#i want raw unadulterated anger

[fatuismooches]

Yay you're back! Right when I was starting to have some Fragile!Reader thoughts myself and I hope you don't mind me sharing them.

If Dottore ever had to put Fragile!Reader into a comatose state as part of his efforts to extend their life until he can cure their illness, he'd make a sort of dream world for them while they're sleeping, similar to what was being done with the Akasha Terminal.

In the dream, it's them and Dottore living the life they imagined they would have had together if they had never gotten sick. They're living happily together, working in their fields of research during the day and coming home to each other at night. There's no sadness, no duties related to being a Fatui Harbinger, no constant doses of medicines or testing potential cures.

In the waking world, their sleeping body is hidden in a part of the lab only Dottore and his segments can access. If anyone else managed to get in there, whether by accident or if it's the Traveler trying to find a way to bring the Doctor down...

No one has seen just what Dottore can do when he's truly angry.

HELLO??? IM IN TEARS. Like- idek what to say😭 As much as it pains him to admit it, he doesn't know how long you'll be sleeping. A few years or decades or even a century. No one can tell except time. So the least he can do, with all of the knowledge he has that was proved to be useless, is to make your nap a pleasant one. An interactive dream, one where you can be happy. Make your own decisions free of any illness. The ability to simply do what you want. To have actually graduated from the Akademiya. To be able to work on research together with him in peace. To have the strength to tease and poke at him constantly. Your body in the real world doesn't move much, but occasionally he can see a small smile quirk up, and that is enough for now. Hopefully, the next time you wake up, the dream becomes a reality.

Dottore is extremely methodical and ten steps ahead of his enemies so the chances of anyone even getting near you is literally 0%. Probably has some kind of whole contraption detection system if any unidentified persons are near you💀 Though he still must prepare for all possibilities, and yes, it's as you said. It wouldn't be pretty. He would do you know, Dottore things, to said intruder. It wouldn't be pretty. Dottore doesn't take chances when it comes to you.

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P50 | screw the rebellious teenage phase

TW : violence, suicide scene, and slight gore

Mark was jumping in his seat, and Yuno couldn't stop laughing at Mark's display of unadulterated joy and excitement. It was kind of cute, seeing how happy he was on Yuno's behalf, now that he's officially a music artist now. Geonwoo and Woojin were beaming at the front seats too, glad that Yuno is finally achieving his lifelong dream.

"You've been dreaming about this ever since we were kids, Jae. Oh my god, you're a singer now. A full-fledged singer, with a record deal under one of the biggest labels in our country!" Mark exclaimed, slamming his head back with a big smile on his face.

"Thanks, dude. I owe it to you guys—I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for your work in managing the MNA Week." Yuno laughed, ruffling the younger man's hair.

"My mom said your highschool friends just arrived at the café—everyone is just waiting for us to arrive now." Geonwoo showed the text messages he exchanged with his mom, and Soyeon even sent a picture of Yuta, Doyoung and Jungwoo posing with Yuno's dad under the café lights.

Yuno nodded, feeling good with himself that he opted for an intimate party among close family and friends only. Well, family with the exception of you. Yuno wasn't that surprised when Mark told him that you declined the invitation, because you already made plans with Junyoung for tonight, but the disappointment was still there, palpable and aching.

He rested his head against the car window, looking at the city lights shining in the nighttime. He wondered if you and Junyoung were among the crowd of people moving along on the sidewalk, and he wondered if you were truly happy after pushing everyone else away. He hoped you were—no matter where you were and who you were with—but he can't help and feel bitter that him, Mark, Geonwoo and Woojin weren't part of your current happy life now.

If you were so happy with Junyoung, then so be it.

"We're here!" Woojin exclaimed, and Mark practically hopped out of the car.

Jaehyun's smile returned.

At least he could be happy with the people you had left behind.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sure, you had left your phone and wallet at the apartment, but he didn't specify that you should have left all of your phones—so you had tucked Yuno's old phone under your bra on your back, confident that Yoonsu wouldn't notice it since you were also wearing a thick leather blazer that you had stolen from Yuno's wardrobe (so you at least had another thing of him with you while living with Yoonsu).

You made sure to block Detective Do's number and turned the phone off beforehand, knowing Detective Do was driving himself crazy in trying to reach you—but you promised you would turn it on once you had the chance, so they could track down your location. It was the least you could for Detective Do's sake, to ease his job. For now, however, you wanted the detectives to be several steps behind before you could get Yoonsu to tell where Junyoung was buried.

"This is our stop." Yoonsu muttered stiffly. The stop was in downtown Seoul, streets littered with old and underdeveloped buildings.

He stood up and roughly pulled on your arm, it even caught the attention of the other passengers. You smiled stiffly at them while Yoonsu practically dragged you out of the bus, his face all stoic and icy. It was uncharacteristic of him. Yoonsu would always taunt you with an ugly smile on his face, always taking the opportunity to insult you and rub salt into your wounds—but he had been quiet for the whole bus ride.

And you've always been aware just how angry he was with you, but he's never displayed his anger in such a raw manner before. You gulped, now fully convinced he did notice that the blackmail file he had over you was wiped out of his phone. That's why he was extra pissed.

He dragged you all the way to the destination, walking ahead with his hand gripping on your arm as you walked behind him. The more you walked, the more you understood that he was definitely dragging you to that one abandoned building at the very end of the street.

However, because he was so busy 'guiding' you to your intended destination, and as you got near the abandoned building, you took the opportunity to reach behind you from under your shirt and turned on the phone, pulling it out of your bra and discreetly throwing it into the unattended bushes so the impact wouldn't make a sound.

Yoonsu didn't notice a thing.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Kyungsoo, we got something!" Chanyeol—who works for Gangnam PD's Cyber Crimes Unit—yelled through the phone.

He cringed at the oaf's deep ass voice yelling into his ear, but decided to ignore it, because he was busy trying to find you. Just why did you have to follow Yoonsu? That was your chance to escape—you could've finally been free of him!

No, you just had to go off on your own again—still stuck in your rebellious teenage phase. Screw the rebellious teenage phase, Kyungsoo mentally cursed.

"We suddenly got a signal from her alternate phone—it's pinging in downtown Seoul, near an abandoned factory. It was shut down years ago because it got busted as a drug production base. I'm confident this is where Yoonsu took her." Chanyeol explained carefully and efficiently, fingers slamming on the keycaps of his keyboard before continuing, "It's 25 minutes away by car from where you are right now—but if you floor the pedal and take some totally illegal shortcuts—"

"15 minutes?" Kyungsoo spoke hopefully, already getting inside the car with Taeyong driving.

"10 minutes."

"Send me the location."

Taeyong took out the revolving red light and stamped it on the roof of the car before flooring the gas pedal. Now that they also got to ignore red lights and make other cars on the road get out of their way, they can reach you sooner than 10 minutes.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It took forever to reach the underground level of this building, and it didn't help that the limited light almost had you tumbling down the stairs if it weren't for Yoonsu guiding you so confidently through the dark.

Once you felt that your feet were on solid floor, Yoonsu swung at you, managing to land a punch hard enough that it had you lying on the floor. You tasted blood, and your right cheek ached like a bitch. The fucker just broke your nose. You groaned at the pain, holding on to your nose as Yoonsu went down to straddle you, pulling on the lapels of your leather blazer.

"How did you do it?" He gritted out.

"Do what?" You bit out, the blood that dripped into your lips sputtered out as you talked.

He gave you a harsh slap on your face, that had your teeth tearing the inside of your cheek. What a mean piece of shit, for slapping you where he had just landed a punch on you. Your right cheek was going to swell up into a puff.

"How did you wipe away the file without me noticing, you slimy bitch."

You spit out the blood and began to laugh, wheezing and cackling like a hyena. Oh, you had the sense that he had decided to kill you tonight. Landing blows on your face without a care of the consequences—he was crashing out, and it was a hilarious sight to behold.

Not as smart as he thought he was, huh?

When you saw his arm rising to land another blow on you, you quickly caught it, twisting it as hard as you could, giving yourself the chance to slip your leg up from under him and kicked him in the stomach to get him off of you. The kick had him wheezing, holding on to his stomach as he lied on his back.

Thank god for the self defense lessons Geonwoo and Woojin had put you through. In fact, you were just thankful for Geonwoo and Woojin in general.

"I stole my brother's old phone and sim card, used it to contact Detective Do. You didn't even notice it—because you're not as smart as you think you are, bastard." Your voice sounded guttural, like an animal growling.

When you went to kick him while he was down, he caught your ankle and pulled on it, causing you to fall on your back, the back of your head making an impact on the floor. That wasn't good. That was going to hinder you. You can already feel your world spinning.

Well, at least you didn't black out—so that counts as something, right?

He stood up and pulled you along as you tried to focus, trying to will away the spontaneous major headache. He punched you in the stomach, and that was a low move on his part—because he had kicked you in the stomach a week ago. It was cheap shit. Him calling you a slimy bitch? He was the slimy one.

But all those years of wasting away, not able to afford the luxurious lifestyle anymore, losing access to top notch personal trainers and private gyms—he's gotten skinny, his combat skills turned rusty. He's gotten significantly weak, that's why cheap shots and blackmail were all that could do now.

When you realised it, you laughed again, even as you held your stomach because laughing was making it hurt, but you didn't give a shit. God, he's gotten so pathetic. It's fucking hilarious.

"You think you're slick? You think you're smart, princess? You knew the blackmail was gone, but you followed me here anyway like some kind of idiot—for what? Have you gotten used to me pulling on you by your leash, bitch?" He was practically frothing at the mouth, spit flying out as he spoke to you, pulling on your hair so you could face him directly.

"No," You muttered out, gripping on his collar and pushing him into an emergency box containing a fire extinguisher, and the glass shattered when his head made impact with it, "I knew that if I let Detective Do take me away from you, you'd just kill yourself, because you'd realise you've lost everything at that point."

Pulling away from him, you returned the favor and landed a cheap shot on him too—a kick to his groin, hard enough it had him kneeling on the floor at the pain, sputtering out insanely vile curses at you. You stood above him, wiping away the blood that dripped down your chin.

"And I want to know where you buried Junyoung. Since I already told you how I wiped out your blackmail file, it's only fair—" You paused, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction rush through your veins when you actually managed to kick him in the stomach this time as he writhed on the floor, "—you tell me what I want to know now. I played your game, Yoonsu, but I also got to win it too—so give me my prize, you fucker."

Then you gave him another kick, this time harder than before, as it sent him sliding on the tiled floor.

He mumbled out something you can't quite hear.

"What?"

He mumbled again.

You crouched next to his writhing form, pulling his head up by the hairs of his scalp, making him wince. He didn't realise you could be this violent. He wanted to laugh when he realised the psychological torture he put you through was what pushed you to the brink like this.

"Oh, sweetie—I buried him at your highschool, at that abandoned plant nursery your students stopped working on. I gave those poor neglected plants some good fertilizer."

You let go of his head at his answer. Yoonsu wheezed some more, until he suddenly stopped.

"I'll bury you there too. Since you love him so much, I'll let you rot away alongside him."

You instinctively tried to distance yourself from him at his sudden change of air, but he was faster. He sat up, and you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your mid torso.

As you glanced down, you saw that he had stabbed you with a big glass shard of the broken emergency box you shoved him into. You gasped when he pulled it out of you, only for him to stab you again, in a lower spot than the previous stab wound. He watched as you fell on your back, hands frantically trying to cover where he had just stabbed you.

The stairs rumbled, and Yoonsu glanced up to see it was that pesky Detective Do at the top of the stairs along with a man Yoonsu didn't recognize—he deducted it was probably Kyungsoo's newest partner.

When Kyungsoo saw you lying on the ground, blood seeping through your white shirt as you desperately tried to cover your wounds up with your hands, he felt his heart stop. Right next to you, Junyoung—no, Yoonsu—Yoonsu was sitting next to you, holding on a big glass shard that was slathered in blood.

He had stabbed you.

Yoonsu stabbed you.

Then Yoonsu pointed the glass shard to himself.

"NO—"

He stabbed himself in the throat.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong ran to you both. The older detective went to the criminal while the younger one went to you, pressing on your wounds to hamper the blood loss. Kyungsoo observed the glass shard in Yoonsu's throat. Judging from how much blood he was losing in a rapid rate, there was nothing he could do. Yoonsu hit his own artery. Nothing could save him, but you however—

Kyungsoo took out his walkie talkie, requesting an ambulance for you. He let out a loud 'THANK FUCK' when the nearest ambulance was just close by since this part of downtown Seoul needed constant assistance from emergency responders anyway.

He turned to you. Kyungsoo focused on pressing one stab wound while Taeyong on the other, both men didn't care that your blood was staining their clothes.

"Kid, don't go to sleep, okay? Fuck—just—you just—" Kyungsoo can feel his heart dropping as the seconds went by, and suddenly 5 minutes felt like too long for the ambulance to come by.

"...hold on?" You let out weakly.

Kyungsoo nodded, feeling his tears welling up in his eyes. By no means was he still a rookie, to still get so emotionally worked up over a case and its victims—but you were different. You were already one of Yoonsu's victims when you had to work as a stripper for him all those years ago, but here you were again. You had been tormented by Yoonsu again. You got hurt again.

And you were still too young to be going through this.

"Old plant nursery, Cheongdaebi Highschool..." You whispered.

"What about that place?" Kyungsoo spoke through the tears, straining his ears to listen to you better. He recognized Cheongdaebi High—it had been the high school you attended.

"Junyoung's body...please find him this time..." Your hand went to his, weakly gripping on his wrist, as Kyungsoo whispered out his promise to you to uncover Junyoung's body, his tears landing on your body.

Then your hand also went to Taeyong's.

"Remember the note I gave you, Detective Lee..." You turned your head to look at Taeyong next.

"T-The note?" Taeyong choked out, momentarily confused, then finally remembered that day in the café when you suddenly popped up, "Yes! The note! I'll let them know, Y/N. I promise I will."

You smiled, the corner of your lips barely moving, and your eyes began to flutter open and shut rapidly, making the two men panic.

"Fuck—Y/N! Kid! DON'T—"

"Detective Do, we've arrived at the abandoned factory! Where are you and the victim?" A voice from Kyungsoo's walkie talkie cut through his yelling.

Taeyong sprinted to the stairs, yelling from the top of his lungs to grab the paramedics' attention and letting them know they needed to bring the stretcher down with them.

When you were getting wheeled into the bus, Taeyong urged Kyungsoo to accompany you to the hospital, as they watched the paramedic zip up the body bag over Yoonsu's body. The younger detective could see Kyungsoo had an emotional tie to you, so it should ease his mind for a bit if he got to ride with you in the ambulance.

"What about you?" Kyungsoo asked hurriedly.

Taeyong took out a piece of folded up paper from his jacket's inner pocket.

"I need to inform her family."

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : WARRRR ISSSS OVERRRRRR 😫 YOONSU'S FUCKING DEAD BITCHES

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

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[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𐕣 THE ENEMY YOU KNOW † e. gortash

word count ; 3.2k

warnings / tags ; MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI fem!reader, smut, fingering, slight dubcon, mentions of gortash’s background in arms dealing and whatnot, not proofread, enemy fucking, the smut is over pretty quickly and the story ends pretty suddenly lol,

kai’s notes ; so I’ve always been thirsting over gortash n needed more stuff abt him, I didn’t proofread this and wrote it very quickly, I’m sorry, I’m just brain rotting about this man too much </3 this was gonna have more added ( and someone else too ) but maybe I’ll save that for the next one 🤭

During your travels you had felt many emotions : fear, disgust, joy, relief, and even anger — but never had you ever felt such raw, bestial, unadulterated rage until you stood face-to-face with Lord Enver Gortash.

Horror stories of Gortash’s endeavours fell upon your ears often throughout the months of battling the Absolute. You’d heard of his tyranny, the arms dealing and slavery, all the stuff before and after his time controlling the Absolute.

You knew he was a monster parading in human flesh, a man without a heart or a conscience, and you were truly disgusted by him. Until you met him.

There was no denying your hatred for him, your longing to rip the netherstone from his cold, dead hands. However, he was never anything like you picture other than through a few visions from others, you weren’t sure what it was but he just wasn’t what you envisioned.

When you stood before him at the coronation, part of you wanted to slash his throat right then and there, damned if you were seen, but you knew to be smarter. He came to you with slime-coated compliments, promises of power, and dreadful temptations of ruling together.

What you hadn’t expected was him to come to you with a deal, in exchange neither of you would harm one another, and he’d even give extra information when he could. The thought would have weighed heavy on mind if it weren’t one you had to make in the moment, a split second decision that you couldn’t deny.

Plenty of things were muttered behind you from your companions once you accepted the deal. It wasn’t that you wanted to make a deal with the scumbag, but you knew you needed all the help you could get. And one Chosen One turning again another was exactly the power you needed to aid in your fight against the Absolute.

Over the next few weeks you and Gortash had met plenty of times, most of the time without your friends finding out. For the most part you didn't want to sneak around, but you knew they didn’t agree, and you didn’t want to put them in that position — on the plus side, conversation seemed to go a lot smoother with Gortash when it was just the two of you alone.

“I’m pleased you graced me with your presence today.” Gortash spoke from the other side of the grand hall, not once looking up from the letter he was reading while sitting at the head of the table.

“I’m only here because you said you had information that I might find useful…”

“Patience, patience, we’ll get to all that in due time, love.”

His words made you squirm, not necessarily in a bad way, but more than likely not in a good way either. You couldn’t tell how you were feeling, though you hadn’t been able to tell for a long time now.

“Would you care for a drink?”

Before you could even answer Gortash had clicked his fingers, a gesture toward his servant to fetch you both a glass. The man walked across the room without a soul, no thoughts, only orders to follow — another infected with a parasite, more than likely.

“Please.” Gortash gestured toward the seat closest to his own, a friendly smile on his face which you couldn’t tell whether was real or fake.

“So is there something else you want to discuss before getting down to business?” You questioned as the glass was sat down in front of you, a red wine filled almost to the brim.

“You’re all too impatient, you know that?” His tone was playful as he raised his glass, a hint at you to do the same.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his complaint, but nonetheless you raised your glass to his.

“What’re we toasting to?”

“A done deal, that’s why we are drinking Amnian Dessert Wine, after all.”

Gortash spoke with an elegance, a tone which made you think you should know exactly what the drink is and when it’s drunk.

“It’s an agreement, I wouldn’t say it’s exactly a deal…” you spoke quietly, swishing the red liquid around in your glass.

Another chuckle came from Gortash as he shrugged, clinking his glass against yours with a shiteating grin plastered across his face, “to us.”

A moment of silence passed as you both enjoyed the aged wine, and the quiet, a change of pace for the both of you. There was a moment where you sat and thought about all the things you wanted to ask him, how many questions you had all before meeting with him once again.

“You know, if there is anything you want to say, you can say it, you are among friends.”

His words pulled you from your thoughts and you sharply realised you’d been staring at him the entire time, zoned out without noticing.

“Oh…” you hesitated, making sure not to meet his gaze, “well, what made you want to team up with us?”

There was nothing else you could think about asking after being put on the spot so quickly, and it was a stupid question considering you knew the answer for the most part.

“You… I joined you, not those uncouth friends of yours.” He rolled his eyes and placed his glass down, resting his armoured hand on top of yours gently, “I know we may not see eye to eye on many things, however we do have one common enemy, Orin. And us working together to defeat her is what is best for us both, best for Baldur’s Gate.”

A heat rose up your body, your eyes flickering over where his hand touched yours, your heart beating quicker. Enver noticed your reaction and a ghost of a smile crossed his face, yet he didn’t bother bringing it up, instead he let your own thoughts eat away at you.

“Me and my friends are a package deal, you either take us or leave us.” You frowned at him and carefully pulled your hand away, placing it on your lap and out of his way.

“I understand…I do apologise if I offended.”

For a short while you had a back and forth, skipping over and dancing around conversations, because of course he didn’t want to give you the answers and information he promised you immediately. He wanted to be in your company for a while longer, not that he’d admit that, especially out loud.

With one last mouthful, you finished off your wine and placed the glass down, loud enough to get Gortash’s full attention.

“So, can we finally get down to business then?”

Your patience was wearing thin, you’d been with him far longer than you planned and you didn’t want your camp friends wondering where you were — especially considering all the dangers that had been happening recently.

“Hm.” He stood from his chair and held his hand out for you, “we should discuss these matters somewhere more…private. Although they are all under my control, there are far too many ears around for my liking.”

Your eyes scanned along his golden armoured hand, hesitating for a moment before taking it, a small nod as he pulled you up.

It seemed every time you visited him, you got to see more and more of where he spent all his time, learning a little more about him with each meeting.

“So just how important is this information?”

“Did I ever say it was important?” A little chuckle came from behind you as he shut the door, a hint of sarcasm weaved within his words.

The anger burned in your stomach once again, an all too familiar feeling when around the Tyrant himself. You glared back at him, which only seemed to amuse him that little bit more.

He picked up an envelope from his rosewood desk, and held it in his hand, but kept it close to his chest so you had to walk close to him to grab it.

“You are a nuisance, you know that?”

He only smiled at you, a little part of him enjoying you scolding him ever so slightly. You snatched the envelope away from him and opened it in a hurry, desperate to see the contents so you could finally leave and get back to camp.

“Is this it?”

“Is that not enough?” His finger traced a line along your back as he circled around you like a hawk stalking its prey.

“I—“ you swallowed your words as goosebumps covered your entire body, “it’s just not what I expected…that’s all.”

His face stopped just inches from your own, a devilish glint sparkling in his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as you finally met his gaze, a mixed feeling of fear and arousal — as much as you hated him being able to that rise in you.

“Gortash…”

“Please, call me Enver, we are friends, after all.”

His finger ran along your jaw while his eyes never looked away from yours, the cool metal of his glove making you want to pull away from him. Every fibre of your being screaming at you to move, to leave and go back to camp, to put distance between you and him, but you couldn’t — you didn’t want to.

“I’ve noticed the way you look at me, and don’t worry, I feel all the same.” His lips ghosted your ear as he whispered, the heat of his breath causing the hairs on your skin to stand on end.

There was no embarrassment or hesitation in his voice, only conviction. He wanted this just as badly as you, if not more.

A quiet moan slipped your lips as his mouth trailed a sloppy line down your neck, his hands squeezing the fat of your hips. He chuckled to himself as your hands moved up to rest on his biceps and your head fell to the side.

“You’re so sure you don’t want this, darling?”

His tone was ever so slightly mocking, he knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it. He’d been longing to hear you say how much you wanted him, needed him, to hear his name moaned by him.

“I hate…you.” Your hands squeezed at his arms as he bit and sucked at the supple skin of your neck.

“No you don’t, and that’s what you hate.”

He was right, you did want it so badly, you wanted him. It ached your heart how much you were attracted to him, especially considering how much of a bad person he was, all the things he had done to people, to people close to you. You knew if any of your friends found out, you’d be done for, they probably wouldn’t forgive you — but that thought was slowly drifting further and further away with every kiss and grope.

His hands slowly moved down to your ass, while his lips finally met with yours. He kissed you slowly, passionately, with purpose. It was a moment of tenderness, sweetness, before the wild animal instinct kicked in — the need to devour, to ravish you.

Before you could pull away from the kiss, he’d already backed you up and slammed you against a bookcase, tearing your top away from your body and forcing his hands up towards your bare chest.

As you pulled at the top of his jacket, he helped you as he shrugged it off, letting it crumple on the floor where he stood. He yanked his armoured gloves off his hands and threw them off to the side, letting them clattered against the wooden floor without much care. .

“Enver, we really shouldn’t.”

Your words fell on deaf ears, he didn’t care, he needed this too much to stop now. He rarely had time for personal affairs, always too busy trying to take over a city, never meeting anyone new. Not that he ever really wanted to, until he met you that was. He wasn’t sure what it was but you did something to him, you haunted his dreams and his waking hours — you clouded his mind worse than any parasite ever could.

Gortash hummed to himself as he let his hand slide into your pants, relishing in the little gasps into his mouth. His other hand twisting and pinching at one of your nipples, just to make you squirm for him. All he wanted to hear was you moaning for him, because of him, he needed to claim you in ways no one else would, in ways other people could only dream of.

Part of you hoped someone would interrupt just so you could back out of it, but most of you didn’t want that to happen. Even surrounded by friends in the camp, you felt lonely, everyday was a fight and there was never time to form a relationship for you. Now you had this man, this monster, showing you all the attention you never knew you craved so dearly. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore it, it relit a passion in you that fizzled out long ago.

His fingers slid into you until his knuckles bottomed out, they curled back and forth before he pulled them nearly all the way out. He knew exactly how to hit that spot inside of you every time his fingers grazed upwards, and he easily had your knees buckling, your hands having to grip at his shoulders just to support yourself. .

“Fuck, Enver…” your head rested against his shoulder as his fingers moved quicker and quicker, forcing moan after moan to tumble so sweetly from your lips.

Before you could come, he moved away from you, slowly bringing his fingers to his face with a smirk on his face. A moment of admiring the way your slick ran down his fingers before he brought them up to his mouth, his tongue running the length of his finger before pushing them into his mouth. He let out a satisfied hum as he cleaned you from them, his gaze watching the way you rubbed your legs together while watching him.

“Come here, my love.” He held his hand out in front of himself, gesturing for you to follow him over to the couch nearby.

Without a thought of your own, you followed his command, trailing behind him like a lost puppy dog. As you got to the couch, he spun you around and kissed you again, pushing you gently backwards onto the cushions. He used his knee to force your legs apart for him, his hands tugging at the waistband of your parts while never letting his lips part from yours.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

A heat raised up your body at his words, not being able to look back at him as he pulled your pants down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

He hovered over the top of you, a gentle look on his face unlike one you’d seen before. He chuckled at your embarrassment as he stroked his cock up and down your slit, making you twitch every time he trailed along your puffy clit. Once he gathered enough lube on himself, he slowly pushed into you, and you couldn’t help but hiss at the stretch.

His cock was fatter than you’d have thought, the sensation burning but pleasurable at the same time as he bottomed out in you. It took a moment for you to adjust, his mouth on your neck distracting you from the pain.

“You feel…” he let out a groan as he pulled back, and slowly pushed back into you, “fucking incredible.”

His hips rocked back and forth, his cock pushing all the way into you and then all the way back, repeating that motion over and over again. His head collapsed into the crook of your neck, another low groan from his parted lips.

To him, you felt heavenly, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in Lord knows how long. It was everything he dreamt of and more, and he couldn’t stop himself from giving into temptation, his hips speeding up and pounding into you with more force.

The sound of skin hitting skin, sensual moans, and the bookcase behind the couch were the only sounds in the room. Everything else fell away, no more worrying about the Absolute and the parasites, no more caring about Enver being your enemy, there was only you and him together. It was all that mattered.

Your nails scratched down the bare skin of his back, and his teeth grazed against your neck. His name fell from your lips just the way he always imagined, a dream come true. He couldn’t control himself once he heard his name, he pistoned into you more forcefully, addicted to the sounds he was pushing out of you.

His hand grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up tighter against his side, his hips and pace beginning to stumble slightly as he was getting closer to finishing. Strings of curse words and moans came from him, and when your cunt tightened around him, he couldn’t help but finish too. He didn’t bother pulling out, the idea of filling you up with his cum was too much for him to handle, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

“Fuck…” he panted as he barely held himself up on his elbow, his eyes looking directly into yours.

A sense of peace washed over you for the first time in months, a release you so desperately needed. He leaned down and placed a careful kiss on your forehead, both of you breathes heavy and ragged.

“That was worth it, was it not?” He laughed, maybe the first time you heard him laugh genuinely.

He was completely at ease, his guard was down for the first time ever around you — both of you as vulnerable as the other. He squeezed into the gap next to you and pulled your head onto his bare, sweaty chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

You could feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, and you knew you needed to get up, go back to camp, and leave Gortash behind. But you couldn’t, you had never felt so content, so calm as you did now. It was obvious he felt the same way, how his breathing became slow and relaxed, his chest raising up and down rhythmically as he began to fall asleep beside you. Before you knew it you were asleep and being greeted by your dream guardian, with a very disgusted look on their face, and a whole lot to say.

[sanjisboyfie]

hello, can You please make a second parte of luffy's one shot after the time skip? sorry if My request bothers you

this req doesnt bother me at all :) i would love to do it -------- BUT !!! dont eat me guys !!!! but im not gonna post the pt2 of it because i fear it would too much replicate what i want the actual events to look like in keep safe (the ff that the tender one shot was based off of).....DONT EAT ME IM SORRY but heres a little snippet i wrote for the pt. 2 since i feel bad because we probably wont see this ^ happen for quite a bit of time

womp womp time

"all those times [name] had practically put his life on the line to protect luffy and his crew and their dreams, they all amounted to luffy not even being able to protect him.

his eyes were blown white as silent tears fell from his eyes. and then his jaw dropped down and a scream erupted from his chest that made rayleigh, kizaru, and kuma all still.

a raw, genuine shout of pain escaped luffy’s lips. he stared up at the sky that was painting a sunset and screamed, screamed until it felt like his throat was victim to a thousand cuts.

“[name]!!!” he shouted into the air, pain and fatigue being the only tangible emotions on his face. “where did you send [name]?!”

kuma flinched at the tone luffy had taken with him, but he obviously didn’t answer.

“bring him back!! bring him back, now! i want him back right here! bring [name] back!!” luffy shouted, hands repeatedly punching into the dirt beneath his body as his tears turned the soil into a softer substance, “bring him back, bring him back, bring him back!!”

“i fear that that is not possible,” kuma said, walking over to luffy with his paw outstretched, “it is better if you were to…forget all about that boy,”

now this made luffy’s head snap up in nothing but pure, unadulterated anger. he felt rage consume his entire being. forget about [name]?! forget him?! the one man that had always stepped into danger for him, the man who had showed him what soft care and love was…forget him?

luffy grit his teeth, trying to control his breathing. but why would he need to control himself when his mortal enemy was right in front of him. if anything, letting go of all of that anger he had been caging inside of himself would be the right answer. when else would he get to do something as reckless and violent than right now?

forget [name]…?

what an infuriating suggestion."

this is only a snippet I FEAR we will have to just wait until we get to this part in keep safe for the whole thing to be published IM SORRY LMFAOAO

[boxofthings]

I constantly think about how 09 Soap must've felt losing Roach on a mission he didn't accompany him on.

His journal entries made it clear that he cared about Roach, talking about wanting to break him in and feeling more comfortable with mentoring Roach than Price was when mentoring Soap.

Not to mention how he spoke about how he saw himself in Roach, noting how he was "raw, skilled and loyal to a fault" (and this was after one mission together) and wrote down how Roach was a quick learner, good at the snowmobile and at C4 detonation (this guy was totally pining)

the 09 timeline in general is SO angsty, the tone overall was just sm grittier and you could feel the stakes of every mission. So just think about all the close calls Roach has gotten himself in, dude got his name for a reason and Soap had to experience first hand on multiple occasions why that is (so just think about how terrified he constantly is, having to watch someone you care about get hurt so often and just barely escape death)

Might be misremembering things but I'm pretty sure on every mission we go on, Roach is always accompanied by Soap, which makes it all the more gutwrenching that the one time they're split up is the moment where Roach's life is taken. Devastating :')

I always think about the radio calls right after Loose Ends, where Soap keeps yelling for Roach and Ghost to answer, only to stop once Price yells that they're dead. He must've been so desperate to hear at least one of them confirm that they were alive, only to be met with silence.

Think about Hornet's Nest from his perspective, watching Roach fall behind and being so close to catching him but not quite being quick enough. Soap was probably terrified at the thought of having to leave Roach behind and having to watch him run for his life while guiding him from the safety of the carrier. The pure, unadulterated fear and anger afterwards must've been so potent. I'm imagining the hug afterwards, but also the yelling, probably just him calling Roach an idiot and just how many times are you going to miss a jump before it kills you??

His heart must've dropped the moment he realized Shepherd had turned against them, and Roach was heading directly to him with the DSM, miles away from Soap's location. He wasn't even able to say goodbye. And reading his journal entry right before they go after Shepherd makes me unwell lol

Anyways yeah :') no one talks about 09 soaproach enough. They make me so upset it's insane.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ꜱᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴɴɪᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — what happens when you take hostage the partner of a person known to be extremely dangerous and extremely violent?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.8k

jake can get unhinged sometimes. there's only one thing that sends him flying and it's danger. when it comes to the other boys, he's quick to act and won't hesitate to kill anyone but you? oh their sweet little girlfriend, for you he will take his time, draw out the deaths of anyone who dares do you wrong.

for you, he'll bask in the afterglow of getting his knuckles bloody for you.

there came a time when moon knight was a danger to those around them, to you. just because harrow was dead and ammit was sealed didn't mean his followers stopped. they were still scattered across the globe, some of them people with power and access to a lot of things, weapons and information alike. and what they got their crummy hands on was you. and nothing sets jake off more than you in harm's way.

with a new resolution to save you, jake swears to rip and break off the hands that dared touch even a single hair on your head.

all he sees is red as he kills and kills anyone that gets in the way of him saving you. marc tried to force him into the backseat but his lust to see them bleed and to rescue you was so strong it's marc that's reeling back from the intensity of it all. steven tried talking some sense to him but it all fell under deaf ears. nothing, and i mean nothing, will get between him as his mission: saving you.

he stabs a man on the side of their neck, using their corpse as a shield from the rain of bullets firing at him before picking up a discarded gun on the ground to fire back. all he felt was an all encompassing, soul consuming rage, the need to save you even stronger as he hears your voice much clearly now, you were close and so was your screams.

it gave him all the more reason to put a hole in the heads of every person he comes across in this base somewhere in guatemala. ammit's worshippers were either crazy or stupid for trying to target khonshu's avatar by getting you. maybe both.

don't they realize how they would have suffered an easier death instead had they not taken you hostage? but this was still mercy for the way he was sending them off to the afterlife in a quick and painless way. the one who he'd savor killing would be the person who had orchestrated your kidnapping.

jake painted the walls and floor red. it stained his clothes and split open the skin of his knuckles but it will be all worth it once you're back and safe in his arms. after that, he'll never let anyone else touch you again. (he'll even lock you up if he has to.)

the only thing standing between him and you was this steel door but that wouldn't be the case for long as he pushes the heavy weight open and sees you, strapped to a chair until your wrists and ankles were raw from the squirming you probably did, blood flowed down the side of your head and your lip was bust open.

no words could ever describe the look on his face. it was simply pure and unadulterated anger as he finds himself already over the other side of the room with his hand wrapped around the neck of your assaulter. there's only searing hot fury in his eyes and body as his fingers tightened their hold around his neck.

he didn't kill him, oh no. not yet. he jake will make sure he meets his maker but for now, he needs to tend to you. freeing you from your restraints and into his embrace as he proceeds to kiss you and every injury on your face. there will be hell to pay. jake will make sure of that.

"are you okay, mi vida? did he do anything else to you? i'll kill him. tell me what you want me to do and i'll do it, no matter the cost. te amo mi amor, if there's something he did to you, we'll do to him tenfold okay? we'll kill him, you'll get to end him so he pays for what he did to you and your beautiful face. anything for you, anything."

[king-paimon]

Houseki no Kuni Chapter 101 Thoughts: Paradise Broken

Well... This was an interesting way to celebrate my birthday early.

I’m just going to jump right into this before I forget anything since...wow. I have some thoughts about this chapter. As always, please feel free to share your own thoughts and theories in the post! And sorry again if this ends up being long! This may turn out a bit messy, so when I get the chance, I’ll come back and make it pretty!

Paradise Shattered: Reality Setting In 

So it looks like one of my theories from the previous chapter was correct to a degree. The little rocks do in fact contain remnants of humanity, and it’s this revelation that caused Phos to react the way they did in the previous chapter. And despite telling the little rocks that their reaction was out of happiness, their thoughts clearly indicate otherwise.

But what I didn’t expect was the revelation that a bit of the old Phos (as well as humanity) was still there inside of their new form and it may have influenced this new world in ways that Phos didn’t expect or want.

This new revelation has once again put Phos in a emotional spiral. After finally extinguishing what was left of humanity for everyone’s sake, but mostly their own, and after finally finding happiness with these little rocks... there’s a new chance that they will come back. And that’s the last thing Phos wants. 

Phos doesn’t want any reminders of humanity to come back, whether they be in the rocks or themselves. They don’t want humanity or the suffering that goes along with it. Phos had finally found paradise, or what they convinced themselves was their “paradise,” and now there was a chance that it’d come back. Of course Phos isn’t going to be happy. It seems that once again, their goal for happiness was moved again, even though the pebble thinks otherwise.

With this in mind, I want to hear your thoughts on this. Isn’t it just me or doesn’t it feel that Phos’s interaction with the pebble after this feel... off? In the previous chapter, Phos seemed genuinely happy to be around with the pebble and was having fun but thoughtful talks with them. But now, after fully realizing that humanity is not fully gone and lives on inside them and the rock beings, Phos seems rather cold, giving small and delayed answers.

Maybe I’m looking too into this observation, but I definitely think it’s deliberate. And why this might not be a good thing will be elaborated further down. The only exception was Phos’s comment to the pebble’s comment about Phos’s happiness “going on forever.” I will come back to that in moment.

Before that, I need to talk about... THAT.

“THAT”: The Creature’s True Identity Theory

This was the first image I saw when raw leaks started popping up. At first, I thought the same as some of the other viewers asking myself “What the hell is that? Is that a new species?” But the more I thought about it, I came to this conclusion. No. That isn’t a new species. That’s Phos. Or another part of them that survived.

 I’ll do my best to explain my reasoning.

Recall many chapters ago, back when Phos was destroyed by the Earth gems and put away for many years to then result with Adamant putting most of them back together. Many parts of them were missing that he didn’t get to add before being confronted, including their remaining Lapis Lazuli eye. That part Adamant kept. The other eye was the synthetic pearl eye that Aechmea put in on the moon and the missing Lapis eye was replaced with Adamant’s eye.

And recall after after being mostly put together, Phos transforms into an unrecognizable creature that is held together and driven by pure, unadulterated anger and despair. 

Their transformation only intensifies after they return to the moon.Now I don’t know about you, but doesn’t their initial “berserk” form during these scenes seem very similar to the one eyed creature? And I find it interesting that the eye was not accounted for after Adamant disintegrated and after the descendants of humanity were (mostly) wiped out.

There are a few things that could disprove this theory, with the main one being the fact that I don’t know what the tendrils coming off the creature is made of. They don’t look like the gold alloy that Phos used to use. They look fibrous and organic. The droplets dripping off them look like alloy but I’m certain it’s water. This could be enough to prove that this creature is just another thing that formed over time like the little rock beings. But for the sake of this post, I’ll stick with this theory because I have another revelation that revolves around it.

Now, if this eye creature is part of Phos, what exactly is it and why is it attacking the rocks? I hypothesize that this creature is somewhat of a manifestation of Phos’s newly reawaken negative feelings towards humanity. Like how Phos turned into a puddle in the last chapter, this creature is clearly something new that hasn’t been witnessed before in this new world. I think Phos’s newly ignited negative thoughts about humanity had re-awoken this side of themselves, maybe through their inclusions, and had subsequently “given birth” to this new creature through the eye Adamant kept. This could be a farfetched idea, but after Phos came to the realization that they may have unintentionally influenced their new world because of the remaining piece gem inside them, it could be possible. 

With this theory in mind, this leads me to another theory that I’m sad to say isn’t a good one.

Edit to add: Thank you @aspirationatwork​ and @modern-alebrije​ for your comments on this post! I’m glad I’m not the only one who believes that eye belonged to Phos. But you made a good point, modern. I saw another post explaining why the eye could be Adamant’s “older brother” and I think the OP’s reasons make a lot of sense! Ooh, this is very interesting... I hope the final reveal will be good.

Phos Wasn’t Fine After All... Time To Try Again?? 

Phos’s thought process through this chapter has sadly confirmed something I hoped wasn’t true. Before this and the previous chapter, I wanted to believe that Phos was finally moving on and that they had found peace with themselves. But after everything that happened up until this point, it’s more than clear that they didn’t. They hadn’t healed or moved on. The unfortunate truth is that Phos had just put on a metaphorical band-aid on their true feelings in the form of their little pebble friends and had instead tried to ignore those and hope for the best. Just like how the old gems used to deal with their issues. 

So even after everything Phos learned and experienced through their own and other’s suffering, it seems old habits die hard.

And speaking of old habit... Phos’s dialogue in the last few pages are concerning.

What Phos said here to the pebble was ominous especially considering their change in tone and demeanor.  And if my theory about the one eyed creature being a manifestation of Phos’s negative thoughts are correct...then I fear that the rocks aren’t going to exist for much longer. Because if Phos’s desire for humanity to stay gone becomes their new “wish,” I’m afraid this could mean that the rocks are going to be destroyed, and I think Phos is going to allow that to happen.

I’m sure that’s a fate fans don’t want to see happen to these little rocks. I mean, come on: they didn’t do anything to Phos. They are just little rocks who are enjoying their simple lives and Phos’ company. The only thing they are “guilty” of is containing remnants of humanity inside them, just like Phos.

But that reason might be enough for Phos. 

It would be kind of messed up for Phos to allow these rocks to be destroyed for that reason after everything that Phos went through and how desperate they seem to want to get away from any reminder of the descendants of humanity...it might not be that surprising. They are kind of an expert at this point after all.

EDIT: This is all just a theory though! After stepping back for a few hours, I see how REALLY farfetched it is. It was the first thing that popped in my head after re-reading the chapter, and I admit it was far more cynical than I originally thought. I read another poster’s view of these events as Phos fearing that they may harm the rocks and they don’t wish ill-will on them. I think that’s true. But I still believe that the eye creature is a manifestation of Phos’s remnant anger  towards the descendants of humanity and it may hurt the little pebbles.

Burn out

That’s all I have for now. This wasn’t a bad chapter, I overall liked it. Though I’ll say it again, I’m not as enthusiastic about waiting for these chapters as I once was. It’s mainly because I’m refocusing on important aspects of of my life and I’ve grown attached to new things; I haven’t posted about these new fixations of mine on this blog, but I might change it. Who knows. But despite this, I’m curious to see how the next couple of chapters will play out. I’m still hanging in there and I want to see how it’ll all end. But honestly... I’m more excited to see it end than continue on because... I’m getting tired.

[saturdays--sun]

wait wait wait!! all of those questions for izumii!! owo

please i’m so starved of my otp content…….

i'm so sorry you've been so starved. here are your rarepair otp crumbs, ma'am.

string of fate ୧ ‧₊˚ what’s ur current relationship status with ur fﾉo? does the love in ur relationship run deeper than the mariana's trench or is it just surface level attraction? are u perhaps friends with benefits? married?

we're dating. unfortunately. for better or worse. that's a very loose term for it, though, because "dating" can usually imply some kind of potential break up, which is pointedly something that will not happen. we're far too entangled in each other for that to ever be a possible outcome for our relationship — it's been like that since the beginning. it's hard to make a dog let go when it's finally gotten what it wants in its teeth.

gorgeous visage ୧ ‧₊˚ does ur fﾉo keep photos of u in their wallet? or do they maybe have a locket of ur hair? what about u? how much evidence do u keep of them in ur day to day life?

absolutely not, he'd rather drop dead than do corny shit like that. that said, he might have a picture of me as his phone's wallpaper — not the lockscreen, though; he can't be too obvious about it. and maybe he wears one of my hair ties around his wrist, but that's just in case he ever needs it. it just happens to be one i gave him. don't worry about it.

this fic is so painfully canon to me, so my lockscreen is a picture of us together that i somehow convinced him to take. he's mean mugging the camera. it's so funny. beyond that, i like to think that he'd let me wear his jacket sometimes. maybe his scarf, too. i dunno.

double ୧ ‧₊˚ do u and ur fﾉo have matching tattoos? if not, would u consider getting one or two in the future?

we don't, but i can imagine us hypothetically getting some at some point in the future. i don't think it's something he's ever necessarily thought about, but it's not something he'd be opposed to — excuse to have something referencing him permanently put on my body and all that.

soulful gaze ୧ ‧₊˚ they say the eyes are the window to the soul. u look fixedly into ur fﾉo’s eyes and see an emotion so raw and undoubtedly pure, so real that it fills your chest with something indescribable. what is that emotion?

anger. hatred. rage. ten out of ten times, it's one of those, or something very close. he doesn't feel much else, and he outwardly expresses even less. but every now and then, it's something almost soft. almost vulnerable. something almost loving, in the stilted and jagged way he loves.

honeyed skin ୧ ‧₊˚ what do ur fﾉo‘s lips taste like? does their chapstick linger on your tongue, leaving the ghost of its flavor there? or do they taste like the faintest trace of their natural, unadulterated essence?

the vague iron of blood — usually his own; occasionally someone else's. cigarette smoke. the soda he took from my fridge. food he stole from me while i was mid-bite. something faint and uncharacteristically sweet that's only ever there in the quietest of moments.

lilting voice ୧ ‧₊˚ how does their voice sound to u? what does their laughter sound like to ur ears? do their whispers sound like the most saccharine song of the nightingales? is their tone as smooth and rich as velvet or is it scratchy, a little grating, but nonetheless charming in its own way?

he sounds annoying and loud to me because that's what he is — annoying. and loud. his voice is rough at best and grating at worst, but when he's not yelling, i like listening to him talk. when he's mellowed out — as mellow as he can be; when i'm the only one around to hear him — there's something soothing in it. something warm, in spite of everything.

slightest touch ୧ ‧₊˚ is your fﾉo affectionate by nature or are they only willing to express themselves through touch when in private, when no prying eyes can judge them for showing their love for u so openly? are u perchance the one who prefers to avoid physical affection in public? are there times where u find urself so desperate for their touch, their kiss, that u feel as if you might burst at the seams if u don’t feel them right there and then?

no. he's never been affectionate a day in his life, and he's definitely not going to start now. what happens behind closed doors — the quiet moments; the ones where i'm the only allowed witness; the ones where he cages me in his arms and presses me to his chest and buries his face in my hair; the ones where the kisses aren't marked by jealous anger and instead by something uncharacteristically soft instead — don't count. if nobody else knows they happened, then they didn't. you won't catch me admitting to any of it, either.

inheritance ୧ ‧₊˚ what’s one trait of theirs that u would love for ur future children to inherit? is it their strength, their wit, their kindness? a particular physical attribute of theirs?

ideally, akina would inherit none of his traits, but unfortunately, he was doomed from the moment he was conceived to be his father's son. he's just a mini him. you can imagine the type of stress i'm under. but, if there's one trait i'm glad he got, it's that he's stubborn — resilient. in a city where so many awful things happen — things both of his parents have been witness and victim to — it's comforting, in some strange way, to know that he wouldn't crack and collapse under all of it.

intimate knowledge ୧ ‧₊˚ what are some hidden features of ur fﾉo that not many people are privy to? things like a secret birthmark, the fact that they are ambidextrous, the bump on their nose that is actually the result of breaking it as a child. do these small facts about them fascinate u? do the stories behind them make u swoon for them even more, if possible?

he has big soft brown baby cow eyes and it's the cutest thing on the planet. i love it. mean ass dude with a baby face. that's what the sunglasses are for, because without them, he's nowhere near as intimidating. also because i'll make a comment about them if he's not, and he can't stand it or the weird, embarrassed feeling it gives him. it's so cute. don't tell him i said that.

cherished memories ୧ ‧₊˚ moments have the tendency to sear themselves into one's mind. are there any particularly fond memories u share with ur fﾉo that stand out among the rest?

plenty of them stand out, but my favorite ones — the ones that i come back to, over and over again — are the soft ones. the mundane ones. the ones that border on being something almost domestic. one that specifically comes to mind is the time i was laying on his chest while he played some video game. it was nice.

unshakable devotion ୧ ‧₊˚ how far would ur fﾉo go to protect u? would they let the world burn down to ashes if it meant u would be safe and unharmed, even if it would mean they would perish too? are they more of the ‘hero’ type, in which they would lay down ur life in return for the welfare of the universe?

there is not a single circumstance on the entire planet that he could ever be put in where he would willingly allow even a hair on my head to be harmed. for as many times as he's said he's going to kill me, not one of them has ever been true — he'd rather let the world be destroyed — rather destroy it himself — than ever let something happen to me. he's never cared about himself — to hell with being something as worthless as a hero, too — but he'll be fucking damned if i get hurt while he's still around.

dialect ୧ ‧₊˚ what are ur fﾉo’s love languages? physical touch, words of affirmation? acts of service? gift giving? quality time? do u two have ur own little way of showing love to one another?

hollow threats to mask his actual feelings because he's never had these types of feelings before and he never learned how to process anything in any way other than anger and violence. but also quality time. he's possessive, but also just clingy. he'll never admit to that, though.

[xhanisai]

chat noir needs to stop getting himself hurt whilst protecting his lady 2k22

AO3 / FFN

Pairing - Marichat

Prompt - ‘Healing’

Summary -

Warm, salty tears seeped through his bandages, lightly stinging his wounds but it was nothing compared to the agonising pain of knowing that he made her cry.  Again.  "Why...? Why do you always do this to me?" Her words were barely a whisper yet the impact was enough to make his heart pound incredibly hard. "How many more times are you going to make me see you die before me?" Marinette pulled her head back and finally faced him with tear-stained cheeks and reddened, watery eyes. "How many more times are you going to die until the cleansing light stops bringing you back to life?"

(Or, AU where the cleansing light doesn’t heal all of Chat Noir’s injuries and he ends up having to get constantly patched up by his Lady)

~(x)~ . . . "Owch! Hey! Ow-ow-ow! You! You did that on purpose!" The feline hero scowled at his companion with as much venom as a baby kitten, his tail swatting irritatedly against her mattress and his faux ears plastered miserably to his blond locks. Marinette simply glowered back wordlessly with enough intensity to make him shiver in fright, bandages tight in her tense hands as she continued to patch up his wounded chest. A chest that was very bare and very naked, the teen hero having had no choice but to zip his suit down to free his arms and torso in order for his partner to apply the necessary medication to help him get better sooner. Though, Marinette was doing an excellent job in paying no heed to the sight of her partner's half-nakedness much to the feline's utter dismay and continued to sort him out in silence. She didn't even bat an eye at the way he tried to wiggle his kitten ears, his need for her undivided attention to his pleading face and for something to get rid of the suffocating tension that wafted in the bedroom was indescribable. "You know, this would've been a hundred times easier if you allowed me to show my identity to you too." He continued to pout pathetically, leaning his face into her personal space only to get pushed away by the nose with her pointer finger as Marinette continued to work. Before he could come up with anything else to break the agitating silence, a very unmanly and high-pitched squeal leapt out of his throat as soon as she tightened the bandages without mercy or a word of warning. "Hey!?" "Oops." The girl casually replied with a cool, unapologetic tone. Her raw anger towards her partner still burned within the pits of her stomach as she patted his body down to check for any more injuries or pain he could be hiding (he's done it before in the past, like the absolute idiot he is). She paid no mind to the way his heart instantly elevated under her careful touch and the way his cheeks bloomed with a light, rosy glow. "There. All done. I want you to take these remedies home with you. Be sure to take plenty of painkillers and sneak away to the doctor for anything else that I may have missed. And for the love of god, rest. Don't even think about stepping outside for patrol or whatever that isn't an emergency." His ears flickered up, noting the sheer pain in her voice (that she tried so, so hard to steel) and the unconditional worry glittering within her baby blues. Unadulterated guilt sewed his organs together tightly within his throbbing chest, a pain that was so much more intense than the physical wounds he wore. Wounds that he gained from sacrificing himself to save her. Again. . "Marinette...? Marinette?? Talk to me, please," He placed his hands on hers gently, his partner slightly taken back from the tantalising warmth of his bare skin upon hers, his blunt fingernails grazing the skin on the back of her hands. "I'm really sorry...I didn't mean to make you worry..." A shuddering, wet gasp left her throat despite all her restraints and Chat Noir immediately brought her into his chest and held her tight as she scrambled for purchase over his shoulders. His heart practically shattered from the way her tiny frame shivered and trembled with silent sobs within his protective arms. Warm, salty tears seeped through his bandages, lightly stinging his wounds but it was nothing compared to the agonising pain of knowing that he made her cry. Again. "Why...? Why do you always do this to me?" Her words were barely a whisper yet the impact was enough to make his heart pound incredibly hard. "How many more times are you going to make me see you die before me?" Marinette pulled her head back and finally faced him with tear-stained cheeks and reddened, watery eyes. "How many more times are you going to die until the cleansing light stops bringing you back to life?" "I...I have faith in you to bring me back, every single time-" He didn't get a chance to finish off his half-hearted reasonings as Marinette pushed him back onto the bed with a strength that would rival her alter-ego's, hovering over his body with clenched teeth and tears cascading down her face and splashing against his. "...Marinette...?" "You said you love me, right? That you'll always love me, right? Is that all a lie?" Ice filled his veins from head to toe and the provoked boy immediately sat up with an incredulous, angered expression. Cupping her face, he brought her even closer towards him so that their lips were merely just centimetres apart. "Of all things you should question, my love and my devotion for you aren't one of them. Don't you dare underestimate me like that, Marinette." His body shook with both fury and pain, biceps trembling as she placed a tender hand on one of his arms. "There's nothing in this world I love more than you. Nothing. I would do anything for you. I would destroy the world a million times over for you if you wish. I'm yours in every way you want me to be. So don't question it again!" He didn't expect her to place her forehead on his chest reverently, pinpricked hand now tracing the heated skin above his heart and her tears still trickling down. "Then...why don't you live for me? If you love me so much, why don't you try your damn hardest to live!?" Taking advantage of his awestruck, flabbergasted face, Marinette crashed her lips against his. At first Chat Noir was frozen from pure shock, body as stiff as a board and lips unmoving whilst hers bruised his. Then, determination, selfishness and the urgent need to prove even further just how much he loves her pushed his senses back into action and he immediately kissed her back hungrily. It was anything but graceful, yet, it was better than anything he's ever dreamt of in his entire life. His mind and his senses were filled with nothing but Marinette. Sweet, sweet Marinette. His Lady, his Princesse, his amour, the love of his life and the girl he would do anything for in a heartbeat. The way his fingers greedily tangled up within her midnight hair and then traced the length of her spine just to make her curve into his frame made the experience so much more passionate and amorous and the way her hands cradled the back of his reddened neck made him purr with delight. Every sound she made, he swallowed. Every sound he made, she breathed in. Marinette slowly pulled away with a pant, eyes still fluttered shut and melting into her partner's touch as he trailed tender, tender butterfly kisses down her soft jawline. She didn't even need to open her eyes to know that he was lovingly peering at her under his unfairly long lashes, watching her every move as he rested one of his strong arms around her slim waist. "What was that for?" He finally broke the peaceful silence, murmuring against her flushed, heated skin before deciding to steal another kiss from her soft, dewy lips. And another. And another. And another. "And I want you to be honest with me, Marinette," He had her chin tilted up to face him with one of his fingers and then warmly tucked a few strands of stray, mussed-up hair behind her ear. "Please," She took the time to study his pleading and earnest face, memorising the way his dark lashes shadowed over his feline emeralds and enraptured by how they managed to peek under his messy, blond fringe. Marinette didn't even think to stop herself when she naturally placed a trembling hand on his heated cheek, the duo simultaneously melting into the considerate touch and their faces only a breath away. Then, she traced his bottom, peachy-pink lip with the pad of her thumb, tugging the kiss-bruised flesh down only for her Chaton to delicately nip the digit with the sharp of his fang. Her face was on fire but her heart was soaring. "For every battle you come out unscathed or without losing your life by sacrificing yourself, I'll kiss you." Her baby blues was the calm ocean and his fiery green eyes widened at the delectable deal she was trying to propose. "Isn't this a sweet proposition? You have nothing to lose if you agree." The only answer she got was him pushing her down on the bed this time round, his body perched on her lap and his hands on either side of her head. "I'm not going to let any akumas even have the chance to imagine hurting you, let alone touch you when I can easily stop them. And if my death guarantees your health and safety then I'm more than happy to never be able to kiss those lips of yours ever again." His expression remained firm and resulted despite the way hers crumpled. "Chat Noir...don't you see that seeing you die over and over again is killing me? Why can't you just do as I say for once!? Why do you have to be so stupid and selfless and selfish and just so stupid!" She didn't let him even breathe, bringing him back in for another harsh, powerful kiss that lacked any sort of finesse but set his entire body ablaze in the best way possible. But, what she whispered into his lips next both made and broke him. "Why can't you see that I love you too..." Once again, the injured hero was left speechless, lips parted in awe and eyebrows furrowed under the mask, not knowing whether to be elated by her heart-filled words or to cry from the excruciating pain written all over her sullen face. Either way, tears began to form in his eyes without much prompting and his vision started to blur into splodges of colours. "Wha...what?" His lips were captured by hers again, mouth insistent and teeth brutal. "Marinette, when? How? I thought there was someone else- mmph- you can't keep kissing your way out of this-" He pushed himself back up (reluctantly), cradling her tearful face and then pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Close enough to bask in her warmth but far enough to resist the temptation to kiss her senseless. "Always...I have always loved you." She quietly admitted, fingers running through his hair and her shyness prominent in both her expression and body. "And I also love him too...but..." "But?" "As much as I love him too, as much as I'll forever treasure the day he went out of his way on the first day of school to seek forgiveness from me and gifted me his umbrella..." She pushed his head down to rest on hers. "I can't help but keep choosing you. You. My partner. My other half. My future." She clung to him tight, unaware of the realisations that went through his head simultaneously. "I can't have you die! Never again! Please! I want us to be together and happy without worrying about Le Papillon or anyone else! I want to be your bride and even...I even want you to be the father of my children, Chat Noir! So please, just listen to this selfishness of mine!" . "De-transformation," She almost swore she was dreaming as her partner glowed with a brilliant flash of neon green and blinding white. His hair became shorter and neater, his bare, bandaged chest was adorned with a familiar shirt and his eyes... His green, green, green eyes. The very same gorgeous eyes that captured her heart on a daily basis both in and out of the mask. Oh, the way they sparkled and glittered and the way her reflection looked just so beautiful within. She couldn't utter a single word as her Chaton unveiled himself to her as her Adrien. "I want it too," His voice was so wrecked and so raw, his hands clasping hers tight and his nose grazing her softer one. Lips just a breath shy away from hers. "I want it so badly, so, so badly. I want to be with you forever, Marinette," He pressed his lips against hers. Once, twice, thrice and they lost count. "Adrien..." The way she breathed out his name with so much love and so much relief made his heart grow wings and skyrocket out of his chest to cloud nine. "Mon Adrien," "I can't promise that I won't get hurt again when saving you," He placed a firm kiss on her cheek. "But I promise, I'll try. I'll try my hardest. Because I want to be with you forever." "Forever, and always," . . . ~(x)~

[darkwitchhideout]

It is what it is

“I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment - we are all defined by something we can’t change.”

- Simone Van Booy, The Illusion of Separateness

I spent four days speaking to no one, meeting with no one, texting no one. I wasn’t on some sort of meditative assignment; on the contrary I was falling apart, but it was inward. I don’t know how to explain - imagine an explosion happening inside a tightly shut container. And I didn’t know how to open that mess up for anyone to see. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be the only witness to my own catastrophe.

I often translate my pain into words, beautifying them to smooth the edges, conceal the bruises and yet keep the face of the it under a transparent veil - for you to see just enough of the cracks and not the shattering beneath. I know the trick. I’ve been in the trade for too long. But in these four days, I lost my language. I lost my words. And I didn’t even want to find them. No concealer, no touch-up; just bare, raw, filthy grief, pain, and anger. I won’t sugarcoat it, it was terrifying. It is terrifying.

I kind of get it, why people tend to retreat into their shell or silence in moments of acute pain. As adults, we learn to perform in order to belong. And the most popular act is to create performance out of pain - you can’t just feel the hurt, that’s weak and depressing, and please don’t we already have a whole lot of depressing? You need to create something out of that hurt - try poetry, or a story with a character arc and tragedies and a happy ending! Oh how about comedy? That sense of humour really charms people, you know? You’re a writer for f*cks sake. Laugh at your pain and watch how people turn in awe of you. “God! That’s hilarious! How are you so funny!?” How am I so funny, yes. How am I so funny when I’m hurting. “What is so funny about it?” my counselor always asks me when I laugh while sobbing. And I just shrug. I don’t know. There is nothing funny, but I laugh. I perform.

I rarely see happiness transform into something else - not to say there isn’t any art created out of joy, but joy unadulterated is always welcome. When I want to laugh, I don’t instead contain or morph it into something else. I just laugh. News of promotions, birthday wishes, congratulatory messages don’t require reconstruction. That is why they have template greeting cards for each of them. But a heartfelt apology won’t fit in a template, an “I love you,” will take you years to vocalize, try writing about/to a person you dearly miss and your fingers would tremble.

It’s scary. It’s scary to see pain as pain. Hurt as hurt. They’ve all been saying and writing about vulnerability being brave and boy, are they right about it! Being both the holder and the witness of vulnerability requires grit. In a world, in a society that continuously and consistently breaks you in one way or another, isn’t it ironic how we try to avoid the most natural response to it? It is also natural to see more artists, more writers, more comics taking the stage. There is so much tragedy, so much pain to transform. We are in abundance of material like never before.

Have you seen how it slightly shakes people up when you are honest about your feelings? You might not even be addressing them or their reality, but even bearing witness to raw emotion spooks people. Even if that emotion is their own. I am a writer and i love to show my poems to everyone, but the most difficult things I’ve written aren’t published anywhere - an unsent letter to my mother, a series of emails I wrote to save a dying relationship, a small letter I wrote on a piece of tissue paper while I sat crying in a cafe, a mail confessing my feelings to someone who walked away, some random words I scribble and scratch in my journal in a fit of tears, texts I type to myself in the middle of the night. I cannot even imagine putting it out on display. On some days, even I can’t read what I wrote. I just put it aside, pretend like it doesn’t exist. Reading difficult things is as scary as writing them. People turn away - writers after writing, speakers after saying, readers after reading. But what shall we turn to instead? Pretence? Avoidance? Positivity? And for how long? I’ve gone through a lot of pain to know pain. But, I don’t know how much more pain will I need to go through to know how to feel it.

There will always be an audience for the performance. Hope sells because pain sells. But what is pain when it’s not selling? It’s just pain. And I’m trying not to be scared by it. I’m hoping you don’t get scared by it as you read this. Because there is a lot to feel, and it is only going to increase. Like I said, we are in abundance of material like never before.

[glacialswordsman-a]

Confusion…

What Kaeya saw on Zhongli’s face was confusion.

The true lack of understanding.

The sight of that made his heart sink.

Without Kaeya realizing, a tear managed to slip through his attempts on holding them back as his expression shifted from one of distress to one of misery. His starry eye widened as the brows that had once been pinched together lifted in incredulity instead. Why had he expected anything else? Why, even now, does he still continue to hope, despite knowing that perhaps they really would never truly acknowledge each other? Never find common ground?

Never stand as equals.

His eye of Tanzanite didn’t follow those of Cor Lapis once the other man stood back up, and instead fell to the pavement once more, as though he would be able to find all the answers there. As though something would be able to explain to him just what is going through that man’s thick skull?

A sob suddenly sliced through the night and he smacked his hand loudly, harshly over his mouth to keep it in, shutting his eye so, so tightly as his face scrunched up from anguish and embarrassment. It hurt. It really, really hurt.

This was everything he fought so hard to avoid, and yet he fell into it anyway. Into the warmth that cradled him so gently and held him so tenderly. Yet now all that was there for him was cold, unyielding stone.

Ripping his hand away, he abruptly stood up and faced Zhongli, his expression wild, angered, exasperated, yet wounded. So, so wounded, as tears poured out as torrential rain, soaking through the eyepatch that hid the ugliest part of him away.

“Wanted what, Zhongli? What, pray tell, was it that you could have possibly wanted? Wanted from me? It could have been anyone, anyone at all, yet there was something you wanted from me?!” he cried out, his voice laced with heartache and a need to be seen, despite how much he tried to hide away.

‘Maybe it’s best if I go.’

Once again, Kaeya’s expression changed. From unadulterated, raw emotion, to…nothing. Perhaps shock, however small it appeared upon his face.

“… Then go,” he whispered with a tone of finality before turning and walking away, back to his cold and empty home.

Something is wrong.

He is trying -- genuinely trying -- to share the load, to find common ground with which to mend this broken, unstable foundation on which they both stood...

And still, he comes up lacking.

With a troubled expression, he takes one glance at Kaeya and finds that he does not understand him quite as well as he thought he did.

What else was he failing to grasp?

"I--" Puzzlement is scrawled across his features, trying to make sense of the way that the other regarded him with... distaste? Zhongli questions himself -- if he is capable of this, or if he will continually try and fail to continue to replicate the human experience for the obvious sheer lack of his own humanity.

Were the heavens laughing at him in this moment, watching along with their own barely-contained amusement as he -- a powerful and almighty representation of divinity -- desperately tried in vain to align himself with this small, sad and broken man beside him?

Did they question why he even wanted to?

The rift between them fills him with an uncomfortable, gnawing emptiness that he finds that he does not like, and he stands straight, wishing that he hadn't come.

"...Indeed. Perhaps I don't."

He wants to, but not at the cost of anymore anguish for this person that he cares about, and he looks down upon him, pondering if it is kinder to end this now.

"I'm sorry... I just wanted--"

Wanted what? Why does it even matter when he's clearly only causing the both of them needless confusion?

"Maybe it's best if I go."

[aristrocrat]

Upside Down Feelings 2

Chapter Ten: The End of the Eddie Era

summary: the aftermath of Eddie seeing Y/N and Steve dancing together at the Winter Ball

word count: 1650 :,(

TW: THIS IS SO FUCKING SAD I’M SO SORRY!! MY DAY IS RUINED..

“Oh shit,” You muttered, pulling away from Steve as you watched Eddie spin on his heels and leave. Steve followed your eyes, catching sight of the familiar curly haired mane making its exit. His lips part with guilt as he saw you run towards the now closing doors. “Eddie! Eddie! Jesus, could you just wait up?”

The boy continued to quicken his pace to his van, ignoring your calls and pleas. You managed to catch up just in time to put your hand on the driver’s door, preventing him from opening it.

“Can you just listen to me for a moment?” You breathed, feeling your heart break more with every second that he avoided looking into your eyes. “It was just a slow dance, alright? I need you to trust-“

“Trust?” He chuckled bitterly as his tongue slid across his teeth. “You expect me to trust you? You skipped my concert last month and showed up with Harrington, covered in scratches and slices a-and bruises. You told me to trust you then, and I did. That there wasn’t anything going on between you and The King,” He spat out the nickname, poison dripping from his words as he continued. “Yet he’s the only one who knows what really happened that week. And then I fucking dress up in this stupid tux to surprise you and you’re dancing in his arms?!”

“It wasn’t like th-

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking bullshit!” He rolled his eyes. “He’s the one who you look at with these-these fucking eyes of adoration- and you expect me to trust you?! You don’t even trust me enough to tell me where the fuck those scars came from, Y/N!”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Eddie!” You shook your head quickly, taking a step towards him only watch him step back. “There’s a lot I’m not telling you but it’s for your safety-“

“My safety?!” His eyebrows shot up. “My fucking safety?! Jesus, wh- are you part of the FBI? You can’t honestly expect me to believe you when-“

“Eddie, I wish I could tell you more! I want to-“

“When you can’t even tell me you love me, sweetheart!” He shouted over you, ignoring the glares of the people walking to and from their cars.

There it was. There it fucking was. He knew your stance on love, and your inability to allow yourself to fall in love. You made it perfectly clear from the beginning that you couldn’t offer him that. It was never a matter of exclusivity, you stayed loyal through it all.

It had absolutely nothing to do with him; he was a phenomenal man and boyfriend. And you made sure to vocalize that. Often. Your appreciation, your adoration, your affection- those were the words that constantly fell from your lips. During dates, concerts, lazy nights on his couch, late nights in his arms- during kisses and love making. You always let him know how you felt about him.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you processed the words that shot through you like daggers. He watched as your face shifted from one of desperation to one of betrayal. He knew he was wrong to hold it against you, to bring it up as a topic of an argument. But couldn’t help it anymore. He couldn’t only have half of you. Not if he was meant to trust you.

“You know why I can’t fall in love,” You lowered your voice to an unrecognizable tone. “I saw what it did to my mom. I felt what it was like to lose the people I love. Eddie- I…” You took a deep breath to collect your anger and speak levelheadedly, empathetically. “It’s not you, Eds. It’s me. It’s my problem. And I was fully open about it before we-“

“Wanna know the craziest part of all of this?” He blinked away his tears as he finally looked deep into your eyes, showing you the raw, unadulterated emotions behind them. You couldn’t help but feel the knot in your throat build to the point where you had to hold your breath to hold in the sob that teased under the surface. “If you could just tell me those three little words, I’d let this all go. I’d drop to my knees and beg for your forgiveness.”

He sniffled, his tears now pouring down his face like the water of a river flows: desperately falling down, tracing the high and low points of his cheeks, and dropping by the dozen off of his chin. “I’d give up every good thing in my life just for the honor of calling you mine. And not just half of you, Y/N. That’s just not enough for me anymore. I mean-.. How can I trust you to be careful with my heart if you can’t even grant me the same?”

Your breath quivered as you drew in a breath, only for it to be interrupted with a sob.

“It’s not you,” You pressed your hand to your stomach, hoping to relieve some of the overwhelming tension that built up there. “Eddie, I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to. But I can’t.”

He let out another scoff, wiping his tears aggressively before he spoke up in a different tone. No longer was it the soft, anguished pleading tone. It was now empty and emotionless.

“You say you can’t love but I’m not blind. I see the way you look at him. The way you smile when you’re around him,” He looked up as he shook his head, somehow damming the waterfall that previously occupied his red and puffy face. “I hear the way you talk to and about him-“

“Eddie, you’re wrong-“ You frowned

“The hell I am!” He shouted before lowering his voice again. “It’s not a matter of whether or not you can love. You obviously can! You just surround yourself with people you can’t bring yourself to fall in love with so that you can keep your heart guarded! But what about mine? Huh?!”

“Eddie, please don’t do this,” You sobbed, letting your face fall into your hands as he continued to shout.

“No, you don’t get to do that. Look at me, Y/N!” He placed his hands gently but firmly on your cheeks. “You dragged me along a fucking year, telling me you weren’t able to fall in love and completely disregarding the fact that I am head over heels for you, Y/N! I was perfectly fine having you as you were. But then you started to hide things from me and sneak around with Steve. You can love. Hell, you ARE in love. It’s just not with me.”

“Can we just talk this through?” You stepped forward, grabbing his arms as you looked up at him. Your heart shattered on the spot when he looked at you. It was like he was looking at a stranger. All of the love that was previously there was gone. “Please. P-Please, I don’t wanna lose this. Lose you! Just-“

“Don’t touch me,” He stepped back from your embrace, not being able to look into your hopeless eyes. You both stood in silence, nothing but your soft sobs and his sniffles filled the air around you. Somehow, even the music from the gymnasium seemed to be a million miles away.

“You have it all wrong, you know,” He finally said, fishing his keys out of his pocket. You looked up at him with confusion, the wet mascara still running fresh down your cheeks. His voice broke as he said his final words to you, “Because no matter how much I hate you right now and how much my heart hurts.. I wouldn’t take back a single moment I had with you… Do yourself a favor, Y/N. Tell him how you feel.”

“Eds-“

“But I never want to see you again,” He said firmly as he stepped past you. He opened his door. “Have a nice life, sweetheart.”

And with that, you watched the boy drive off into the night. Your knees gave out from under you, allowing them to hit the concrete below you as your head fell into your hands. You sobbed into them, not being able to lessen the tight feeling in your chest.

It felt like the air around you suddenly lost all traces of oxygen. Your ears rang from the sheer force of the crying. It was the first time you’d felt like this since..

“Y/N? Oh, my God! Y/N!” You heard the familiar voice call before it’s owner’s footsteps picked up to a run. “Hey, hey, hey. Woah! What happened? Are you alright?”

You simply shook your head as you felt those warm arms pull you into a tight embrace. It was your turn to crumble into Steve’s arms as his hands gently rubbed your back.

“It’s alright, let it out.” He muttered into your hair as you weeped into the crook of his neck. He shrugged off his jacket before wrapping it around you, seeing as it was freezing and you were in a strapless dress. “I got you.. It’s alright, I got you.”

You didn’t know how long he held you for. Easily for much longer than you held him on Halloween. But he just let you cry into him, rubbing your back and whispering reassuring words into your ear as your sobs slowly came to a halt. He didn’t dare pull away until he felt you sit up.

“Want me to take you home?” Steve smiled softly, wiping the black tears from your puffy cheeks. He wanted so badly to ask what happened. He wanted to grab those bats from his trunk and show up at Eddie’s house to show him a lesson for breaking your heart.

But he didn’t.

He simply helped you up, wrapping a supportive arm around you as he walked you back to his car. He started it, blasting the heater to warm your shivering body, before he jogged over to Joyce and Hopper.

They asked what happened to you, having heard your sobs from the distance, and Steve explained that you got your heart broken by a freak with curtain bangs. They nodded and agreed to take the kids home, telling him to take good care of you.

And he did just that.

Season Three ->

———

PLEASE CHECK IN EVERY MONDAY AND FRIDAY AT 9:00 PM CTD FOR NEW CHAPTERS! (unless otherwise stated)

As always, please feel free to DM me or leave a comment on my stories! I love to hear your feedback and interact with all of you!! Don’t forget to like and reblog, it really helps me out!

a/n: IM LITERALLY SOBBING TOO! DONT COME FOR MY THROAT!! (or do hehe i love to hear it) IM SO FUCKING SAD RN BRO IM SORRYYYY EDDIE

TAGLIST IS NOW CLOSED!!

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[that-blue-vault-dweller]

Follow up; 11-12 kid figure Sole gets kidnapped

The poor baby!!! 🥺🥺🥺 I just feel so sorry for her 😭😭😭

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy! 💙💛

Cait - Is an emotional wreck. She is absolutely beside herself with blinding rage but she also is terrified out of her mind that it is too late for the kid. As soon as she figure out where they took her, she is breaking down the door and brutally killing everyone in sight, screaming and keeping up a steady roar of something resembling a snarl when she is not raising her voice. When she has cleared them all out, she finds the kid and literally carries her out of there as quickly as she can. Once they are out, Cait takes the time to check for injuries.

Piper - Feels her stomach twisting with terror. She cannot believe that one of the two most valuable people in her life has been taken away from her like this. As soon as it happens, she tirelessly looks for leads and hunts down the kidnapper. Piper makes sure to call in Nick and a few other friends, and they all work together to take down the group. As soon as Piper spots the girl, she runs over to her, collapsing on her knees and hugging her tighter than she ever has. She then pulls away, kissing her cheeks, forehead, and nose repeatedly before questioning if her kid is okay. When she says that she is fine, Piper is just so relieved and almost feels like crying. They sit there for a while just hugging, and finally leave, Piper asking about what had happened.

Curie - Is in a pure panic, and has no idea what to do. Her first urge is to break down into tears of pure heartbreak and desperation. However, she tries to find traces of the kidnapper and tries to find them. Of course, she makes sure to enlist the help of any others that the girl and she had befriended since she cannot take them on all by herself. As soon as they have cleared the area well enough to reach the girl, Curie is running to the girl and checks for injuries all over her, trying desperately to ensure that she is unharmed. When she figures out that she is alright, Curie swiftly kisses her on the cheek and hugs her warmly. She then takes her by the hand and leads her out of there.

MacCready - Is terrified and almost panicking. He feels as if he might have some sort of mental breakdown at any minute, but he tries to hold it together because he knows how desperately he needs to find her. He quickly goes to Whitechapel Charlie, offering him whatever caps that the robot wants as long as he gives him a lead on where she might be. When Charlie tells him, MacCready makes a run for the place and starts shooting as soon as he's there. It takes him a while, but he finally gets through the nasty bunch and reaches her. When he gets there, his first instinct is to hug her so he does, his awkwardness actually not screwing things up for once. He finally asks if she's okay, and when he receives an affirmative on that, they head out quickly.

Deacon - Feels unadulterated fear coming over him unlike anything he has experienced before. It does not take him long at all to figure out where they took the girl given that he is such a well-accomplished spy, and he calls in Glory and several other members of the Railroad, and they all take the kidnappers out. Deacon then quickly hurries over to the kid, and as soon as he makes sure she is okay, he cracks a few jokes to lighten the mood and then heads out with her as he tries to collect himself.

Codsworth - Is worried sick and has no idea where to even begin looking. He feels like a failure and he is so upset that he failed his most important duty as a robot butler. He asks around quite a bit, trying to find out anything that he can, and he finally figures out where she is. He asks for the help of the Minutemen, and they all go in to save F!Sole. When he finds her, he feels so relieved that he could probably cry if he actually possessed tear ducts and human eyes. He quickly helps her up and they get out of there.

Hancock - Is immediately on a rampage as he addresses his citizens and pulls together a search party. They look high and low, and very quickly are able to find the kidnapper and his or her group. They then storm the place, and Hancock finds the girl swiftly. As soon as she tells him which one was the one that actually kidnapped her, he asks Fahrenheit to take her out of the place and let him have a moment alone with the person. He then brutally stabs them to death, taking a brutal pleasure in the entire thing.

Danse - Is riddled with extreme fear, anger, and guilt all rolled into one. He cannot believe that he has let the girl down and that he has been so sloppy as to let her be kidnapped from under his nose. He calls together his group, and he, Scribe Haylen, Knight Rhys, and several other Brotherhood operatives head out to find F!Sole. As soon as they locate the kidnapper and his or her group, all of them plough through the enemies with the greatest of ease. He then makes sure the girl is okay and offers her a much needed hug if she wants. He leads her out of there and mentally vows to never take his eyes off of her again.

Preston - Is so terribly worried and scared for her. He calls together as many of the Minutemen as he can get to accompany him to look for the girl, and they soon enough find the kidnapper's group. They give them an opportunity to surrender, and when it is declined, Preston and the Minutemen initiate a long, ugly fight. They finally win, and he runs to the girl, hugging her warmly before giving her a quick checkup. He takes her shoulders in his hands and guides her out of the place, trying to discourage her from looking at the bodies as they leave.

Valentine - Is more scared than he has felt in a really long time, and he feels a desperation gripping at him that he has never felt with such intensity. He ends up utilizing Dogmeat's fine nose to figure out where F!Sole was dragged off to, and the both of them find the group. He then gets together a small group of people including Piper, and they all storm the place, doing the best they can to fight all of them and get to the kid. As soon as they've beaten them all, Nick is hurrying over to the girl and asking if she is alright. When he knows she is fine, he gives her a quick but tight hug before helping her up and heading out of there with her.

X6-88 - Feels the largest amount of emotion come over him that he has ever felt. He is extremely angry but he manages to hold it together to make inquiries about her whereabouts. As soon as he follows the leads, he is blasting laser holes through every person that was part of the group that kidnapped her. He takes just a moment to pull his feelings back together enough for him to speak, and he asks her if she is alright in his usual fashion. When she says that she is, he tentatively and stiffly places a hand on her shoulder before telling her to follow him out of there.

Strong - Is absolutely enraged beyond belief. No one takes his tiny human. He looks for her everywhere, and when he finally finds her, he storms through the group that took her, his sledgehammer flying and his pipe rifle growing hot from the amount of use it is getting. He finally finishes all of them off, and he then makes his way over to her. He gives her a piece of raw meat he had found throughout his searching, and he has her follow him out of the place.

Maxson - Is horrified and utterly infuriated. He calls his best paladins and his most gutsy knights before heading out and relentlessly scouring the Commonwealth for the girl. When he finds them, he is at the head of the team, and he takes point as he ruthlessly tears through all of the enemies with his Gatling laser, and he roasts tons of holes throughout them. He then ensures she is okay before picking her up and carrying her out of the place.

[transgenderuwo]

Image transcripts (warning for a description of disembowelment):

An ask sent to transmascpetewentz from alexthescaredenby, presented with an underwater filter to differentiate it from the main post text.

oh hello there! [in corrupted zalgo text] GO FUCK YOURSELF i swear, if i ever meet you irl, i will rip your intestines out your ass, and i will savor your screams. i will look you in the eyes so you know EXACTLY what you have done to anger me. pick a struggle shithead, zionism or transandrophobia? Pick. One. i hope you live every day knowing that there is someone who loathes you so completely and utterly. know that there is someome who feels such raw, unadulterated HATE for you. live, so you may suffer.

Notably, it is unclear what "EXACTLY what you have done to anger me" is supposed to refer to, beyond Alex incorrectly assuming that Lou (transmascpetewentz) was vagueposting about Alex. If such content exists, it's either in private conversations or buried in the replies on posts that aren't immediately apparent as relevant to this situation.

Given that Alex and Lou have never had any meaningful interactions prior, it's highly likely that the aggression from Alex is directly related to Lou appearing on Heritage Posts's second "Zionist blocklist," a thinly-veiled harassment hitlist for Jewish people who aren't being Model Minorities, with "Zionist" here meaning "Jew I want to harm for having the gall to disagree on anything," and/or Lou doubting the figure of victims provided by Hamas (because it was a figure provided by Hamas) on a reblog of a post for International Women's Day that talks about the Gazan women victimized since October 7, 2023.

2. Exerpt from alexthescaredenby's pinned post.

this blog is a safe space for ✨ anyone ✨ yes ✨ everyone ✨ if you're feeling alone, scared, or just need someone to talk to, i'm here, i'm queer, and i'm all ears! also i fucking swear if i hear a word out of my moots abt self harm i will bring the wrath of the gods upon them and make them take care of themselves. also handing out free hugs, headpats, and kind words to anyone that needs it so just hop on over to the abyss to scream and the lord of the void will see you as soon as they can.

It isn't harassment on my part when you come into my inbox to be antisemitic and I explain to you why you're being antisemitic. If you initiate an interaction by being a bigot, any type of response is fair game.

[suesheroll]

I feel like discourse around Harry’s gay sex comment is really necessary. It’s making people rethink the representation they’ve seen in movies and the type of rep that is. I feel like we can all agree that wlw couples get substantially less rep in mainstream and even sometimes indie and obscure media but the type of gay rep we’re getting needs to be analysed.

People who don’t agree with Harry I definitely see their point where I also don’t see how we have enough of wham bam gay sex. I don’t see the raw unadulterated bodily desire. Yeah I see aggressive forms of gay sex but it’s usually born out of anger and self denial, not the raw carnality of wanting another man.

People who do agree with Harry I also get because it’s also true that there isn’t a lot of tenderness per se in mlm media. It makes us think about the difference in true tenderness and sterilisation. Is this tender or has it just been deliberately stripped of sex?

Khair, just some thoughts.

[seijorhi]

The Fall

Somebody said Devil Kuroo and I have not recovered since. Anyway, enjoy my first offering for the Spooktober event!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader

TW Dub/non-con, blood, gore, minor character death, religious themes, nsfw, mild smut

It’s subtle, the shift in the air as two polished black shoes cross the threshold. The candles on the altar spit and sputter, and a shiver trickles down your spine. 

You wonder if the humans scattered along the pews can sense it too, if they can taste the bitter, metallic tang in the air, feel the same prickling sensation at the nape of their necks as  tiny hairs stand on end. The woman seated two rows in front of you stiffens, her breath catching between her sobbed prayers, but she doesn’t turn and neither do you.

Do they have any idea the evil that’s trespassing on holy ground? The danger that they’re all in - the danger that you’ve inadvertently brought upon them?

This is all your fault.

His footsteps, slow and measured echo mockingly throughout the nave, but you’re rooted in place. It’s instinctual, you think; the fear that sinks its claws into your heart, seeping into your veins like ice. 

There is nowhere left for you to run. 

You have no more aces hidden up your sleeves. 

The wards that protected you, kept you safe and hidden for years are broken, and your friends-

Blood slicked floors, body parts strewn across your apartment. A howling scream pierces the air around you, and it takes a moment to realise that it belongs to you. You fall to your knees, bile rising in your throat as you stare in wide eyed horror at the grisly mess he’d left in his wake. 

He could have killed them with a snap of his fingers, but he’d taken his time, hurt them, ripped the spines from their bodies slowly, keeping them alive as they screamed and begged through tears and snot and blood and vomit…  

He’d left them for you to find like a gruesome homecoming gift. Punishment, you think, for daring to hide you from him. 

It’s late, well past midnight. The only people in the crumbling, dilapidated church at this hour are those with nowhere else to go. Vagrants, the helpless, those lost to grief and addiction seeking the barest semblance of comfort amongst the burning incense, high ceilings and grimy, stained glass windows. 

And you. 

Though you suppose you fit into the former. Where else could hope to hide now that your sanctuary has been torn to pieces? This is the last place you’d choose to go, even now the long healed scars on your shoulder blades sting and burn, a painful and persistent reminder that you no longer belong amongst these hallowed halls.

Foolishly, you’d still come. Consecrated ground was supposed to protect you, however temporarily.

He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here, it’s not possible, but-

Dressed in a crisp black suit with a blood red tie, the handsome figure settles himself down on the pew beside you. A smirk curls at his lips as he stretches long legs, crossing his ankles and leisurely fixing the sleeves of his jacket as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

You don’t dare draw breath. Sitting stiff and ramrod straight, you stare at your trembling hands curled into fists on your lap, the ancient golden pendant lying broken in your palm. There’s dried blood smeared across the back of your hands, flecks and splatters hidden among the dark fabric of your skirt. The sight of it makes your stomach churn.

His chin tilts, golden, cat-like pupils settling on you. You fight the urge to fidget, to flee, fingernails biting into the soft, delicate skin of your palm as he studies you. 

“Hey, angel,” he purrs, his voice like warm honey. “It’s been a while.”

Finally you tear your eyes away from your lap, meeting his smirk with an icy glare. “Don’t call me that,” you snap bitterly. 

He laughs, stretching back to drape his arm over the wooden backrest of the pew, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulders. “But I like calling you angel, and I’ve missed you.” The last part is growled, a low and rumbling timbre, too deep, too rich to be mistaken for anything close to human. It makes your hackles rise and your stomach clench uneasily. Unbidden, memories flash to your mind- his teeth at your neck, his sweat slicked body moving atop yours. Unbearable, searing heat flooding your core, large hands encircling yours to hold you down as his hips eagerly rut up against your ass, “Give into me, angel, you know you want to.”

His grin widens, and you know that it’s deliberate. 

You don’t have the luxury of anger, not when the fear so visceral it threatens to choke you demands attention. He’s smiling amiably, but you’re not so naive as to believe that he’s not furious with you, that there won’t be punishments that await you for your escape.

One hundred and twenty years might pass in the blink of an eye for him, but it wouldn’t make a difference if it were only one, or even a single month, a day. You ran from him, and for every moment you were not at his side he would make you suffer - excruciating pain inflicted with pleasure until your mind broke and you couldn’t distinguish the two, until you were a babbling, beautiful mess begging for mercy.

Until you regretted ever even considering leaving his side after all that he’d done to keep you there.

He’d promised you as much a long time ago, hissing the threat into your ear as he forced you to ride his cock.

You’d fled anyway. And now, you’re trapped with nowhere left to run, and he knows it just as well as you do. But it’s not yourself that you’re scared for. 

There will be plenty of time for that later.

Six innocent, oblivious humans dot the derelict pews, and the Father you’d watched tend to the burning candles and incense at the altar, meeting your stricken gaze for just a moment before returning to the task at hand. 

It is for their sakes that you are afraid.

“A church, angel?” he sounds amused. “You know, I expected you to run after you found the dead witch and her partner, but here?” he tuts, shaking his head with a sigh. Pain, raw and visceral stabs at your heart and your shoulders shake with barely concealed anger, hands clenched so tight that blood seeps from the crescent shaped cuts in your palm. He eyes the gold pendant flecked with crimson in your grip, and for the first moment since he arrived, you watch that cavalier facade slip - a flicker of something dark and jealous twisting at his features. “They were the ones who kicked you out, don’t you remember? They ripped those lovely wings-”

“You tricked me, Kuroo! You lied!” the words spill from your tongue before you can hope to stop them. His golden eyes widen for a split second, surprised by your outburst, but it only lasts a moment before he’s smirking indulgently at you once more. Too late you realise your slip. The devil has a thousand names, but Kuroo was the one he gave when he first came to you. 

You haven’t uttered that name in almost two hundred years. 

“Did you think that the grace of God would protect you here, angel?” He slides closer, long, nimble fingers plucking the cross from your hands only to cast it aside. The faint metallic clinking as it falls and clatters across the marble floors makes you flinch, but he pays it no mind. “Did you truly believe that there is an ounce of anything holy left in this crumbling, decrepit shithole? And even if there were,” he pauses, leaning down to whisper in your ear as a warm palm slides up your thigh, “did you really think that would be enough to keep me from you?”

“K-Kuroo,” you gasp as he leans down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, his mouth laving wet, hot, open mouthed kisses against the delicate skin there. His fingers delve under the hem of your skirt and it’s pure, unadulterated fear that hits you like a tidal wave, compelling you against your better instincts to claw at his wrist, halting him in his tracks.

He stills, warm breath fanning across your skin as he exhales sharply, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The flames from the candles on the altar sputter once more before they swell with frightening intensity, surging as the temperature in the chapel spikes. 

“Angel,” he purrs lowly, the barest hint of an underlying threat lacing the endearment, and it feels as though there’s an invisible hand inside of your chest, clenching around your frantically beating heart. It’s a mistake, you know that even as his other hand reaches for your chin, gripping it tightly as he forces you to meet his molten gaze. “If you keep denying me what I want, I will raze this fucking church to the ground and let them all burn.”

This time you don’t so much as flinch when he tugs your panties to the side, rough fingertips brushing teasingly along your slit. “You’re going to let me defile you, sweet thing. You’re going to remember why you fell for me.” 

His eyes are blown wide, dark pupils almost swallowing the gilded irises. Gone is the perfectly crafted human facade - this is the beast that lurks beneath, and you have run from him for long enough. Your heart hammers against your ribs, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, fighting back a shiver as he tracks the movement with predatory focus. You know as well as he does that the games are over, and you have lost.

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to run, but you cannot move.

His breath is ragged, a flush of pink dusting at his cheek as he stares at you, an unholy desire burning in those bottomless depths.

One beat passes, and then another-

He closes the gap between you two, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss isn’t sweet. It isn’t tender, but it sets you alight nonetheless. Without warning his fingers plunge into your plush, velvet walls and you gasp for him, clutching at his jacket sleeve.

“And when I take you, fuck you on these floors until you sing for me, angel, you’re going to love every second of it,” he snarls.