#i will repent with something silly i promise

[shares-a-vest]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 19: Careless Whisper by George Michael

wc: 458 | Rated: T | cw: Major Character Death, Some Mild Reckless Driving, Mention of someone almost drowning.

Tags: Major Character Death, Hurt/No Comfort, Funeral/Wake, Grief, Post Season 4 (Canon Divergence)

'Never Gonna Dance Again'

Eddie white-knuckles the steering wheel of his Uncle's pick-up and steps on the gas. He figures that there won't be many cops around – not that he'd care all that much about a ticket. Not today.

He just needs to get home.

Well, not home. 'Home' being his and Wayne's temporary digs, which is still Room 4 at the motel on the outskirts of Hawkins, where they are staying with the rest of the Forest Hills residents who don't have homes.

They are all waiting on a government stimulus, or payout, or whatever the fuck those Suits have long promised but still not delivered on.

Eddie pulls at his tie a little more. He thinks he must have only had it all prim and proper at the beginning of the service, when what looked like the entire goddamn town was filing in to Crescent Hills Funeral Home. Wayne had tied it for him, completing the musty, donated ensemble. Then it was soon adjusted when Eddie and his uncle were greeted by a blubbering Claudia Henderson.

He whimpers at the thought of the woman and bites his bottom lip as tears well up, blurring his vision.

Blinking hard, Eddie fumbles for the volume dial. He knows his uncle listens to the local station, keeps up with the local news and traffic. Not that Hawkins has traffic – or that the local station plays anything other than pop.

Though, getting out of Town Hall's parking lot might prove difficult later today – or whenever it might be that everyone decides to stop with the courteous nods and feigned small smiles, scrunch up their Orders of Service and head on home after one too many mini-sandwiches on Mr Harrington's dime.

Richard Harrington, Eddie had come to learn today.

He learned far too many things today.

Like how Steve played the piano when he was a kid.

That his Grandpa was his hero. That he went to Summer Camp every year before becoming a Councillor.

Steve held records on the swim team. He even saved a lady from drowning out by Lover's Lake one time – before he became a lifeguard.

Eddie also got stories from Nancy, all of which were kind, if a little reserved. And of course, Robin – when she wasn't sobbing with her arm linked in his. Dustin, the brave kid, talked about movie nights and Steve's favorite candy as Claudia nodded along knowingly and Julie Harrington looked on surprised by such anecdotes.

He guesses he was surprised by some of it too.

But he wasn't supposed to learn it all this way.

None of this was supposed to happen at all.

Eddie steps on the gas as George Michael laments how he will, "never dance again".

Eddie never even got to, with Steve.

[daily-ethoslab]

my bad for not adding skizz won't happen again

[pawpiefawn]

𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ alhaitham x gn!reader 1.1k words alhaitham cooks you a dish from his childhood.

in the apartment you shared with alhaitham, there was no explosive rage or hurtful yelling – there were no plates thrown or doors slammed or chairs hurled against walls that had seen more than they should have.

no, home was quiet and healing. it was ivy-crawled bricks, breezy curtains and ambient lighting that was a testimony to the soft-lipped love he spoke to you, words he learnt passed down from his gentle grandmother.

alhaitham would keep you safe; he promised himself the moment his eyes met yours.

love was gently knocking on the door to tell you that dinner's ready. love did not rage or come home angry – it did not yell at you over something trivial. love was patient and whole and kind. home was love, love forgave and repented and knelt to ask for forgiveness; love forgave, without a second thought, because love was home.

home was love, alhaitham was home, alhaitham was love.

between you and love, you usually cooked – it wasn’t that alhaitham didn’t want to cook, or that he couldn’t; well . . you were just better. better in the sense that dinner’s vegetables just seemed to slice and arrange themselves neatly in obedience to the ruler of the kitchen. somehow, you measuring seasoning with your tender heart always made it taste better despite his countless accurate measurements.

cooking in the kitchen was also where love was found.

it was in the sweet, soft light that entered through your kitchen window, perfect rays broken up through the trees outside – and of course, it was found in alhaitham; his built frame leaning against the kitchen countertop, admiring you and feeling a slight twinge of envy at your proficiency in the kitchen. dishes were cooked with ease and you just had so much fun, twirling around with your wooden spatula. you gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek before turning back to stir your pot of stew.

“ah, it’s going to burn–”

“don’t be silly, it’ll be fine!” the only thing he felt in the kitchen, with you at its helm, was happiness.

perhaps he could try once again? perhaps he could– no, he would. he would make some of that happiness with his own hands, laden into porcelain bowls to share with you.

the next time alhaitham walked into the kitchen, it was with aching arms heavy with brown bags chockfull of dinner ingredients. vibrant padisarah petals, marbled chunks of beef, plastic bags filled to the brim with rice grains and aromatic spices that left its mark on your kitchen. he knew exactly what he wanted to share with you tonight.

“you’re cooking?” he hears your footsteps as you bound into the kitchen, pattering against the cool marble excitedly.

“yes, i am. dinner should be ready in a few hours.” alhaitham lets a faint smile grace his features. you wrap your arms tenderly around his waist, burying your face into his back. he couldn’t see your sweet grin this way, but that was alright. your joy practically radiated off your warm frame.

“thanks for cooking tonight.”

he lets his hands work their magic – some sort of magic he still faintly believed in. it had been some time since he cooked something like this, after all; and much less a dish he last tasted in his last remnants of childhood.

in went the beautiful cuts of meat, sizzling over hot oil, browned then mixed with all the nostalgic spices his tastebuds yearned to remember. fresh limes, red tomatoes, sweet onions, everything tasty and good were then added to the mix. white pearly grains of rice were cooked and added to the pot.

almost done, now.

all that was left was to wait for everything to meld in perfect harmony. alhaitham found himself staring at his work. the rice was a blank canvas for the myriad of spices, with familiar love and nostalgia that this dish brought together in a pot. empty dishes and cutting boards stained with effort littered the kitchen counter, and he sighed in fervent exhaustion just at the thought of cleaning up.

“oh! don’t worry about the dishes tonight, i’ve got them~” you chirped eagerly, tiptoeing to catch a glimpse of whatever was making your kitchen smell absolutely heavenly.

“you’re sure?” alhaitham raises an eyebrow. “i can do it, it’s not a problem.”

“no, i’m sure – you put in so much work for tonight! think of it as a thank you!”

always so sweet, offering to lend a hand no matter how tiresome or bothersome it was. did you know how much of an angel you were? alhaitham lets another smile slip past his weary face. thank you.

he hears the timer ding! and immediately turns to the stove, his masterful work steaming and ready – it looked incredible. warm gravy coated every grain, beef chunks tender and pulling apart at the force of a dinner fork. it smelt incredible. it was warm, spicy, fragrant with every hint of nostalgia he added.

it smelt like home.

kind, inviting, warm, hopeful, home.

“it’s done!” alhaitham lets out a quiet laugh as you wrap your hands around his waist again, peeking at the food hungrily.

“it smells so good.”

“this one’s for you.” he nods, setting down your bowl after ladling steaming hot biryani into it. he finishes it off with a few padisarah petals, turning the bowl towards you.

“alright, chef. you wanna introduce your dish?” you tease, giggling softly and pushing some rice aside to reveal the chunks of spiced beef. you spoon a portion of the biryani into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully and savouring every bit of effort he put into tonight’s dinner.

“well, i wanted you to try something i grew up eating. my grandmother made this for me in my childhood years.”

you hear your spoon clink against your bowl as you set it down to rest, staring at him.

“you made me something your grandmother used to make for you?” there is a slight quiver in your voice as you comprehend his sweet words.

this wasn’t just any dinner, then. it was a part of himself that he wished to share with you. it was young alhaitham seated at the dinner table, waiting for the food every night made by his loving grandmother. it was when three wooden chairs were swapped for two new ones, when only a good plate of homemade food could make him push aside any grief. it was his grandmother’s love in a dish –constant, reliable, and never failing to bring a hint of a wistful smile to his face.

“i did. i thought you would enjoy it.” alhaitham smiles, looking up from his bowl to see you wear a sombre, yet grateful expression; but there was no denying that you were enjoying it.

you were loving every bite, immensely – it tasted just a touch heavier on your tongue after he shared – and it was beautiful. nostalgia was the most powerful ingredient one could add, and time only told the truth – everything tasted better, when made with all the love and care and conscience in the world.

“thank you, alhaitham.”

[mellowswriting]

How about slow, sweaty, make up sex with Din Djarin! Thank you!

a real apology

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || ~ 900

summary || sweet, slow makeup sex

content || SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, din is whipped, fluff, no use of Y/N, unbeta'd (all mistakes are my own, and probably thanks to the tequila tbh)

a/n || I got progressively more drunk as I wrote this, so... enjoy!

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You have no idea how long Din has had you like this - pinned beneath the heft of his body, your thighs shaking as his fingers and tongue coax yet another orgasm from you. He moans against you as he feels it hit. Your back arches, your nails dig into his scalp, and you cry his name so sweetly he damn near finishes right then and there. It feels like you’re floating, your body and soul detached under his talented touch. He doesn’t stop until you push his head away. Even then, he just occupies his mouth by trailing wet, sloppy kisses along your thigh. Goosebumps follow the brush of his stubble. 

Those dark eyes stare up at you, his pupils dilated as he takes in the vision you make beneath him. He can’t get enough of you. It’s been too long - damn near a week without those soft words and sweet touches he has grown so addicted to. It was stupid, a silly argument about a bounty of all things. Din knew almost immediately that he was in the wrong. Pride caught the apology he owed you between his teeth. 

None of that matters, now. Not when he’s searing his repentance into your body with every touch. 

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He asks before he presses a kiss to your navel. You hum a contemplative sound as he works his way up your body. The air is thick with the scent of sex, something he’s missed more than he realized. Your skin shimmers with sweat and Din just can’t stop himself. The flat of his tongue drags up your sternum. He just can’t get enough of your taste, even as you squirm beneath him. 

“I think you’re getting there.” You finally sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and pulling his body flush against yours. The closeness settles that restless, agitated animal that has paced in his chest all week. Din leans closer, his arms bracketing your head, and he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet despite the way his cock throbs against your thigh. Your warmth soaks into him, bare skin against bare skin. As your hands cup his face, only one thought runs through his head. 

The only place in the universe he truly belongs to is in your arms. 

“Mmm…” You hum against his lips. “Definitely getting there.” 

Din can’t help but chuckle at that cheeky stubbornness he’s come to love. He drags his lips across your throat, reveling in the way your sass melts into a heady sigh. Your hands skirt down the planes of his back and settle on his ass with a playful squeeze. 

“C’mon, Djarin.” There’s an edge of demand in your tone, a little desperation. “Show me how sorry you really are.” 

That’s all it takes for him to sink into you with one devastating roll of his hips. All words slip away at the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. Din presses you into the soft mattress, pinned beneath his full weight as if to keep you there forever. As if you would ever dream of going anywhere. The pace he sets is slow, a steady rock of his hips that leaves you wrecked beneath him. Your nails dig into his back, pulling him impossibly closer. 

“I’ve got you,” The whisper is soaked in affection and longing, a promise he always intends to keep. Din presses his forehead against yours, his dark eyes wide as he greedily consumes the sight of you. So pliant and vulnerable, consumed by the feeling only he can pull from you. 

Your eyes flutter and roll as he arches his hips just so, dragging against that sensitive spot until you shake. The angle lets him grind against your clit. He doesn’t let up, far too insatiable for the feeling of you falling apart under his touch. You’re so sensitive, so responsive to everything he gives you. Every sweet sound he pulls from you only makes him want more. It drives him fucking wild. 

“Don’t stop,” Your whispered plea slithers down his spine and pools in his belly, pure warmth and need searing into his very DNA. He has to bury his face in your neck. The way you look, all strung out and cockdrunk, threatens to end this far too soon. Your fingers dig into his hair as he works you closer to another devastating orgasm. “Oh, fuck -” 

A broken growl rips from his chest as you fall apart for him. He swears this is the closest he’ll ever get to nirvana in this damned life - the sound of you crying out his name, the wet gush of your cunt wetting his thighs, the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. He follows after you only a beat after. His teeth dig into your shoulder as he buries himself to the hilt, stuffing you full of his cock as he spills inside you. 

The air fills with the sound of heavy breathing as you both come down, your bodies still entwined with one another. An atmosphere of peace settles around you like a thick, warm blanket. The way he melts into you only adds to that feeling. It’s impossible to tell just how long the two of you stay like this - so wrapped up in each other that you can’t tell who begins where. Neither of you wants to break that peace. His lips find that sweet spot over your pulse.

“I am sorry, cyare.” Din murmurs between short, sweet kisses. “Truly.” 

“I know.” You whisper. Your fingers drag through his messy mop of curls, scratching his scalp until he turns into a purring beast above you. “I forgive you.”

[glitter-stained]

I keep seeing posts about how Jason should have chara development that makes sense regarding his morals and stop killing because of that rather than because Bruce told him to stop and like - it's not like I disagree. Of course, that would be great. Of course I want him to be written his age by writers that like him and have development that makes sense and work with Bruce and Dick and evolve on his own as a person.

But the thing is.

A few weeks ago I saw a critique of His Dark Materials that was so absurdly daft it made me want to peel my skin off. For context, His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman is a children/young adult book set in fantasy worlds that doubles as a retelling of Paradise Lost in which Lucifer wins, and criticism of christianism is preponderant in it. (This will spoil a good part of book 1 of HDM btw). I'm far from a HDM fan, I saw a few episodes of the adaptation and read it once when I was ten and thought the characters and world was fun but the rhythm in the 2nd and 3rd books was off and I didn't like the ending, so like it was fun but I definitely not a re-read for me. But the point is, this critique clearly had a degree in not getting the fucking point, because his arguments against the books clearly stemmed from an inability to shift his viewpoint out of the christian framework (I promise this is still a Jason post). One of his most ludicrous argument was the lack of character depth in HDM. This is particularly silly because one of the main characters, Mrs Coulters, is one of the most interesting complex characters I've ever seen in fiction. Now Mrs Coulters is interesting because she is a bad guy. Like, tortures and kills children level of bad guy. She doesn't magically grow to sacrifice herself in the name of martyrdom to repent for her sins or something silly like that; but still, she sometimes does very good, helpful things for the characters, because the tension between her character is between her ambition (and her faith though that's more questionable) and her motherhood, as she truly loves and cares for her daughter, one of the protagonists, and wants a better, safer world for her. Now the critique claimed that there was no character depth because there was no concept of sin and no redemption arcs in the books- but those are utterly Christian concepts, so of course they wouldn't be endorsed by a book that challenges their validity. Just because Mrs Coulters doesn't have a redemption arc doesn't mean she isn't deep; and the fact that she does good things not out of morality but out of love is what makes her a fascinating character.

So, thinking about that asinine critique, I was suddenly struck with the realization that Jason is somehow similar to Mrs Coulters in that he is a very loving person who tends to put his personal connexions above everything else (of course, he doesn't experiment on and torture children, that's not what I'm saying). My point is, I don't think why we shouldn't have a Jason who evolves not moved by his morals (though he has them and they matter) but by his love. The point of Death in the Family is Jason wanted to be loved and have a family and trying to shield Sheila's body with his and telling her he loved her. The point of UTRH is Jason doing horrible things in the most theatrical, strategically planned mental breakdown as begging for proof of love because he can't reconcile being loved in a different way that he loves and because he can't understand someone putting their moral code over love. And as much as RHATO #25 fills me up with dread, I have to say I love Jason's behaviour in that final stint. "I am my father's son" holy shit what a line. Jason is Willis' son and because of his filial love, his loyalty demands he avenges him. Jason is Bruce's son and because of his filial love, his loyalty demands that he does not kill. Jason almost murders Willis' murderer with a blank bullet and then when Bruce beats hims halfway to death he doesn't defend himself, doesn't fight back (like, one punch but come on, we've seen him fight, he just gives up). That right there? Hate to say it with how questionable RHATO's Jason is in general, but that's peak characterization. The conflict is entirely about Jason's conception of love, family and worldview, and it's deep and interesting and has nothing to do with morality. I want Jason storylines that explore that. I want Jason to work with the batfam in stories that make sense, I want the writers to acknowledge him as a victim and trauma survivor and allow him to grow from there instead of demonizing his mental illness, I want him to stop killing out of love and I want him to allow himself to love in healthier ways and for the width of his love to spread exponentially and for that to affect his behaviour and worldview.

And that's not just because I like Mrs Coulters and dislike the idea of holier than though moral characters! The christic symbolism Jason is crystal clear (especially in Lost Days), but it's not just about Jason: Talia is associated with Mary (which makes sleeping with him that much more obviously incestuous and horrible and ooc), Joker is the Devil and Bruce, of course, is God (which begs such interesting questions about the Holy Spirit - Robin maybe? To explore at a later date). Now, everybody's experience with Christianity differs wildly, but the way I learnt it growing up in catholic culture was basically God being an Authority of Judgement and Law, strict and all about morality; while Jesus is about love, unconditional love, even and especially the sinners and the damned (and as for the devil Lucifer is a fallen angel who fell after losing to God, and Satan is the demonic incarnation of temptation ain't that interesting). So I would argue that by having Jason kill or not kill out of love for his family, Jason is already his own character with autonomous thought process, independent morals and original interesting values that are a breath of fresh air in the world of superhero which is all about moral codes. Additionally, I think it's interesting and full of potential (and hope) that that very thing is why Jason and Bruce are held in opposition so often when in christianism they are two sides of the same coin.

TLDR: Jason going through character development that doesn't involve an evolution of his moral code is a great idea and if executed properly should give us fascinating stories with one of the most interesting characters in the DC universe, I used to think he should get a sort of "redemption arc" after UTRH where he questions his moral code but now I feel like I'm stuck in the same Christian/superhero framework as the pedantic guy who didn't understand His Dark Materials and I refuse to agree with them about anything so now I'm a hardcore "love over morals" Jason girlie. Obviously I still think moral code development would be a good and interesting storyline and better than anything DC is giving us rn, but I think we could do even better without it.

(also Star Sapphire Jason ftw)

[thstarsofsilver]

hey everyone, i'm so sorry i haven't posted ch6 of the portwell wedding planner au yet.

life has been insane and i haven't had the chance to finish the chap - plus i'm battling some insane writer's block because nothing has been going the way i want it to!!!! i write something and then i hate it and just tell myself i'll come back to it in a few hours (spoiler alert: i don't). anyway i'm really hoping it will be done soon. i will try to put out a longer chapter to repent but i have no idea if that will be possible, but something will be out soon i promise

thank u so much for your patience!!!!! <3 to every person who reads my silly little fic i love you so much

[traumacatholic]

I am wondering if you could help me regarding Romans 11:11 and the concept of Gentiles and Jews. Romans 11:11 reads as if God only gave non-Jews salvation just to get the Jews jealous, rather than from loving us. I believe in Jesus, I love God, I just wonder if me as a gentile is beloved? Are we just imposing ourselves on a God who favours Jews? I feel silly to ask but that verse and God saying even those "not his people" would get saved, makes me feel like an outcast. Why did God make humans but favour other humans? It feels like, we are not the ones God loves...we will never be the chosen ones or as loved and it makes me feel sad. Please help. Thank you.

As much as I appreciate that this is causing you sadness, this question would be much better directed to a Priest. Who will be in a much better position to have a knowledgeable conversation with you on this topic. You are more than welcome to just send emails off to your local Priest (or failing that, a Priest at another Church) with these kinds of questions.

St. Paul calls those “in Christ Jesus” the “Israel of God,” which is the Church.) This true Israel is not based on biological ancestry but on faithfulness to God's Deliverer, the Messiah. In this understanding, all Israel will be saved.

Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.

Galatians 3:23-29

God loves all of us, beyond our understanding or capabilities to love ourselves or one another. The jealousy spoken about in Romans shouldn't be seen as an insult towards gentiles, rather, the jealousy was meant to spurn the unbelievers into repenting and believing in Christ and should be seen as a positive force to push for their reconciliation.

Jesus and the Apostles spoke at length about connecting with the Gentiles and bringing the faith to them. All of us are called to a relationship with God, we cannot impose ourselves on Him. Something that I would recommend is using a study Bible, and using resources that can aid your understanding. If you're a Catholic, then reading the Catechism can also address a lot of questions that you may have.

[karasukakikomi]

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ

“My church offers no absolutes He tells me, ‘Worship in the bedroom’ The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you”

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Laito Sakamaki, Female Reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ/ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: nsfw. 18+ only. ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.6k ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ＤＡＲＫ ＣＯＮＴＥＮＴ ＡＨＥＡＤ！ (If you are not comfortable with this please do not read) NSFW Minors DNI, Rape/Noncon, dubcon, bloodplay, sacrilege, degradation, power difference, dacryphilia, biting, begging, sub!reader, dom!Laito ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This is my first smut ever so hopefully it isn't too low quality :) I'm really going to hell after writing this one lol.

The Church. A place of joy, forgiveness, and love. A place you held dear. A place where you came to worship. After all, when your heart was heavy and your burdens spilled over, you could always pray. Pray to someone who would listen, who would understand, and who would always forgive your innocent sins in the end. However your reason for your visit was less than a joyous occasion. You needed to ask for forgiveness, for reconciliation, for the darkness which tore at your fragile heart. That man. If you could even call him such a thing has been tormenting you endlessly. Holding such a suffocating grip on your mind and spirit. The things he says, the things he does are vile, evil, yet you always end up craving more. His words are laced with sweet honey, charming and tempting, but you know it's only to lure you in. Regardless, you cannot get them out of your head. Which is why you kneel before the altar. Asking your god for forgiveness.  “God please. I don’t know what to do. Please. Please protect me.” A laugh echoed behind you, bouncing from the empty stone walls of the church. You turned your head sharply towards the entrance of the church, startled by the sudden intrusion.  “Well, it seems little bitch came here to pray! How cute,” Laito mused. His form rose from the mass of wooden pews lit only by the dim moonlight filtering in through stained glass windows. He proceeded forward, steps muffled by the carpet leading towards the altar.“You do know however there is already someone watching over you.” He pointed upwards. A bat hanging languidly from the archway in the ceiling gazed curiously at your still kneeling form. Laito laughed once more, “Silly little bitch, thinking she can run away. I have my familiars to keep an eye on you at all times. They promised to tell me your every move.” “S-since when?” You rose cautiously facing the man.  “Oh dear, your cute little face is all red. Did my familiars catch you doing something you didn’t wish to be seen?” “Don’t say such things!” You exclaimed. “Oh, there's no need to be ashamed! After all, I know what a naughty little girl my Bitch-chan is,” He laughed. “I- I just came here to pray! Is there something so wrong with that?” You spat out. “Oh my little Bitch-chan is feisty today,” Laito chuckled before dropping his tone, “I do know why you’re truly here though.” “And why is that?” You asked. “To repent. For all of those dirty thoughts you’ve been having,” Laito approached until he was standing directly in front of you. He leaned down, breath tickling your ear and sending bolts of electricity shooting down your spine. “I know how much you just love when I tease you. You think it's so wrong to give into your desires. There's nothing to be ashamed about Bitch-chan. After all, I want to uncover all of those secret little places you keep hidden from me.” His arm snaked around your waist pulling you taught against him. Your arms pushed against his lean yet firm chest.  “L-Laito stop! I have no idea what you’re talking about now, please just let go!” You said, your confidence quickly wearing thin.  “Playing dumb are we? I have no business with you. I want to hear from that lustful, greedy little girl you keep hidden inside,” He spoke, words dripping with desire. He pushed you down onto the altar with ease, pinning your hands above your head with just one hand. You kicked and struggled, trying desperately to wiggle free. His crushing grip on your wrists pinned above your head grew stronger, threatening to break your delicate bones. “Now, now Bitch-chan. Struggling is only going to make it harder for you. Why don’t you just give in, hmmm?” He asked, sounding like less than a plea but more of a demand.  “Laito please! Why are you doing this to me!” Your words came out almost as a broken sob. Your resolve crumbling under his suffocating strength.  “Why am I doing this? How cute. I’m doing this because I want to, because I simply can’t resist this cute little girl below me.” He laughed still leaning over your struggling form beneath him. “Now, let me let you in on a little secret. But you have to stay still for me, Got that?” he asked.You stopped your squirming and looked him in the eyes. “Do you truly believe in God?”  “Y-yes, Yes I do. But why is that even important?” you asked, trying desperately to hide the fear welling up within you.  “Oh no Bitch-chan I believe I'm asking the questions here.” Laito spoke, leaning in closer, breath fanning against your neck, “Do you truly think he is going to save you?” “Yes! No matter what you say I believe in him,” you spoke back, slight defiance still shining in your eyes. “Awww how cute. You truly think that God would ever want to forgive you? A lost little lamb just begging to be defiled by me. He's just an illusion created by those who think they have a higher purpose than they truly do.” He paused, smiling down at you. However his smile held no warmth, just a sick, sadistic smirk laden with desire. “Your only purpose here, little bitch, is to give me your blood. You’ll see that the faster you choose to accept that, the gentler I will be.” “I will never submit to you,” you spat again venom in your tone. “Ohh what a naughty little girl,” he smirked, “I’m going to have such fun with you tonight.” He let go of your wrists. But in your second of freedom, a crushing weight was applied to your hip. One hand held your hip firmly in place on the altar while his other slowly lifted your leg. He leaned over, situated between your shivering thighs. “Now for that secret I promised, after all I never lie to my Bitch-chan,” he chuckled, “You were given to us. As a sacrifice. A meaningless little bride, given just to appease us. It's cute how you think so highly of yourself Bitch-chan.”  “That's not true! I'm not just a sacrifice to you!” You exclaimed. “Oh but you are. And on top of that would you like to know who gave you to us? Hmmm?” You stayed silent. “This very church you hold such faith in,” Laito continued. “The-they would never,” You protested.  “They did, Bitch-chan. Raised your whole life just to think you were born for something so great. When all you really are is a glorified little sacrifice, waiting to die like the rest of them,” he stated these last words matter of factly. Seemingly content with his words. Hot tears threatened to slip from your eyes.  “It's not true! It's not.” You gasped, unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. “Now now Bitch-chan. It's okay. I know the truth hurts. Allow me to help you,” He smiled, bringing his mouth closer to your inner thigh. “Such a sweet scent. Mmm I just can't wait to see if you taste as good as you smell Bitch-chan.” Unable to process his words you lay still, tears pooling from the corner of your eyes. Small hiccups echoed over the empty expanse of the room. Without warning he bit down. Fangs sinking into the plush softness of your thigh. You winced, a small squeal bubbling from your throat. The pain was sharp, almost burning. He moaned against your thigh, sucking the dark crimson liquid from beneath your skin. He pulled away. Rivulets of your own blood dripping down his chin. You couldn't bear to look at the sight any longer.  You turned your head to the side.  “Oh my, poor little thing. Did that hurt?” He asked with fake concern. You nodded, face wet with tears.  “Then why don’t I just do that again.” He licked over his previous puncture wound, moving his open mouth slightly over before biting down again. Even harder this time. A small shriek spilled out. You tried kicking your leg against the burning pain but he kept it firmly hooked over his shoulder. You could hear the soft gulps of Laito drinking your blood. That horrible noise then persisted even after the initial sting subsided. He pulled away once more, wiping the blood from his chin. He raised himself up, straddling you beneath him. “Oh don’t cry now Bitch-chan. That couldn’t have hurt that badly. We are just getting started now.” He lowered his head to lick the salty tears from your cheeks. “Look at you, red faced and teary eyed and all I did was have a little taste of that sweet blood you keep to yourself. I could just bathe you in it, but no I’m being quite merciful to my little bitch right now. The least you could do is tell me where you want it next.” You turned your face to stare him in the eyes. No hint of remorse remained, just pure greed and self satisfaction swam behind his emerald green eyes.  “I- I don’t want it anywhere! Stop!” you tried kicking again but he had your body caged beneath his.  “Hmmm I suppose I’ll start from the top and work my way down then”  His slender fingers undid your uniform bow and slowly unbuttoned your shirt. You tried to offer resistance but his strength was simply too much. You soon found yourself completely exposed to his predatory gaze besides your undergarments which still protected what little modesty you had left.  “Awwww Bitch-chan you wore pink just for me? I’m so flattered. I knew you’ve been wanting this all along” He snickered pausing his movements.  “Laito! Please stop!” You tried squirming again but it was simply no use.  He raised your shaking form slightly and looped his arm around your back. Laito’s cold, slender fingers unclasped your bra. Your hands flew up to stop the delicate straps from falling past your shoulders.  “Ah ah ah,” He taunted, “We won't be needing this anymore.” In a single movement he ripped your bra away from your body, your desperate grip on it was of no comparison as he flung it into the dark corners of the room. Out of sight. You whimpered, still trying to cover your breasts from his view. Laito took your wrists back into his hand and pinned your back flush against the altar once more. “While I very much appreciate you dressing up all cute for me Bitch-chan, I much prefer this view.” He leaned in closer, trailing soft kisses down your collarbone to your exposed breasts. You whimpered from the sensitivity of his hot mouth against your hardened nipples. “Already this sensitive and I’ve hardly touched you… Let’s try going a little lower hmm” Laito hummed, releasing your wrists while kissing lower, down your stomach, stopping right above the waistband of your panties.  “Lets see how wet my little bitch is,” He laughed sliding a long digit across your clothed sex purposely nudging your sensitive clit. You let out a small whine and tried to pull yourself away. “My baby is wet for me. What a little slut.” He chuckled darkly, “Why don’t I have a taste of my sweet girl.” Laito leaned his face closer to your pussy, his breath causing shivers to run down your spine. He placed a kiss over your panties letting out an exaggerated moan. It reverberated through your core causing you to instinctively squeeze your thighs together tightly around his head. Laito’s hands came to your thighs, pulling them apart. “It's a little too late to be ashamed now baby,” he cooed with a purr in his voice.  With a rip your panties too were cast into the suffocating darkness that surrounded the altar. Your unclothed sex lay bare to him. The dark, damp air felt cool. You shivered, unable to close your thighs again. You felt so vulnerable and exposed. His hungry gaze devoid of mercy, only pure desire remained. Without words he licked a stripe up your sensitive folds, causing a high pitched whine to spill out. “Oh you just taste so sweet little bitch. You truly love to tempt me, don't you?” He spoke. He flattened his tongue against your clit. You desperately thrashed trying to free yourself from the onslaught of pleasure. His hold on your legs only tightened pulling you even closer to his face. Small moans from his mouth reverberated, adding more unbearable pleasure.  “Please, please stop,” you sobbed, your hands curling into fists on the cold, hard altar.  You weren’t sure how much more you could take.  “Laito please!” you begged for him to release you. Your sobbing pleas fell upon deaf ears. He continued, lapping against your core at a steady rhythm. Choked sobs echoed from your throat and dissipated against the high arched ceilings of the church. His sharp nails dug into your thighs as he held you against his cruel tongue. You could feel blood being drawn from his harsh grip. The pressure between your legs continued to build as you searched for something, anything to hold onto. You gripped hard on the sides of the stone altar, your knuckles turning white as your release came. You cried out in what you couldn’t tell was pleasure or fear. Finally, Laito removed himself from between your legs, still holding your thighs apart. You glanced upwards through teary eyes. Your juices glistened against his pale skin. You were disgusted, horrified, shame welling up within you. He climbed upwards, caging your fragile form under his own once more.  “Come, taste yourself little bitch. You taste so sweet, it's intoxicating.” His words dripped like sweet honey as he forced your mouth open and slid his hot tongue in. You were quite literally being suffocated. He tasted musky, your arousal that coated his tongue now on yours. His kiss drowned you, you pushed against him with your hands trying to breathe, but the kiss only deepened. Laito broke the kiss with a moan, something hard ground against your upper thigh and you wiggled your hips trying to get away. “You want this don’t you? Naughty little thing,” he laughed, “Here's the thing with girls like you. You pretend to be so innocent, so naive, but deep down you're just a dirty little whore. Searching to be brought out.” “That’s- that’s not true, please stop-p,” You wailed, hot, salty tears flowing down your reddened cheeks.  “Shhh… It’s much too late to get away now little bitch,” He let out a playful laugh.  You heard the sound of a zipper and the moving of material. You were a sobbing mess now pushing harshly against him. He paid no heed to your violent struggles as you felt something hard pressing against your opening. He forced your wrists down against the cold altar, wrapped in his crushing hold again.  “L-Laito… I don’t- I don’t want-” You began. “Nfu~ How adorable little bitch, now fall into the depths of hell with me.” He spoke, his final words enunciated by a sharp thrust. You felt a burning stretch as your tight hole struggled to accommodate his girth. He let out a soft moan above you, his pupils blown wide with pure lust. “My Little Bitch is so tight for me, I simply can’t hold back any longer,” Laito gasped, senses overcome by hunger.  His cock receded from your depths, covered in your shameful slick only to bully its way back into you. Over and over, hitting a spot deep inside. Causing your legs to tighten around his hips which pistoned into you at a steady, brutal pace.  “Does that feel good baby? Having me ravage this pretty little cunt?” He asked, never slowing his agonizing pace. All you could do was whine, struggling to think of anything but the intense pleasure filling your senses.  “See? You were whining and begging for me to stop, but I think my little girl is enjoying this, isn't she?” he grunted staring into your teary eyes. You turned your face away from his sharp gaze, trying to hide your flustered expression. One of his hands left your wrist, grabbing your jaw forcefully. Your head was turned so that you could only stare into his eyes now, the grip on your jaw unwavering. “I want to see those cute expressions, little bitch, don’t hide them from me. I want you to see exactly who’s making you feel this good,” He spoke, shamelessly letting his moans echo through the large space surrounding your forms.  You could feel a knot begin to tighten inside of you, its feeling becoming unbearable as it built its way up. Your legs began to quiver as your quiet whines grew louder into broken sobbing moans. In one last attempt you struggled to push your palms against his chest to slow his movements but to no avail. He seemed unbothered by your struggles, only chuckling in response to your feeble escape attempt. “You're close, I can feel it Bitch-chan, but you don’t get to cum. Not just yet,” He panted, still hungrily eyeing your body beneath his own, “You haven’t earned it yet for resisting me this much. If you had learned to be honest with yourself, I’d be much more caring. So now you’re going to beg.”  You sniffled, holding back more tears. There’s no way you could do this. Shame rose like bile in your throat at the thought. However you simply could not endure the pleasure any longer. And so your delicate, glass mask of resolve cracked.  And you cried out, “Please Laito, please let me cum! I’m sorry- Im sorry!” He stared down in pleasure and amusement, “What a lewd little bitch, since you asked so nicely I suppose you can.” His thrusts grew harder as he slammed his cock violently into your fluttering walls. “Come for me, I know you can you dirty little slut,” He moaned wantonly. Suddenly the knot snapped, that invisible buildup inevitably peaked and you convulsed crying out in pure ecstasy. Your walls clamped down around his cock which only spurred his movements further, he fucked you through your orgasm as you clawed desperately at his back. You quickly became overstimulated, whines now louder, pleading for him to stop. But he continued regardless until you felt his thrusts become sloppy and unsynchronized. His pants and moans became more frequent as he gasped out, “I love you Little Bitch.” His head lowered until his lips pressed themselves against your exposed neck. He bit down hard, fangs penetrating through your skin and his lustful moans muffled against your throat. Laito’s hips stuttered. The pain of his sharp fangs mixed with his now erratic thrusts caused you to clench down once more, the release causing your walls to milk his cock as his seed spilled inside of you. You both stayed like this for some time. His fangs withdrew from your neck. Two thin streams of rich, dark blood trickled down entwining with one another. You still lay staring straight up, past Laito and to the intricate carvings on the ceiling. However, he didn’t seem nearly finished with you yet. He withdrew his cock from you only to slam it back into your clenching walls. He had hardened once more. “Oh Little Bitch, we aren’t nearly done yet. The moon is still out and I do feel quite thirsty again. After all, it is a full moon and we dwellers of the night tend to require a bit more to satisfy our urges,” A laugh resounded from his chest, louder than what you had heard before, “So stay still and don’t move too much, okay? We still have all night to enjoy ourselves~” … The night was as cruelly long. The pleasure, the pain, the fear, and the shame had turned into numbness. You could hardly feel his brutal thrusts nor the sharp sting of fangs entering your supple flesh over and over again. You could blame the detached empty feeling on blood loss or anemia maybe, but those internal excuses would only cover the truth. You were nothing more than a sacrifice laying naked and broken on the altar surface. By the time the morning light had come and dawn staked its claim over the land, you were completely and utterly alone. Golden rays of sunlight filtered its way through the cracked and dusty stained glass windows. Once holding beautiful depictions of angels rejoicing now looked like nothing but lies and empty promises. Just like the love he declared over and over again as he claimed your body. The sunlight which tangled its rays over your naked, marked flesh held no warmth. Your place of forgiveness tainted black by a carnal sin. You didn’t ask to fall from grace, you had begged for it. Begged a man, no, begged a devil to continue to ravage your innocence until nothing remained. Shame clouded your heart which still weighed heavy with your sin. Could God ever forgive you now?

[k-dokja]

A cute oneshot  that involves kissing with Daniel ? 🤡 since the req are open

Daniel knows it's silly.

By all means, he shouldn't even pine after you in the middle of class, but how can he stop his own whims when you're sitting next to him like that? All pretty and smell nice and... that looks when you focus on writing down the notes (which he should also be doing), he cannot have enough of you.

He's probably going to get reprimanded by the teacher for this.

Honestly, it's your fault for always looking that adorable even when you're not doing anything of importance. You've always been so patient, too, always indulging the silly requests he made at the most inopportune time. It only makes him greedier.

Daniel wonders if he can get away with it this time around.

"Hey..." He lies down on the desk, hiding behind the back of the student in front of him. "Hey," he calls again, poking at your sleeve. "hey..."

You turn to him eventually, a silent question in your eyes. Upon receiving your attention, Daniel smiles immediately. He waves you over with a meaningful smile. All you do is lean towards him, turning your ear like you are expecting him to say something.

Well, he was not forthright about his intention. Guess he can make do with what he has at hand.

Before the teacher can turn back, Daniel reaches up and kisses you on the cheek. You turn towards him, hand upon where his lips touched a moment ago. Your widened stare turns into a glare when he only grins.

In reprimand, you flicker at his nose and he feigns hurt. Not that he's a very convincing actor with that goofy smile on his face.

His sneaky kiss attacks go on five more times. Until someone throws something at his head.

Daniel turns back. His expression is mixed between a glare and a pout because he knows immediately who was the perpetrator. His eyes meet with Zack, sitting behind you and making a face back at Daniel. Of course, his little act doesn't go unnoticed, but he expects his own friends to offer him a bit of support.

Though, that's probably a stretch to expect from Zack of all people.

"Get a room," Zack mouths at him, "you look ridiculous."

"Sorry," Daniel apologizes with no ounce of sincerity, "for making you jealous."

And of course, that doesn't fly by Zack. "Why you⁠—"

Which would ensure the most juvenile thing teenage boys can get up to: stationary fight.

Now, Daniel would not say he's a pushover by any means. At least, not at this point in life when he has done everything he can to grow into somebody deserving of you. This is why when he thinks he has a good chance at winning this class war, he's willing to bet on it.

The only thing he never expects is how the people sitting by can turn into collateral damage. And the last thing he wants to do is hear you gasp when Zack's eraser bounces on his head and hits you.

"Daniel." You scowl at him, rubbing your head where the eraser has hit.

"Oh my god," he immediately reaches out for you, "baby, I'm so sorry—"

...Which prompted the teacher to notice what he was doing with Zack.

"Daniel Park! Zack Lee!" The teacher's yell snaps them both to attention. "Both of you! Go stand in the hall!"

Zack protest. "But—"

"Now!" Not that it helps with anything.

In the midst of this all, what Daniel worries about most isn't the detention he's going to face, but what damage he has inflicted on you with the eraser from earlier. Before Daniel can do anything to repent for his actions, his teacher's glare stops him from it completely.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I will make it up to you later," he clasps his hand in front of his face, earnest guilt paints over his expression, "promise~"

"Out!"

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down. 

    “Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?” 

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place. 

    “Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

    “(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

    “How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side. 

    “I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

    “Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him. 

    “That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you. 

Jackass. 

    “Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you. 

    “Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

    “Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

    “I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.” 

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

    “Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him. 

    “Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.”  The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously, 

    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear. 

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you. 

    “That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull, 

    “What Tommy?” 

    “Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable. 

     “T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head: 

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’ 

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword. 

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid. 

    “Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him. 

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

    “What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken. 

    “The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied. 

    “That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?” 

    “What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down. 

    “I’m single.” 

    “Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist. 

    “Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly. 

    “Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you, 

    “See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully. 

    “She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft” 

    “Not brothers and I don’t like him.” 

    “Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly. 

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug. 

    “(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms. 

    “Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.” 

    “Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?” 

    “I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.” 

    “WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!” 

    “Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay. 

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

[storiesbyjes2g]

*kikiriqui! kiKiRiQuI!*

"...?...???" That...that sounds like... hom-

"Alessandro! Ale? What are you still doing asleep? Do you plan to be late to school? Hurry up and go!"

"...mama?"

"Come, grab your eggs before you come back starving like always. My silly boy."

"Mama! I've-" Tears began to well up uncontrollably and poured down my face like a raging waterfall. "I've missed yo-"

"Ale."*tsk tsk* " Why do you always cry so easily and over nothing my love?" She wiped my face tenderly with her fingers looking helplessly at me. I tried to sniffle back tears clearly to no avail. But I'd do my best for my mother, she always wanted me to be her strong son.

"Darling, you know our boy is very sensitive. That's one of his many strengths. Kind, intelligent, hardworking, and sensitive. You tell him to man up, but you still make his eggs for breakfast. Hahaha, I bet you're a big part of the reason he hasn't fully spread his wings yet. He has to fend for himself one day. Then we'll see our boy turn into a man."

"Papa!"

"One day he'll grow into a man of his own. In a better place with more opportunities. An honest job, a beautiful home, a loving wife, and children as respectful as him."

It felt like a car screeched in the distance. A lump lodged itself in my throat. My...wife?

Oh. This is...another dream. Of course it is. When else would I get to smell the sweet orange zest on my mother's hands? Or the scent of freshly chopped wood mixed with sweat on my dad? ...Or forget about my broken family. The failure called my life. The commonplace betrayals that made me lose faith. In everything.

"I'll always love you Ali" lies. "Come baby, I'll never leave you." Lies. "You and me for life." LiEs. "You're the most beautiful sim I've ever met." LIES. STOP LYING ALREADY! You all find it so easy to rip me apart when I was only ever hanging on by a thread. What would you do if that final thread broke. But even in this, I think about you. Think about how it would affect you all if something happened to me. Hah.

The funny...no SAD thing is that I have NEVER run away from my promises and responsibilities. I do what I say I can, and I do- *sniffle* I do my best, even when it doesn't seem good enough. So since this is clearly a nightmare of all nightmares, I'm going something that I can only do in my dreams. RUN. Run without a destination in mind, run without listening to anybody and thinking about anything. Run until I can't think about doing anything else but catching my breath. And then do it all again.

Hah. Hah. haH. hAh. HAH. hA-*CoUgH-cOuGh* *COUGH-COUGH-COUGH* *CoU- "kuh!"

Then I woke up. I grabbed at my torn throat, hot tears searing my eyes. Though the burning and tingling in my throat at the moment was unbearable, it was SO much better than being asleep. *sigh* Another sleepless night, with far too much time to think.

I decided to write a dream from the point of view of Ali. Your podcast recently made me think more about him. And I realized that he actually is such a lovely sim that has been through quite a lot and has be messed with at every turn. One of the biggest things that I remembered was that his first job just sacked him. That was such a betrayal, and he found quite the safe haven in Emmy only for her to turn around and do the same thing. They use him for what they want and dump him once they've gotten it. And he's so kind that he just takes it and tries to move on. I bet he never guessed that his life would take so many left turns. He's been searching and searching for that right turn. And I'm sure he's already gotten desperate. Oh Ali~

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I REPENT!!! I'm sorry for everything I've done to this poor man. This was beautiful and oh so sad!!

And you're right! He's a lovely man! He just got dealt a bad hand.

Thank you so much for this!!!

[bestiesenpai]

The Language of Flowers - Toji Fushiguro

Who is ready for Toji Fushiguro fluff? This is a flower shop au + a kinda mafia au, so let’s see how it turned out, shall we? Gender neutral reader and no warnings :)

“Welcome in!” Fifteen minutes after opening your shop for the day, you got your first customer. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to come in so early, usually a senior citizen or a shop owner looking to spruce up their place with a fresh bouquet. But the person walking in as you rounded the corner didn’t look like the typical type of early morning client.

Smartly dressed in a suit with a large double breasted overcoat hanging off broad shoulders, the man that walked in had a much more serious demeanor than you were used to. Inky black hair with strands hanging in his face, a prominent scar on the edge of one lip and half-lidded eyes that seemed to stare right through you as they landed on you.

“Hello.” Even the smooth, deep timbre of his voice was out of place as he walked past tables full of bright orchids and petunias. He moved slowly, all the time in the world at his fingertips as he approached the counter.

“How can I help you today?” There was something unnerving about him but you pushed it away, gripping the edges of your apron so he wouldn’t see your hands slightly tremble.

“You make bouquets, right?” Looking over his shoulders a few times, his eyes settled on a few pictures on the wall of past arrangements. “I need one for a funeral.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be, he had it coming.” Chuckling to himself, the man tapped his chest a few times.

“O-oh.” Blinking away your shock, you gestured to the flowers on display. “Any particular flowers you’d like?”

“Lilies are funeral flowers, right? A handful of those and some glitter should be fine.” Digging in his pocket, the man pulled out a wad of cash and placed a few bills on the counter that separated you. “This should be enough.”

“This is more than enough, I can’t-” He’d put a few hundreds on the counter, all crisp and clean like they were freshly printed.

“Don’t worry about it.” Waving off your apprehension, he pushed the money closer. “Think of it as me repenting.”

“What do you need to repent for?” Slowly taking the money, you regretted asking as the man chuckled again.

“I’m the reason this funeral’s happening.”

Ten minutes later, the man - who’s name you’d learned was Toji - was walking out of the door with a fresh bouquet of white lilies. He didn’t say anything further while he was there, mainly because you hid in the back room as you worked. You could hear his dress shoes clicking against the worn hardwood as he perused the shop and every once in a while he stopped to sniff a flower.

The rest of the day went by without incident, your regular customers came in and you were able to forget about the man that had occupied the space in the early morning. Only when you emptied out the register and saw the money sitting at the bottom did you think about him, which brought a light flush to your cheeks. As intimidating as he was, you couldn’t help but find him a bit attractive.

A week and a half went by until you saw him again. It was a surprise to hear him come into the shop at the same time as last, wearing another suit with the heavy coat on his shoulders.

“Another funeral?” You asked when you saw him and your question made his lips stretch into an unexpected laugh.

“Not this time! I’m going to a wedding later.” Toji’s laugh warmed your cheeks, it was a rich sound that came straight from the barrel of his chest.

“Are you getting married?” Your eyes darted down to his ringless fingers.

“Nope, the boss’ youngest daughter found love.” Fishing a phone out of his pocket, Toji showed you a picture of a girl clearly ecstatic with her lover and a very large ring on her finger, a few men that looked like bodyguards lingering in the background.

“How precious! What’re the colors for the wedding?”

“Beats me, I’m not in it.” Shrugging his shoulders, Toji gestured to a few pink roses. “I think she likes pink, so maybe a bit of those.”

“You think or you know?” You snorted, rounding the counter and going over to the flowers. “Weddings are a really big deal, she might not like it if you clash.” Toji opened and closed his mouth like he was going to say a witty retort, but instead he bit back a sigh and nodded curtly.

“Pick whatever you like then, I just need a bouquet that goes well with a stack of cash.” Holding his coat away from him, Toji flashed a white envelope tucked inside his inner pocket, along with the tell tale handle of a gun resting in a holster to his side.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Licking your lips nervously, you fought to keep your eyes steady and not look at the gun. Turning back to the flowers, you mulled over them longer than necessary to avoid facing him. “You said she likes pink?”

Thanking you once again for your service, Toji left with a large bouquet in his hands and a congratulations card he had you write. He even promised to come back and show you pictures of the wedding and while you appreciated the returning patronage, the man before you was starting to make you quite uneasy.

“You still open?” It was five minutes to closing time and the bell above the door alerted you to another customer, the sound of the voice telling you exactly who it was.

“Toji, you really came back.” It was a bit of a shock to see him twice in one day. He was a little more disheveled, the coat on his shoulders was gone and he didn’t have a suit jacket on, with the black button up he had underneath clearly wrinkled and coming untucked at one side.

“Yeah, the wedding was in the afternoon, and I only had to stay until the newlyweds left.” Running a hand through his hair, Toji checked the watch on his wrist as he grabbed his phone. It was nearing eight and the sign on the door clearly stated you were going to close soon, so he had to make this quick.

Sliding his phone wordlessly onto the counter, he gestured toward the pictures on the screen. The wedding was massive, a lot of money had clearly been spent to give the smiling bride everything she wanted.

“Toji, she’s holding my bouquet!” Walking down the aisle, arm in arm with who you assumed was her father, the bride was carrying the bouquet that you’d made.

“Hm? Yeah, guess she is.”

“She didn’t have her own?” If you had known she would be carrying it down the aisle you would have made it more extravagant and lush.

“She did, but she liked yours so much she took it.” The statement brought a silly smile to your lips and Toji laughed to himself, swiping through more photos. Every single one had jovial people but you couldn’t ignore the men in dark suits with stern looks on their faces in the background and flanking the bride's father in a few pictures.

“Do you really need that many bodyguards at a wedding?” Looking at the bride more closely, she wasn’t recognizable to you as any celebrity or daughter of a politician.

“When you do the business we do, yeah.” Coming to the end of the pictures, Toji tucked his phone away. Giving him a curious look, you began to untie the apron around your waist. The clock hung on the wall rang eight and it was time to close up shop.

“What kind of business?” You pressed, slowly starting to turn off the lights to the shop and ushering Toji out as you walked to the front.

“Honey, I don’t think you want to know.” Standing on the sidewalk as you locked up the shop, Toji grinned as he looked over the street and saw the other small businesses closing up for the night as well.

Narrowing your eyes briefly at him, you did a once over of Toji. He was quite broad, with clearly defined muscles on every slope and curve of his body. There were a couple scars on his hands to match the one on his lip and you could see the outline of a gun tucked into his hip clear as day. It wouldn’t be that hard to guess, but did you want to take that leap?

“Well whatever it is, it’s certainly keeping me afloat.” Shrugging your shoulders, you gave the doors one last tug before putting the keys away and beginning to walk away. “It was nice seeing you, Toji.” It was nice seeing more of his body and talking to him, having his attention solely on you.

“Take care getting home, (Y/N).” Giving you a quick wave, Toji fished a cigarette out of his pocket. “I’ll see you around.” Waving back at him, the two of you went your separate ways with the heat of the day dissipating in the air and masking the light flush on both of your cheeks.

Coming to work the next day, the scent of Toji’s cologne still lingered in the air as you walked in. Putting your apron on and starting to prep for the coming day, you found yourself waiting at the fifteen minute mark to see if he would come in with another request. But the only one that came was a delivery man holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

Thanking him, you quickly snatched the card that was attached and read it.

How often does a florist get flowers? Can’t imagine it’s a lot. These are a thank you from me and the boss for that bouquet the other day, it was a big hit.

- Toji

P.S. These aren’t nearly as bright as your smile but they come close, don’t they?

A warm blush invaded your whole body as you read the last line, giggling to yourself as you reread it a few times and looked at the sunflowers. They were indeed a bright and vibrant yellow and as you transferred them to a vase, your mouth refused to let go of the large smile stretching your cheeks wide and it stayed for the whole day.

The next few days were slow, the weather had taken a drastic turn and rain pelted the streets and drowned out any potential customers. There was even the low, distant rumble of thunder rolling in as you began to close up shop one day.

“Shit, it’s really coming down.” Standing at the front door, you watched small rivers of water flow down the street. The street was empty save for the few people running past to get out of the rain. Worrying your lip, you were at a standstill. Your bus stop was only a five minute walk away, but the reality of having to wait in the rain and get your shoes utterly soaked was keeping you rooted in place.

“Maybe I can wait it out.” Mumbling to yourself, you closed the door and flicked off the open sign. There was probably some prep you could do for the following morning while you waited for the weather to hopefully ease up a little, a bouquet you could get started on a little early or plants that might need a little sprucing up.

Sweeping aimlessly, touching up a few displays, double and triple checking the incoming flower deliveries - all of it took less than thirty minutes to complete and the rain seemed to be coming down even harder now. Wandering to the backroom, you were just about to rearrange another drawer when the wind whooshed by and shook the front door in its frame.

“(Y/N)? You in there?” Except it wasn’t the wind and that was certainly Toji’s voice. He was standing at the door, cupping his face against the glass and peeking into the shop. Rushing to open it for him, he was dripping big puddles onto the floor as he came in.

“What’re you doing here?” For once he had his large overcoat on and properly buttoned up and his hair was clinging to his face with fat water droplets streaking down his skin.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Why?” Grabbing a few paper towels, you cast him a curious look.

“Well…” Dabbing off his face, Toji took a glance at you before closing his eyes and wiping off his hair. “Just wanted to check on the shop, ya know, make sure it was holding up in this weather.” Toji’s cheeks turned a bit rosy and he wiped at his face a little more.

“I would say it’s holding up pretty fine.” Shrugging your shoulders, there wasn’t much you could do against the weather outside.

“Great, that’s...that’s great.” Toji trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around the shop. A loud crack of thunder broke the steadily growing tension, making you jump and shuffle a bit closer to him.

“This weather is awful.” You mumbled. Your fingers just brushed against the material of his coat and you wanted to cling onto it, have Toji open it so you could snuggle close to him and drown out the sounds of outside.

“Do you have a ride home? I notice it’s a bit past closing time.” Taking a glance at his watch, Toji looks at you with a raised brow.

“No, I ride the bus. I was hoping the rain would ease up so I could leave soon.”

“The bus? You can’t take that in this weather.” Shaking his head, Toji dug around in his pockets. “Wait here, I’ll give you a ride.”

“But you-” There was no car parked outside the shop and as you followed Toji to the door you didn’t see any waiting either.

“I parked around the corner. Lock up the shop and wait for me.” Patting the door frame a few times, Toji ducked his head and ran down the street. Watching him for as long as you could, you hurriedly turned the lights off and closed the door right as a shiny silver sports car pulled up.

Running out, you practically dove into the passenger's seat as soon as the door was opened. Toji had the heat cranked up, chasing away the nipping cold air that had followed you in. It smelled even more of Toji’s cologne in here, a scent you hoped would linger far after you left the car.

“Which way home?” He asked, pulling out into the street.

“Take a right up here and then go straight.” Doing as you said, Toji fiddled with the radio and let the low sound of music fill the air along with the rain. Driving down the slick roads, Toji came to a slow stop at a red light.

“Would you have seriously taken the bus if I hadn’t shown up?” Making a face at the weather, Toji clicked his tongue when he watched you nod.

“Or I would have just slept in the backroom.” Your comment made him laugh, an abrupt bark that came from his stomach and had him leaning forward a little.

“Really? Made a pillow among those pretty flowers?”

“I’m sure they’d be quite comfortable.” Laughing as well, you looked out the window as he began to drive again. As the laughter turned to soft chuckles, you felt the urge to speak again and keep the conversation going. It was easy to talk to Toji and despite your apprehension upon first meeting him, you could see yourself becoming friends with the man.

“Well this is just great.” Coming to a grinding halt, Toji let out a soft groan and gestured to the traffic filled road ahead of him. “Did people forget how to drive in the fucking rain or something?”

“Maybe…” Leaning around in your seat, you could see the tell-tale flashing of emergency lights. “I think someone got into an accident up there, I can see an ambulance.”

“They had to choose tonight to fuck their car up?” Rolling his eyes, Toji sunk into the driver's seat, drumming his fingers against the wheel and taking a peek in the rearview mirror. “Seems like we’re stuck here, there’s too many people to turn back now.”

Turning over your shoulder, you blanched at the sight of all the cars suddenly behind you. The road you were travelling on wasn’t particularly busy to begin with but it seemed the inclimate weather had other plans.

“Guess we wait then.” Sinking down to match him, you watched the rain smatter against the windshield. The soft jazz Toji had chosen fit the atmosphere nicely and the heat coming from the vents kept any chill away from you. The longer you sat in the comfortable quiet, the more tempting it seemed to close your eyes and take a nap.

“Hey.” A hand curling around your knee and fingers digging slightly into your leg jostled you awake. Taking a sharp, sudden inhale of the cologne scented air you jolted upright and blinked away the sleep in your eyes.

“W-what?” Looking around, you had made a significant distance on the road and it seemed you were past whatever was blocking you.

“You fell asleep on me, sweetheart.” Toji chuckled, letting his hand slide from your leg and back to the steering wheel. “And I kinda need your help to get you home.”

“Right, sorry.” Quickly clearing your throat, you pointed down the street. “Uhm, at that next light you can take a right.” With just a few more turns and straightaways, you successfully guided Toji to your home without falling asleep again.

“Hurry inside, don’t want you getting soaked.” Turning to you as he put the car in park, Toji flicked his chin toward your home.

“I will.” Smiling at his concern, you gathered your things and put a hand on the door handle. Taking one last whiff of his cologne, you nodded to him. “Thank you so much Toji, I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” Waving you off, Toji stayed until he saw you go into your house and close the door, only pulling away when he was sure you were settled inside.

That night you listened to the radio station Toji had on as you took a bath to wind down from the day, curling your own hand around your knee and imagining what it’d be like to take a bath with him instead of alone.

As you walked to work the next day, avoiding big puddles and dripping eaves, it was embarrassing to admit that Toji was still on your mind. A silly crush on the scarred man was blooming in your chest and making you more and more giddy with every step.

“Special delivery!” At midday, a delivery driver waltzed into the shop with a massive bouquet, all sorts of pinks and purples and reds filling your field of vision as they approached.

“I’m sorry, are you sure you have the right place?” The arrangement looked too extravagant to be something Toji would give you on a whim.

“Are you (Y/N)?” Showing you the postage, clear as day it had your name on it.

“Oh, yes that is me.” Signing for the flowers, you struggled to hold them in your arms. The petals tickled your cheeks as you smelled them, plush against your skin and soft to the touch.

Putting them in a vase, you made sure they were prominently displayed at the counter for all to see and every so often you would stop to look at them, letting a gentle sigh of happiness leave your lips.

Another bouquet came the next day as well, just as big and beautiful as the first, and attached to it was a note.

Hope you like the flowers, (Y/N). I got called away on a business trip, so I thought I’d give you something so you wouldn’t miss me too much while I’m away.

- Toji

Tucking the note into your apron as a few customers walked in, throughout the day you took it out to reread it and look at Toji’s messy handwriting scribbled onto whatever florist shop he’d bought the notecard from.

Everyday without fail, for nine days straight, there were flowers delivered to the shop. You weren’t always there to collect them but your neighbors certainly were, gawking openly at the multitude of flowers in vases now crowding the store and threatening to push out your actual inventory.

On the final day there was a note attached to the bouquet as well, this time a dozen red roses with the thorns snipped off.

I’m coming home today, keep the shop open for me? I promise I won’t be too late.

- Toji

This note was clearly typed out, it didn’t have the familiar scratchy lines and jagged edges that you’d memorized from Toji’s previous note. Glancing at the time and looking around the shop at all the vases, none of the happiness that getting them brought you could compare to the feeling threatening to burst your chest open at knowing you’d see Toji soon.

All day you kept an eye on the clock, working faster than you ever had before just to make sure you had no customers waiting in case he came in early. Sweeping and dusting a hundred times over, you’d practically mopped a hole in the floor as you counted the seconds down until you could lock up the shop.

Locking the door and sitting eagerly at the counter, you tried to make yourself look busy. There wasn’t anything you could possibly do, no papers needed to be straightened up and there certainly wasn’t anything to clean, so you waited what felt like ages for a knock on the door.

Walking around in circles in the backroom to try and stave off the anxious energy building inside you, you jumped nearly two feet in the air when there was a loud knock at the door. Wiping your sweaty palms on your apron, you took several deep breaths before rounding the corner and laying your eyes on Toji.

“H-hi.” Opening up the door in record time, there was a harsh heat burning your face as you let him in. You could barely meet him in the eye and instead looked at his bloody knuckles as he stepped past you. “What happened to your hands?”

“Don’t worry about it, I fell on the way here.” Taking out a handkerchief, Toji wiped the blood off his hands and as you took a look at him you noticed there weren't any traces of dirt or dust on his clothes.

“Come wash your hands at the sink.” Guiding him over by the sleeve to a sink at the corner of the shop, you got a whiff of the cologne you loved so much. Watching Toji wash his hands, you were aware how close you were standing to him, pressed snugly against the counter while he lathered.

“How’ve you been, doll?” Toji let a smirk stretch his lips and he glanced at you, his own cheeks getting a bit pink.

“Good.” Looking out at the shop and all the flowers he sent, you let out a little laugh. “Really good.”

“You liked the flowers?” Turning around, Toji leaned against the edge of the sink and chuckled at the sight before him. “Looking at it all now, I think I might have gone a little overboard.”

Your arms were pressed against each other, Toji’s clearly more muscular and much larger than your own. He didn’t have an overcoat on or even a suit like he usually did, he was dressed in a pair of loose pants and a very fitted black t-shirt, one that you had to keep yourself from ogling as it clung to his body.

“You know why I sent them, don’t you?” He asked, cutting through the silence and your daydream. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out why he was sending you so many flowers but you felt too nervous to say it aloud in case you were wrong, so you only nodded.

Fiddling with his damp fingers, Toji bit his lip and grabbed onto your hand with both of his. Engulfing your hand, he squeezed it and brought it up to his chest where you could just barely feel the rapid beat of his heart.

“So, if I asked you out on a date would you say yes?” Speaking with his lips pressed against your hand, Toji peeked at you from the corner of his eye. You stood there, locked in a staring match as both of you refused to even breathe too loudly and break the tension.

“Yes, I would.” You finally spoke, nodding your head and trying to calm the shaking in your body. Breaking out into a full smile, Toji let your hands go and clutched at his chest.

“Geez, you had me fucking worried there for a moment!” Taking a few deep breaths along with shaky laughter, Toji shook his head and forced himself to calm down, square his shoulders and look at you properly. “(Y/N), will you go on a date with me tonight?”

“Yes.” Only able to meet his eye for a moment, you giggled bashfully and put a hand over your face in embarrassment. There was a moment of silence filled with only your giggles and Toji’s relieved sigh, and then he snapped his fingers and tugged on your sleeve.

“Alright, get your stuff and lock up, I’ll grab the car.” Fiddling with the keys in his pocket, Toji quirked a brow when you gave him a curious look. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you walked? You said you fell on the way here...” Walking slowly to grab your things, you felt even more confused when Toji laughed.

“Yeah I fell and some idiot was lucky enough to catch my fist on the way down. Now let’s get going, there’s a ramen shop I wanna take you to.” Getting to the door, he leaned against the frame and waited for you to walk up before fully exiting the store.

“Toji, did you get in a fight?”

“A fight? What? No way!” Waving you off, Toji began to walk down the street to where he parked his car. “A fight implies that the other guy even stood a chance!”

“What?” You shouted back, surprised he could say something like that so casually.

“Don’t worry about it, honey, it’s all in the past.” Stopping and turning on a dime in the middle of the sidewalk, Toji gave you a grin. “(Y/N), I should get you flowers for our date, shouldn’t I?”

“I never thought I’d say this but no Toji, I don’t want flowers for our date.” Laughing at the absurdity of the question, you watched Toji pretend to think about what you said for a moment.

“Right, anyway, I’ll stop at a florist on the way.” Nodding to himself, Toji began to walk away again. “Another dozen roses sound good, maybe I’ll make ‘em pink this time.” Looking over his shoulder, Toji winked at you. “And maybe I’ll get a kiss too.”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 6

So we’re slowly but surely getting into the Hannigram shit I promised.

Someone with murderous intent finds y/n just as she thinks her life is beginning to improve. Little does she know, it will. 

@deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovadokren here you go homies

Trigger warnings: Suicide bombing, graphic descriptions of violence, gun violence, death, cults, cult manipulation

You waited until he had left the restaurant to read that all-important scrap of paper. For some reason, you felt the need to hide in the bathroom to read it. It was probably just a name and phone number, but your brain was anticipating some kind of love letter. 

You carefully unfolded the receipt like it was your most treasured possession. Inside, it simply read ‘Hannibal Lecter’ followed by a phone number. 

You hugged the paper against your chest and a huge smile overtook your face. You couldn’t attach any rhyme or reason to why you suddenly felt so alive, other than you were completely and utterly infatuated. You felt like you could break into song. 

“Hey, [F/N]!” Charissa said, banging on the stall door. “Not to interrupt whatever this is, but could you take out the trash please?” 

“Oh.” You answered, your voice cracking. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.” 

Charissa trailed close behind you as you collected the bags from each can around the restaurant. She was uncharacteristically quiet, probably waiting for you to start spilling every detail of your night. The joke was on her, because you could let the silence go on forever. She wasn’t getting a word out of you. 

“So you’re not going to tell me?” She sounded deeply offended. 

“What’s to tell?” You said, hoisting a very full garbage bag over your shoulder. “Nothing happened.” 

“He sunk his teeth into you, didn’t he?” Charissa asked. At this point, you weren’t sure if she meant it metaphorically or literally. “That’s why you’re acting all, y’know, not downright miserable?” 

“Is that how I act usually?” You began to make your way to the back.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but,” She prefaced. “You basically have two moods. Depressed and customer-service happy, which is just depressed with a facelift. And whatever is happening here doesn’t fit into either of those categories. So something happened.” 

“Detective Charissa Rodriquez does it again.” You rolled your eyes and put one hand on the back door. “Some things just have to stay between a bartender and her... possible love interest.”

You punctuated the last sentence with a wink, sending your friend into a righteous fury. 

“Holy shit, [F/N]!” She exclaimed, smacking her hands together. “Come on, [F/N], I’m your best friend. You’ve got to let me in.” 

“I’m still trying to process what happened myself.” You said in earnest. “Believe me, if I’m telling anyone, it’s you.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Charissa wagged her finger. 

You tightened your grip on the garbage bag and lugged it outside. The night had fallen, and the orchestra of cicadas and crickets was in full swing. The warm pre-summer air welcomed you. As much as you resented her for bringing it up, Charissa was right. You hadn’t been truly happy in a very long time. And, as terrifying as the thought may have seemed, in a way, you owed it to Chase Mulvaney. 

You hauled the garbage bag into the dumpster and slammed it shut. The crash echoed and you turned back towards the door. 

Someone grabbed your arm. Your immediate thought was that it was just Charissa playing a cruel joke, but then they twisted it back and shoved you against the wall. You felt the cold blade of a knife against your neck and you froze up. 

“You didn’t repent.” A manic voice hissed into your ear. You could feel your heartbeat against the cold brick wall. The hands that bound you were soft and the voice was much more female. This was noticeably not Chase. 

You sputtered as you tried to articulate any of your thousands of questions. “Who the fuck are you?!” 

“Silence, she-devil!” The girl slammed you against the wall. “Keep your forked tongue between your teeth or I’ll cut it out!”

Her voice and hands shook and she enunciated as if she were reading off a script with a gun to her head. The adrenaline turned to genuine fear when you felt something hard strapped to her midriff. You knew in that moment that she wasn’t going to use the knife. 

"I thought Chase wanted to kill me himself." You muttered.

“Did you really think vanguard would be stupid enough to come back here?!” She forced a laugh but her voice was broken with fear. 

“Yes.” You said back, resigning to at least die with honor. “And, why is Chase the one in charge?!” 

She tightened her grip on your arm and smashed your head against the wall. “Don’t you dare talk about vanguard that way!”

He ripped off his cult leader title from fucking NXIVM? You thought, fully aware that it could easily be your last thought ever. 

“No, but seriously, think about it!” You implored her, hoping that if you got her talking, she wouldn’t hit the detonator. If there was one thing you knew about evangelicals, it was that they loved to hear themselves talk. “Chas- er, vanguard attacked me in broad daylight in front of dozens of witnesses. You’re smarter than he is! You came after me when I was alone in the dark!” 

“Everything he does, he does for a reason.” She shouted. "It's not the unwoman's place to question vanguard!"

“Oh god, now he’s ripping off Handmaid’s Tale?” You said out loud this time.

“Vanguard told me that you would try to fill my head with lies!” She growled. “So long as you are alive, you stand in the way of god’s work! You spread only falsehoods about our savior!” 

“Is this about the TattleCrime article?” You ask. “Because I didn’t say anything about god, I only talked about--” 

Then it hit you, again. “Oh, so this is a cult cult.”

"It's not a cult!" The girl screamed. This was the first time you'd sensed any genuine emotion behind her words. "Vanguard takes good care of us. And he can take care of you, too [F/N] [L/N]."

"By sending someone to kill me?" You spat.

"No!" The girl exclaimed. "No, no, no, no, no! Silly! I'm here to save you. If you repent now, and let Jesus Christ into your heart, your earthly shackles will be broken!"

"And what's in it for you, huh?" You struggled against her grip. "The privilege of blowing yourself up for Chase Mulvaney?"

"I was a sinful being like you, once." She said. "My grand reward is to give my life to save another."

You heard the click of a gun behind you. “Put the knife down and take off the vest!” 

The girl grabbed you by the neck and turned you to face this approaching foe. She held the knife to your throat. “If you shoot, she’s dead.” 

You couldn’t make out the details of his face, because he was backlit by headlights. You could, however, see the face of your captor. She was completely emaciated with bones protruding from her skin. Her head was sloppily shaved and whatever instrument she used to shave it left deep cuts on her scalp. 

She reached a shaky hand into her pocket and pulled out a detonator. Tears streaming down her face, she began to chant. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

The man let off a shot, sending a bullet into her leg. She fell backwards, dropping the detonator and the knife and giving you an opportunity to run. The man gestured for you to get behind him and you obliged. He then let off a second shot, this bullet hitting her right through the skull. The girl collapsed backwards, her brain matter painting the side of the building. 

The man dropped his gun, mumbled something about a bomb squad into his phone, then turned to you. Finally, you could get a good look at his face. Immediately, you noticed his rich brown curls and a smattering of scruff around his jaw. His features were soft, comforting even. But a long enough examination of his face told you that he was just as deeply haunted as you were. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, weakly.

“You...” You said over desperate gasps for air. “You saved me.”

Soon enough, the first responders joined you. But for a few minutes, it was just you, the man and some unspoken mutual understanding words couldn't articulate.

[youryanderedaddy]

Sorry to bother you! That yandere brat piece was very good! I was wondering if in the future you would be interested in creating a part two? Again, wonderful work, have a nice day!

Tw: slight nsfw, obsessive/possessive behavior, abuse of authority, non - consensual touching, implied non - con

Two months had passed since Gabrielle manipulated you into dating him and as much as you hated the entitled snob, being his girlfriend had its perks. People seemed to show more respect towards you, maybe even fear, knowing that you had managed to tame one of the most dangerous bullies on the campus. And of course you always got what you wanted with as much as one look, be it clothes, jewelry, makeup or someone’s quick and painless murder. Some of the girls envied you for catching the eye of the rich, handsome heir, most of them wished you’d be gone so they could stand a chance with the blonde.

They were so foolish in the way they believed you were genuinely happy with your “lover” and as dreamy as your situation looked to the others, the cold reality was much more sinister. You hated seeing the awe in your colleagues’ eyes every time you passed in the hall with Gabrielle’s hand wrapped around your waist. You despised his stupid little gifts and public acts of affection, it felt shiny, fussy and most of all fake. But what had caused you the most heartbreak was the look on your best friend’s face once he realized you had chosen the enemy that had tormented him for months. Still, it didn’t matter, it shouldn’t have, you couldn’t approach him anyways with your loving, doting boyfriend following your every move closely.

You had tried to get some help early on while you still had hope that you could get away from the obsessive man. You had spoken to the principle, opening up about the events from the past few months, told him all about the party incident, the constant harassment and stalking, all up to the point when the blonde had threatened you into staying with him. In that moments there were tears glistering in your eyes and you were shaking during the whole conversation yet you managed to spit out the bitter words stuck at the back of your throat like a hard, heavy stone. On top of reliving the nightmare once again trough your memories, you were met with silence. With fear. The principle was not only a coward kissing up to Gabrielle’s father, but also a snitch. That night your boyfriend took you for the first time.

It was the middle of the night when his cold piercing voice woke you up from your deep peaceful slumber. The only time you caught a break from the blonde was in your sleep and now he wanted to take this away from you too. You felt the man’s weight on your body and opened your mouth in a desperate attempt to shout but his palm quickly covered it, successfully turning your screams into muffled whimpers. You lifted your head to look at him pleadingly, silently asking to be spared, but his gaze fixed upon your squirming frame was so stern and intense it almost forced you still. You hadn’t seen the male so angry since the night he cornered you against the wall and confessed his feelings.

“You are so fucking naive, bunny.” Gabrielle growled in your ear, your back breaking in cold sweat. In the next moment his lips were trailing the sensitive feverish skin of your neck, his teeth digging into the flesh until the drops of fresh blood dripped down your collarbone. “Such a silly little girl.” He whispered in a deep patronizing voice, a note too condescending to sound caring or sweet. His warm breath was hitting your abused spots, love bites and hickeys, his tongue wet and hot over the nasty possessive marks. ”You really thought that the principle wouldn’t tell me about the pathetic little stunt you have pulled this morning.” The male continued, his heavy gaze pinning you further into the soft mattress. You wanted to defend yourself or maybe even try to talk your way out but the blonde suddenly pushed two of his fingers down your throat causing you to gag. “I don’t want to hear your excuses so save your breath.” Gabrielle spat out with venom and pulled his digits out of your mouth wiping the saliva on your flimsy white t-shirt. The heir stared at you from above, his face pale and hesitant. He was thinking about something.

“I wanted to be gentle with you.” The man admitted softly yet huskily as he reached out to stroke your tear – stained cheek. “I really don’t enjoy seeing you so scared of me. It doesn’t suit you.” The snob sighed in frustration, obviously conflicted by two different feelings, and narrowed his eyes. “But you proved yourself incapable of making decisions on your own.” Part of him wanted to break you completely and the other wished to hold you close and cherish you forever. Unfortunately for you, at the end the evil prevailed and his gaze hardened, his blue eyes dark and chaotic, cruel in the way they resembled a thunderstorm a lot more than a clear sky. “The moment I leave you alone, you try to run away from me like a frightened little rabbit.” The male muttered under his breath, the pitiful expression of heartbreak written all over his pretty face. You couldn’t help but brace yourself for what was to come because despite not knowing what it was, your gut feeling was eating at you, the panic suffocating you. “I am going to make you mine tonight.” The blonde finally stated in an eerie monotone tone, devoid of any emotion other than empty desperate anger, the type of rage you experience only when you desire something you can never truly get.

Gabrielle easily slipped his cold hand under your t-shirt and cupped your breast, smiling at the warmth radiating from your soft skin. He circled your areola and gently teased your nipple until it stood at attention. You wanted to force his prying hand away from your chest but the shock was too paralyzing to leave enough room for any courage. After all Gabrielle had never gotten this far before. “P-please stop! I’m sorry for what I did, I will never do it again, I promise.” You begged the man who had taken your freedom to spare the only thing that still fully belonged to you – your innocence. The bully simply chuckled in response and caressed your hair in a fruitless attempt at comfort. Perhaps the man didn’t realize his touch could never be comforting to you, but he couldn’t help himself when you looked so cute and repentant in your meaningless struggles. “Darling, this isn’t meant to be a punishment.” The blonde looked you straight in the eyes, a sly teasing smile on his full red lips. “This is me showing you exactly who you belong to.” The hungry kiss that followed after burnt your tongue more than any of the poisonous words you wanted to spill.

You weren’t sure whether your heart or your body was bleeding out more. At the end it didn’t really matter as neither were yours to control. Not anymore.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Curse-breaker (Chapter 3/4)

- ao3 -

There were more guards than usual around the Unclean Realm, undoubtedly as a result of Wen Ruohan’s refusal to move from their gate, but that wasn’t a problem for them.

They knew all the ways in and out.

New ways, like the hole in the wall their little brother had teamed up with his best friend to carve out so that the two of them could leave little gifts and pass messages to them, and old ways, ancient ways, the ways of the dead that they’d learned from the still-lingering saber spirits that burned in rage and hate forever like an endless longevity candle.

Rage, and hated – but also love.

The saber spirits didn’t have to keep burning, keep fighting, but that was what their masters had wanted, and so they did. They fought against evil, time and time again, forever and always, and through their endless battle, in their hearts, their masters were never truly lost.

It was that simple.

It was that complicated.

It was time, they thought, to straighten things out. The saber spirits meant it as a gift, but the masters saw it as a burden; that wasn’t how it was meant to be at all – they just didn’t understand each other, steel and flesh speaking different tongues, meaning different things. The gaping chasm of understanding between life and not-life, which no one could bridge.

Well.

No one until them, anyway.

If a fish and a bird fell in love, where would they live?

On the shore, they thought. Right in the middle.

All they needed was someone to tell them that was an option.

It was time.

They passed like a formless spirit themselves through the many walls and guards in their path, heading to the sect leader’s study, as familiar to them as their own palms. Inside they found what was familiar, too: the heat-rage-pride pulse of Jiwei, resting in pride of place by her master’s side, and beside her was her master, their father, standing with his hands folded behind his back and looking out the window into the distance as if it would give him answers to questions that had eaten away at him his whole life.

They approached.

They were detected, of course.

“I already said that I didn’t want to be disturbed,” their father said, and although they had snuck close many times to hear him speaking, that beloved voice more familiar to them than their own, not daring to talk to him as they did to Huaisang who had always promised to keep their secret, there was still something different about hearing it so near, without walls between them.

They sighed happily.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said…Jiwei? What’s gotten you so excited –”

Their father turned.

His jaw dropped, eyes going wide and round as saucers, an absurd and silly look that suited him so much better than did the grim scowl and sad listlessness, interspersed with increasingly frequent bouts of uncontrollable rage, that he wore on his face more often than not these days.

What they had in mind would hurt, they knew, and equally they knew that they would not be able to act if they did not act fast – they were loathe to hurt people, much less people that they loved, and those that they loved would be equally unable to bear to see them hurt, yet both were necessary now, if they were to do what they had decided to do.

They did not allow themselves time to doubt.

They moved forward as quickly as a saber strike, sure and true, and their hands connected with their father’s chest and belly, heart and dantian both, with enough power to knock the breath out of him, taking advantage of his shock to strike when he would not even think of dodging.

In that moment of breathlessness, they latched on – latched on, and pulled.

What-are-you-doing-stop-that, Jiwei said, but even her ceaseless rage was blunted by the joy of seeing them once more.

You are hurting him.

I-am-not-I-am-refining-him-I-am-strengthening-him-as-he-strengthens-me-He-is-my-master-and-I-love-him.

You are hurting him, they insisted. Flesh is different. Flesh is brittle. Too much strength, and he will break.

Let me show you.

It hurt, of course, just as they’d expected. Not as much as when they’d shattered, though, and it was that – and perhaps only that – that allowed them to persist, using themselves as a cauldron, forcing their qi that was neither wholly spiritual nor resentful, neither fully alive or un-alive, through their father’s meridians, reshaping them as they went to be something capable of accepting the harsh, resentful, corrosive love of a saber spirit.

When they were done, their father stared at Jiwei, hearing her sing in his soul with an unprecedented clarity, feeling her love for him the way she meant for it to be felt, feeding his own love back to her in equal measure, giving everything of himself without holding back to the only thing on earth that he had ever loved without restraint.

His eyes were clear.

“A-Jue,” he whispered. “A-Jue…what is this?”

“A gift,” they said, their voice raspy with disuse. “Of many years making. I’m sorry that it took so long.”

Their father, unbreakable, burst into tears.

-

Later, when their father, his eyes still wet (though now from laughter rather than relief), told them about the ‘curse’, about his promise, about the rumors, and even about Wen Ruohan waiting for the chance to repent of his regrets, they thought about it for a while and said: “Let me see him.”

-

Wen Ruohan had done many things worthy of condemnation in his long life.

He had schemed and plotted, playing the hero and the villain both in their turn; he had fought in wars of such brutality that the current generation could not even begin to comprehend them, and he had also murdered in vile and underhanded ways, abandoning all integrity and righteousness, to ensure that such wars did not happen again. He had sought to strengthen himself by means both fair and foul, betrayed who he had to betray and stepped on who he had to step on; he had followed his ancestor’s path with his head held high until he had very nearly become a god.

He was not accustomed to regret.

Not accustomed did not mean immune: there were things he regretted, of course. The loss of his first family, the two sons and a daughter that he had failed so thoroughly that he still could not stand to hear the sound of their names, each one declared utterly taboo within the Nightless City – the wife he had married for power and then divorced in a fit of temper, driving her and her not-so-secret lover to the end of their rope in unspeakable desperation – the faithful servants he had sacrificed as pawns in his power plays and only afterwards realized how much he had relied upon them –

His brother.

His curse.

If by some miracle of fate he could choose to change a single thing in the ancient life that he had so far lived, it would unquestionably be the death of his brother.

Wen Ruohan had had quite a few brothers, in fact – his father, much like the usual style of leaders of the Wen sect, had fancied himself both empire-builder and emperor, and had had children accordingly, both his own and those he’d adopted, with all the headache-induing and often life-threatening dramatics associated with that – but to Wen Ruohan, there had only really ever been one that mattered.

Only one.

Wen Ruohan didn’t even remember any longer whether Wen Ruoyu had been his blood-related brother, sharing a father and maybe a mother, or if he’d been some child seized from another sect and given the Wen surname to help grow their power. It hadn’t mattered to him back then and it didn’t matter to him still, for all that he now prized his personal bloodline even above merit.

All that mattered was that Wen Ruohan had loved Wen Ruoyu more than he’d ever loved anything in his life, more than his sect, more than cultivation, more than power, and that Wen Ruoyu had died not knowing it. Had died cursing his name, spitting blood onto his face, fingers scrabbling at his neck in a futile attempt to choke him, wishing with his final breath that Wen Ruohan would never again know a single moment of peace.

Well, he hadn’t.

Ever the dutiful brother, he closed his eyes to nightmares, and woke to dreariness. He madly sought power enough to ensure that such a thing would never happen to him again, only for his obsessive quest to drive his few remaining loved ones into the grave; he had very nearly succeeded in becoming a god, and lost all interest in life in the process. The only joys remaining to him were his ever-growing power, his ever-expanding sect, and, sometimes, the blood and pain of other people, which he used as a reminder that he was not truly alone in this world.

And Lao Nie, of course.

Wen Ruohan had almost entirely succeeding in sealing off all of his emotions by the time Lao Nie showed up, smiling and carefree and reckless, half in love with the death he knew awaited him – showed up and battered down all of Wen Ruohan’s defenses. Wen Ruohan wished, now more than ever, that he had carried on in his attempts to make himself a true god, above all humanity, and not yielded to the siren call of friendship. Perhaps if he had been a god, he wouldn’t have been so hurt when Lao Nie barreled onwards with his life, leaving him behind not once but thrice – perhaps he wouldn’t have tried to kill him.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have nearly murdered the little boy that Lao Nie had on occasion shoved into his arms during a visit, no matter how many times Wen Ruohan reminded him that it was inappropriate – the little serious one who looked so bewildered by it all but who still called him Sect Leader Wen the way Wen Ruohan instructed rather than listening to his father’s not-quite-joking suggestions of ‘Uncle Wen’, the little crybaby that had all unknowingly once tricked Lan Qiren into a logical conundrum that had made the man’s mind splutter out like a machine falling all to bits while Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie had roared with laughter…the one that had been charming enough to make him change his mind and opt to keep little Wen Xu around instead of sending him out to be adopted into the branch families the way he had with the other children he’d refused to acknowledge, mourning as he still did his first family.

He hadn’t meant to hurt Nie Mingjue.

Not like that, anyway.

It’d taken some time for the regret to creep in – his initial bout of horror had been more shock and irritation at having hit the wrong target, the shame of making such an elementary error to hit a boy he hadn’t seen in years rather than the man standing right in front of him, and then he’d shrugged it off, thinking to himself that the loss of a son would be as good a way to punish Lao Nie as the loss of his life. It wasn’t until his spies in the Unclean Realm came back and described to him what he had wrought…

Nie Mingjue didn’t look anything like Wen Ruoyu, not really, but in Wen Ruohan’s dreams he wept tears of blood in just the same way, spitting up foam as his eyes rolled in his head, dying – dying – dead.

Not dead.

It wasn’t a curse, Wen Ruohan knew, but if there was something he could do – anything he could do – he would do it.

He had to.

“You have to let him go,” someone said, and Wen Ruohan looked up in surprise: he’d been waiting for half a day already and god or no god, his legs were numb with sitting.

He didn’t recognize the too-tall young man who stared down at him, one eyeball eerily colored red and steel grey – the young man’s clothing was non-descript and ill-fitting, mismatched as if he’d picked it off some laundry pile without thought of coordination. There was something of the Nie in his face, the breadth of his shoulders, but his features were finer and sharper, his waist more slender, his fingers lacking in the familiar calluses of the saber; he looked like he’d be a fierce war god when he’d grown into his body but that he hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

His golden core shone.

Wen Ruohan stared. His lust for power had long ago become an essential part of him, and in front of him was power, power at such a young age – if he could claim that cultivation for his own, maybe he could stop describing himself as nearly a god, could actually call down a heavenly tribulation and leap up to join the heavens in a single bound.

And then, maybe then, at last, he could have peace.

“You have to let him go,” the young man said a second time, and Wen Ruohan was distracted by wondering what he meant, not sure he understood and not entirely sure he cared. “That’s the only way. You have to let him go.”

He shifted forward, and something inside Wen Ruohan warned that he would strike.

It seemed ridiculous, though. Wen Ruohan, the finest living master of arrays, was not afraid of anything this young man might try to do – only a spiritual sword could pierce his armor, and even that, only one that took him utterly by surprise. No one would dare try to strike him.

Especially not this young man, who carried neither sword or saber.

Perhaps that was why Wen Ruohan never saw it coming – the young man’s hand moved in a jabbing motion, the way a sword would swing, and suddenly, impossibly, there was sword intent given physical form through spiritual energy, piecing through his defenses, slashing down at him and aiming right at his neck.

-

“Let me get this straight,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing his forehead. “Nie Mingjue reappeared after something like ten years out alone in the wild, and when he did he brought some sort of technique that just…fixed the Nie sect cultivation issue. The one that was killing you, and has been killing your ancestors for – generations.”

Lao Nie nodded.

“And then you allowed him to see Sect Leader Wen, who he attacked…in a way that happened to mimic some old tragedy that has apparently haunted him for years, thereby allowing him to resolve some long-held heart demon. And now Sect Leader Wen has retreated into seclusion in order to explore this moment of enlightenment further, and doesn’t intend to bother the rest of us for a while. Certainly not by continuing his schemes to take over the cultivation world.”

“That’s right,” Lao Nie said. “Though I don’t expect he’ll be in seclusion all that long; the Wen sect doesn’t practice –”

Lan Qiren held up a hand, indicating he wasn’t done and didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

Lao Nie obediently fell silent.

“And then,” and by now Lan Qiren was speaking through somewhat gritted teeth, “when Sect Leader Jin rushed over because he wanted to get in on what he perceived to be Wen Ruohan’s attempted takeover of the Qinghe Nie, your son attacked him, too – except in this case, he crippled him.”

“I did say anyone who trespassed would be killed on sight,” Lao Nie said, entirely unbothered. Because of course he wasn’t – why would anyone think that suddenly being freed of a lifetime’s death sentence would make him less reckless and shameless? If anything, his overwhelming joy had just made him even more arrogant and inclined to insist on getting his own way. “It’s been known for years, and no exceptions have ever been made, not even for sect leaders. Why should Jin Guangshan think himself different?”

“That’s a terrible excuse,” Lan Qiren scolded. “And besides the point.”

“What is the point?”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth, then stopped, thought it over, and sighed. “The point is, I suppose – are you going to the Jiang sect next?”

Lao Nie blinked. “The – Jiang sect? Why?”

“Because instead of the cultivation world breaking the ‘curse’ on your son, your son has apparently taken to breaking the curses of the cultivation world,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “And he’s already gotten four out of the five Great Sects, so why not complete the set?”

Lao Nie’s lips quirked. “Four? I can see the others: my Nie sect’s qi deviations, Wen Ruohan’s madness for power, the Jin sect’s terrible luck in getting that scheming old lecher selected as their next sect leader…but what did he do for the Lan sect?”

“It was in his name that you forced my brother out of seclusion all those years ago,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “And now I spend half of every year traveling wherever I wish, and the other half teaching; it is everything I would have wanted. Meanwhile, my brother has finally through his children learned what it means to care for others instead of rotting to death in a self-imposed grave built from ill-fated love…if that’s not curse-breaking, what is?”

[saintchrollo]

hiii!! :) i was wondering if you can do a chrollo headcanon where his s/o gets kidnapped and he has to save them🥺♥️

omg hiiii nonnie i hope u enjoy .... i need 2 get back into writing action again huh .... 

“tuesday” (chrollo x gn!reader) 

tw for murder & blood 

tuesday nights are date nights. they’ve been date nights since you got annoyed when you first started dating that chrollo was so unpredictable. 

you had a standard place too, with a standard meal and a standard wine because the two of you love consistency (and each other)

chrollo normally picks you up before your date, but you had been insistent on taking the metro since you were coming from the opposite direction from him. and it was faster. and you had clearly stated in your text: i will desperately need the time to not interact with anyone and i am a responsible adult who has been taking the metro since i was a child i will be safe

and chrollo is a wiser man than to argue over something as silly as a metro ride, because you’re right. you’re responsible. 

responsible and twenty minutes late. 

chrollo checks your location, which has you at the nearest station, and waits. he waits for five minutes before checking again, and starts to worry when you haven’t moved. 

leaving some jenny on the table, chrollo stands and heads out, two untouched glasses of wine on the table, and two water glasses quickly picking up condensation 

he finds your phone has been turned in, going up to the woman behind the ticket booth and inquiring after it. she looks him up and down and goes “oh, i think i have a phone with your picture on the back!” and it’s your phone, with cracks on the screen and a polaroid of the two of you in the back. 

it makes his stomach churn a little bit, bile threatening to rise because of how disgustingly in love he looks. 

it doesn’t take long to find you after a quick text to shalnark, chrollo doesn’t trust himself to physically speak to anyone, and worries he might crush his phone in his hands. 

it’s one of those bounties on his head, a group of bounty hunters trying to enter retirement early. 

the apartment isn’t far from the station, and chrollo easily slips up to stand outside of the door. the tv is loud, echoing through the door. 

clearing his throat, trying to suppress his bloodlust, chrollo bangs on the door

the tv turns down slightly, there’s scuffling, so many locks come undone before the door opens, the chain still holding it closed. 

“can i help you?” 

chrollo nods, looking relieved. “i'm locked out of my apartment and my phone’s dead, do you have a charger i can use? my girlfriend’s got a spare, i just need to tell her to come help me out.” 

the man who answered the door looks a little nervous and glances over his shoulder, then back to chrollo. 

“sorry, can’t. missus is really paranoid about who comes in her space. you know what it’s like.” he chuckles nervously and chrollo wonders how long the fool must have been at this. 

“i get it,” chrollo says, sighing. “well, thanks for the help.” 

"good luck!” the man says and right before he shuts the door, chrollo grabs the handle and the man’s forearm in a bruising grip, yanking him close and slamming the door on his shoulder joint. there’s a sickening pop and the man screams out in pain. 

there’s panic on the other side of the room, and chrollo stops trying to hide his bloodlust. 

“i think you’re looking for me,” chrollo whispers, low and dangerous. “if i open this door and i see one hair out of place on my lover, i will do whatever you did to them five thousand times over.” 

fear smells so good. 

the brass chain lock breaks with a slightly enhanced shove from chrollo. the inside of the apartment is filthy, covered in old takeout boxes. your kidnappers didn’t seem to live here permanently, there wasn’t even a couch. 

the fight is so unbalanced, chrollo almost feels bad. almost. chrollo doesn’t remember the last time he slit a throat so fast. he doesn’t do it deep enough to kill the man immediately, and steps over his gurgling, pleading body. 

he heads down the hall, moving slowly and stepping over trash that littered the halls. 

the other kidnapper’s breathing is too heavy, there’s fear in every inhale. chrollo’s ears pick up on it, and with barely enough time to register her place in the apartment, chrollo turns and throws his knife, which impales itself into her forehead. she stumbles back, gasping, before crumpling to the floor. 

and then the apartment is silent. 

a moment of regret slides over chrollo. feitan would have appreciated the gifts, he thinks, but not even chrollo himself can raise the dead

he finds you in the bathtub, zipties on your wrists and ankles, your head lolled to the side, resting against the tile. you’re dressed for dinner, expensive clothes and no jewelry. chrollo leaves a mental note to himself to have someone come back and look for them. 

his fingers immediately slide up under your jaw, pressing and trying to feel a pulse. he lets out an exhale of relief. 

“you are the luckiest person i know,” chrollo whispers. he looks around the bathroom and finds a razor, quickly cutting your ties. 

the small jostling is enough to bring you to your senses, inhaling sharply. you look so freaked out, looking around before your gaze lands on chrollo. 

chrollo takes a deep breath, filling his lungs up all the way before he cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. he whispers your name like he’s repenting, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. 

shaking, you reach out to touch chrollo’s shoulder, fisting his suit jacket. it takes a few moments before you slide to rest your head in the crook of his neck, and you can’t stop the tears that fall, spurred by terror and relief as every emotion under the sun coursed through your body. 

and you’ve never heard chrollo apologize before-- it was always forehead kisses or new earrings or massages-- but he whispers an “i’m sorry,” in your ear, followed by promises about how this would never happen again, he wouldn’t let it. 

𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒛 𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒂