That’s… Beyond that, you don’t hurt the people you care about.” He points to the bruises.

Once again, you shake your head. “He was disciplining me, reminding me of where I am next to him.”

“He’s treating you like a pet! Why can’t you see that?” His voice raises slightly, and you glare.

“You’re lying to me! Eury would never. He’s not like that. You just don’t know what it’s like when I’ve done what he needs… You don’t understand how soft his eyes can get.” You see the disgust rising on his face, but he drops his gaze.

“He’s two-faced and exploiting you!” Telemachus steps close, his eyes narrowed. You take a cautious step away…

“He’s my brother! He practically raised...” You trail off, starting to think this through before you shake your head. You push past him, storming off. “Fuck you! I’m not gonna let you ruin my bond with him! I… I don’t need this!” 

Except you can’t get it out of your head. You don’t care what hour it is… If Antinous is in bed or with a woman right now. You fling open the door, tears welling in your eyes. 

The suitor jolts up, grabbing the knife at the side of his bed before he notices it’s you. “Well, hello Dove, it’s been a…” He trails off, raising a brow. He groans after a moment, patting the bed. You shake your head and pace around his room. He watches you as he lights the candles and torches around the room. After a moment, it grows to agitate to let you continue spinning. “Alright, what the fuck?”

“Does Eury care about me?” You mumble, stopping in your tracks.

“You know how I feel about that Dove.” Antinous grumbles, sitting back down on his bed. “I am not about to listen to you having a mental crisis over whether your brother gives a shit.”

“That’s… Telemachus, and I argued… I was going to tell him about things, and come clean about what I was doing.” You mumble, going back to pacing, ignoring the slight pain between your legs. 

“I’m guessing he didn’t take that too well?” Antinous yawns, gods it’s late. He was happily trying to get some needed rest.

“That… Is an understatement.” You huff, but shake your head. “He was hurt, but that’s not what bothered him. We started talking about why I did it.”

Antinous pauses… You’re bruised up pretty badly. He’d noticed the signs of strangulation before, bruises he didn’t cause himself, but he wasn’t sure how many suitors you were actively being used to bargain with… 

He narrows his eyes and grabs your wrists. You yelp, trying to pull away. You hold them up. “What freaked the prince out? Did you start insulting your relationship with your brother over the physical marks?” 

“Kind of?” You mumble as he drops your arms and starts circling you. 

“The fuck do you mean kind of?” He snarls, losing his patience with you.

“It’s just a transaction… He said it’s not normal that Eury indulges here and there” You stare at the ground unsure why you feel so nervous to talk about this.

“Indulge how y/n.” You know it’s bad when he drops the nicknames. He always uses Dove.

“He was rougher than you.” You’re not sure why that’s how you say it… You know he’ll understand what you mean, though. 

Neither of you move or say a word for several breaths. Slowly, you turn towards him and find him far more terrifying than you have ever seen him. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” Antinous seethes.

“No… Please Antinous, this… It’s normal right? That’s…” You shake your head, lip wobbling.

Your entire world shatters in an instant. Suddenly, you are no longer sure what’s right and what’s wrong. You are no longer able to see through the dark to make out the foundations of your life. Everything…. Is possibly a lie.

Antinous grabs your wrist, pulling you along the halls with full expectations of using you as his control so he doesn’t actually kill the man. 

You follow him through the halls until he shoves a pair of doors open, and you’re greeted by the annoyed expression of your brother as he’s interrupted.

Antinous lets go of your wrist, and grabs a fist of Eurymachus’ tunic. “You’re fucking disgusting.” Antinous growls, tossing the body to the side.

Eurymachus stares for a bit, clearly not expecting this. “What do you mean? What did I do this time?”

“That’s your sister, your… You share a father? You…” For a moment, Eurymachus’ mask slips, his personality cracking. 

“Half sister, she’s not from my mother, so we aren’t like actual siblings. Don’t act as if you can’t see things from my view. You’ve gotten some of that pussy, you can understand.” Eurymachus smirks.

Antinous winds back his fist and strikes twice before dropping the man’s collar. “You fucking disgust me. I draw a line with this. An obvious line.” He snarls, shaking his head. Sure, he’s taken a maid or two by force or by threat, but this? That’s his sister, you’re his sister. When he made jokes about how much time he spent focusing on you, he’d been joking. He didn’t think that it meant… This.

“Really? You’re getting pissy over this? It’s another body to use. You act as if I see her as a person. It’s so easy to manipulate her. You sing a few praises, spend time with her. It was a good tradeoff. I get off and she sinks in further to reliance.” Antinous kicks him, then presses his foot on his chest.

“I don’t give a fuck how you treat her, but this is just disgusting Eurymachus. You could get away with hitting her, emotionally screwing her up. I really don’t give a fuck about that, but fucking her?” Antinous’ lip pulls back as he presses his weight down on his chest.

You watch standing off to the side. You don’t think your brother has even noticed you’re there. You bite your nails, eyes tearing up as you listen to this conversation. “You act as if you haven’t fucked her.”

Antinous scoffs, pressing down harder with every passing second. “That’s not important right now. She’s a fun fuck, but I’m not related to her.”

“But you are older than her. Do you think it’s any morally better?” Eurymachus hisses reaching to grab Antinous by the ankle.

Antinous lifts his leg, kicks the man’s hands off then slams his foot against the skull. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t make this worse… I didn’t once think about touching her then. I didn’t even realize she existed until you brought her up. I was never introduced to her. Somebody kept the Dove on a tight leash.”

“Antinous, you’re being ridiculous. It’s not as if I see anything but a whore when I look at her. She’s been fucking men since my mother started selling nights with her off.” He rolls his eyes.

Antinous pauses before he steps on the man’s throat. He cuts off his oxygen, watching his eyes bulge.

You stare and do nothing. However, despite how much he’s down to you, it’s hard to leave, to let him die. “Antin… Please… Please don’t kill him.” 

“You’re still going to plead for him after all of that?” He snaps, staring at you.

“He’s my brother…” Antinous drags his hand down his face, stepping on Eurymachus, but not before kicking him half to death’s doorstep. 

He grabs you by the wrist and starts pulling you away. Before you both leave, he turns to Eurymachus. “Don’t try to approach her. Freak.”

You make the mistake of looking over your shoulder. He stares at your nose dripping blood, chest heaving with the effort it takes to sit up from the beating. Antinous grabs your chin, forcing your gaze away from the man who kept you caged for so long. “You come to me if he talks to you too much, understand?”

“But-” You start, but Antinous snarls, pulling your face to his grip on your face nearly enough to bruise.

“No buts, you come to me. You heard him admit it himself.” To be honest, you’re sitting there attempting to ignore what was said.

Because what do you mean everything is a lie? How does that make sense? How does that work? What are you then? What purpose do you have? Who are you, if not the piece your brother moves around as he sees fit? What do you mean you’ve been living in a warped reality until now? How do you even fix this? How much are you missing? What else did you believe was true, but actually isn’t? 

Still you nod, and he releases you, patting you on the head. “Go get some sleep.”

“You… Don’t wanna…” You stare at him, tilting your head, confused.

“Just go to bed, Dove.” He grumbles, walking off.    

Chapter 9 Click here SFW version (still mind the TW) Chapter 9 Click here NSFW/TW HEAVY (FR MIND THE WARNING)

Chapter 11 Click here

[bluestarlett]

Light.

{Tonight, you've survived, out of pity and spite. All night, You have vied for your place in the light.}

1,161 words.

☩Asteria.☩

The Stars looked up, slowly pushing herself to her feet.

“...Charon?” She stammered, spinning in a small circle. A wispy, cool hand against her own answered her call as she slowly turned to face the Vulture. Macaria towered over Eris, bowing slightly as it peered down at her. The Stars shied away in shame, averting her eyes from the god.

“...What… Why are you here? Why… now?” Asteria said quietly, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill from her tired eyes. The Ferryman stayed completely silent, saying not a word as it simply set its lantern down beside Asteria. 

☩You cannot hide from them forever.☩

It said after a long moment of silence.

Eris glared at the lantern, hugging her arms around herself. “...I know. I learned that the hard way.” She whispered, voice strained against her throat as she pulled at her braid. Charon tilted its head, blinking at Asteria in perplexion. 

☩Then why still try?☩

“Because I’m sick of this, Psyche.” Soul cried, looking up at the Ferryman with pleading eyes. “I’ve been banished by the gods, I’ve been banished by my own fucking siblings —nobody wants me around. So what’s the point of even… trying to stay?” She turned,  looking longingly into the distance, tugging at the hem of her corset. Macaria followed her gaze, blankly staring into the empty horizon. 

☩…It’s not that we didn’t want you around. None of us wanted your punishment to go this far. We didn’t want this for you, Asteria.☩

The Vulture said, a trace of pity in its voice. Asteria hissed as she hid her face once more.

“That fixes none of this. You being sorry for me doesn’t matter. I don’t want your sympathy.”

☩But you want Gaea’s?☩

Eris hesitated. She slowly dragged her nails against her arm, looking down at the water beneath her. “...You don’t get it.”

☩You’re right. I don’t.☩

“He’s my brother, Charon. How… how could I not want his forgiveness? He’s all I have.” Asteria muttered. The Ferryman shook its head, crossing its arms as it circled around Asteria.

☩But he is not. You have your siblings now.☩

“The ones Scylla and Selene created out of fucking pity? ” Eris spat venomously. Psyche paused, nodding in defeat.

☩…I will admit, you have me on that one. Nonetheless, Asteria—we pity you because you don’t deserve this. We never wanted you to suffer like this. Not myself, not Selene, not Freyja or Scylla, Phaunus, or Iris— we did not wish this upon you.☩

“But he did.” Eris said dully, tracing patterns into the water beneath her. The Ferryman sighed, pulling its mask up and pinching the bridge of its nose in exasperation. Its eyes blinked open at Asteria, each one glaring in frustration. 

“☩Asteria. You cannot live the rest of your mortal life wallowing in the truths that Gaea , of all people, has created.☩” It said, placing a firm hand on Eris’ shoulder. “☩You have so much purpose here— especially with your mortality. Just because he is your brother does not mean he owes you love. You do not need to prove yourself to him. And, hell—even if you tried, you’d never succeed. It is impossible to please him.☩” Psyche stared at Aster, pity and desperation in its eyes as it studied her face. Asteria turned away, slapping the Vulture’s hand off her shoulder.

“I’m not stopping until I’m forgiven,” she said coldly. Charon grumbled, massaging its temples aggressively before pulling its mask back down, standing once more, towering ominously over the Star.

☩You are so damn stubborn. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree, does it? You have everything any of us could want here, and you still long to be a god? What, so you can wallow away in your sorrows for the rest of eternity? Isn’t this what you wished to avoid?☩

Macaria spat. Asteria laughed harshly, storming off into the distance.

“And so what if it is?” she called back behind her. “Sometimes, people make decisions that they regret. Apparently, I’m one of those people. …All I wished for was to not feel so alone all the time.” she hissed maliciously, aggressively kicking the surface of the water. Charon shook its head.

☩And where did that get you? You’re more alone than ever, it seems.☩

“DO YOU THINK I FUCKING ASKED FOR THIS?!”

The Star screamed, voice cracking as tears spilled down her face. Her trident slowly formed in her hand—gold and bright and pristine; a weapon fit only for a god . She pressed the point against her neck, her hand threatening to jerk forward. 

☩…You won’t do it.☩

Asteria let out a hoarse cry which just barely resembled a laugh, if you could consider the choked, cynical sob that escaped her any semblance of laughter. “What, is that supposed to be a command? Or are you saying that all of a sudden, you know how I feel? Because you don’t.” She spat. Psyche shook its head.

☩You won’t do it, Asteria. You wouldn’t do that to them. ☩

Eris paused, her expression slowly shifting as she stared at the Ferryman. Her face shifted, the rage and pain and malice behind her eyes slowly contorting into an empty, lonely sadness as she dropped her trident, her head hanging low.

“...You’re right. I’ve… I’ve hurt them enough.” Asteria slumped over, lowering herself back onto the ground. Charon blinked slowly at her, bringing its lantern to Eris’ face, the light casting a soft, cold glow against her skin.

☩You’ve hurt yourself enough. Look at yourself. Look at…☩ 

 Charon removed its mask, looking down at Sidra.

“☩This human you’re being.☩” It sighed, pity in its face as its eyes met Asteria’s. “☩Is this really what you want?☩” 

And Asteria stayed silent. She said nothing as her hands trembled and she looked away from the Ferryman. 

{Of course it’s not what I want. I… I don’t know whatI ever wanted, but it’s not this.}

Charon slowly closed its eyes, shaking its head as it offered Eris a hand. Asteria stared in disbelief for a moment at the claws reaching toward her, and she offered Macaria a pleading look as she took its hand. Slowly, the Vulture pulled the Star to her feet. 

“☩You ought to leave a light on, you know.☩” It said softly, taking both of Asteria’s hands into its own. Ethos tilted her head in confusion.

“What do you-” She looked up, and there was nothing. Only darkness. Not a sign of the Ferryman could be found save for that odd, cold feeling on her hands where it held her. Eris sighed, clasping her trembling hands together to try and preserve some warmth as she slowly lowered herself to the ground, curling in on herself.

She was alone, again. In the dark. 

Perhaps that was where she belonged.

Perhaps it was where she would spend the rest of her life,

And where her life would en-

“Starshine?”

[nagichi-boop]

Do You Ever Wonder…? (Shadamy Oneshot — DC x Sonic)

(Read on AO3)

The dark and brooding Batman had resolved in his heart never to let anyone get close to him, let alone a romantic partner. He had long since convinced himself that it was a protection for those around him - love was too dangerous for someone like him. Wonder Woman is the complete antithesis of him - she was cheerful and full of compassion. She, in contract to Batman, couldn’t help but dream of a relationship with someone else.

The two of them - whose real names were Shadow and Amy - stood atop a roof as they patrolled the night, following a tip that someone was planning a robbery. With time to kill, Amy seeks to expand Shadow’s horizons and explore his relationship with love. Was he really as cold and distant as he seemed? Or did he have a deeper reason to be so withdrawn emotionally?

— x —

The two heroes stood atop the balcony to peer over Gotham, taking in the scenery while on patrol. In the streets beneath them, couples exited the theater, their arms linked while doting on one another. Amy stared at them longingly, the hopeless romantic in her envious of them. Amy face the ever stoic Shadow, his expression revealing nothing about his mood. Breaking the silence with a sigh, Amy turned to Shadow with an inquisitive expression.

“Do you ever wish you could have what they do?” she asked in a soft, almost somber tone. Shadow briefly glanced at her, noting how she slumped against the balcony wall. He then looked back down at the streets again.

“Not really,” he replied somewhat bluntly, causing the pink hedgehog to pout.

“You mean to tell me you have never thought about what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone?” Shadow once again looked at Amy, who was stood with her hand on her hip and her brows furrowed. Her disappointment in his answer confused him, but his expression remained unchanged.

“Relationships are dangerous for people in our position,” Shadow explained. He looked back down at the streets, but his expression softened ever so slightly – he was dividing his attention for her. “I’m a rich guy leading a double life, and that’s not mentioning all the emotional baggage behind me. And you…” His gazed flicked up to her. “You’re an immortal warrior princess. It would be foolish for either of us to date.”

Amy’s exaggerated annoyance became full-blown frustration. Her face creased as she scowled at Shadow. “Are you saying I’m not allowed to love because I’m a princess?” Picking up on the tone of voice, Shadow finally made full eye contact with her, his expression one of slight surprise. He hadn’t realised his comments would strike a nerve with her; he was just trying to be rational.

“Well…no,” he answered, now a little weary. “I apologise - I wasn’t trying to speak for you. I’m sure you’d be fully capable in choosing a suitable partner.” He paused for a moment, looking away as his expression darkened a little. “But for someone like me, it’s foolish to even entertain the thought of romance.”

Amy’s became less tense as worry crept onto her face. “What are you saying? Are you saying you’re not worthy of love?” As she spoke, the thought saddened her.

Shadow’s ears drooped slightly. “That’s not the primary reason, but I suppose it’s a part of it.” He sighed, a cloud emitting from his mouth into the cold air of the night. “More so than that, it’s dangerous for me to be emotionally involved with someone else. Both my identity as a billionaire and a vigilante poses a great risk to others. They could be used as leverage against me. I would never wish to put anyone in a position like that, so it’s better for me to keep my distance. I can’t afford to let anyone close to me get hurt again.”

The lost word lingered in Amy’s mind. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Shadow as referring to. She took a step forward towards Shadow and gently held his hand in both of hers, cupping it tenderly as she gazed into his eyes. “Oh Shadow, what happened to your family wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have to shut yourself off just because you’re worried about what may happen.”

Shadow maintained eye contact with Amy, her words taking route in his mind. But he still wasn’t convinced. He shook his head a little, though made no move to distance himself from Amy. “Even so, the damage that might caused has made me unbearable. I am cold and selfish. I can’t imagine anyone wishing to be with me, besides perhaps to profit from my financial situation.”

Amy’s expression softened. Shadow was always so dark and brooding, which to most seemed to show a lack of care. But she saw right through him – he was scared. That was apparent now more than ever as he stood in front of her. “Maybe you can’t but I can.” She glanced away as her cheeks became tinted pink. “For example…me.” Shadow’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. After taking a few seconds to process her confession, he frowned a little. “If this is a joke, I fail to see the humour in it.”

Squeezing his hand a little more, Amy met eyes with Shadow again, her expression more serious now, though her cheeks remained flushed. “I wouldn’t about something like this. I’ve liked you for a while now. You pretend to be cold, but I can tell you’re just afraid to let others in. You’re one of the sweetest people I know. Knowing that you’ve been purposefully denying yourself of love is absolutely heartbreaking to me.” Amy lowered her head, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. “Even if it’s not with me, I want you to let someone into your heart. You deserve to be loved.”

It was clear to Shadow that Amy cared deeply about him, and though he couldn’t quite understand it, he found it oddly endearing. He gently pried his hand out from Amy’s, and before she could worry about him distancing himself again, he used his hand to gently lift her head up from her chin.

“You really think I deserve to be loved?” Shadow asked in a soft, almost timid voice. Unlike Amy, he didn’t wear his emotion as openly, but even she could see how vulnerable he was being. To most, he was the same as he always was, but she noticed the subtly in his tone. She had never seen him act this emotionally open before. Despite her best efforts to manage her emotions, she felt her eyes welling with tears.

“I really do,” she replied shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. Shadow moved his hand to cup her face, his thumb gently brushing away her tears. The action was enough to cause Amy to break down. The sight tugged at Shadow’s heart, and despite his reservations, he pulled Amy towards himself and embraced her. Though initially started, Amy wrapped her arms around Shadow and sobbed into his chest. He couldn’t quite understand someone being this emotional on his behalf, but he somehow felt a warmth in his chest because of it. He had never let himself admit it, but he cared deeply about about Amy, too. He carefully stroked the back of her head and rested his chin atop it.

After a few minutes, Amy gradually calmed down and the tears stopped flowing. She backed away a little to create enough space for her to wipe her tears away. Composing herself a little, she looked up at Shadow, who met her gaze. His eyes inspected her face; the redness of her eyes, the sparkle in her emerald pupil, her now crimson cheeks. There was something remarkably beautiful about her right now.

“I’ve never had someone cry for me like that before,” Shadow admitted. It didn’t quite surprise Amy given how guarded Shadow was, but it still hurt to hear. To her surprise though, a charming smile appeared on his face. “Thank you, Amy. You’re a truly wonderful woman.”

Amy’s blushed intensified as the sudden compliment caught her off guard. Shadow had never been this delicate and expressive before, and it only made her more infatuated with him. Once she got past the initial shock, she furrowed her brows a little. “Wait a minute, was that a pun?”

Shadow smirked playfully. “Sonic isn’t the only one who can think of witty comebacks, you know.”

Amy pouted as if unapproving of the joke. Seeing her act like an embarrassed kid amused Shadow, and in an unexpected turn of events, he began laughing. Amy stared wide-eyed at him, struggling to contain her feelings when met with this side of Shadow. It was incredibly captivating        , and he possessed a charm that exceeded even her own initial expectations. She stared at him in wonder as he continued to laugh heartily, his cheeks flushed. Was he…?

He eventually composed himself and smiled down at Amy, who had an almost blank expression on her face. Swept away in the moment, he placed his thumb on Amy’s chin and leaned his face close to her’s.

“What’s wrong, Rose?” he teased in a calm, smooth voice. “It’s not like you to be at such a loss for words.”

Amy’s eyes briefly darted to his lips, which were closer to her than she would ever imagine them to be. She then softly looked into his eyes, mesmerised by the charm he possessed. His eyes were tender and the blush in his cheeks now rivalled her’s. “What…does this mean?” she whispered.

Leaning in a little closer, Shadow replied; “Is it not obvious yet?” She could hear the slight trepidation in his voice – he was just as anxious as her, even if perhaps he wouldn’t admit to such a thing. His hand still on Amy’s chin, he coaxed her face closer to his. She closed her eyes in anticipation, letting him take the lead.

A siren suddenly blared, causing the both of them to back away from one another suddenly. They stared at each other in bewilderment, both bright red in embarrassment. Shadow was the first to glance away, his hand moving to cover his mouth. His brows were furrowed, and it was painfully obvious to Amy that he was flustered by his own actions.

“W-We need to get going,” he stammered nervously, hopelessly unable to compose himself.

Amy quickly looked down at the streets, watching someone dressed in all black walk through a now forcibly opened door. She looked back at Shadow who was fumbling for his grappling hook. Not wishing to waste the opportunity, she ran up to Shadow, and tiptoeing to reach him, planted a kiss on his lips. Though brief, she wanted to reward his bravery.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Amy chirped with a renewed zeal. She quickly jumped off the roof and flew down to the streets to pursue the criminal. Shadow lifted a hand to his lips in disbelief, then after a few moments, he let out a chuckle and smirked to himself.

“She is one fierce woman,” he spoke in awe. Oddly, he found himself to be more energised and determined than ever. Deploying his grappling hook, he followed after Amy to chase after the criminal.

With someone as competent yet caring as her, perhaps he could afford to let her in – he could allow love into his life.

— x —

Thanks for reading! I hope this was at least palatable to read. I don’t really know much about DC, so I leaned more into the Sonic side of things. I wanted to write something because I don’t know if there was many Batman Shadow x Wonder Woman Amy fanfics out there. Maybe I’ll write more stuff as we get more context on the crossover, but for now I hope this is okay.

(This fic is based on this clip btw)

[waywardangel-wilds]

anyway, based on the choice of the like, 2 people who voted, here's the first part of my BOTW Legend of Zelda fic. Did I originally write this thinking it would be a 3000 word max fic? Yes. Is it now a 12000 word monstrosity spanning months of their lives? Yes. Here's the opening scene [UPDATE: Here's the ao3 link]:

“May I ask… Do you really remember me?”

The princess gazed upon her knight hopefully. After one hundred years of pain, could one friendship remain? A touch of honey, after a mouthful of bitterness? The wind blew across the fields, scattering leaves and scents past them, a singular flower, a silent princess, billowed by. The knight’s gaze followed it for a moment, before returning to her own.

“Yes,” the sound of Link’s voice, still so unfamiliar, even to her, barely broached the silence. She felt herself smile, a small feeling of release settling in her chest. She turned away from him to gaze longingly back at the castle, now nothing more than an imposing ruin. What was left of Hyrule now? And what did it need a princess for, a hundred years too late?

“Princess?” Links’ voice surprised her again, as it haltingly cut through her doomed line of thought. “It will be nightfall soon.”

“Of course,” With one hand she gathered up her skirts. She turned towards him, walking down the slight hill she’d stood on. Her feet, now bare after a century of battle had eaten away at her leather sandals, were kissed by soft grass with each step. Once at his side she looked at him expectantly. “I trust that you, sir knight, have an idea of where we shall go?”

He made a startled sound but nodded. Bringing his hands to his mouth he whistled, long and loud. In the distance a horse answered his call and Zelda looked out onto the horizon expectantly. The thundering music of hooves preceded the arrival of a beautiful brown mare, bedecked in a traveler’s riding cloth which, upon closer inspection, had been hand embroidered with the seal of the royal family.

“Oh!” Zelda exclaimed as Link vaulted onto the horse in a flash, settling on its back easily. The horse snorted, marching in place once or twice to accommodate his weight. The knight looked down at her curiously, head cocked to side.

“My apologies,” Zelda answered his silent enquiry. “I did not expect you to move so suddenly.” She shook her head, embarrassed.

The knight offered her his hand, seemingly letting the awkwardness slide. Zelda glanced at it nervously, considering the height of the horse, the time since she’d last used her legs, and the heavy weight of her dress.

“I—” Zelda cut herself off. “Forgive me, it has been much too long since I’ve mounted a horse. I— oof!” Link grasped her hand himself and easily pulled her up and off her feet, swiftly grasping her by the hip and settling her on the horse before him. “Why, I never—!” the words died in her mouth as Link kicked the horse into a gallop, sending her scrambling to hold onto something lest she topple right off.

“Monsters roam the land, Princess.” Link’s quiet voice placated her. “We cannot remain here for long.”

“Right,” Zelda gasped, a wave of nausea overtaking her. It’d been so long since she’d last walked, let alone ridden, that all movement appeared to be most shocking. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, her fingers grasping the lip of the saddle. It would not do to vomit now, she told herself, breathing slow soothing breaths. No, it would not do at all.

The horses gallop settled into a steady rhythm, allowing Zelda to breathe out a sigh of relief. She opened her eyes and gasped, as the setting sun captured the world in a beautiful twilight painting.

“How lovely,” Zelda whispered, entranced. The knight did not respond, but she was keenly aware of his steadying presence as their bodies knocked against each other’s with every stride. Link’s arms pulled the reins to the side around her, guiding the horse onto the road. “Will we make camp somewhere nearby?”

Link made a sound in the affirmative but did not elaborate further. She settled against his chest, as there wasn’t anywhere else for her to go, a wave of exhaustion finally slamming into her. How many days would she have to sleep for, to catch up on a century of restlessness? The hours of unconsciousness stretched out before her in an endless line and her eyelids had no other choice but to slide shut.

Link guided his horse in the direction of Dueling Peaks. He didn’t want to be caught on the road once the moon fully rose, not with the princess in tow. He glanced up at the setting sun and cursed. There wouldn’t be enough time to reach a stable. He would have preferred the safety in numbers that a stable had, at least there he wouldn’t have to worry about something or someone snatching up the Princess while he slept. But that wouldn’t be an option now, regardless of how many times he kicked the horse into a gallop.

He slowed the horse down into a trot, pulling off the road and into a small patch of trees. He didn’t want their camp to be too visible, for fear of whom they might attract. If he were on his own, he’d probably ride the horse all the way home and face whatever foes might follow him into the night, but he wouldn’t risk the princess’s life, it was his sworn duty to protect her.

He settled for a nice patch of flat grass, flanked by tall trees, and hidden by a small outcropping of rock on one side. It would do for the night. Carefully, he slid off Epona’s back, the sleeping princess in his arms. Slowly, to not wake her, he lay her on the grass. It felt wrong to place her on the ground like that, but he’d need to put her somewhere, so he could build her a tent.

He doubled back to the horse and made quick work of unloading the necessary supplies. He had a tent he’d hardly ever used, but he was glad he had it. He built it against the rocky wall, thinking that such a placement would protect the princess from one side while he physically guarded the other. Carefully, he collected her from where he’d laid her previously, awkwardly sliding her into the safety of the tent.

Digging through Epona’s pack he considered the merits of starting a fire but ultimately decided against it. They didn’t need the unnecessary attention a fire might attract in the dead of night. He found some old roasted mushrooms and a hard hunk of bread at the bottom of the pack. He’d have to cook some other time, to replenish his stores. He could do that tomorrow, once the princess was awake.

He shook himself, trying to remain conscious as he sat before the mouth of the tent. He chewed his food without tasting it, thinking of all that had occurred up until that point. He watched Epona wander off somewhat into the tree line, nosing around for a patch of grass to her liking. He rarely tied his horses, even when he was camping. They typically trusted him enough to remain in his care, and rarely wandered too far from their master. He trusted the horse to settle down nearby once it was ready.

His vision slipped as he stared at Epona’s long neck, the horse mindlessly chewing on grass. He wouldn’t be able to resist the need to sleep, not after the long journey he’d just finished. He unsheathed the master sword, keeping it in his grip as his eyes slipped closed once more. If he heard something unusual, he’d be ready.

[kaseyskat]

Once, this palace was lively. 

Well, as lively as it could be, given its history. Still, despite all grievances, Lark had been happy here, running the halls, causing mayhem and mischief, tearing down trees in the forest and exploring and everything else that came with living in a near-abandoned castle in the middle of nowhere. 

Maybe they should’ve expected that the old owners wouldn’t be so happy about a new family coming and redecorating the place. Lark hadn’t– he was a kid! So really, it was their parents to blame, wasn’t it? 

Their parents aren’t here anymore though. It’s just Lark, curled up in the room he had claimed as his own, and the wolf form of his brother sprawled out next to him, asleep. 

It’s so unfair that I don’t get to be a person when I’m awake much, Lark thinks with a grumble as he stands, stretching his arms and staring out the open window at the star-lit sky. Already, the moon has dipped close to the horizon, meaning that his time on two legs is just about over. Whatever. 

He doesn’t look at Sparrow. When the curse settled in, it felt like that’s all they ever did– frantically looking at one another during the rise and fall of the sun, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other in human form before being overtaken by magic. It’s been a few years though, now, and Lark just sighs as he gingerly runs a hand over the windowsill, enjoying the sensation of dirt and dust lining his fingers. 

Fur brushes against his side, and Lark jumps, glancing down at the wolf that has joined him, head nudging at his legs endearingly. 

“Don’t feel too left out, I wasn’t going anywhere,” he huffs, but he still can’t resist placing one of his hands on top of Sparrow’s head, gingerly stroking through the rough tufts of fur. “We do need more food though. Want me to handle that after sunrise?” 

Sparrow makes a little snorting sound in the back of his throat, and he nudges at Lark’s hand. After years of relying solely on this awful method of communication, Lark interprets that as a yes please, brother, you enjoy the hunt far more than I. 

Never mind that Sparrow’s cursed form is literally a wolf. How he got the cool form and Lark got the stupid bird, Lark will never know. 

The sky lightens to grey, and then a dark red. Lark inhales, and he closes his eyes, his hand falling away from Sparrow’s head. 

When he opens them again, he has shifted forms. Readjusting to Bird Vision is difficult, and he twists his head around, watching as Sparrow curls against the mattress. Despite the sleep he had gotten in wolf form, his eyes are dull, his gaze staring off to nowhere. 

It would seem after years of being cursed like this, to live alone and without each other for company, has finally started to take a toll on his brother. Lark glances longingly out the window for a long moment before carefully flying over to where Sparrow’s curled next to the pillows, tapping his cheek as gently as he can. 

“Sorry Lark,” Sparrow mumbles, and he reaches a hand up to gently comb over Lark’s feathers. “I’m just so tired… you can go out today though, don’t let me stop you.” 

Lark caws at him more insistently. I don’t want to go without you! he tries to convey, hopping down a bit so he can pull at Sparrow’s threadbare shirt, careful not to catch skin. Please don’t give up on me, Sparrow. Please. 

But Sparrow doesn’t move, his eyes fluttering as he dozes off, face screwed up in a grimace. Lark tugs at his shirt for a moment longer before giving up, hopping backwards and looking longingly at the window again. 

Those adventurers are probably still around here, he thinks, flying to the windowsill. Maybe they can help return Sparrow’s spirit. I just have to… bring them here. 

He doesn’t trust anyone. Not since the last person to run into them had been so awful. However, there isn’t much that Lark wouldn’t do for his brother! 

So, with one last glance at Sparrow, Lark takes flight, soaring out the open window and towards the last place he had seen the three imbeciles who were wandering the castle grounds. It’s his only option.